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sylverstorms · 3 years

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Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Your quiet days in castle Dimitrescu met their end the moment Cassandra took an interest in you.

You should have known. Perhaps you did know and just didn’t want to admit it.

The woman –vampire, mutant, what even are they— is a bipolar sadist.

One night she may be walking down the halls sending you a sexy wink under her hood as she passes you by, the next she could show up out of nowhere and cut you ‘hello’ with her sickle, scoop up the blood with her thumb to taste, then disappear again. The evening after that, she may not even give a damn about you, may not spare you a single fleeting glance, like even the notion you could be worth her time is laughable.

And it is, isn’t it.

Humans are nothing to them. Your significance is below that of a pet. You may as well be livestock. It doesn’t matter, though, so long as you continue to breathe and remain intact. They’re the two essential factors to escaping. All else is secondary.

It doesn’t matter how Cassandra views you.

You don’t even like her.

What is there to even be drawn to? She’s covered in blood more often than not. The scent of iron usually drowns out her perfume. She’s capricious and cruel and the living personification of an unsheathed knife. You prefer your routes safer. Playful, creative pretty girls that are good for you and most importantly, sane.

Whatever weird tricks your brain and hormones are playing where she stars –you hate it, what is wrong with you— they’re just delusions, you reason, born from her questionable flirting and your time in captivity. It’s just a really bothersome case of Stockholm Syndrome you’re developing. And it has to stop.

Another week passes. You don’t see her.

You are on another night shift when you hear the telltale buzzing of insects down the corridor. Hervoice reaches your ear afterwards;

“Ugh, Bela, you never complain about anything. It’s so annoying.” Two pairs of heels steadily tap towards you.

“I leave it to you and Dani to cover for me, since you complain about everything.” The quieter sister drawls. You can easily picture her roll her eyes as she says it.

“You know, you really should sound more thankful I came with you in this unearthly cold.”

“I gave you the option not to—”

“Just to have you rummage through that bookshop for what was definitely the most boring twenty minutes of my life.” Cassandra continues.

From the fleeting glance you steal at them, the entirety of her attention is on Bela. You don’t think she’ll notice you as you continue polishing the corridor’s decorations. It’s just another one of these nights where you don’t exist and you’re deeply glad for it. Not just for yourself, but also the other maids.

“I thought I was going to die of frostbite.” she growls, shaking the elder sister’s arm.

“Technically, you can’t.” Bela shakes hers back.

It would be… cute, if they were any normal family. But you are quick to remind yourself of what they really are. Devils in human form. Monsters that took you from your home and trapped you here, to clean after their mess, with the threat of death looming over your head every second.

Their steps pass you by. You can almost breathe normally again, when—

Cassandra stops.

“Not even going to tell me hello?” The hurt in her voice can’t be genuine, you tell yourself as you turn around to face her. She’s closer than you thought, enough for you to be able to make out the tiny melting snowflakes caught in her long lashes.

“Um—hello.” you say, awkwardly.

“Cassandra.” Bela lets out a soft sigh.

“Bye, Bela.” The brunette pointedly speaks over her shoulder.

And to your horror… “Just keep in mind what mother said about the maids.” the eldest sister leaves you alone with her.

Each further step until the blonde disappears from view fills you with dread. Cassandra has that spark in her eye that you’ve learned to not associate with anything good. She’s completely still until she’s sure the two of you won’t be overheard or interrupted.

Then, she moves.

Her hands all too easily shove you against the wall. It’s more startling than painful, you realize, when your back doesn’t protest much at the collision.

Cassandra maintains eye contact with you as she tugs at the fingers of her gloves. You cannot fathom why it looks that sexy, the way she pulls them off, whether it is intentional or not.

“Plaything.” she says. Another new nickname for you. Not that you ever expected her to care to know your name. “I’m terribly cold.” she doesn’t seem to be lying, though the soft pout that curves her mouth is surely for effect.

It’s a test and your wellbeing depends on it.

Only, you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Ruling your nerves under control, you decide to start slow. “Shall I light the fireplace in your room, my lady?”

“Maybe I want something more… immediate.” she replies, raising her hand to your neck.

The second her freezing skin touches your flesh, you cannot help but flinch. It feels like a slightly softer block of ice. Cassandra’s eyes creak at the corners. Of course, the sadist is enjoying your torment. Slowly, her fingers move under the collar of your black button-up shirt, which only makes it worse. The cold spreads, a peculiar tingle at your stomach with it.

“Well?” she asks. You get the memo that just sitting back and letting her have her way isn’t going to work, this time. You call upon all the willpower you possess and act.

Carefully, your hands rise to meet her own. You aren’t looking at her in the eyes –you don’t think you could— as your fingers wrap around hers and bring them in front of you, close to your body, warmed from hours of work. Instead, your gaze locks on the golden jewel decorating the chocker at her throat, before falling down, to your point of contact.

It is not the first time you see her hands without gloves on, but it only now hits you just how dainty they look. Her nails, filed round, are dyed a darker shade of crimson, stark against the white of her skin. There isn’t a single blemish or uneven spot you can feel on her palm. It is a princess’ hand you seem to be holding, not a killer’s.

But appearances can be deceiving.

The very corner of Cassandra’s lip curls up, amused or pleased or both. She then reaches forward, at the lowest clasped button of your shirt… and frees it open. You’re sure you aren’t breathing. Two more buttons are released. Her fingers, at least now considerably warmer, splay against your stomach. Something inside you quivers like a flickering candlefire.

You don’t want her touch.

But a traitorous, weak part of you has already decided that it does.

“You work out?” it is merely a whisper between you. She presses a little closer, entirely unashamed to be feeling the contours of your middle up while you’re burning with embarrassment.

“…probably the days of working in the fields.” you say, voice low because it cannot be trusted any higher. She’s doing a little thing with her thumb over your skin that you desperately want to deny turns you on.

Thanks to her you’re now freezing and burning at the same time.

Cassandra just stays like that for a few more seconds.

“Draw me a hot bath.” she eventually orders and extracts herself from you as if she’s not remotely happy with her own decision.

You don’t really know how she likes her bath and she doesn’t tell you.

All you can do as you test the water on your hand is pray. Your mind isn’t really working right after the touching at the hallway, but your survival instincts are strong still. Strong enough to remind you that Cassandra likes to be treated like royalty above all, so bubbles are your best friend in this. The more, the merrier.

The Dimitrescu daughter does not ask if the bath is ready when she comes in. You aren’t used to her being so silent, so you turn to see if something is wrong –but immediately regret it when the heavy robe clinging to her body drops down. The only glimpse you catch is of the fabric pooling at her feet like a shadow.

Your eyes stay glued on the queen-sized bathtub, even when she approaches. They turn to the side as she enters it.

You want to ask if the water is fine, but you can’t find your voice. You lose even your train of thought when she lets out a small hiss as she sinks in, replaced by a moan once she’s completely settled back, neck tilted and eyes closed in bliss. The polite thing is to let her bathe in peace, so you move to do just that.

Cassandra has other plans.

Her hand shoots out of the tub to wrap around your wrist, inescapable as an iron shackle. Those intense yellowish eyes are on you again and they seem to be glowing under the dim lights.

“No.” she says. “Massage. Now.”

Ah, great. You think. You’ve spoiled her. But if giving Cassandra massages is what is going to keep your hands attached to your body, you won’t complain. It’s just that… you can’t really focus right now. None of your thoughts are right or remotely what they should be. You need time off from her, rather than touching her.

Thankfully, the moans are kept to a minimum and there is no teasing. She is utterly relaxed, only giving the occasional command for higher or lower. It does kind of kill you when at one point she whispers “Right there.” but you are able to move past it.

You leave fresh towels beside her when you’re finally allowed to leave. Back in her bedroom, you light the fireplace in a way that you make sure will last through the day, while she’ll be asleep. The plan is to leave before she returns, but she’s already there by the time you’re finished with the preparations.

And –you’re trapped.

Because, again, she’s changing and you have to look away to preserve your sanity and probably your eyes. “No peeping, now.” she calls over her shoulder. You know better than to dare.

You keep your hands busy arranging bottles and boxes at her vanity until she’s done. Cassandra does that ‘flashing’ thing where she’s on one side of the room one moment and right behind you the next. You only then notice a little insect flying back into her form. It was spying on you.

“You didn’t even look near me, huh.” she says it like ‘congratulations, you passed’, but there’s a bitter undertone of disappointment in her voice.

She’s only feeling down that you didn’t give her an excuse to slice at your face, you think. Then again, does she really need one?

“I wouldn’t, my lady.” you assure. “If I may be excused—”

“Did I say you can go?” she turns you around, none-too-gently, her hands on your biceps tight. You’re effectively pinned against her and the vanity, but you have much bigger problems to worry about, when you take in what she’s wearing.

Cassandra is clad in a flimsy nightrobe that leaves little to the imagination, the fabric nearly see-through. You can see the edges of her lacy underwear underneath it, how nicely it sits against her perfect curves. To make matters even worse, the robe ends at about mid-thigh and your eye catches the expanse of creamy skin on display.

Your brain nearly melts.

“I don’t know what it is about you, plaything, but you’re working up my appetite.” she confesses, pressing into you, pressing you harder into the furniture. You try to think of literally anything else than how well her thigh is slotted between your legs.

If you’re supposed to look away from her lidded eyes, however, you can’t. And if you’re not supposed to feel the echo of her nails on your arm all the way down to your center, you can’t. You are definitely not supposed to be so achingly curious about her bow-shaped lips. But you just can’t.

“You’re working me up.” she breathes, so close you can feel the ghost of her lower lip on yours.

And then –her mouth is on you and you forget how to breathe. Your eyes close and just feel, instead. If this is how you die, maybe it isn’t such a bad way to go. It’s been too long since you kissed anyone, seems like ages ago now, but you gradually remember how to move once you allow your muscles to unlock.

Not looking at her makes it easier. Her lips are balmy and smooth and slide so good on your own you can’t think at all, much less of what she’s capable of. You would have guessed her to be aggressive, but Cassandra is oddly hesitant, the only thing hard about her being her grip.

You’re not sure what you’re doing or how you get so bold, but your hands trail up to her waist and pull her in. The little hitch in her breath threatens to break you. It provides the perfect opening to part her lips with your tongue. As soon as it touches hers, she moans low in her throat and slowly drags her hips against your thigh.

Oh. God.

There’s a hollow ache in your stomach. You’re shamefully wet for her. The voice of reason is mute in your head, until you’re forced to break your liplock to breathe and it only then hits you what you’ve just done.

Cassandra’s lips are insistent on your jawline, on the vulnerable spot under your ear. Her open-mouthed kisses are just hard enough, at first, but then start to border on painful. Your heart skips a beat when you feel the press of teeth, yet she rips herself off of you before she bites down.

“Ugh. I’m… so thirsty.” she says it lightly, but her voice is hoarse and something about her body language gives you the impression she’s hurting. “You should leave. Fast.”

You almost make the mistake of reaching for her. Almost.

Cassandra turns away from the temptation of your veins.

For both your sakes –mostly for yours— you hurry out of her room and never stop to look back.

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village #fanfiction #she's so flirty in game I love her #playful vampire sadist princess of my heart #and Bela's just plain a boss and a bae too

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astradrifting · 3 years

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This is kind of inspired by this recent ask I sent to @esther-dot about Jon’s characterisation and Jonsa shippers’ apparent disregard for it, because it made me think of another part of Jon’s characterisation that is really integral to who he is. Mainly, that Jon really loves his brothers. Especially Robb. His rival and best friend and constant companion. Jon envies him, competes with him, buried a formative traumatic memory where he was deeply hurt by him... but ultimately loves him. Complex relationships with his brothers, both the Starks and his Night’s Watch brothers, are a running theme in Jon’s chapters.

Speaking of Jon’s brothers...

Aegon VI and Robb have a lot of potential parallels, actually. The “Young” moniker, red-haired counselors who are also their parents, trained to be the heir to a great kingdom from a young age, the barely younger half-brother Jon borne of their father’s dishonour of their mother… one that they might both have a good relationship with despite that?

The show tried to play with Jon ‘accepting’ his Targaryen lineage through the jonerice romance, very unconvincingly because it was simultaneously undermining it at every opportunity, in what was maybe a half-assed attempt at Pol!Jon (”They’ll all come to see you for what you are” isn’t anything but a threat in all contexts).

Jon will ultimately choose the Starks over everything else, that’s not really a question. But if Jon were to genuinely connect with another Targaryen, it’d likely be easier for him to find kinship with a half-brother than with an aunt - he has a basis for positive relationships with trueborn half-brothers, while the only aunt figure he’s ever known about is a) long dead and b) actually his mother. I think it’d both make more sense and be more compelling for GRRM to leverage Jon’s existing complex relationships with brotherhood by having him interact with and build a relationship with Aegon, than a rushed and out-of-character romance with Dany.

Jon also is already primed to believe that Aegon is the real deal, that he was saved as a baby, because he’s already done the exact same thing himself - he swapped out a baby of royal blood who was in danger for a common-born boy, and then sent him halfway across the world for safety (side note: if Septa Lemore is Ashara, and if the baby was actually Ashara’s son as theorised here by @agentrouka-blog, that would just strengthen the parallel, because it would be his body double’s mother caring for him, as Gilly has to do for Mance’s son).

They’re definitely going to come into conflict first - politically, Jon will likely be in a position of power in the North by the time they meet, maybe as the KitN through Robb’s will or regent for Rickon, and probably will fight for Northern independence, while Aegon is fighting to be king of the Seven Kingdoms, not 6. Personally, it will be hard to get past the fact that Jon is the direct result of Rhaegar dishonouring Elia, plus that the Kingsguard who should have been protecting her were all stationed in Dorne, guarding Jon’s mother (in whatever capacity). But these interactions, a conflict and eventual friendship/brotherhood between them, would all be a lot more layered than jonerice can really offer. If a relationship between Jon and Dany was truly all that GRRM has been building up to, then there would have been no need for R+L=J - it adds nothing to that storyline, it doesn’t even make it a forbidden romance, because aunt-nephew is hardly the worst incest the Targaryens have engaged in.

It’s almost inevitable that Da*nerys is going to kill Aegon VI/Young Griff in the books, likely by burning him with dragonfire, in the Second Dance of the Dragons. The weird Dragonpit meeting in the show was very contrived, but it does make sense for Dany to meet the ruler on the Iron Throne at least once in a semi-peaceful context. In the show, she used her dragons only to intimidate Cersei, but she didn’t have a personal grievance with her. Aegon is in much more danger during such a meeting. After all she will think he is a pretender, and she doesn’t much care for the rules of safe conduct, as she showed to the envoys from Yunkai.

Dany shrugged, and said, "Dracarys."

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan's tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat.

[...]

"You swore I should have safe conduct!" the Yunkish envoy wailed.

"Do all the Yunkai'i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss." She wrinkled her nose. "You've soiled yourself. Take your gold and go, and see that the Wise Masters hear my message."

(ASOS, Dany IV)

"Ah, there is the thorn in the bower, my queen," said Hizdahr zo Loraq. "Sad to say, Yunkai has no faith in your promises. They keep plucking the same string on the harp, about some envoy that your dragons set on fire."

"Only his tokar was burned," said Dany scornfully.

(ADWD, Dany VI)

So Dany will burn the Blackfyre pretender, and everyone will be happy and cheer to see the rightful queen, the last Targaryen, Slayer of Lies, Breaker of Chains, Insert-The-Million-Other-Titles-Here. Right?

Except how would she prove that he’s an imposter? She can’t exactly roll up with an Alt Shift X video pointing out that Illyrio has said some weird things about Aegon. Is Varys going to have an attack of remorse and explain his whole plot, complete with Blackfyre family tree? Or maybe she’ll explain that she went on a vision quest in Qarth and Aegon totally matches up with the vague symbolism that a bunch of drugged up warlocks told her before she set them on fire?

I don’t think it’s going to matter if Aegon is fake or not, and we might never find out either way. The mystery of his identity isn’t his main narrative, and all of his significance to the story and to multiple other characters is removed if he’s proved to not be Aegon VI. Him being proved fake would just make this plotline a weird, unnecessary digression on Dany’s journey to being the righteous and true queen, his death just another #girlboss moment for her. That’s definitely going to be her perception of it, but once she reaches Westeros we won’t have to rely on only her POV of her actions. History is written by the winners, and no one’s going to miss that it’s a lot more convenient for Dany if the boy with a stronger claim than her turns out to have been fake all along. Arianne and the Dornish are definitely not going to take it lying down, and neither is Jon. He’s not going to fall in love with the woman who murdered his brother, especially by burning him alive. ADWD has plenty to say about how much he hates death by fire.

“Men say that freezing to death is almost peaceful. Fire, though … do you see the candle, Gilly?”

She looked at the flame. “Yes.”

“Touch it. Put your hand over the flame.”

Her big brown eyes grew bigger still. She did not move.

“Do it.” Kill the boy. “Now.”

Trembling, the girl reached out her hand, held it well above the flickering candle flame.

“Down. Let it kiss you.”

Gilly lowered her hand. An inch. Another. When the flame licked her flesh, she snatched her hand back and began to sob.

“Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire.”

(ADWD, Jon II)

Funnily enough, the same fire as a kiss imagery from Dany burning the envoy’s tokar appeared there too, also used as a threat.

If he is not a kinslayer, he is the next best thing. [...] What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive?

(ADWD, Jon IX)

So Aegon’s death is not going to be a triumphant victory for Dany, after which everyone proclaims her the true queen. It’s likely to just solidify opposition to her, from every corner of Westeros. If it happens during a summit or negotiation, it’d be even more of a tragic parallel to Robb and the Red Wedding; the young king murdered off of the battlefield, at an event where he was promised safe conduct. Featuring Dany in the role of Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister. Tywin’s already died a very undignified death, and Roose Bolton looks to be on his way too.

I think the tragedy of Aegon’s death would also hit harder if we see it through Jon, as a main POV, or at least the aftermath of it. Jon was integral at the Dragonpit meeting after all, and probably would be at a peace summit or negotiation between the leaders of Westeros and the invading force.

In ASOS, there’s a curious lack of Jon’s reaction to Robb’s death. We see his initial reaction to Bran and Rickon’s supposed deaths when he gets back to Castle Black, but he doesn’t even know about Robb’s death until Stannis arrives to defeat the wildlings, and we’re not shown the moment he’s told about it. He barely even thinks about it, not even a mention until he meets with Stannis on top of the Wall:

“Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert.”

The harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. “I loved my brother,” he said.

(ASOS, Jon XI)

And that’s literally all we get that is specifically about Robb’s death - the rest of Jon’s chapters, his guilt and grief is about the loss of all his siblings, and the idea of stealing Winterfell from them. It doesn’t really make sense for him to not think about it at all, considering how close they were. This reminds me of how he has a non-reaction to Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion as well, as talked about in this post by @agentrouka-blog. Part of this could be Jon’s tendency towards denial and suppression of all his feelings, but it also points to GRRM explicitly obscuring his reaction - perhaps because he’s going to explore it in the wake of another brother dying a very similar death? One that this time he’ll be there to witness?

#astra rambles #meta #speculation #half speculation half 'my wildest dreams and hopes'#anti daenerys targaryen #anti jonerys #jon snow #aegon vi targaryen #jon and aegon #anti got #because i do dunk on the show a lot in this lmao #i've spent far too long on this and had to delete five tirades against the show already

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queenbrightwhitly · 3 years

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Ok so this is my first time requesting so please be patient with me. Could you please do a teen!reader where they are the youngest child of the Whitly family, and Malcolm is very protective over them because he doesn't want them to be hurt like he has? And when they meet Martin for the first time, Martin is asking personal questions towards the reader and Malcolm just cranks the over protectiveness to 100. Sorry if that didn't make much sense, but thank you for taking the time to read this :)

Haha, I feel like I should be asking you to be patient with me! Anyways I liked this idea and I hope it turned out okay...

Daddy’s Home

“Y/n, stop messing with your food!” Jessica said for the fourth time.

“This is so boring, why can’t we eat?” Slouching in her seat, Y/n moved her fork in between their fingers.

“We are still waiting on Malcolm.” Ainsley pipped in.

Rolling her eyes, she picked up her fork and started eating.

“Y/n!”

“What? It’s not like he’s going to be on time, he never is. I say we start eating now.”

“She’s got a point.” Ainsley shrugged, taking a bite from the plate herself.

Just then all three heard the door open and slam shut, Malcolm walked in the dinning room, quickly taking a seat next to Y/n. “Sorry, I got caught up with a case.” Malcolm loosen his tie.

“Big surprise.” Y/n mumbled under her breathe, making Ainsley crack a smiled from across the table.

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters.” Jessica smiled at her son. “Let’s eat shall we.”

Everyone started eating, leaving an awkward silence. Nobody seemed to have a topic of conversation.

“So, Y/n. How’s school going?” Malcolm started, not seeming to like the tension in the room.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, Y/n. How is school?” Ainsley dragged out, her voice was teasing.

“Don’t make me come across this table Ainsley, I said it was fine.” Y/n gritted their teeth, already annoyed by what she was trying to do.

Since Y/n never saw Malcolm as much as Ainsley, she knew more about what went on in her daily life. Although, according to Y/n it was more like being nosy then anything else.

This comment had sparked an interest in Malcolm, of course picking up on Y/n defensive behavior. “What’s happening here?” Malcolm asked.

“Nothing.”

“Y/n has a crush.”

Shooting a glare at Ainsley, Y/n tried kicking her knee from across the table. “Stop being nosy.”

“Is this true?”

Y/n turned to Malcolm, instantly recognizing the look on his face. His protective nature was coming out, looking rather annoyed at the lack of response.

“Whatever, even if I did. It’s not yours or Ainsley’s business.” Y/n shrugged, taking another bite of food, hoping someone would change the topic.

“Y/n, you know I could just find out, Dani is really good at-“

“Absolutely not, don’t even try to go there! You keep to your life and I’ll keep to mine.” Y/n got up from her chair, grabbing her plate she walked up to her room.

“Well, that wasn’t so surprising.” Jessica casually stated, taking another sip of her wine.

“Did you know?” Malcolm turned to his mother now.

“Of course I knew Malcolm.” Jessica proceeded to drink her wine. “It probably wasn’t a good idea to say your police friends would get involved though.”

Malcolm sighed. “They don’t tell me anything, I barely get to see them, and when I do it’s always one sided.”

“Malcolm, have you ever thought that maybe you being gone all the time is the reason you don’t get told anything in the first place?” Ainsley pipped in.

Malcolm leaned back, taking a bigger sip of his wine. “I’m not gone that much.”

Just then Malcolms phone started ringing. Gil. “I gotta go.” Getting up from his chair, he proceeded to make his way to the front door. His hand was on the handle when-

“I wanna meet dad.”

Malcolm stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“What- Why would you wanna meet Dr Whitly? Where is this coming from?”

Y/n shrugged. “You see dad all the time, Ainsley herself did a whole interview with him! But anytime I even try suggesting to mom about seeing him, she freaks out. I wanna meet him.”

Malcolm shook his head. “No, absolutely not, that is a horrible idea. You don’t need to meet him.”

“Look. I get it. You wanna be all protective older brother. But you fail to realize that I’m asking you to meet dad, I could’ve just waited and gone myself. Instead I’m asking you so you can come with me.” Y/n leaned against the wall, messing with the hem of their shirt. “I love you enough to tell you I wanna see him, but when the day comes and I’m aloud to see him myself, I will go alone.

Malcolm sighed, walking over he pulled her in for a hug. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You got out lucky being so young when everything happened. I would hate to see that crumble.”

“You can’t protect me from him my whole life. I gotta face him at some point. Besides you’ve already done so much, even the whole change the last name.” Y/n teased.

“Alright fine. But you can’t tell mom. She would not only kill me but might lock you in your room forever.” Malcolm said.

“You got yourself a deal Bright!” Y/n took out their hand.

Malcolm smiled. “And a deal yourself, Bright.” Shaking on it, Malcolm left to go meet up with Gil.

A few hours later, Malcolm texted Y/n saying he was outside. When the car pulled up, Malcolm started his rules on things to say and things not to say. Meeting Mr. David was a treat, he was super nice and welcoming. However Malcolm kept going on and on, until they finally got to the front door of the room.

“Malcolm. It’s okay, I get it.” He nodded, but he couldn’t stop his hand from tremoring.

Taking a hold of his hand, Y/n smiled reassuring at Malcolm. “Don’t worry, you’ll be there. You always got my back.”

Taking a breath Malcolm nodded to Mr. David. Giving him the okay to open the door, they both walked in, hearing the loud clank of it shutting behind them.

Martin was looking though a couple of his medical books. He didn’t look up, but he knew they were there.

“Malcolm my boy! You know how I love unexpected visits! I saw the news, quite an interesting turn of events on the case. Please tell me how I can assist.” Martin swivel in his chair. When he turned around he stopped when he realized there were two individuals.

“Why hello there, who’s this?”

Y/n tried not to let that comment get to them. It would only make sense that Martin wouldn’t know who they were. The last time Martin saw them was when he got arrested, and that was years ago.

“This is-“

“I’m Y/n Whitly!” Jumping in before Malcolm could respond.

Martin looked shock, his eyes looking up and down until he settled on Malcolm. “This is little Y/n? My baby?” Martin asked.

Malcolm sighed. “Yes, this is Y/n. Y/n Bright. Not Whitly.”

Y/n rolled their eyes. “Hi, uh, sorry. It’s just- well I’ve never really thought of what I was going to say, I just thought I could make it up as I got here.”

“Oh my sweet child! You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” Martin walked closer to the line.

Malcolm still was holding Y/n hand, which then began to tighten. Instead of moving closer to Malcolm, Y/n walked closer to Martin, standing in front of Malcolm now.

“Really? I mean- it’s been so long, I just thought maybe you forgot about me?” Y/n shrugged.

“Oh, no!” Martin protest. “My sweet child, I never forgot about you! I’ve always kept you in my mind with your brother and sister, it’s just so overwhelming to see you all grown up. I’ve really missed a lot haven’t I?” Before Y/n could say anything he continued.

“I mean, there’s so much to catch up on! How’s school going? Do you have any interest? Oh! Let’s start off easy. What’s your favorite color? Favorite food? How about a boyfriend or girlfriend-“

“Enough!” Malcolm cut in. He pulled Y/n back by her hand to try and put distance between them and Martin. “This is their visit, they can take all the time in the world to catch up.”

“Malcolm-“ Y/n hissed.

“No, your brother is right. I’m sorry.” Martin smiled brightly. “Go ahead, you go first. What would you like to know? Or perhaps tell me?”

Y/n stood there for a moment, knowing there was so much to ask but not enough time for the whole day. They could start with a favorite color, or food, but that was just meaningless things. Instead wanting to ask something a bit more meaningful.

Looking back to Martin who was waiting patiently for something to be said. “Was there ever a moment when you thought you could stop?”

Both Martin and Malcolm taken back by this, but they continued anyway. “Like- did you ever think that you would get caught one day, end up in here, miss out on everything, and never see your family again.”

Martin sighed. “I’ve thought it once or twice, but I never thought I would get caught, or rather... ratted out.” He started to walk around his side of the room, his chains dragging. “I’m so sorry I missed out on your life Y/n, but who’s to say I can’t catch up now!”

“But you wouldn’t have stopped, would you... I mean Malcolm knew what you were doing, and you were going to kill Gil that night anyway.” Y/n stated.

“Maybe, but Y/n you have to realize, it wasn’t my plan to come here, your brother-“

“Did an amazing job.” Y/n cut him off. “My brother did everything that should’ve been your job, and he did it great.”

Martin looked a bit nervous now, fidgeting with his handcuffs. “Y/n, my sweet-“

“I’m not your child.” Y/n stated. “And, biologically speaking you are my father, but Malcolm is my dad, my brother, my best friend. He made sure I was okay... even when I ignore him.” Looking to Malcolm, Y/n smiled apologetically. “I thought coming here to meet you would help fill this hole of not having a father, maybe see if there was a chance that we could have had something. I see now that I was wrong, and if you would have never got caught, I would most definitely been worse off.”

“I know you are going though a lot of mixed feelings right now, but I assure you, I could be there for you. Give me a call, come by and visit, and you’ll see there is still a chance for us! We can still make this work Y/n. I can still be your father!” Martin encouraged.

“Maybe, but you’ll never live up to what Malcolms already given me.” Turning around towards the door, Y/n tugged Malcolm gently with her. “It was really nice to meet you Dr. Whitly. Maybe one day, we can form some type of relationship. Perhaps I’ll be proud enough to call myself a Whitly again, but for now, I think Bright suits me better.”

Walking towards the door, Mr. David opened it, moving to let them both pass.

“Don’t you worry Y/n! You’ll be proud to call me dad one day! I promise! Can’t wait until next time! Call me anytime! I’m always here for you!” Martin shouted from behind. Y/n didn’t say anything until they heard the metal door close.

Taking a breathe, Y/n leaned against the hallway wall. Their hands on the knees, thinking over what just happened. Malcolm squatted down in front of Y/n, taking their hands in his, he started to move circles with his thumbs.

“Are you okay?” Malcolm asked.

Nodding, Y/n looked up to him smiling. “Thanks for letting me come. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing out on much.”

Even though it was supposed to be sarcastic, there was still truth to what Y/n said. Malcolm leaned forward, kissing the top of their head. He pulled back and stood up straight, taking their hand in his. “Come on, let’s get home.”

Walking toward the exit Malcolm wrapped his arm around Y/n shoulder. “Did you really mean what you said? About me being like your dad? Also me doing amazing? Because sometimes I feel like I’m failing.”

“I know I give you a hard time, but I’m really glad to have you as my brother. I wouldn’t trade you for anything. You made sure I was always okay, sometimes too much, but I knew the love was always there. Thank you Bright.” Y/n smirked.

Smiling, Malcolm ruffled their hair. “Anytime Bright.”

#malcolm bright #malcolm whitly #prodigal son #prodigal son fandom #malcolm bright x reader #tom payne x reader #tom payne #malcolm whitly x reader #my writes

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nevervalentines · 3 years

Text

in which dani and jamie sit in the dark kitchen of their vermont rental at 3 a.m. and flirt and bump bare feet under the table

On the nights she can’t sleep, Dani finds her way to the kitchen.

They’ve only been in the rental for a few months, but she already knows the shape of it in the dark. The nightmares rouse her from her sleep about two or three times a week, and with Jamie beside her, it gets harder and harder to drag herself out of bed.

But if she stays, she’s liable to slip back into the dreams – the waking terrors that make shapes out of the shadow of the doorframe, that coax faces from the scritch of branches against the window pane. She swears, one night, that she sees the Lady at the foot of her bed and doesn’t sleep right for days.

Dani makes it through the hallway without casualty, but jolts her hip on the mid-century modern sideboard in the foyer with a muffled curse. The rental is a tiny, one-story cottage outside of Montpelier, with a postage stamp backyard and screened in front porch that Jamie is already over-filling with potted plants and flower boxes.

Dani keeps reminding her not to get settled, that they might leave soon, might not be there for long, and Jamie gives her that fond, squinted look she often does, ducks in for a kiss rather than reply.

The former tenant of the cottage leaned hard into late-70s interior design, with garish wooden paneling and plush, sepia-toned rugs. Dani mutes the art-deco color blocks of linoleum in the kitchen with only the watery light above the stove, and puts the kettle on in the half-dark.

Already, staring hard at the red flare of the burner, she can’t remember the dream that woke her. Just the muddled shape of it, the discomfort and anxiety steeping in her chest, a dark rot that threatens to blacken her from the inside out.

She preps the tea in a ceramic pot on the stove, the loose-leaf blend that Jamie prefers, then milk, sugar, enough that she can feel the ghost of Jamie’s wince from three rooms away.

Slumping over the tiny table in the kitchenette, the mug warms her palms, soothing away the late-fall chill, sweatpants settling low on her hips.

She doesn’t hear Jamie until she is already behind her, the shush of her footsteps, a warm hand on the back of her neck.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

Startling, Dani turns into her touch, soothed to find Jamie looking grumpy and bed-rumpled, dark curls a mess, sleeves of an overlong flannel slipping down her wrists.

Sweetheart is the sleepiest of Jamie’s affections, with Poppins reserved for daylight and teasing, and baby for when Dani is sad, for wiping tears off her chin or tucking her against her shoulder. Most times, there are no pet name at all, just a brusque tone and a hand on her cheek.

Sometimes, to take the piss, Jamie calls her Danielle and mimics her American accent, words flattened and elongated enough to make Dani scowl. But sweetheart is for the kitchen, for kettle warmed fingers and cold tiles.

“You didn’t have to get up,” Dani says. She reaches for Jamie’s hand, brings it to her mouth and brushes a kiss over her knuckles. “I’m fine.”

“Couldn’t sleep anyway,” Jamie says. A lie, but the harmless kind. The things she says to put Dani at ease. “Bed was too still without all your tossing and turning.”

“There’s tea,” Dani says, “If you want some.”

Jamie approaches the stove wearily, and Dani gets up to follow, fetches a mug from the shelf over the spice rack.

“I don’t think,” Jamie says carefully, “that you would ever intentionally hurt me.” She squints skeptically at the pot. “But mistakes do happen.”

“Baby,” Dani says, stuck between laughter and a pouting, little-kid-petulance, “it isn’t going to kill you.”

She steps closer until their hips bump, taking Jamie’s sleeve between a thumb and two fingers and ducking in.

“Aren’t I getting better? I feel like all the practice we’ve been doing,” she lingers on the words, noses at Jamie’s cheek, talks like this might not be about tea, after all, “I think I’m really learning a lot.”

Tucking her lips into her mouth, Jamie disguises a smile, eyes hooded. “It has been a very educational few months, I’ll give you that.”

Dani buries her face in Jamie’s neck to hide a blush and camps out there for a while, just because.

Blanket-warm and sleepy, Jamie still smells like the sheets on their bed, like detergent and soft cotton, the milky skin under her jaw holds a trace of perfume. Dani purses her lips in a quiet just-because kiss against her throat, then another, open mouth, humid breath.

Jamie worms in closer, hips butting, reaching around Dani to take the ceramic mug from her hands and rest it on the stovetop.

“Careful, there,” she says. “You’re going to wake me up for good if you keep that up.”

Dani nods into her neck, accepts an arm around her waist, curls her fingers in the front of Jamie’s flannel. “I’m not going back to sleep, anyway.”

A hum of concern. “Bad dreams again?”

“Always.” This mumbled, grumpily, and Jamie pulls back to pet her fringe out of her eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Dani leans harder into the touch, proffers her cheek for a kiss. Jamie obediently obliges, before pushing her away to continue preparing her tea, nudging Dani back toward the bench seat of the table.

Closing her eyes, the clink of the spoon against the lip of the mug is familiar. So is the sound of Jamie turning off the stove, the hiss-spit as the gas clicks off. Jamie settles at the bench across from her, sets her chin in her palm.

“Think I’m going to pick up groceries in the morning, if you want to come,” Jamie says.

Dani opens her eyes, watches Jamie watch her, and realizes, all at once, how perfectly settled she feels. Grounded, for the first time in years, maybe ever. With a flicker of embarrassment, she realizes that the thought of going to the shop with Jamie does actually excite her – hands knocking between them as Jamie stands for far too long in front of the water-misted produce, a kiss stolen in the narrow aisles of canned goods, cold-cut sandwiches picked up from the deli window next to the butcher.

It’s sickeningly domestic, and perfect, and awful. Jamie looks at her steadily, and Dani looks back.

“I really, really like you,” Dani says, a little woozy. Sleep deprived, and drowsy, the stove still radiating a steady heat, and Jamie looking at her like that – all soft eyes, cupped chin, bare feet knocking under the kitchen table.

Jamie smiles, a little flushed, pleased. “Is that a yes to groceries, then?”

“Definitely a yes.” Dani reaches for her, and Jamie takes her hand, plays a thumb across her palm, stroking gentle over her love line.

Dani wants to say: I didn’t think I could ever have this.

Wants to say: I never thought sitting across from someone at 3 a.m. watching them drink the shitty tea that I made in a pair of shorts I’m pretty sure are mine could make my entire body feel like melted butter, that I could feel pleasure just from the way you touch me, that I would stand in an endless line at a crowded supermarket every Sunday morning if you were in front of me in high-waisted blue jeans picking out a chocolate bar for us to share on the ride home.

Instead she says: “If we have time, we could go to the farmer’s market after? Get those apples you like?”

Jamie answers her with a kiss. Leans across the table and catches her mouth messily, jarring Dani’s mug of tea and sending the lukewarm liquid sloshing. She pulls away laughing, rubs at her own mouth like she’s embarrassed.

“Yeah, Poppins, I figure we can fit that in.”

***

After the store and the market and a meandering drive home – one where Dani spends too long groping at Jamie’s thigh at every stop sign until she gets batted away – they find an autumnal patch of sunlight on the porch and drag the wicker chairs to meet it. Every hour, as the sunlight shifts, Jamie makes a show of moving the chairs a few inches to the left, often with Dani still in hers, giggling as Jamie groans the whole time.

There is a paper bag of apples at their feet, Honeycrisp and McIntosh, more than they could ever readily eat, though Dani promises, absently, to make a pie. Jamie will swear Dani was conned into it by the pretty girl at the apple stand, and Dani laughs, genuine and loud, like she could have eyes for anyone but her.

“Yeah, but we all know pretty girls have always been your weakness,” Jamie says. She inspects the apples for bruises and chooses one carefully, like the decision could determine the entire fate of their afternoon. “I mean –” she gestures at herself, buffs the apple on her knit sweater, “look at me.”

“Oh, modest,” Dani laughs, inching her chair closer to pinch at her arm. “I wasn’t even—”

“You were most certainly flirting.” She reaches for a paring knife resting on the window sill beside them and peels away a long stripe of the apple’s skin, mottled red and green, tossing it into a separate pile for composting. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you, all ‘oh, yes whatever you say, miss, I mean you are the expert, and so good with your hands, too.’”

At this she drops into an awful approximation of Dani’s midwestern accent, seeming to derive great pleasure in doing so, payback for Dani’s even worse British one, hardly making it through the sentence before she starts to laugh.

“I absolutely did not say that,” Dani says, fully affronted now. “And I definitely don’t sound like that.”

Jamie swivels in her seat to face her, grinning, all-together too pleased with herself, speaking around a mouthful of muffled laughter and a slice of apple.

“I took some creative liberties,” Jamie says. “I have every right to, anyhow. I mean you did travel across the ocean with the first pretty girl you saw.”

“Not the first. And can you blame me?” Dani asks, a little quieter, tilting her head to meet Jamie’s eyes full-on. Her words are more weighted than she means them to be, because that’s the thing isn’t it – that it isn’t just any girl, that it’s Jamie, her Jamie, and – “I’d do it again. Travel across oceans, I mean. For you.”

Two points of color rise in Jamie’s cheeks, and she ducks her chin into the lip of her sweater, hiding from Dani’s eyes for a second.

“Christ, Dani,” she says, emerging. “Didn’t have to go full romantic on me.”

“I wasn’t flirting with the apple girl, anyhow,” Dani says, biting hard at her lip. “I just know you like the apples, so.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, eyes dropping somewhere low on Dani’s face. “They’re my favorite.”

Taking the knife to the fruit, she carves away a bite of tender, white flesh, holds it out for Dani to take. Dani opens her mouth, and Jamie’s eyes narrow, lips parting. She feeds it to her slowly, Dani’s teeth scraping against her fingers, a hint of tongue.

It’s ripe, tart, pared perfectly with the sawdust-sunlight clinging to the porch, to Jamie’s fingers lingering on her lips, to the rest of the afternoon stretching ahead of them, and maybe a few more after that.

“You didn’t sleep too well last night, did you?” Jamie asks, clearing her throat.

Confused, Dani wrinkles her forehead. “No, but, I mean, you knew that.”

“Right, well.” A shrug. “I just figured you must be tired, we could get a head start on it, then. Head to bed now, maybe. If you wanted.”

“Oh.” Eyebrows jumping, Dani feels the thrill of it, down to her fingertips, tilts her head to check the kitchen clock through the open doorway. “It’s 3 p.m., how ever will we fill the time?”

“I can think of a few things.” Already, Jamie is moving to her feet, reaching out a hand for Dani to take. Her fingers are sticky with juice from the apple, her cheeks still a little flushed, hair falling wild out of its haphazard ponytail.

Dani thinks about taking the fingers to her mouth, again, thinks about all the things that can fill a Sunday afternoon when you have nowhere else to be. Leaving the bag of apples behind them, it’s Dani who leads the way inside.

Laughing, Jamie hurries to catch up.

#the haunting of bly manor #jamie x dani #my writing #shout out to that anon two weeks ago who asked if i would ever write fic #its not 15k words but i literally cant stop thinking about them #also shoutout to a friend who made me want to take a closer look at a snapshot of the two of them sitting together and drinking tea while #looking way too enamored with each other

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

no great revelation (8/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 9.012

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

read it below or read it here on AO3

VIII.

—

Getting to the planet’s surface was the easy part. Jane was told to wait in orbit, while they boarded Rebecca’s ship and flew down. They were all crammed into the tiny cockpit of Rebecca’s ship, where without enough seats to go around most of them had to simply hang onto whatever fixture they could find and pray. Jamie herself had been relegated the space at the very front, which in the event of a crash would’ve sent her hurtling straight through the reinforced glass windows. The Republic military feed they had cottoned onto earlier barked at them down the line, demanding their authorisation codes or threatening swift retribution. Rebecca acted quickly, keying in a sequence on her ship’s dash and sending it off with an expert flourish.

“Calm down, Sergeant,” she said in a cool tone, and her voice was run through a modulator so that it sounded low and raspy. “This is shuttle hotel charlie two five niner with the Third Fleet. I’ve been called from logistics as backup.”

A crackle of static followed, then, “Hotel charlie two five niner, you’re earlier than expected. You’re cleared for landing. Please proceed with caution. Do not engage hostiles until the rest of your squad arrives. I repeat: do not engage.”

Rebecca hit the button to respond. “Copy. Hotel charlie two five niner.”

And without further ado she began the sequence for final descent.

“Well,” said Owen. “That was efficient.”

Rebecca did not look up from where she was guiding the ship to the surface when she replied in a distracted tone, “I’m very good at my job.”

“Clearly,” Hannah said.

When they got within a certain distance from the planet, Dani straightened from her place jammed into Jamie’s side and tried to peer through the glass. The mountains of Alderaan were jagged caps of blue and grey and white. A rather dramatic landscape, if Jamie were being honest; she was far more interested in the way Dani pressed up against her seemingly without meaning to do so.

They swooped around a mountain peak, the spear-point parapets of House Thul coming into view. Below, people scurried about the ground like insects shooting pinpricks of red blaster fire at one another. The air was filled with enough smoke that it was difficult to make them out, but when Jamie squinted she could just see that the main doors had been breached and the attackers were attempting to push their way inside.

The ship was pinged by someone on the ground, and Rebecca accepted the transmission.

“Unidentified spacecraft,” growled a voice down the comm in an Imperial accent, “state your allegiance and business immediately, or we will not hesitate to shoot you from the sky.”

This time when Rebecca replied, she did not modulate her voice through the computer, though her tone was just as calm as before. Perhaps with a bit more of a bite. Definitely with a smoother Imperial accent that would’ve fooled Jamie herself if she hadn’t known what Rebecca really sounded like. “Corporal, this is Tau Gamma Three. If you delay my landing on the eastern high ground, I will report you to my Rear Admiral for contempt.”

The corporal responded very quickly, “My apologies, Commander. Your transponder code has just been confirmed. Please proceed with all haste. I will personally greet you on the ground and act as your escort.”

“Copy. Tau Gamma Three,” Rebecca said, then took her finger off the transmission button and whispered in her usual accent, “Fuck.”

“Think you over cooked it that time,” Jamie said.

Rebecca gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Damn boot-licking Imps.”

She guided the ship towards where Dani had indicated earlier, landing in a rumble and jerk before cutting the engines and unstrapping herself from the captain’s chair so she could be the first down the gangway.

“Let me handle this,” Rebecca told them.

She smacked the button to lower the gangway to the ground, while outside three people in Imperial grey strode up the hill towards the ship. One, the corporal, had a single red tab of rank on his chest, while the other two bore plasma rifles and shiny black chest plates. Jamie, Hannah, Owen, and Dani all squeezed themselves into a corner of the cockpit so they could peer out the side of the ship and watch.

The corporal saluted as Rebecca walked down the gangway, his mouth moving but his words unintelligible from where Jamie and the others watched. If Rebecca responded, they could not hear her. Without breaking stride, Rebecca unholstered the pistol at her waist and fired three shots. The corporal and one of the infantrymen dropped to the ground. The remaining infantryman fell, but turned over and tried to crawl towards where he had dropped his firearm. Rebecca stalked forward, stepped on his hand, and shot him in the back.

He stopped moving. A hole through his chest cavity smoked gently.

Turning back towards the ship, Rebecca saw them all gawking at her from the cockpit, and gestured for them to come out.

“Where did you meet her again?” Owen asked in a slow, slightly awed voice.

“Nar Shaddaa,” said Jamie.

“Huh.” Owen nodded. “You know, I don’t think you’re cool enough to be her friend.”

Jamie stepped on his foot and glared.

Rebecca was re-holstering her blaster pistol when they all emerged from the ship. “I did my job,” she said, then gave a nod to Dani. “Where to next?”

Dani pointed towards a building complex about five hundred meters away. “This way.”

Jamie made a gesture for her to lead, and Dani started off in the direction she had indicated. They walked briskly, and every time Jamie heard another blast in the distance — some Imperial or guardsman of House Thul throwing firepower at one another on the ground below — she winced and quickened her step. It was nice to see she wasn’t the only one, until the five of them were rushing into the guard complex, slightly out of breath.

When they reached the shut doors, Dani placed her hand on a panel. It scanned her biosignature and flashed green before the doors opened with a hiss of pressurised air. They ducked inside, and Jamie breathed a sigh of relief when the sounds of fighting faded slightly through layers of metal.

“The checkpoint is just around the corner over -” Dani was saying as she led them further down a set of steps, but when she rounded the corner she froze.

Where before the entryway had been completely empty of people — signs of a great hurry evident, upended chairs and half eaten rations — now there was a single guardsman staring at them just down the hall. His face was white as a sheet, his livery of House Thul scuffed and scorched, and in his hands he clutched a blaster rifle, which he pointed at them.

“I don’t suppose you know him?” Owen asked in a low voice to Dani, who shook her head.

With raised hands, Jamie took a step forward and said, “We’re just here to -”

Before she could get more than a handful of syllables into a sentence however, the guard fired. Jamie flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, but the smell of acrid smoke and burning flesh never came. Instead there was only a strangely familiar buzzing sound. When she peeled open her eyes, one after the other, it was to find that Hannah had moved faster than the guard could pull the trigger. A dark scorch mark marred the floor beside her feet, and Hannah held the purple blade of her lightsabre extended at a perfect angle.

Hannah straightened, lowering her lightsabre but not sheathing the blade. The guard staggered back a step, hands trembling around his rifle.

He stared at them for a split second, and then fumbled for the comm unit strapped to his shoulder, pressing the transmit button. “This is Ardi in Post; I need -!”

Hannah waved her free hand, and his own hand suddenly wrenched away from the comm, both of his arms snapping to his side as though he were coming to attention. His wide panicked gaze dropped to his own arms, and he made a weak terrified noise when he could not move.

The comm at his shoulder crackled, and a voice said, “Come in, Ardi. What’s the problem?”

He opened his mouth, but Hannah spoke before he could do so much as squeak. Her voice was like a riptide, like a set of strings attached to a wooden frame. “You will not panic, and you will tell them nothing is wrong.”

The guardsman blinked at her, his eyes going fuzzy and unfocused, while his shoulders and jaw went strangely slack. Then his hand drifted up to the comm. He pushed the button and said in a flat tone, “Nothing is wrong.”

His hand dropped back to his side and he gazed blankly at Hannah for further instruction.

“You will go about your duty,” she said. “You did not see us.”

“I did not see you,” he mimicked in that same tone, then he strode forward, walking directly past them and continuing on his way. They turned to watch him go.

“Always creeps me out when you do that,” Jamie muttered.

Hannah sheathed her lightsabre, but kept the hilt at the ready. “Needs must. Miss Clayton, you were taking us inside?”

Dani snapped her mouth shut from where she had been gaping at the scene. “Oh,” she said, then started forward. “Right! Yes. We just need to go down this hall here.”

Thankfully, the next hall was completely empty. They jumped the barriers at the checkpoint and continued down another hallway leading to a set of armour-reinforced doors, which Dani opened with the press of her hand. The doors slid open, and suddenly they were face to face with a whole squad of Imperial soldiers.

Jamie didn’t know who was more shocked to see the other. Them. Or the Imperials. One member of the squad was kneeling down by the corner of the door, trying to hack his way through the system to get the doors open.

Jamie shot him, while at the same time Dani slammed her hand back down on the bioscanner to shut the doors before the Imperials could react.

“Right,” said Rebecca, who had also taken out her blaster pistol and was ready to fire at the next thing that moved. “Any other ways in?”

Dani shook her head.

“Front door?” Owen offered.

With a low groan, Jamie shifted her grip upon her blaster pistol and jerked her head at Owen and Hannah. “Knights up front.”

Sighing, Hannah and Owen nevertheless dutifully stepped forward and unsheathed their sabres, purple and blue blades between the two of them.

Dani hovered her hand over the bioscanner, but hadn’t unsheathed her own lightsabre. “Is this really the best idea?”

“Too late now,” Jamie grumbled.

“I told you,” said Rebecca.

“Shut it.”

“Open it,” Hannah said to Dani in an exasperated tone of voice.

Dani did so. All of the Imperials had retreated to find cover behind massive pillars and big statues that lined the great hall. The moment Jamie saw one of their stupid grey caps poking around a pillar, she took aim over Owen’s shoulder and fired. Bloody Imps fired back, and soon the air was filled with a volley of blaster fire ricocheting off stone pillars and archways, sending chips of stone spinning across the floor.

Hannah and Owen deflected anything coming their way with an almost lazy indifference, as though they were swatting a few pesky flies out of the sky. An Imperial soldier was hit by his own blaster fire and fell to the ground. Jamie nailed another one in the shoulder, and he swore loudly, crouching back behind cover.

Ducking down slightly, Rebecca nudged Hannah’s shoulder. “Can you two advance? Slowly?”

Owen nodded and the two of them walked forward in step with one another, deflecting incoming blaster fire as they went. Realising what was happening, the Imperial squadron began to panic. A handful tried to make a run for another pillar further along the hallway in an attempt to put ground between them and leaving behind a few of their injured peers in the process. Owen reached out his hand, made a pulling motion, and it were as though three of the fleeing soldiers were yanked back on wires. Hannah chucked her lightsabre — Jamie really couldn’t think of a more eloquent way to describe it apart from ‘chucked’ — and the blade went spinning forward through the air, slicing clean through the soldiers before returning straight to her hand in time for her to sweep aside another attack.

The only soldier left alive was the one Jamie had shot in the shoulder. He was pressing a hand to his wound, sitting on the ground with his legs sprawled and his back leaning against a pillar base. Rebecca rounded the pillar and cocked her blaster pistol.

“Please,” the soldier whimpered.

“Don’t try that shit with me,” Rebecca hissed. “I know what you do to POWs.”

When she raised her pistol as though to whip him with it, he flinched, but the blow never came. Hannah had reached out and the air seemed to solidify into a jelly that held back Rebecca’s arm.

“Miss Jessel,” said Hannah, “Forgive me, but I will not be complicit in the mistreatment of prisoners of war.”

The muscles stood out on Rebecca’s jaw, but she nodded and the sensation of being held underwater rushed from the air. Jamie felt at her own chest and cleared her throat.

“Is it safe to come out yet?” asked a distant voice.

With a frown Jamie turned to find that Dani had remained behind in the hallway, and her head was poking through the door, peering left and right for any sign of lingering danger. Jamie waved her over and Dani quickly crossed the room to stand beside her.

Meanwhile Rebecca shook her head and holstered her blaster pistol. “Last time I saw you, you made mince of seasoned soldiers.”

Ducking her head, Dani shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably, her grip tight around the unlit hilt of her lightsabre. “I wasn’t really myself then.”

“Clearly.”

Jamie nudged the injured soldier with the toe of her boot. “Oi. Where’s the Sith gone?”

At the mere mention of the Sith, his face went pale, his dark eyes glancing between the five of them standing over him. His voice trembled when he spoke. “We - We were just supposed to hold ground behind him.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Owen assured him. “Just tell us which way he went.”

The Imperial soldier lifted a shaking hand and pointed at a door further along the hallway, branching to the left. Dani sucked in a sharp breath.

“What’s that way?” Jamie asked.

“Lord and Lady Wingrave’s quarters,” said Dani.

“There are others,” the soldier said. “My squad was just supposed to flush out any stragglers.”

“Any other way in?” asked Rebecca.

“Uh -” Dani bit her lower lip and glanced about the great hall. “That wing has been shut for years, but I think - I think so. Yes.”

Jamie made a shooing gesture. “Lead the way.”

“What about me?” said the Imperial soldier.

“Owen?” said Hannah.

“Right,” said Owen, and he leaned down to tap the soldier aside the head, upon which the soldier immediately slumped, head lolling to one side, fast asleep.

“Useful, that,” Jamie mused. “Can you do that to me next time I’ve had too much stimcaf late in the evening?”

“Only if you want a migraine when you wake up,” Owen said dryly.

“Mmm. On second thought -”

“Come on, you two,” Rebecca said in exasperation, already following closely after Dani and Hannah down another hallway.

Leaving the wreckage of the main hall, they hurried after their guide. Dani led them through twisting corridors and broad rooms, the house like a vast labyrinth of doors sprawling in all directions. At one point they passed through what was clearly a little girl’s room — at least, if all the dolls and the miniature estate were any indication. Jamie accidentally trod on something, and she glanced down.

It was a handmade doll. Pale-skinned. Grey-robed. Long and dark-haired. And completely faceless.

With a faint shudder, Jamie kicked the doll aside and continued after Dani who had taken them to — of all places — a walk in closet. At the far end of the closet was a floor-length mirror. Dani froze so suddenly that Jamie almost walked into the back of her.

“What’s -?” Jamie started to ask but never finished.

Looking over Dani’s shoulder, she could see all of them reflected in the glass, except Dani. In her stead, a grey-gowned shadow with a face worn smooth by time and memory.

“Dani,” Jamie murmured, staring at the reflection. When she touched the small of Dani’s back, Dani jolted and the apparition vanished like a wisp of smoke.

“It’s fine,” said Dani too quickly, her voice tight as a clenched fist.

“Is something wrong?” Owen asked, peering over the tops of their heads for a better look.

“No,” Dani insisted. “It’s nothing.”

Feeling vaguely sick, Jamie opened her mouth to speak, but Dani had already stepped forward, approaching the mirror with a trembling outstretched hand. A press of her fingers and the mirror swung forward on hidden hinges, revealing a dark passageway yawning beyond it. Inside there echoed the sounds of blaster fire, of grenades and men screaming in the distance.

“Yeah - uh - no offense,” said Rebecca, “but I do not want to go in there.”

Dani steeled herself and took a step inside. When she peered back at them, one of her eyes gleamed golden and owlish from the shadows. “It’s the only shortcut to the Lord and Lady’s wing. I discovered it by accident one day.”

And without further ado, she turned and vanished into the narrow warren. When the others all stepped forward to follow Dani into the darkness, Rebecca groaned and trailed after them. Jamie lost all sight when Rebecca shut the mirror behind them. Owen unsheathed his lightsabre, holding it up into the air to light the way as though he were carrying a blue torch. Dani was already far ahead, walking without the aid of light, a silhouette through the murk.

The sounds of battle grew louder the further they delved. At one point Jamie nearly jumped out of her skin when a bang made the wall to her immediate left vibrate and shed flecks of plaster.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jamie gasped, clutching her chest in one hand and her blaster pistol in the other. “Can we please get out of here? I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

Dani walked a few more steps, then stopped before a section of wall that looked like all the other sections of wall. That was until Owen drew close enough that the light from his sabre revealed the faint outline of an old mechanical panel. Dani placed her hand upon it and glanced over her shoulder at the others.

“Ready?”

Hannah pushed the button to unsheathe her lightsabre, and she and Owen took up post on either side of Dani, while Rebecca and Jamie stood behind them, blasters at the ready. Dani gave Jamie a questioning look, waiting for a nod before she drew a deep breath and twisted the panel to a horizontal position.

The wall rumbled slightly, then swung outward with a groan of hinges. The room beyond was not, as Jamie had originally suspected, a bedroom. Instead it was a sprawling lounge. Once lush and wood-panelled, the walls lined with old paintings, now filled with smoke and blaster fire. Guardsmen in House Thul colours scrambled to hold ground in this last bastion of the manor, while Imperial soldiers crowded the only entrance chokepoint.

Neither side had yet noticed the ragtag group of Jedi, smugglers, a gardener and a governess that had walked through an enormous painting along the wall.

Jamie didn’t need to be told this time where the Sith had gone; it was clearly evident in the path of destruction in his wake. Dead guardsmen in various states of dismemberment. Great gouges raked along the floor and walls, the stone still simmering with the faint glow of embers. A pillar had been cut completely in half and was sprawled along the ground. The room was a scarred and smoking ruin barely clinging to life, leading up a set of sweeping stone staircases, and the path curving out of sight beyond a cavalcade of slashed portraits.

“Rebecca,” said Hannah in a brook-no-nonsense tone. “With me. We will hold off the Imperial troops. The rest of you -” She looked at the three of them, ending with a softer glance towards Owen. “Find the children. And come back to me.”

Owen nodded and his moustache twitched in a tell tale smile. Then he looked back at Jamie and Dani, jerking his head towards the staircase. “Follow me.”

Rebecca was already going through the motions of checking her blaster pistol to ensure it would shoot without error.

“Are you keen to kill a few Imperials, Miss Jessel?” Hannah asked, sounding amused.

Rebecca smiled and cocked the pistol. “Always.”

Hannah made a gesture towards the fight. “After you.”

And they were off to the races. Jamie shook her head after them, then followed Owen, who was already hurrying up the stairs with Dani. There were no soldiers here, neither Imperial nor Thulian. The door to the sleeping quarters was open, and the sound of muted conversation issued forth, as of two people discussing a mundane topic over a drink. Steeling herself, Jamie stepped into the room just behind Owen and Dani.

The room sprawled, as large and opulent as the rest of the estate. A four poster bed stood proudly at the far end. Portraits continued to dot the walls at all levels. There were a few armchairs and a plush couch, and in the centre of the very room, two men.

The Sith wore a black and fully self-contained suit, complete with a red-eyed mask and tubes that hooked over his neck and shoulder into some sort of apparatus at his back. Jamie had only ever seen someone wear an outfit like this once before, and it was to combat the Rakghoul plague on Taris. His speech was interspersed with sporadic coughing fits, but his movements were steady. He held up Lord Wingrave in the air with the Force as easily as though holding up a cup of tea.

“You cannot hide them forever,” he was saying, his voice altered through a respirator. “I will tear this manor apart, limb from limb. And that gift which to others hath been a boon shall to you be a very bane."

Owen hefted his lightsabre and said in a commanding tone, “Let him go.”

The Sith glanced over his shoulder and turned. The eyes of his mask were scarlet half-moons that gleamed through the darkly paneled space. Behind him Lord Wingrave continued to choke, face purpling.

The Sith tilted his head, sizing up his unexpected company. Then to Jamie’s shock and confusion, the Sith bowed to them — or, rather, to Dani.

"My Lady," he said, straightening. "Your presence humbles me. We shall find for you a more suitable host in due course."

Dani stared at him in absolute horror, saying nothing.

Owen stepped forward. “Your fight is with us, not him.” Owen gestured towards Lord Wingrave with his lightsabre, and he repeated, “Let him go.”

“But of course,” said the Sith. He unsheathed his lightsabre — red as a bloody dawn — and held it to the side so that when he released the Force, Lord Wingrave fell directly upon the blade.

Dani cried out, but Jamie held her back before she could move forward. Lord Wingrave slumped, his body pierced completely through the chest. He choked on an inhalation, and then the Sith deactivated the lightsabre, and Lord Wingrave crumpled to the floor.

The Sith stepped over his body, approaching them and coughing, a wet and sickly rattling of his lungs. When he spoke, he addressed Dani alone, as though she were the only person in the room. “The Force has brought you to my side. And I will not let such an opportunity slip between my fingers.”

At the front of the group, Owen kept looking between the approaching Sith and the man dying in his wake. He did not turn around to ask Jamie, “Think you handle this?”

Jamie glanced at Lord Wingrave. His chest was still rising and falling, but his breaths were shallow and growing weaker by the second.

“No,” said Jamie. “But go anyway. I’ll cover you.”

With a nod, Owen sprinted forward. Jamie fired several shots at the Sith, not aiming to hit, just to distract. The Sith, of course, deflected every blaster fire with his lightsabre as though batting aside a particularly irritable fly. However the cover fire served its purpose, and Owen was able to slip by without the Sith engaging him in combat directly.

Indeed, the Sith seemed utterly uninterested in anything else in the room that wasn’t Dani. He continued to stride forward, steps slow and sure and steady as the tide. Behind him, Owen dragged Lord Wingrave into the far corner beside the bed, lightsabre sheathed, and began to tend his wounds. Jamie wasn’t well versed in the healing arts — never would be, truth be told — and honestly it seemed like all Owen was doing was meditating beside Lord Wingrave’s body. Must’ve done something, though. At least, she hoped it did.

And all the while, the Sith was striding towards them with singular intent.

"You can start shooting again now," Dani muttered to Jamie.

"Do you remember blaster fire being useful against you?" Jamie asked, incredulous, even as she holstered her pistol.

“No,” said Dani. Even so, she pulled out her lightsabre hilt, ready to unsheathe the blade at a moment’s notice.

The Sith stopped a few paces away. Close enough that Jamie could see the scars on his armour, the ragged hems of his robes, the piercing quality of his mask’s eyes. When he spoke, it was only to Dani, as though Jamie weren’t there at all.

“Your love for these people makes you weak. You are ruled by your own fear, rather than taking control of it. If only you had the stomach,” he hissed. “You could be so much more. But as you are, you’re not fit to play host to The Lady.”

Dani’s hands trembled around the hilt of the lightsabre, but her voice was steady and clear. “You know nothing about me.”

The Sith’s laughter was broken by coughing, his broad shoulders shaking, yet for all that he never appeared any less commanding a presence. “Your emotions betray you. Lay you bare. I can taste your fear, feel your anger.”

He circled round her with slow footsteps and Dani turned to follow him with the tip of her lightsabre. She shook her head, eyes unyielding, jaw tightly held.

“No?” he asked, his tone amused through the rasp of his respirator. “Then, prove me wrong.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jamie said, low and warning. She could see the way Dani’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, but otherwise Dani did nothing.

“What are you waiting for?” he growled, and in a motion too quick to follow he hefted his lightsabre — the blade a darker, muddier red beside the pure crimson of Dani’s kyber — and slashed at Dani’s feet with a snarl, making her leap back and leaving a smouldering furrow in the ground. “Strike me down!”

Dani regained her footing and brought her lightsabre back up into a defensive position.

“I will kill all you hold dear. I will make you watch as they die. I will take you to my master on Dromund Kaas as a prize, and you will know such suffering. Until we pry the soul from your lungs. Until the very end.” The Sith stalked to and fro like a great animal pacing its enclosure, dragging the tip of his lightsabre on the ground behind him so that sparks scattered at his footsteps. “Your name will be a blight on this house, a mark of its end. I will find these children and make them instruments of the Dark, and they will know that you were the reason why.”

Hands tightening around the hilt of her sabre, Dani’s eyes darted away from him and towards one of the paintings hung low on the far wall. The Sith paused, then followed her gaze.

“There you are,” he murmured.

He reached out a hand and the painting was ripped from its hidden hinges on the wall, revealing a small chamber beyond, just enough for people to hide objects of value. Except in this case, there were two children huddled and crouched. The elder of the two — a boy — saw Lord Wingrave sprawled on the ground, attended to by Owen, and he cried out, “Uncle Henry!”

“Miles, don’t -!” Dani shouted.

The Sith caught him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him close. Miles struggled and kicked, but the Sith’s grip was iron.

“My, look at you,” the Sith said, tilting his head as though appraising a piece of fine jewelry. “So wrathful for one so small.”

Miles tried to claw at the Sith’s respirator, and for this he was backhanded so hard he staggered and fell, clutching his cheek. Both Dani and Jamie took an abortive step forward. His sister raced forward to make sure he was all right.

The Sith gestured to the children behind him. “New apprentices for my master. Or perhaps, only one is needed.”

When he raised his lightsabre, Dani moved before Jamie could stop her. She caught the blade with her own, parrying it aside and putting herself between him and the children, lightsabre raised and ready, eyes hard. The Sith tested the edge of Dani’s blade, the sound of two lightsabres running against one another like nothing else, electrifying the very air, and they began to circle around one another like a pair of vultures over a carcass.

The Sith moved with the swiftness of a snake, striking with sure movements that Dani could barely deflect, her brow pinched in concentration. As they moved about the room, Jamie sprinted forward, avoiding the fight so she could crouch down beside the children.

Miles was fine, though addled and shaken. His breath came shallowly and he trembled more from fear than anything else. The girl meanwhile was putting on a brave face.

“Hey. Hi. I’m Jamie,” she said, slightly breathless. “Can you stand?” she asked Miles.

He nodded, but struggled to do so. She picked him up and half carried him towards a more sheltered corner, urging the young girl to follow her closely. Jamie checked Miles for any other wounds, but there was nothing but the bruise blooming across his cheek.

“You’ll be right,” she murmured, cupping said cheek and giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Behind her, Dani was losing ground, giving ground, defending rather than attacking. The Sith seemed to be toying with her, darting his blade in various directions to see how she would react, testing the waters and thoroughly enjoying himself if his creepy fucking laughter was any indication.

“Stay here,” Jamie said in a low tone to the kids, eyes fixed upon the Sith.

Her blaster pistol was next to useless in a fight like this. Jamie patted herself down. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her slacks and withdrew the small mining laser. Its blade extended maybe only a few centimeters in length, bright green and hot.

Glancing up, Jamie watched as Dani and the Sith circled one another like two wary predators. She adjusted the mining laser in her grip and waited until the Sith’s back was to her. Then, drawing a deep steadying breath, she rushed forward before her courage could fail, and stabbed into his back. The laser’s tip pierced through one of the hoses wrapped around his neck and shoulder. Instead of oxygen leaking out, a billow of sickly yellow smoke streamed from the ruptured section of hose, smelling strongly of sulphur. With a snarl, the Sith turned and slashed his lightsabre in a raking blow. Jamie ducked to the side but not fast enough.

The last time Jamie had been on the wrong end of a lightsabre wound, it had burned a hole straight through her shoulder as though her bones were made of softened butter. This was a similar experience, and one she had hoped to never feel again. The tip of the lightsabre whipped up, missing her arm and torso, and instead scoring her face.

A flare of white-hot pain. Jamie flinched and scrambled away, nearly losing her footing and only managing to catch herself on the edge of an armchair. The mining laser clattered to the floor. One hand reached up to test the left side of her face, and she grit back a hiss through her teeth. She had shut her eyes reflexively and was now afraid to open them for fear that one might not work anymore. Tentatively she peeled them open — one after the other. Her left eye stung, unable to see through the curtain of blood dripping down her face. She blinked and tried to wipe the blood away, but stopped when she accidentally touched the wound slashed from brow to cheek.

“Are you okay?” asked a small voice through the din, close by.

The boy, Miles, had crawled over to check on her, his face pale. Jamie nodded and tried to stand up, but felt woozy. Flashes of red and animalistic snarls. With her right eye Jamie could just make out two figures fighting tooth and nail in the centre of the room.

Where before Dani had never attacked, now she never defended. Her lightsabre struck out, sharp and sweeping and reckless, always advancing, always taking ground, always seeking an opening, demanding an opening, finding an opening. The Sith stumbled back with a desperate parry, the air like a painting itself streaked with the red of their sabres and the yellow of sulphur and the bright, crucible gold of Dani’s gaze. And it was cold, a cold so deep Jamie could feel it congeal the blood on her face.

Dani thrust out her hand, a wave of the Force slamming into his chest and forcing the Sith back until he was cornered against the foot of the four-poster bed. He held his lightsabre up to deflect another attack, but could not move as Dani rained down blow after wailing blow. No art to it now. Just mad ferocity. Hacking at him as if with an axe, teeth-bared, hair wild, terrifying to behold.

“Shit.” Jamie kept a hand on Miles’ shoulder, putting herself between him and the scene unfolding even as she fought the urge to shrink back, to grab him and run for the exit.

Something darted just under Jamie’s sight, a flurry of movement past her bad eye. Before she could stop her, Flora raced over and jumped atop the bed, wide-eyed and terrified. “Stop it! Miss Clayton, Stop!”

Dani froze, panting, lightsabre lifted overhead, mid-swing. She blinked, her face slackened, and she slowly lowered the lightsabre with a small shake of her head. The Sith at her feet was wheezing, wracked with intermittent coughs as the gas in his suit bled out. And when her guard was lowered just fractionally too much, he let out a sound like a growl and stabbed.

Dani swept her lightsabre down in time to block the attack. What exchanged was a brief flurry of action so fast Jamie could scarcely follow it. Parry, riposte, and then they were poised in trembling finality, Dani’s lightsabre struck through his chest in a killing blow.

The Sith’s hand trembled. He reached forward to clutch her close by the shoulder and whisper something in Dani’s ear. Jamie couldn’t hear what he said. She could only see the way Dani’s eyes widened, the way Dani sheathed the lightsabre and caught him before his body could fall to the ground, lowering him gently into death.

Jamie let go of Miles, and he raced forward towards his uncle, kneeling beside him. Owen seemed to come from a trance, looking pale and exhausted. When Henry took a deep breath and sat up, Miles made a sound both choked and relieved, hugging him tight. Meanwhile, Lord Wingrave grimaced in pain, barely able to do more than wrap an arm around his nephew and send Owen a confused glance.

Mopping up the side of her face with the sleeve of her shirt, Jamie stepped forward. Dani was still kneeling on the ground, supporting the weight of the Sith with a dazed expression on her face. The young Wingrave girl sat crouched on the bed, trembling and frozen in place. Jamie touched Dani’s shoulder, feeling the tense of muscle there, and urge her to stand upright so she could bring her into a swift and fierce hug. Dani breathed harshly in her ear, sounding dazed, sounding thready and disbelieving.

“I’ve got you,” Jamie said. “I’ve got you. Well done.”

Dani reached out a hand and pulled the Wingrave girl into the hug until the three of them stood there in vaguely puzzled bliss, unsure of how exactly they had escaped, unscathed.

When Dani let go, the Wingrave girl jumped down from the bed to join her brother beside Owen, the three of them checking on her uncle. Dani’s gaze followed them, looking pained, even guilty.

“Hey,” Jamie said, drawing Dani’s attention. She pointed at her own face. “We match.”

For a moment Dani simply blinked at her in confusion until Jamie indicated her own fucked up eye. Then Dani laughed, shocked, brief, and belly-deep. She reached up and gently stroked the side of Jamie’s face, her expression pained. “I’m sorry.”

“Some things are more important,” said Jamie, lifting her hand to cover Dani’s. “Like: does it make me look dashing?”

With another incredulous laugh, Dani leaned forward instead of answering and kissed her. Jamie winced when Dani’s nose brushed against the burn on her cheek.

“Ow.”

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Dani pulled back and tried to pull her hand away as well, but Jamie held it where it was so she could press her lips to the centre of Dani’s palm.

Owen was urging Lord Wingrave to his feet when Hannah strode into the room. Her lightsabre was hooked back onto her belt. She had a few marks on her otherwise pristine burgundy robes, evidence of the fight she and Rebecca had endured on the front lines. Rebecca herself was in deep conversation with a Thulian guardsman near the exit.

Dani spared Jamie a rare smile before she rushed over to Henry and the others when Jamie let her go. Touching the wounded side of her face, Jamie blinked through a layer of crusted blood and was gratified to find she could, in fact, see through her left eye.

“How’d you get on?” she asked as Hannah stopped before her.

“All’s quiet on the front,” answered Hannah. “The Imperial invasion of House Thul has been thoroughly cast aside.”

“Happy fuckin’ days,” said Jamie, still exploring the wound on her face with a tentative press of her fingertips.

“You look a little worse for wear,” Hannah replied, cocking her head to one side. “Though you seem to have done the job.”

Lowering her hands, Jamie gave a bitter laugh. “Not me. All Dani. I just stood there like a muppet half the time. And got injured, to boot.”

Hannah made a soft sound in the back of her throat. “Pasha and his Troopers were looking for a Sith assassin.” She nudged the dead Sith’s robes with the toe of her boot. “This looks like a Sith assassin to me.”

“Yeah, but they were looking for someone of Dani’s description.”

“Unfortunate that,” Hannah sighed. “How easy it is for innocent people to be pulled into the undertow of Sith machinations. Lord Wingrave will say nothing of her, I’m sure; his debt is too great. The children are young; they will forget. And the overwhelming evidence will say that Danielle Clayton was never here.”

Jamie stared down at the Sith corpse before her. She mused over the possibility of tearing off his mask and looking upon his face, before coming to the conclusion that she would rather not know. That he was better in her memories as this — the awful caricature that he wished to be perceived as. With a shake of her head, Jamie tore her gaze away in favour of watching Dani across the room.

Dani talking to the children. Dani talking with Owen. Dani tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and standing with hands clasped gently before her and an auspicious smile on her face.

"Such a small thing. Such a little thing to house the echo of a soul," Hannah mused beside her. "It's got me to wondering about our dear friend Miss Clayton."

Jamie made a noise to indicate she was listening, even while both their eyes remained training on Dani, watching her chat with Owen and Lord Wingrave.

"Holocrons, you see," continued Hannah, "wouldn't make for very good receptacles of secret knowledge if they could be opened by just anyone. To open one requires use of the Force. A great deal of it, I might add."

With a jerk, Jamie tore her gaze from Dani to stare at Hannah. Then she turned her head back towards Dani, who was now crouching down to talk to one of the children — the little girl. Jamie watched as the girl threw her arms around Dani’s neck and something flickered, gold and bright, in Dani’s eye, her expression unreadable before she relaxed and returned the hug with an easy warmth.

“Does she know?" Jamie asked.

Hannah shrugged. "I have hinted at it, but thought it best to leave it at that for now. She should come to this realisation on her own. I'm telling you, because in the future the two of you might want to explore what she is."

"And what is she?"

Hannah smiled. "Herself, of course."

Across the room, Rebecca gestured from the main entryway and called out. “Pubs incoming. We should get a move on.”

Dani straightened, hand lingering on the girl’s shoulder. She nudged Flora towards Owen, who was now talking directly to the Wingrave boy. Meanwhile Henry took the opportunity to pull Dani into a grateful hug of his own, making Dani go rigid all over then laugh nervously and pat his shoulder. As Jamie watched her, she felt something warm in her chest unspool.

Beside her there came a slight cough. Glancing at Hannah with a frown, Jamie said, “What?”

Looking like she was trying to bite back a smile, Hannah shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, one hand toying with a gold earring. “Just nice to see you so unsurly for once. She’s a good influence on you, that one.”

Jamie narrowed her eyes. She nudged Hannah’s elbow with her own and grumbled, “Shut it.”

Hannah chuckled, a low warm sound. When Jamie started towards the exit as well, Hannah did not follow.

Jamie stopped. “You coming?”

With an all-encompassing gesture towards their ruined surroundings, Hannah said, “Someone has to stay behind and spin a tale for the Republic Troopers. And doubtless there’ll be paperwork for Owen and I to fill out regarding our new Temple initiates.”

Jamie nodded. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You and I both know that’s not how this works, dear.”

“Right.” Jamie gave a rueful shake of her head and rubbed at the new scars on her face; they itched something fierce. “More Jedi bantha shit.”

Rather than take umbrage with Jamie’s word choice, Hannah simply made an amused sound in the back of her throat. “The fact you think that doesn’t apply to you after all these years -” Hannah trailed off and waved Jamie away. “Laughable. Really.”

Jamie backed away towards the door in lazy strides. “We’ll see you soon?”

“You had better,” Hannah replied in a warning tone. “Three years of nothing but pre-recorded postcards? The gall.”

With a laugh, Jamie blew Hannah a kiss — which earned her an exasperated roll of Hannah’s eyes — before finally turning and walking towards the exit, headlong. Dani stood just outside the doorway, waiting. When Jamie drew near enough, Dani tangled their fingers together and gave Jamie a tremulous smile.

“Okay?” Dani asked.

Jamie squeezed Dani’s hand. “Yeah. Perfect.”

Dani reached up but did not actually touch Jamie’s face. “We should probably get this looked at.”

“Later,” said Jamie with a dismissive shrug. “I bet Jane can’t wait to hold my head under a kolto tank until I drown.”

“Jane likes you,” Dani insisted, dragging Jamie along so that the two walked after Rebecca and out of House Thul.

“Do they, though?”

“Well,” said Dani, then she paused in consideration. “I think so, anyway.”

Guardsmen of House Thul scurried about. They were taking prisoners and speaking into comm units to — presumably — incoming Republic troops. Dani and Jamie slipped past them all, doing their best to avoid all and any notice. Nobody stopped them, just as nobody stopped Rebecca, until the three of them had left the manor and stood before Rebecca’s ship. The three Imperial soldiers were still sprawled on the ground from when Rebecca had shot them. The Corporal’s eyes were glassy, his muscles rigid in death.

When they had reached the ship proper, Rebecca holstered her pistol and turned. “Guess this is it,” she said.

Jamie stopped and squinted at her friend. "If I hug you, are you going to taser me again?"

"Depends on where you put your hands." With a laugh, Rebecca pulled her into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around Jamie’s shoulders. Jamie returned the gesture, tucking her face into Rebecca’s shoulder before stepping away.

"I really need to dash before either the Pubs or Imps find out I've been here." Rebecca grasped Jamie's shoulder. "We even, now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on, then. Wait -" Jamie said when Rebecca took a step back. "How are we supposed to get off the surface without you?"

Rebecca made a vague gesture to the sky. "Jane has a transport shuttle. Just call for it."

"Jane has a transport shuttle?"

"Good grief, Jamie. I gave you one of my favourite ships. The least you could do is talk to it."

"I'll think about it." Jamie grinned when Rebecca rolled her eyes. "We'll probably head off to -"

"Ah, ah!" Rebecca shook her head and mimed covering one ear. "Don't tell me. It's better if I don't know."

Her dark eyes drifted over Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie heard light footsteps approaching, and Dani stepped up beside her. She smiled at Rebecca. “Just thought I should say thank you, before you go.”

“My pleasure. Really.” Rebecca held out her hands. “Don’t suppose you want a hug, too?”

With a shake of her head, Dani nevertheless stepped forward, smiling into the hug. Rebecca patted Dani on the back, her hand getting tangled up in Dani’s nanosilk cloak.

Laughing, Rebecca stepped away, untangling her hand from Dani’s cloak. “How you manage to fight with that thing on is a miracle.”

Dani straightened the cloak around her shoulders, grinning broadly. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“From what I understand, luck has nothing to do with it.” Rebecca glanced between Dani and Jamie, her smile softening. Behind her, her ship lowered its gangway. Rebecca lifted her hand and touched her brow in a jaunty sort of salute. “Don’t be strangers.”

Dani waved as Rebecca turned and boarded her ship. The gangway retracted behind her and the ship sealed itself. Jamie watched through the transparisteel windows of the cockpit as Rebecca strapped herself into the captain’s chair. The engines revved to life and with a burn of fuel, the ship rose up into the air, and she was gone.

Jamie fished out a handheld transponder from her pocket. "Jane?"

The ship's computer spoke through the little speaker. "How may I be of assistance?"

"We need to get off the surface. Think you can help?"

"I am sending a transport shuttle now. Estimated time of arrival: two minutes, thirty-seven seconds. Please stand by."

Lowering the transponder, Jamie pocketed it right beside the small mining laser. Dani had her head tipped back to look at the sky to watch Rebecca’s ship go, shielding her face from the watery sunlight with the flat of her hand. With a smudge of dirt across her cheek and her hair a-tumble, standing amidst the rubble of a warzone, she was perfect.

"Do you think it's warm on Corsin?" Dani asked idly. When Jamie did not answer, Dani lowered her hand and tipped her chin back down to face her. She blinked in confusion. "What are you looking at?"

The cold mountain breeze toyed with the long curls of Dani's hair that had come loose during the fight. With a smile, Jamie gave a slow disbelieving shake of her head. Then she reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Dani's ear.

“You,” she said. “Just you.”

—

The ship’s engines hummed steadily. Rebecca had set the computer to control autopilot, and now stood over a small table in what was supposed to be the dining area. She never used it for that. Only for storage. The place was littered with things most people would pass over with a sniff of disdain, but which years of experience had taught her could get her out of a bad scrap in a pinch.

The table was cleared of everything except the frame of a square object, small enough to sit in the palm of her hand and made of a black gold metal. Inscriptions had been carved into each triangular section, the pieces carefully assembled into a diminutive and unassuming box. Reaching into her pocket, Rebecca pulled out a final triangular piece. For a moment she turned it over between her fingers, then set it carefully into place, so that the holocron was once more complete.

The holocron hummed, filled with a brief intense light, then went out like a snuffed candle.

“Well,” said Rebecca softly. “Shit.”

Behind her a light blinked at the terminal dash. With a grimace, Rebecca looked around before slinging a spare jacket over the holocron to hide it. When she touched it even through the fabric however, she could still feel a faint hum that tingled through her palm and all the way up her arm, an intense numbing itch. Shaking her hand free of the sensation, Rebecca turned around. She ran a hand over her hair and clothes to ensure her appearance was somewhat tidy. Then with a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and pressed a blinking button on the terminal. She tucked her hands smartly behind her back and lifted her chin as a holo flickered to life.

The projection was life-sized. A towering figure all in black. Black robes. Black hood. Face hidden utterly behind a black mask. Rebecca set her jaw and swallowed, tamping down the unsettling urge to look the figure in the eye, even though there were no eyes to look at. And though there were whole solar systems between them, she could not shake herself of the feeling that if the figure reached out, they could grab her by the neck and hoist her up into the air as easily as if she were a child’s toy doll.

When the figure spoke, their voice was deep and crackling through the speakers of their mask. “Have you recovered the holocron?”

Rebecca kept her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze kept straight ahead at a space just over the figure’s shoulder. “Yes, my Lord."

“And?”

“Nothing,” she said. “It seems to be inactive, now that The Lady no longer resides within it.”

“I find that disappointing,” said the figure.

A brief terrifying silence followed, during which Rebecca counted her heartbeats, wondering when they would stop. She squeezed her hands together behind her back when the figure started to speak again.

“Where is the host now?”

“I do not know,” Rebecca answered.

The figure tipped their head slightly to one side and a red light gleamed across the mask. “Are you lying to me, Agent Jessel?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Quint thought he was a good liar. You’re not under such delusions, are you?”

“No, my Lord,” she repeated.

Behind her, she swore she could feel the holocron hum. She had to dig her fingernails into the palm of the hand that had touched it through layers of cloth to ground herself. The figure’s head jerked towards the sensation, sightless gaze watching the space behind Rebecca as though they could see beyond the simple holo of herself she would have projected in return. Most days she was confident in the fact that she had coded her holo to not give away any of her surroundings, no matter where she was. Today, she was not so sure.

The figure looked back at her. “You will return to Drommund Kaas to receive further instruction.”

“And the Jedi?”

“Are none of your concern, Agent. Report back immediately for a full debrief.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The holo flickered out of view. Only once the light had stopped blinking on the dash did Rebecca allow herself to breathe properly again. She inhaled deeply and shook her head. Then she turned and pulled the jacket off of the holocron.

It was still unlit, but it hummed gently.

With one last look at it, Rebecca left the room and returned to the cockpit. She sat in the captain’s chair, keying in commands with practised ease.

The coordinates to Dromund Kaas were set, and she hit the jump command to hyperspace.

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #dami #dani clayton/jamie #no great revelation #roman writes

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nlights37 · 4 years

Note

2, and make it soft, bitch!

EXTRA SOFT, just for you, bitch!

2. “Come take a shower with me~”

Jon and Dany, set in the universe of Something Stupid

“Is your brother okay?”

They were standing at the kitchen island, together, watching as Dany’s older brother Rhaegar walked the length and breadth of the living room, proclaiming shortly after entering that he needed to ‘check the aura of the space’ before he would sit and explain what, exactly, he was doing there.

The last she’d heard from her mother, Rhaegar had moved Elia and the kids to some commune in Dorne, where clothing was optional and they grew their own marijuana strains, and judging by Rhaegar’s somewhat haphazard appearance, got high off their own supply.

“I’m so sorry about this,” she replied, nudging closer to Jon’s body and molding herself against his side as he threw an arm over her shoulder. “I didn’t know he was coming.”

She could feel his laugh as it rose in his chest, a sweet vibration against her own. “He probably didn’t either.”

Dany snickered. It was hard to disagree with that. After his whole emo phase in High School Rhaeger had gone full-tilt free spirit, never in one place for too long, even after he and Elia had gotten married. Much to her mother’s distaste his current side business allegedly involved playing the lap harp in a Dornish folk band, but much to Dany’s relief, it didn’t appear he’d brought it along.

Her brother stopped, suddenly, standing tall and straight in the middle of the living room and letting out a slow, steady exhale. “This is good,” he said in a serene voice, then his face split in a broad smile. “Okay, come and give your brother a hug, D.”

She did, sheepishly, tossing Jon a wry smile as she embraced the brother she hadn’t seen for at least five years. It was nice to see him again, it really was, but it was also really annoying how he insisted on things like not owning a phone, or calling first before you showed up somewhere. Normal people things.

She pulled away, grinning up at her brother, a little trepidation racing through her when she noticed the way his attention shifted to Jon, his purple eyes, their family trademark, narrowing slightly.

“So,” Rhaegar called out, a little less friendly. “You’re the Jon I’ve heard so much about.”

For his part, Jon also looked a bit worried, but he brushed it off quickly, striding forward and extending his hand. “Aye, that’s me. Jon Snow. Nice to finally meet you.”

A scratching at the back door distracted them all, and Jon smiled politely at Dany’s brother before shoving his glasses a bit farther up the bridge of his nose and walking past to let in the pair of dogs from the backyard.

“Is he Northern?” Rhaegar came to stand beside her as he watched Jon carefully. When Dany nodded he pursed his lips thoughtfully, his gaze oddly keen for someone who was, in Dany’s approximation, stoned out of their gourd. “That’s cool,” he finally said. “I can dig that.”

Hedwig scampered in first, a yapping bark filling the air as she spied someone she didn’t recognize. Dany snatched the small dog up, scolding her lightly until she stopped, her eyes straying for the door for the other member of their little doggy duo.

And then Ghost arrived, chased by a cool fall wind that made his white fur sway lightly, and Jon uttered a quiet command for the dog to go and sit as he shut the door tightly.

It was almost embarassing, how well-behaved that dog was, no matter what slander Jon tried to level about what Ghost had done in his puppy days. As far as Dany was concerned that dog was an enormous shedding angel.

In her arms was a frantic, squirming little devil, and she frowned down at Hedwig, whose tiny paws were scrabbling against Dany’s chest in an effort to free herself, no doubt to continue her tiny reign of terror.

She turned back to Rhaegar, ready to be teased about both her dog’s appearance and temperment by her older brother, only to be brought short at the look of awe on his face.

“Jon, dude,” Rhaegar said, his voice full of reverence, “Is that your dog?”

Jon’s handsome face screwed up in mild confusion, and he checked his eyes to Dany’s quickly before answering. “Aye,” he said, smiling down at the massive white dog as he scratched a fond hand behind his furred ears. “His name is Ghost. He’s friendly, don’t worry.”

Dany didn’t think Rhaegar was a bit concerned about an attack; Instead he was staring at Jon’s dog like it was a God.

“Okay,” he started, running a hand through his shoulder-length silver hair, his voice much warmer than it had been. “This is gonna sound weird, but,” Dany could see him look at Jon, almost imploring, “Can I talk to your dog, man?”

Jon looked as flabbergasted as she felt, and she searched her mind, desperately, for a way to explain that maybe it wasn’t the time or the place to ‘commune with animal spirits’ or whatever it was her spacy brother was up to now. Somehow, Jon managed to sound as though this was a perfectly reasonable request, and led Ghost up to where Rhaegar stood.

“Be my guest,” he said, and quickly made his way towards Dany as Rhaegar sat himself on the floor, in the very center of their living room, and gazed at Ghost.

She kept waiting for him to say something, anything, but he just stared into the dog’s eyes, his lips slightly parted, like he was in some sort of trance. Ghost glanced at them both, as though he found this entirely weird, but eventually decided to be a good sport. He lay down on his stomach, letting Rhaegar cradle his face and hold his head up, so that the man could still maintain eye contact.

Dany knew her face had to be flushed crimson by now; in a family truly filled to the brim with members that ran the gambit of the embarassment scale, this was definitely up there. A top ten, for sure, top five if she didn’t count the time Viserys had stolen a bus from one of the local high school and gone on a three hour police chase that had been broadcast on every station in Essos.

She pulled Jon into the kitchen, ready to beg his forgiveness, to ask if maybe he’d like to change his mind about the whole wedding thing now that he was learning that her entire family was certifiably insane.

But when they rounded the corner and could no longer see Rhaeger’s silent, holy commune, Jon finally couldn’t contain his laughter, and he held her close as his shoulders shook, quiet rasping laughter making her relax against him even though she was at least mid-range mortified.

“Your brother is high as hell, Dany,” he gasped into her ear, and she gave in, as well, her eyes beginning to water as she smothered her own laughter into his shoulder.

He really was the best, just everything about him, but especially the way he’d put up with first her mother, and now, well, whatever THIS was.

“Jon,” she whispered, and leaned up to press a kiss just beneath his ear, “come take a shower with me.”

He pulled back, surprised, but she knew she had him from the dark interest that flared in his eyes. “Now?” Bless him, trying to sound scandalized, as if she hadn’t fucked him in the supply closet at work three days ago. “Dany,” he hissed quietly, “Your brother is literally right there.”

Jon clearly wanted her to talk him into it, and she was more than willing to oblige. “Please,” she said, lower lip sticking out in a pout. “I’m so dirty, Jon.” She trailed her lips up the line of his throat, and nipped at his earlobe. “Am I supposed to wash my own back?”

He made a considering noise, as if there was a single doubt he’d agree, and dropped a hand to her hip, squeezing. “You have to be quiet. Hmmm?”

She scoffed quietly, wrapping her arms around his neck, swaying slightly as afternoon light streamed in through the kitchen window, surrounding them. “Like I’m the loud one.”

“Dany, please. I’m practically mute compared to you.”

Lowering a hand, she swatted at his ass playfully, and grinned. “Come and take a shower with me, Jon Snow.” She leaned in and kissed him, his lips instantly parting for hers, his hand rising to cup her cheek even as the other tugged her by her hip, bringing her in closer. “You know you want to.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, with false resignation. “You win. Happy now?”

She clapped quietly, bobbing on her feet. “Yes,” she said smugly, and grabbed for his hand, tugging him along behind her as they walked towards the stairs. “Rhae?” She stopped, seeing her brother still holding some quiet conversation with Jon’s dog. “You good? Jon and I are gonna go freshen up before dinner.”

“Yeah,” Rhaegar said absently. His eyes flicked to Jon. “Your dog is so wise, man.”

Jon tucked his face against the back of Dany’s neck, his snort of amusement barely hidden as he shuffled up the steps right behind her. “That dog used to eat entire rolls of toilet paper.”

Dany gave him a cross look and shoved him into the room that had been his, once, and was now theirs, already reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “You stop those lies, and take off your clothes.”

There you go, @ashleyfanfic

Extra soft - Charmin soft!

#jonerys #jon x daenerys #Something Stupid #writerask

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sexyrasputin · 3 years

Text

in which they debate the purpose of murder

Nic knew this was a dangerous mission. Infiltrating a group of thieves and assassins pretending to be one of them? It was the most dangerous assignment Interpol had trusted him with yet. It was also the most important. Dani King had been running high at the top of Interpol’s most wanted list for a long time, and they finally had a tip on how to get her.

Truth be told, the tip wasn’t reliable. Someone thought they had seen someone casing the museum, and after the theft of a Vermeer painting three days earlier in London, it was suspected that Dani could be the perpetrator. And considering how Interpol didn’t even know what the infamous art thief looked like, they were taking any chances they could get.

Simply arresting her at the scene of the crime wouldn’t be enough, though. His bosses had discussed that at first, but Nic pointed out that there likely wouldn’t be enough evidence to do more than charge her with breaking and entering. Maybe burglary. But her myriad of other crimes? They’d go unpunished. Dani King came from a long line of silent thieves. Nobody talked. Nobody.

So Nic had suggested infiltrating her group. He knew plenty about art since he worked with the art crime department. It was small, but it was exclusive. He was a good actor, a good liar. Too good, even. He’d play the part perfectly. Gathering evidence to use to prosecute Dani King wouldn’t be hard for him. Nic was born for this.

But now the time had come to break into the museum after she had. Whoever had broken them in had done too good of a job. The doors were locked after their arrival, requiring Nic to pick them. That was something he wasn’t as good at. It took him a few seconds longer than he would have preferred, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the security system.

Now the time had come. It was time to meet his fate.

It took Nic five minutes to happen upon Dani and her lock expert. It took about thirty seconds for that same expert to handcuff him.

“What are you doing?” Nic hissed, looking over his shoulder to glare at the other man.

“More like what are you doing?” he countered.

“What do you think? I’m trying to steal that same painting.” Nic pointed his chin towards where Dani stood, carefully pulling the painting and its frame off the walls. It was a Degas. Pricy, but wouldn’t be too terribly missed. He was no Monet or Van Gogh.

“Too bad. We got here first.” The man came to stand in front of Nic with an arrogant grin.

Nic scowled. “I’ve noticed. But why did you handcuff me? I can help you guys!”

“And try and steal from us? No way,” the other guy scoffed. “Even I know better than to trust another thief.”

“Blindfold and gag him, Alfie. We’ll take him back for Emma to deal with,” Dani announced, finally turning her attention on him.

“Who’s Emma?” Nic asked. He didn’t know the names of any of Dani’s associates. Interpol only knew her name because a family acquaintance had turned on her parents a few years back. Whoever Emma was, Nic had a feeling he’d have to use that silver tongue of his very quickly.

“An angel.” Alfie paused. “Of death.” The last bit was an afterthought.

Yeah, Nic was definitely going to have to talk his way out of this one.

////

For three days, Gemma had given Magnus not just the silent treatment, but the invisible treatment. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t acknowledge him. She spoke over him when he was trying to talk to Alfie or Emmy or Dani.

She drove him insane.

Sure, Magnus could have been nicer to her, but this was extreme. Then again, extreme was Gemma’s thing. She’d torched his stuff for leaving her in a burning five minutes longer than planned. Considering how this time it had been ten minutes—and failing to distract her with kisses—he was surprised she didn’t burn the whole wing down where he lived. It was probably the disinterest in pissing Dani off that kept her from doing that.

That and everyone knew Magnus would find that fun. Maybe Emmy was right when she called him a pyromaniac.

“Gemma, c’mon,” Magnus groaned, sitting on the chair across from her at the table. She didn’t look up from her phone. They were waiting for Dani and Alfie to return with an unexpected surprise. Magnus had no clue what that would mean, but he was intrigued. They’d never brought surprises home before, and certainly not unexpected ones.

Magnus sighed as Gemma continued to ignore him. He moved to sit next to her. No response.

“Gemma, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing against her ear when he leaned in. He noticed her subtle shiver, but she kept her lips clamped shut. He’d have to get them open somehow.

“She still ignoring you?”

Magnus didn’t have to look up to know Alfie’s voice. He did look up to grimace at his friend. Yeah, Gemma was still ignoring him. And he was pretty sure she was enjoying tormenting him.

“It’s probably deserved,” Dani said, entering behind a tall guy dressed in all black. Was he the unexpected surprise? The gag and handcuffs made it seem that way.

“That doesn’t mean she has to do it, though,” Magnus grumbled. “Who’s the new guy?” He had dark hair in a buzz cut and striking eyes. He also was particularly muscular under that tight fitting t-shirt.

“Emmy’s newest assignment,” Dani answered. Magnus furrowed his brows.

“Why is he her new assignment?”

“Well,” Alfie began, “he may not be. I say we keep him. He seems to be a good thief. When we caught him, he already had a small painting in his bag. Another Vermeer.”

Those were usually locked up tight. Impressive.

“But we can’t trust him, either,” Dani said.

“You couldn’t trust Emmy or me at first and you kept us.”

“And I’m still not sure it was the right move.” Dani fixed Magnus with a fierce glare; he slumped in his chair. She was still scary even if she did tolerate him. It wouldn’t take much for his fingerprints to end up all inside a museum and inside the national fingerprint database. He’d seen her do it before. She was freaky good.

“It wasn’t,” Gemma piped up, speaking in Magnus’ presence at last. “But Emmy is nice.”

“You seemed more than pleased I was here a few days ago.” Magnus folded his arms over his chest. Why was everyone ganging up on him? He hadn’t done anything terribly wrong this time.

But even that didn’t get a response from Gemma. Great. She was still at it.

“So, are we gonna interrogate this guy or what?” Alfie asked, pulling everyone’s attention back to the new thief. Dani rolled her eyes and gestured the guy forward. Magnus saw a glint of silver in her hand. Holding him at knifepoint. Emmy would be so proud.

Alfie and Dani led the guy out of the room and towards the formal dining room. Magnus sighed, shooting his sister a text to join them, before following.

Maybe he could ignore Gemma right back if she was ignoring him. Usually, reacting the opposite of what she wanted managed to get her attention again.

Emmy showed up in the formal dining room as Magnus and Gemma entered from the other side. Mr. New Guy was already tied to the chair at the head of the table. He was still gagged.

“Let him speak,” Dani directed. Emmy untied the gag, and the guy gasped for breath and clean air.

“Is it possible to get a drink of water around here?”

Emmy shared a look with Dani. The answer to that was a resounding no.

“What’s your full name?” Dani asked, her hip cocked against the side of the table.

“Nicolas Vidal,” he muttered. “But I go by Nic.”

“That’s unimportant. You’re a dead man if you’re here,” Emmy mused, already toying with her favorite knife. It had a jagged, uneven edge. The thing inflicted major pain, she had told Magnus.

“Then why am I still alive?” Nic challenged, turning his head sideways to look at Emmy. She didn’t respond with more than a silent, unsettling stare.

“We need to know how you found us and why you were at the museum tonight.” Dani’s cold voice would chill Magnus if he wasn’t made of burning explosives.

Nic stilled, losing part of his cocky composure. “I’ve been casing the museum for two days. I didn’t realize anyone else would be there tonight.” His slow, measured words were surprisingly calm. He was sitting on his deathbed, and he was perfectly steady. Magnus wasn’t sure anyone else in the group—except Emma or Dani—could do that.

“Okay, let’s say we believe you. Why do you want to help us?”

Nic shrugged. “I like being alive. You all clearly know what you’re doing. The security system was completely online without being triggered when I got there. I stole that Vermeer, and I was going for the Degas, too, but the talkative one stopped me.” He shot a glare at Alfie, who Magnus noticed was grinning widely.

“We already know how good we are,” Dani said, narrowing her eyes. “Flattery isn’t going to help you here. What could you offer us? How could you help? We already have an art thief.”

This time, Nic grinned. Slowly, like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m good with people. They like to do what I say. I can fit in and feel at ease anywhere. Spying is easy, and you probably need help casing places and getting intel.”

“How do we know you aren’t spying on us now?”

He laughed, but Magnus knew no one else found it funny. “If I was, I wouldn’t make my presence this well known. That or I already would have gotten you lot arrested back in the museum.”

Dani stood straight. Her arms were folded across her chest and her eyes still narrowed. “Thoughts, Emmy?”

Emmy looked down at Nic, eyeing his neck. “It’d be safer to take him out. I don’t know if I like him.”

“You just want to use your favorite knife,” Magnus muttered. A smile played on her lips.

“That too.”

“Gemma?” Dani asked.

“He has me intrigued. He could be useful for distractions. I don’t trust him, and I don’t think we should anytime soon, but you have us all a chance. Why not him?” It was a good point. Dani had been a lone wolf to begin with. Alfie had been the first to come in, and he was the one closest to their closed off leader. Emma had come along after someone placed a hit on Dani, but Dani offered her a better job and a better situation. Emmy usually followed the highest bidder, and since Dani had plenty of money with her connections to the underground art scene, she could afford to keep Emmy loyal. That had dragged Magnus in. He didn’t leave his sister alone, even if he was in charge of demolitions and she was in charge of assassinations. Death was the family business, and Magnus didn’t trust her not to get herself killed. He was pretty sure Emmy hadn’t taken any better offers for her longtime service because Magnus liked their new situation. That had been over a year ago. Gemma came along much like Nic had. She walked in on Dani stealing and decided she wanted in. Somehow, Gemma impressed Dani, or at least made herself useful.

“He’s hot, so I say yes,” Magnus piped up in the silence that followed after Gemma’s question.

“Magnus, you can’t suggest we keep someone just because they’re hot,” Emmy sighed, looking her brother over.

“Why not? It worked with Gemma, and look how that worked out.”

“Not in your favor?” Alfie snickered. Magnus scowled. He didn’t need to be reminded that Gemma was still ignoring him. So much for ignoring her. Bringing her up had ruined his attempts at that plan.

“Enough,” Dani sighed. “Alfie, you have the deciding vote. Emmy and I say kill him, Gemma and Magnus say keep him.”

Alfie didn’t reply immediately, but Magnus knew that was just so he would look pensive. The answer was already all over his smiling face.

“Keep him. I have a feeling he’ll prove to be very fun.”

Emmy frowned and slipped her knife back into the sheath at her side. Dani looked actually pensive, like she wasn’t sure if this would be fun. But, the group had decided.

Nic was going to live.

#lovely larcenists

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ladylynse · 4 years

Text

Part II of this Dani-centric fic!

-|-

Danielle sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, clutching her right shoulder tightly.

She’d always thought she’d return to Amity Park under happier circumstances than these, that she’d come just to visit rather than because she had no one else to turn to for help.

But this wasn’t something she could treat herself.

She’d stayed in ghost mode for as long as she could, but the pain was more excruciating. It seemed to…eat at her from the inside, burning and burrowing deeper into her flesh. It wasn’t a bullet, and turning intangible earned her no relief. She’d thought she’d just sustained a wound from some sort of laser weapon.

The constant pain made her question that.

The constant pain, and the fact that the shooters had been the Guys in White. She’d managed to avoid them more often than not, but she’d crossed paths with them often enough to know that they were no longer a threat to laugh off. But even with that knowledge, they’d gotten better than she’d given them credit for.

Apparently.

Dani, who was currently leaning against the side of a building she’d crashed into not ten minutes before, tried to convince herself she had to start walking. Flight was really no longer an option, and she was, frankly, lucky she’d made it this far. She couldn’t maintain her ghost form, and flight in human form was too draining, especially now.

She pulled her toque off her head and pressed it to her wound. It was starting to bleed now, reinforcing the fact that this wasn’t an ordinary laser wound (as ordinary as laser wounds could be, anyway), and that she needed treatment of some sort sooner rather than later.

Now would be a good time to have a cell phone or money for a pay phone with a phonebook on hand, providing she could find one, but she had neither. If she could avoid it, she didn’t want to resort to knocking on doors and begging to use someone’s phone, not when she couldn’t think straight enough to recall Danny’s number.

It was summer holidays, so Danny wouldn’t be in school, but it also meant he might not be home. But surely someone would be, right, even if Danny was out with his friends? She could come up with some story, some excuse to wait for him or for whoever greeted her to contact him in the first place.

True, she didn’t know how to find his place when she wasn’t flying, but it couldn’t be that hard, could it? Anybody she asked would know. Even if it weren’t for the fact that the Fentons were the town’s ghost hunters, their house didn’t exactly blend in.

But she’d never find him unless she started moving.

Danielle groaned and forced herself to move, stumbling a bit but managing to keep her balance. Falling right now would not be good, because getting up would be extremely painful. But she had to get to Danny somehow, and that knowledge kept her going. If she could at least get to a part of town she recognized from ground level, she might be able to find her way from there. Maybe.

For the most part, Dani kept her head down and avoided looking at anyone. She just walked, ignoring everyone else and, as she’d expected, being ignored in return. She didn’t see any second glances she might have gotten, didn’t hear any sudden questions about her well being. She just focused on keeping on her feet and keeping her feet moving forward.

She didn’t stop until someone caught her arm, and then she realized that she’d heard her name being called. Glancing over, she saw none other than Valerie Gray.

Valerie Gray, the girl who had become the Red Huntress, the Hunter Girl, the one who had, in one future, discovered that the ghost she’d hunted down with a single-minded vengeance was actually her friend, Danny Fenton, and had accepted it.

Danielle, to her knowledge, had changed that future, but she hoped Valerie’s reaction would be the same.

If the past was anything to go by, it would be; Valerie had helped her, the girl who was part ghost, at Danny Phantom’s behest. Though Dani didn’t expect it would be particularly easy for her to reconcile everything, she was sure Valerie would forgive Danny—and more importantly, herself—when she learned the truth.

“Dani?” Valerie whispered as Dani swayed on her feet. “What happened?” She was staring at Danielle’s shoulder.

Dani swallowed. “Got…shot with…something,” she answered finally. “Guys…in White.”

“You need help,” Valerie said bluntly.

Danielle tried for a weak smile that may have come out like a grimace. “Yeah.”

Valerie stared at her for a moment longer. Then, “I don’t know if Phantom can help you.”

“I’ve…gotta try.”

Valerie’s lips thinned. “I’m gonna take you to the Fentons.”

Danielle blinked. “What?” Of all the things she’d thought Valerie might say, that one had never crossed her mind.

“They might be ghost hunters,” Valerie said, “but they’re the only ones besides Vlad who would have the technology and the know-how to treat you, and I don’t want to take you to Vlad any more than you want to go there.”

Valerie evidently took Dani’s silence for the agreement that it was, for she pulled Danielle with her into an alley before calling out her suit. She helped Dani up onto her jet sled and, when Dani admitted that she was ready, told her to hold on before taking off.

Danielle had definitely had more pleasant flights, since despite Valerie’s relatively slow speed, the pain emanating from Dani’s wound just increased until the throbbing was nigh on unbearable. But she did her best to ignore it, and she had her good arm clamped tightly around Valerie’s waist to keep steady.

It still felt like an eternity before FentonWorks came into view, however, and an eon until Valerie finally landed and Danielle could stumble off the sled and collapse onto the ground. Her toque was gone, and the stain on her shirt had spread, but she didn’t think the wound was bleeding too badly now.

Not by her standards, anyway.

“You’re shaking,” Valerie observed, crouching down beside her.

“I just…need a…minute,” Dani insisted, gritting her teeth as the pain flared up again. Her right arm was numb, and she almost wished the sensation would spread to her shoulder, just so it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

Valerie helped her to her feet, and Dani leaned on her heavily. She tried blinking the spots away from her eyes, but they weren’t going anywhere. More spots just came to join the first ones, and by the time they were at the Fentons’ door, Danielle could hardly see anything at all.

But she had to hold on until Danny got here, until she could explain. She had to.

“Hi, Mrs. Fenton!” Valerie. When had she knocked? When had the door even opened?

“Valerie? Who’s this? What happened? Was it ghosts?”

“Hunters,” Danielle managed as Valerie pulled her forward. She hissed when Maddie Fenton tried to support her from the other side. At some point, she lost track of the conversation, lost track of whatever lie Valerie was spinning for the Fentons, and soon after that, she lost her tenuous grip on consciousness entirely.

XXXXXXX

Danielle groaned and blinked before squeezing her eyes tightly shut again. It was too bright. And her head was pounding in time with her heart, and her shoulder felt like someone had taken a shot at it.

Nothing new, then.

Cool hands helping her up, then, “Easy now; you don’t want to overdo it.”

Dani opened her eyes more cautiously now, and she managed it without her head swimming. Danny’s mother stood before her, dressed in her ever-recognizable blue HAZMAT suit that Danielle knew better from Vlad’s hologram programs than from her brief times in Amity Park.

Maddie looked much nicer in person.

“I’m Maddie Fenton, sweetie. Valerie said your name was Danielle?”

Dani nodded mutely, unable to keep from darting glances at her surroundings. A nearby bench of scalpels and needles caught her eye, and she had to remind herself, sternly, that this wasn’t Vlad’s lab. She wasn’t back there, and she certainly hadn’t been caught by the Guys in White. It was just Danny’s parents.

Just his parents.

She’d been in their house before. She’d even been in their lab before. It was no different now that she was in the lab with the ghost hunter, right? All those tools she saw—especially the ones she couldn’t name—weren’t for dissection. Not for dissecting her, anyway.

She was safe.

She had to be safe.

“From what I understand,” Maddie was saying, “you were over by Elmerton when you ran into the Guys in White and were caught in the crossfire. Is that correct?”

It was close enough, so Dani nodded again. She still didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Jack—my husband—went to investigate. We’re ghost hunters, honey. Paranormal experts. That’s why Valerie brought you to us: we have a better chance of understanding what affect the weapon had on you than someone at the hospital.”

“You’re the famous Fentons,” Dani whispered.

Maddie smiled. “Only in certain circles, I’m afraid. But you needn’t worry; paranormal studies may have been my focus, but I am competent in the medical field as well. You’re in good hands.”

It was just Maddie Fenton, Vlad’s college sweetheart. The Maddie program was based off this woman. So why was it that now, once Dani was finally meeting her face to face, all she could focus on was Danny’s remarks that his mother was a much better ghost hunter than his father?

And that she was on a cold, stainless steel table in the lab, mere inches away from a variety of tools that could be used to tear her apart, armed with the knowledge that if she looked just a little bit different, the woman in front of her would be smiling for a very different reason as she advanced on her?

Maybe coming to Danny wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Then again, she hadn’t had any other choice. No good ones, at any rate. “My shoulder….”

“I’ve done the best I can,” Maddie said, “but I’d like you to stay here until I’m confident time is all you’ll need to see that shoulder as good as new. Ecto-weapons don’t normally have such an effect on humans, but the Guys in White have become more desperate and their tactics more extreme. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they are compromising the safety of innocent bystanders.”

She didn’t know. It was perfectly fine. She didn’t know. Danielle had nothing to worry about.

Except for, possibly, the whole ‘staying here’ part—because as much as Dani would love it, she couldn’t.

She could understand how Danny managed to live under the same roof as ghost hunters. They were his family; they loved him, and he loved them. It was enough to suppress the shivers that would otherwise run down his spine, the tingling sense of danger that raises the hairs on the back of the neck, and the feeling of dread that settles in the stomach.

But this wasn’t her house, and it wasn’t her family, and she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that she should get out before they discovered her.

Coming when they were all asleep was one thing; when they were awake and in easy reach of weapons? That was something else entirely.

She’d learned to avoid being vulnerable like this, and it was hard to pretend that it was her shoulder that worried her the most right now.

“I’ve dressed your wound and I don’t think it will get infected, but I’m afraid you aren’t out of the woods yet.” Maddie paused. “Do you know what they hit you with?”

Danielle shook her head. “Not really. Some kind of laser gun thing, I guess. I’ve never seen it before.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Unless you cross paths with the Guys in White often, I wouldn’t expect you to recognize it.”

Dani bit her lip. “I meet them more often than you’d think,” she confessed. If she was going to spin a lie, she needed to tell a good portion of the truth. “I want to be a ghost hunter. So I…. Look, you’re going to say it’s dangerous. I know you are. But I’m not going to learn anything unless I get out in the field.”

“You sought them out?”

The surprise in Maddie’s voice was clear, and Danielle knew that was one assumption she’d have to correct. “No. I was…going after a ghost, and they turned up. I lost my own weapon in the scuffle. It’s not much, anyway. Something similar to your ecto-guns that I tried making myself. I was going to field test it, and….” She trailed off. “I never got the chance.”

“You took a weapon out into the field before testing it?”

Dani flinched, wishing Maddie didn’t sound quite so incredulous. But being thought a foolish girl was infinitely better than the truth. “I couldn’t just keep teaching myself based on theory. I needed practical experience. Finding a ghost was the best way to get it. I was headed to Amity Park but saw some before I reached it.”

Maddie’s earlier frown had returned, completely replacing her surprise. “You’re by yourself?” Danielle hesitated a beat too long, and Maddie’s frown deepened. “You’re not running away?”

“I don’t have any parents,” Dani mumbled, tearing her eyes away from Maddie’s searching gaze and wondering how she could possibly change the topic.

Maddie sighed and put a hand on Danielle’s good arm. “Honey, I know life can be difficult, but whoever is taking care of you loves you very much. I’m sure they’re worried sick about you. We’ll just call to let them know you’re spending a few days here, all right?”

So much for sticking to as much of the truth as possible. Danielle sighed. “I was staying with my cousin,” she said, not offering an explanation about her parents. Maddie could make her own assumptions. “I’ll call him. He’ll understand.”

Danny’s cell phone number was the only one she had memorized besides Vlad’s.

Maddie fixed her with a searching gaze, and Dani found it difficult not to squirm. “This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened.”

Dani started to shrug before a shooting pain stopped her, and she settled for twirling one finger in a circle on her leg. “I get a lot of free reign. He trusts me.”

“He’s your guardian, then.”

Danielle didn’t correct her. It was better that she didn’t. She didn’t know what would happen if Maddie decided to play the Good Samaritan. What would she think if she realized the girl who sat before her had no records? That she was living a lie? That she didn’t officially exist?

That she didn’t belong to anyone, didn’t belong anywhere?

“Tell me the number and I’ll call him.” Dani’s head shot up, and Maddie added, “I’m perfectly capable of leaving a message if he’s not home.”

“No,” Danielle insisted immediately. “I’ll do it.” Having dealt with enough adults to know that she’d have to have a better argument for Maddie to concede, Dani added, “He won’t be as alarmed if I talk to him. I’m feeling better now. He’ll be able to hear that. He won’t worry as much.”

As Dani had anticipated, it worked. Maddie relented, finally bringing her a cordless handset, and Danielle lost no time in phoning Danny’s number. He didn’t pick up—the phone went straight to voicemail—but that worked out better for her. “Hey, cuz,” she said once the tone had sounded. “I just thought I should let you know I’ll be crashing in Amity Park for a few days. It’s fine. I’m with friends. I’ll call you later. Bye.”

Maddie arched an eyebrow. “No explanation?”

Danielle smiled sheepishly. “Not in a message. He does worry.” She handed the phone back, hoping Maddie wouldn’t ask any more questions about this.

Or hit re-dial.

But all Maddie did was put the phone down on a workbench and turn back to Dani, eyeing her shoulder again. “It’s seeping. I’ll have to change the dressing.”

Dani’s smile this time was a rather weak one. “Thanks for patching me up.”

Maddie sighed. “It’s little trouble, but I wish I didn’t have to in the first place. What you were doing was dangerous, Danielle. Promise me you won’t do it again.”

For a brief moment, Dani wondered if this is what having a mother was like.

It felt…nice.

And it made the thought of lying to her again even worse. Danielle settled for a small shake of her head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Maddie countered, producing some gauze and a roll of tape. “It’s not simply a matter of being more careful, Danielle. I understand being eager, but you cannot let that eclipse your common sense. You should never have tried to face a ghost by yourself, especially with a homemade weapon you haven’t previously tested in a safe environment. When the Guys in White turned up, you should have gotten out of there. And you always need to remember to watch your back.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Maddie frowned. “Sweetie, I’m not looking for an apology. This is important. You aren’t invincible, and you could have been seriously hurt. As it is, I think you’ll have to keep your arm in a sling for the next few days. Every time you move, you’re aggravating the wound. You need to give it a chance to heal.”

She shouldn’t need to. It should be well on its way to healing already. But Maddie didn’t know that. She didn’t know how quickly Danielle normally healed. She didn’t know that the fact that the shooters had been the Guys in White meant that this situation was much worse than it appeared to be.

Because while Danielle had, at times, wished she had no powers or anything else that set her apart, wished her history was uninteresting and unremarkable, the fact remained that she was not and would never be an ordinary girl.

“I will,” Dani whispered. “I promise.” She wasn’t sure what Maddie had already done, but whatever the ministrations had been, they’d been effective. She was no longer in agony. She was pained, but not to the point that she couldn’t think.

It was, she imagined, as if she were a normal girl and this a normal wound.

It wasn’t a pretence she could keep up forever, but it would be nice while it lasted, for all that she wouldn’t care for the shattering point.

After a few more minutes of fussing, Danielle’s arm was safely in a sling, and Maddie had brought her upstairs to the kitchen table to get something to eat. Danny’s father was still out, presumably searching for any sign of the ghosts or the Guys in White that Danielle claimed to have run into. She hoped that, when he returned without finding a trace, they wouldn’t question all the holes in her story.

She suspected that was wishful thinking, though.

“You don’t mind grilled cheese, do you, sweetie?”

Dani smiled. “That’s fine, thanks.” A larger part of her than she cared to admit loved this feeling of being fussed over. Vlad had never fussed over her. She’d spent her time trying to please him; he’d spent his time trying to create the perfect clone. But she hadn’t seen that until later. She hadn’t realized he’d thought her a mistake. She’d loved him and thought he returned the feeling, and then when she’d found out he’d only been using her....

Then, when she’d realized that he wanted no record of his mistakes anywhere, that the best thing for her was to melt her down….

She’d gotten very good at putting up walls, at not getting attached. She knew how easily the life she built for herself could be torn away and she could be left with nothing. She knew what it was like to be abandoned. She knew how simple it was to exist in the shadows, being too afraid to risk darting into the light.

But she liked this feeling of not having to be by herself, this feeling that she could depend on someone. Maddie was a ghost hunter, yes. But she was Danny’s mother, and her mothering instincts had come out in full force. And Dani relished that.

Maybe it was because she was no longer in the lab. Maybe it was because Maddie didn’t seem as much like a ghost hunter when she wasn’t down there under harsh fluorescent light with sharp, glinting tools. Or maybe it was because Danielle couldn’t help but wish she had a real family. A real home. A real life.

Danielle wasn’t sure how long she was lost in her thoughts, but she was startled out of them when Maddie put a plate in front of her. The sandwich was cut into quarters—something easier to handle, Dani realized. Maddie poured her a glass of water as well, adding, “I’d offer you milk, but I’m afraid Jack put it a bit too close to the ectoplasm samples. It’s harmless, as far as we can tell, but it’s not something I’m willing to offer guests.”

Maddie was smiling, a clear indication that she was trying to get Danielle to relax by sharing this tidbit of information. She was trying to get her to laugh. Trying to get her to feel more comfortable, if not comfortable enough to share information in return.

All she’d achieved was to firmly remind Danielle that this was Danny’s family, not hers.

She was just a guest.

Guests were temporary.

Danielle reached for a section of sandwich. “Thanks,” she said again. She took a bite, savouring both the simple delight of a warm, freely offered meal and the fact that, with her mouth full, Maddie wouldn’t expect her to answer any questions.

It worked out well, all things considered.

But Danielle should have known that her luck was too similar to Danny’s for this to last.

In the end, all it took was one word to shatter the tentative reality she’d built. One single word. It was all so simple, and then…it wasn’t.

Because then, Danny came home, walked into the kitchen as he rambled something off to Maddie about the happy reprieve of ghost activity they were experiencing, caught sight of her, stopped short, and said, incredulously, “Danielle?”

3XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danielle, Maddie decided, was a sweet little girl on the whole. She was polite and considerate of her guardian, and she was respectful while in another’s house. But while Maddie had expected some secrecy—she certainly hadn’t expected to hear the girl’s life story—she had thought she’d hear a bit more than she did.

Valerie had said next to nothing about her. She was a friend. She was interested in ghosts. She had, by her own admission, run into the Guys in White and become a victim of friendly fire.

But Maddie had learned much more about her current houseguest by observing her than through any of the answers she’d managed to get to her questions.

Danielle wasn’t shy so much as guarded. She was wary, and more nervous in a lab setting than she let on to the unschooled eye. For all that someone was looking after her, she had the look of someone who had spent far too much time on her own.

She looked like a kid who had run away too many times.

Maddie suspected, though her heart ached to think it, why Danielle—Dani, Valerie had said—had said she didn’t have any parents. It wasn’t that she had been orphaned and finally taken in by her cousin; it was that her parents had not been deemed fit to take care of her.

Maddie knew both she and Jack were guilty of being caught up in their work, but they did not neglect their children.

And they certainly did nothing that would even qualify as—

Well.

She couldn’t quite say that.

Before they’d known that Danny was Phantom, they’d done…. They’d done horrible, unforgivable things. The only saving grace was that they had never had the opportunity, in their ignorance, to go too far. Danny insisted that he was fine, of course. That it was all right, because they hadn’t known, and now that they did, they’d stopped.

But she’d overheard him talking to Jazz a bit more often than she would have expected, considering they were both teenagers. She’d never heard what they’d said—she couldn’t bring herself to eavesdrop after everything that had happened, and she didn’t need a lecture from Jazz on respecting Danny’s privacy and his right to silence, to telling them on his own terms in his own time, if she was caught at it—but there was no mistaking the muffled murmurs from behind Jazz’s closed door.

That was how she could tell when Danny went to Jazz: the meeting took place in her room. If the reverse was true, it was typically in Danny’s room.

And, if Danny wasn’t feeling up to a lecture from his older sister, the conversations were always a good deal louder.

She’d heard snatches of one or two from down in the lab.

But Danny’s case was unique. Danielle’s, unfortunately, might not be.

#danny phantom #dani phantom #maddie fenton #dp fanfiction #phanfiction #lynse's random WIPs #dp wip #dp snippet #my writing #ladylynse #if I don't notice this pop up in my queue and don't link it #someone let me know

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

5 for Danbrey sfw? 3 would be fun for nsfw but idk if you do Danbrey nsfw

I decided to mush the two prompts together. I gave them saucy overtones, but they’re still SFW

5 Should I update my outfit again? I think they like my new boots but the cape didn’t get the reaction I was hoping for

3 Okay so when they wink at me after a great comeback, is that just their charismatic arrogance or do they maybe like me back?

“I think I should ditch the cape. I mean, she didn’t mention it all Cleopatra.” Dani sits down on the greenhouse bench to adjust her bootlace. Cleopatra tilts her head, curious, but does nothing else. This is because she is sentient venus flytrap and is limited in her ability to communicate.

“I did catch her checking out the boots. I think. Maybe she was just looking for a way to knock me off my feet.” She mists Cleopatra and her sisters, continuing, “which, also, she literally made a quip about wanting to sweep me off my feet. I just cannot get a read on her.”

She stands, walking to her devils-mouth orchids and checking their water levels, “I mean, I even picked fabric for the cape that made my eyes look nice. Jake helped me make sure the colors on the cape and the boots matched up and everything. Uggggggggh, I cannot believe it’s come to this.”

“Haha!”

“Not helping, Juice.” She turns to the Myna bird (one of three) perched on a nearby branch. They’re trained to be spies and minions, but mostly they offer unsolicited commentary on her life.

“Ask her.” Squawks another

“DON’T ASK!” Shrieks the third.

“Come to a consensus or I’m not putting that intelligence serum in your water anymore.”

The birds exchange a look.

“Don’t follow our advice!” says the smallest one.

“Don’t, don’t” echo the other two.

Dani sighs, turns back to Cleopatra, “Come on, help me figure out what to wear for the next time.”

The plant slithers along behind her (she modified the flytrap genome with anaconda DNA), curls up on the counter in the bathroom as she pulls out her make-up case.

“Okay, copper is good on the eyes right? It’ll highlight the gold. I think. Hmmmm…” she taps her chin with the end of a brush, “vampy red would definitely make her look at my mouth. Which is apparently a thing I want, because I am the worlds most cliche supervillain.”

Cleopatra rustles her tendrils sympathetically.

“But the red clashes with everything. Maybe a deeper color, oooh, the cute cashier at the coffee shop said this one looked good on me. I tried to think of something flirty to say back and just ended up complimenting her pompadour. God, why is villain me so much smoother than civilian me? Or is she even that any more?”

A vine pats her hand.

“Thanks girl. Now, having my hair up is safe for fighting, but does it make me too severe? Like, too dominatrixy? Or does the Lady Flame like that sort of thing? Uhg WHY DO I CARE?” She thunks her head onto the mirror.

“Half-twist?” The purple-crested Myna bird pokes it head in, cocking it’s head robotically.

“.....Perfect.”

---------------------------------------------

The Pine Guard has once again gotten the drop on the Crystal Cabal, much to Dani’s annoyance. What is the point of having a team mate who can see the future if this keeps happening to them?

She dives out of the way of a burst of flame, tossing a handful of her latest creation at her nemesis.

“Aw, flowers for me?” Lady Flame flutters her eyelashes, “they’re prettyYYYow, fireflower.”

“That’s right, I turned your own element against you.”

The hero picks up the flaming flowers and starts juggling them, “I’ve heard of hothouse flowers, but this is ridiculous.”

“She’s flame-proof, Demeter, for goodness sake, OW that hurt.” Indrid, aka Nyx, throws a punch at The Ranger, who absorbs the blow easily.

Dani hadn’t been thinking of flame proof heroes when she made the plants; she’d been thinking what color to make them so that the Lady Flame would think they were pretty.

“If you all would kindly just surrenderPUT ME DOWN!” The Agent yelps, indignant, when Barclay, aka Hermes, hoists him over his shoulders.

“And if you’d ‘kindly’ just hold still and not bother us for ten minutes, this could all be avoided.”

The fireflowers turn to ash, Lady Flame stepping through it with a grin, “I dig the new boots, very classy. Got a whole ‘don’t fuck with me vibe’ I like a lot.”

“That’s exactly what you should have done. You should have left us alone.” Dani musters her most imperious voice as she launches vines across the ground, taking Lady Flame by surprise and trapping her in the grasp of two large, green, fireproof tendrils.

“Hah! Surrender, all of you, or my pets will-”

“Eeeep! Hey, what the-” The Lady Flame looks behind her at the smaller vine that just pinched her butt.

“Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry-”

“C’mon now Demeter, no need to get fresh with her. That ain’t sportin.”

“That’s rich coming from the man currently straddling me.” Indrid hisses.

“I ain’t straddlin, I’m restrainin.”

“I mean I, whoah, hey there” another vine caresses Lady Flame’s chest, a third touches her cheek, “I’m not, like, opposed to someone getting handsy, or uh, viney, I guess. But you have to buy me coffee first.”

“I’m, I don’t know why they’re doing this. I’m so sorry, they’re being so rude and they will be mulch if they touch you in a way you don’t like.” Dani takes one step forward and a vine grips her ankle, starts twining upwards.

“Uhhhhh, why are they doing that?”

“They shouldn’t be! They respond to my thoughts and emotional state.” She tries every trick she can think off, but nothing makes the vines obey, and two more encircle her chest and stomach.

“Wait, if they respond to your feelings, then do you-GAH!” The vine around Lady Flame’s ribs visibly tightens, as the ones holding Dani drag the two women face to face.

“I’ve always thought you were breathtaking, but the literal approach is kinda freaking me out.”

“Me too.” Dani thrashes, and the vine tightens around her. She’s starting to get lightheaded.

“Guys, a little-”

“-Help!” Dani finishes the Lady Flames’ sentence, and the four other figures in the room turn towards them as one.

“Oh shit.” Barclay tosses The Agent away, drops down next to Dani, hacking at the larger vine with his utility weapon. The Agent recovers, tries to yank the main vine from it’s source only for a tendril to whip out and strike his cheek.

“I would like it noted that this was not a likely future.” Indrid tugs at the tightest vine, slashing it with his sharp nails. The Ranger manages to rip one off of Lady Flame’s arm, only for it’s larger cousin to shoot out, sending him flying into Indrid and knocking them both to the ground.

As their teammates continue their losing battle against her unfortunately durable creation, Dani turns to meet her enemies eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, “I never really wanted to hurt you. I just wanted you all not to hurt us.”

“I mean we, like, don’t hate you all or anything, but you’ve, like, been putting people in danger, and blowing things up-”

“Nyx didn’t blow up that bridge!” If they’re both about to die, there’s no point in keeping up the act.

“Wait, what?”

“He was framed, but we thought it made people take us seriously as a threat, listen to us, so we let people believe it was true. Same with me and that power plant. I just blackmailed the CEO into admitting they’d been dumping toxins in the water supply. None of us blew the place up. Hell, you guys were the ones who destroyed that factory.”

“.....wait, they told us you did that.”

“Who told you?”

“Them? Y’know, the big bosses?”

“We don’t have those, but we do have informants.”

“What the fuuUUUCk, ow, squishing my ribs, we’re being played.”

“That, ow, that sucks. All this time we’ve been fighting, we could have been dating, I mean, uh, working together.”

Lady Flame laughs, a bright, beautiful sound, “I knew you were checking me out.”

“Me?! You were the one who kept making flirty comments.”

“Hey, banter’s part of the job. Also, you have a cute butt and that costume really shows off your, um,” The last word is so quiet Dani can’t make it out, but given that Lady Flame glances at her chest, she’s got a good guess as to what it was.

The vines constrict and they both hiss in pain, the world going fuzzier at the edges as breathing gets almost impossible.

“I, if this, if this is the end, I just wanna say it’s been a pleasure doing battle with you, Lady Flame.”

Fire colored eyes meet her own, accompanied by a weak smile, “You can call me Aubrey.”

“Dani. Nice to meet you, Aubrey.” She has just enough energy to tip her head forward, bringing their lips together. It’s barely a kiss, but as soon as they connect the vines go limp, dropping them to the floor.

For a moment they gasp jointly for air, then Aubrey is in her lap, fingers tangling in her hair as she kisses her hard and happily. Dani sighs into the kiss, melting into the embrace, knowing full well the near-strangulation isn’t what’s causing the dizziness in her vision and the butterflies in her stomach.

“Uh, can’t help but feel we missed somethin.” Over in the corner where they were both thrown (twice), The Ranger tries to disentangle himself from Indrid, who sits up with a knowing look.

“Oh, I see. It appears we are about to form an alliance.”

“Really?” Barclay looks back at them from where’s hes sitting, checking the cuts on The Agents face.

“It’s a long story, but the cliff notes are: we’re pretty sure someone’s been setting us against each other on purpose. Making us each think the other caused certain disasters.”

“Which means it’s time for a team-up.” Aubrey cracks her knuckles, sending sparks flying. Then she glances shyly at Dani, who reaches out to brush stray ash from her cheeks, “Um, but before that, would you like to go out with me?”

Dani kisses her again, bumps their noses together with a smile as she murmurs, “That sounds really fucking awesome.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #prompt fills #TAZ Amnesty #superhero au

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malereader-inserts · 5 years

Text

Little Wolf

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Tormund Giantsbane x Stark!Reader Summary: The Long Night has ended, and all you want is your wilding love Word Count: 2,054 A/n: A lot of unnecessary lines in this that I could probably not include but yet, here we are. SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 3 OF SEASON 8 (obviously) lol I wrote this before the next episode hits me (I've seen leaks and i’m PISSED) so here’s my love Tormund to calm me down.

You breathe heavily, your knees feeling weak as you were ready to crumble on the snow. You had seen Arya move across your home on a mission, she came to you for defence. Despite, able to defend herself, she could use an extra hand. You had accompanied her in the journey to the Night King, you weren’t going to question why she was going to the Godswood, all you had in your head was that you needed to defend your bother.

You had witnessed the fall of the Night King. You stood by Theon’s body, you finally were allowed to stop fighting when every dead finally dropped. You choked back a sob, looking in the dead eyes of your friend - a brother. You look up to see Bran and Arya hugging, your icy breath distracts you for a moment until you drop your sword and come stumbling to join your younger siblings into a hug.

“You’re bleeding.”

“All of us are, Arya,” You commented dryly as you parted the hug.

“No, (Y/n)-” Arya motions to your broken armour, a steel blade piercing through to your abdomen, she holds you upright.

Her hand on your shoulder and your back as you lean your hand on Bran’s wheelchair. With your other arm, you forcefully pull the armour off you as you looked down at the blade, your blood staining your leather clothes.

“You’ll be fine,” Arya reassures, she couldn’t lose another family member, she couldn’t lose you, “We just need to find a maester.”

“Probably tending to other wounded,” You murmured, “I want to sit.”

“(Y/n) no-”

You wave her off as you sit down against the tree, you could let whatever Gods shout at you for bleeding on sacred lands, Arya pushes Bran’s wheelchair to face you as she sits down next to you. Leaning her head against your shoulder as she hugs you tight if bleeding out won’t kill you then the cold will. Your hand rest lazily against the wound.

Your lips growing blue as you felt exhausted. You spent all of the night killing the dead, you could see the sun rising. At the entrance you could see your direwolf sniffing out for you, you softly smile when you saw your loyal wolf. You were glad that he had survived the war. The Black wolf stares at you with blue eyes, quickly walking over to you.

“Hello Grimm,” You greeted as the beast slump down to your legs, resting his head on your knees.

“We must find a healer soon,” Arya softly hummed, sleep was slowly consuming her, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m losing feeling in my legs, Arya,” You muttered, “And it’s not Grimm leaning on me.”

Jon soon came to view, he quickly runs to his family. Relieved to see three of them survived the battle, embracing Bran and Arya before looking at you. His eyes wandered down to the wound before his eyes widening. Arya explains what had happened out here before Jon softly instructing her to bring Bran inside.

“I hope you weren’t planning to die out here,” Jon murmured as he pulls you up, looking apologetic to your direwolf, “Tormund might kill me.”

“He’s alive?”

“Tough fucker he is, if he could survive the fall of East Watch, I’m not surprised that he survived this,” Jon answers, your lips curve upwards as he pulls your arm over his shoulder, “Most of them have gone inside, luckily just with a few scrapes and cuts.”

“And Tormund?” You asked as you walk with Jon, leaning your weight on him, your wolf whimpering by your side, he hated seeing you injured.

“He’s fine, drinking most likely,” Jon assures you as you both stop once more to look at Theon.

“He died a good man, Jon,” You sounded, “He came back home, that’s what matters, correcting his wrongs.”

“I just wish he could-”

“No more for wishful thinking, Jon,” You interrupted him as you two continue to walk, you groan in pain when Jon tries to haul you up the stairs, “You’re killing me here, Jon.”

“Sorry,” Jon responded, yet there was no sorry tone as he pulls you into a warm room, a maester already present, “My brother, please-”

The maester nods as Jon slowly place you onto the bed. You writhe in pain as the maester got to work, Jon stays by your side for a bit, smiling as your direwolf situate himself by your side.

He watches how the maester release you from the blade, he cringes when he hears you scream, he cringes when he hears your breathing change to become uneven. Jon closes his eyes because he can’t stand seeing you in pain, he knows that Tormund will be furious won’t be by your side whilst your getting tended, but the last thing that the maester needed was a wilding cursing and being distracting.

Jon opens his eyes again, seeing you sweat and become pale. You were keeping your eyes shut as you grip against the bed sheets, keeping your pain to a minimum. But, Jon couldn’t stand hearing your whimpers.

“Tormund is probably drinking himself to death,” You breathed as you squirm under the towel, cleaning the blood and pressing down on the wound.

“He’s worried, he hadn’t seen you half the fight he said when I went to check up on him,” Jon explains, watching you getting stitched up, “He’s looking for his little wolf.”

“Who’s with the fallen?” You asked softly, opening your eyes to stare at him, grinning to yourself when you hear the familiar nickname that Tormund has affectionately donned on you.

“Edd, Lady Mormont, Beric Dondarrion, Jorah and Theon,” Jon listed off.

“The bear house is no more,” You heaved a heavy breath as you were wrapped up with bandages, there were still some speckles of blood that was staining through the off white material, “Look at us,”

“What is there to look at?”

“We’re the very few to survive this mess,” You babbled, “We’ve changed so much, I remember when we were children and running around home - we had nothing to worry about.”

“I’m happy,” Jon considers for a while, “I have Dany, I have my family alive and well, we’ve defeated the Night King.”

The maester pauses and looks at Jon, who explains that someone has to watch over you, someone more than just the direwolf. A mixture of the cold and your fatal wound has caused some complication. Whilst you were patched up, a fever had broken through you.

“Tormund,” You hiss under your breath, “I want him-”

Jon nods, he pushes back your hair from your sweaty forehead, kissing you on the temple before running his hand on Grimm. The wolf whined, lying close to your hand, on your left side. Jon leaves your room as he moves to the hall. There were many people bustling around, feeding themselves and coming for comfort.

Near the fireplace, he sees a familiar group of people, silently in each other’s company as they timidly feast on food. Making his way there, he sees Arya abruptly standing up, gaining the attention of the people in the circle.

“Is he okay?”

“Fever broke out,” Jon responded, as Arya slowly nods, sitting back down next to Gendry and Sandor. The group look at him, as he meets Tormund’s gaze, “He wants you.”

Tormund was confused for a moment before it clicked in his head, his little wolf is calling for him, he stands up loudly, urgency in his eyes, “Where?”

“His room,” Jon says, he knows that you and Tormund had spent a few hours before the war in your room. He should know where you’ve been resting.

Tormund nodded his thanks as he rushes out the room, running up the stairs and barging into your room. The maester wasn’t present in your room anymore, but he had noticed your wolf perked his head up at the intruder, almost ready to attack. Only to calm down when he sees Tormund. Tormund closes the door behind him as he walks across the room.

His little wolf was asleep.

He looms over you, he sees the thin clothing that covers you, he grimaced at the sight of your bandages as he perched himself on the edge of your bed. He watches your chest rise and fall, it was clear you were wheezing, small little moans that were signalling you were in pain. He admires your face, the light scars that were fading over time.

He admires your neck, your chest that was on the show, how he has the pleasure in seeing past that. He loves you with all of his heart, when he had met you at the Wall, you were ten times prettier than Jon Snow. He couldn’t help but admire you from afar and up close.

He was ecstatic to hear you were just as impressed with him as he was with you. He remembers your first kiss with him, and the first night he stayed by your side. You said it was the best you’ve ever had, he’s held you against your words a few times just to shut you up. He remembers how you kiss him goodbye, he departs for the wall and you stay at Winterfell.

He doesn’t forget the night before the war, in which he spent some hours he had left with you. Unknowing to the both of you if you had a tomorrow together. You declare how much you couldn’t bear thinking about loss and death, especially his.

Tormund continues to stare, you were pretty for a man, handsome, almost too good to be true. He hadn’t seen such beauty beyond the wall. They were all ugly, but the south of the north was more presentable. He likes it when you’re wearing leather.

”You’re staring,”

“Can’t help it.”

You open your eyes, he smiles to see your eyes still full of love for him. He brushes your hair, then your cheek.

“My little wolf,” His voice was deep, full of love as you grin at the term of endearment, “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing for the moment,” You whispered and you see Tormund frown, you could tell that he wants to soothe your pain away - it was clearly distressing to him to see you wounded, “I just want you.”

“I’m aware but what-”

“Tormund.”

You silently stare at him, as he stares back at you. He chuckles as he nods, whilst you had no energy to tackle him down to do what you say but you were definitely as stubborn as Starks get. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end.

“Alright,” He slides you over and lies by your side, “Happy?”

“Tremendously,” You bit back at his sarcasm, Tormund chuckles fondly, you lean your head against his shoulder.

He kisses your forehead, silently worrying about the burning heat against his cold harsh lips. You hummed with content as you nuzzle yourself close to him.

“You’re warm,” You commented, “I guess that makes sense since you were kissed by the fire.”

Tormund fondly smiles as you bring your hand to twiddle with his red beard. Softly tugging it, he could see you amused and delirious.

“I think your fever is getting the best of you, little wolf.”

“I’m not little, I’m taller than Jon,” You retaliated, as Tormund snorts in amusement, “I could talk about you for hours, Tormund, everything.”

Tormund chuckles, “I know you could, I watched you done it before and as entertaining that would be. I think it’s best you sleep.”

“Will you stay?”

“Aye, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Tormund teased, “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake.”

“I love you, Tormund,” You murmured, allowing sleep to consume you, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days with you.”

Tormund was touched, he’s fucked many men and women before. He wants to admit that he’s been in love before, yet here you were. A stubborn Stark leaning against him, ready to settle down with him. Whilst you could not offer him a family, you could offer him adventure and laughter, good memories.

He was smitten by you, his little wolf.

He chuckles to himself.

He, himself, was ready to spend the rest of his days with you too.

#Tormund giantsbane x male reader #tormund giantsbane imagine #tormund giantsbane #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of throne x male reader #x male reader

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thadelightfulone · 5 years

Text

What's A Valentine?

So, here is my submission for the With Love, From Wakanda Fic Fest hosted by @hoopshoney and @purple-apricots. This is definitely me trying something new, so I hope you all enjoy it. My prompt - “Can somebody escort the 30-year old having a temper tantrum out of the building?”

Running her hands down her dress, Danielle gave herself one last look in the mirror. “Come on Dani girl; I know you ask why you do this year after year, but it is a small price to pay. We can do this and then go back to our regularly scheduled program tomorrow.” Smoothing out her favorite long-sleeved empire waist high-lo dress in black that shows off her thick milk chocolate legs adorned in her light purple Maryjane 4-inch stilettos; she inhaled deeply calming her nerves. She finished the look off with her silver hoops and amethyst pendant. She hears a faint ringing sound and walks over to the comm by her bedroom door, “Yes.”

“Miss Danielle, he’s here.”

“Thank you, Sergio. I’ll be right down.” Walking over to her dresser Danielle picks up her clutch, double checking the contents and pops her lips in the mirror to blend her purple lipstick again. “One night, that’s it.”

—

He was rushing so that he was not caught in the LA traffic with everyone trying to make it to the fanciest of restaurants for their reservations. Grateful that he had the flowers delivered to his office before he left. It had been a long day of meetings, but he could not wait to see her.

Enjoying the view of passing trees, he didn’t realize how much he missed her, and he wanted her to know. It was time for him to stop hiding. He messed up years ago and knows he should have handled things differently. He is only hoping he isn’t too late.

He pulls up to her building and parks in the structure underneath. He grabs the flowers, removes his tie, and quickly glances at himself through the window. “Ok, it’s now or never. She needs to know that you are serious. Tonight is the night.” Approaching the concierge at the front desk, he notices a man overloaded with all things Valentine-related. “You need some help man?” Reaching for the stuffed bear that was about to fall out of the guy’s arms.

“Yeah, thanks, I appreciate it.” He lifts himself back up to his full height and sets the rest of the items on the counter. Pulling a small box out of his jacket pocket, and opening it quickly. “I just needed to make sure I had this on me.”

“She must be a lucky woman.” The stranger passed the bear over to him, and the other guy put it in front of the ridiculously huge bouquet of red and pink roses, and the box of candy on the counter. It looked like the bear was supposed to hold that. “Big night ahead?”

“Yeah, this is the night. We’ve been together for almost 4 years now, and I can’t think of anyone else I want to spend my life with, ya know?”

“That’s beautiful man. She must love Valentine’s Day with all you have here.”

“Oh, does she! That’s what makes her perfect for me.”

Nodding in response, he leans over and speaks with the concierge, “Could you call up to Danielle George’s apartment.” The gift-baring gentleman next to him stops what he is doing.

“Ahhhh, I would sir, but she is already on her way down to the lobby,” Sergio replies. Nodding, the stranger looks towards the elevator.

“So, you know Danielle?”

“Yeah, we grew up together in Oakland.”

Eyeing the flowers in the other man’s hands, black and purple roses wrapped in a silver ribbon. He continues to stare the man down as he takes in his slightly disheveled yet professional look, a black tailored suit, unbuttoned shirt, and expensive loafers. “You must be Erik.”

“Do I know you?” Erik asks, trying to think where he would know a guy stupid enough to carry all that shit instead of having it sent to his girl. He shakes his dreads pushing them off to one side of his head.

“No, but I know about you. Dani speaks of you often.” He straightens up and holds his hand out. “I’m Shaun, her boyfriend.”

Erik takes his hand and shakes it, “Nice to meet you.” They are similar in height and skin tone but not in build, although Erik had his military career to thank for filling him out. Erik cannot imagine how Dani ended up with a guy like this. Goofy is the only word he can use to describe the nigga in front of him.

Shaun is looking at the flowers in Erik’s hands again and rolls his eyes, “You know I have to ask. Why would a guy send his best friend black roses or dead flowers for Valentine’s Day? That just doesn’t seem appropriate or loving for that matter.”

Releasing a hearty laugh, “It’s a joke between friends. I have been doing it for a while now, so it’s automatic. If she asked me to, I would stop.”

“So, what brings you by this year instead of the usual delivery?”

“I’m in town on business and thought I would bring them to her in-person. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out.”

The elevator chimes letting them know that someone came down. Danielle steps out of the car looking to see Shaun with his big stupid grin and whatever lovey-dovey gifts he brought, but stops short when she sees him standing next to Erik. She hisses, “Shit, goddamnit!” Speaking so no one else can hear, “Deep breaths, Dani girl. It’s fine, everything is fine.” She smiles and waves at them. Counting to slow down her erratic heartbeat before she walks towards the waiting men.

Shaun steps back allowing Erik to greet her first. He walks forward to meet her halfway, holding the flowers up in front of his face to hide his smirk. She snatches the flowers from his hand and inhales their scent before speaking, “Mr. Stevens, and to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”

“Miss George, or is it Mrs. now?” Squinting her eyes at his statement, Erik continues, ”Well, I am in town and wanted to deliver them to you myself. Although, I was not expecting this.” His hand follows his eyes as he takes in her outfit from head to toe. “Guess, I got the flowers right this time,” he winks at her, flashing his gold canines.

Shaking her head, “I’m not…nope,” she walks over to Shaun with Erik on her heels. “Hey baby!” She pulls him in for a big hug and pecks his lips. “Is all this for me?” Her face drops, but she recovers quickly. “Thank you.” Turning back to Erik, she goes on, “Did you meet Erik?”

“Yes, I had the pleasure.” He pulls her close to him, wrapping his arm around her waist. She rolls her eyes but keeps the painted smile on her face as the two men silently standoff.

Erik shakes his head, “Dani girl, is there something I am missing?”

“E, don’t start, please. Can you just text me and we can plan lunch for another day before you leave?”

“D, it’s me. I won’t be mad but come on now, you dressed for a funeral to go out.”

“Really nigga? I am not doing this right now,” she huffs. “And definitely not with you.”

“Dani, relax sweetie.” He squeezes her waist. “Erik, I am not sure what you want from her, but we have plans for the evening,” Shaun eyes his inner jacket pocket returning his gaze to Erik, “And I need them to be perfect, ya know what I’m saying. So, just ease up, ok.”

“Yeah, I know, and that’s why I am doing this. Danielle, tell the truth because you look mad uncomfortable and I know it ain’t because of me.”

“What do you want me to say? You want me to tell him that I HATE VALENTINE’S DAY! Well, there it is…I said it, you happy now E?”

Shaun’s arm drops from her waist, “You what? That can’t be right because I think I would have known if the love of my life hated my favorite day of the year.”

Dani turns to look at him, placing her hand on his chest, “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I do not like this day at all. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“How? Why? Who doesn’t enjoy being pampered with love on this day? Who hurt you?” Danielle looks down at her feet avoiding Shaun’s pleading eyes. “Dani, please. Look at me baby, tell me something.”

“Dani girl,” Erik starts.

Looking up at Erik, “No, you don’t get to call me that. You don’t get to come here making requests of anybody. I am happy, and here you come trying to ruin shit like this wasn’t already your damn fault anyway.”

“What? Danielle, you cannot be serious right now? I thought we were over that and had moved on.”

“Moved on, who moved on Erik? You?” Stepping away from the both of them, “You want to know who hurt me and why I hate this fucking day? Fine.”

Shaun looks over to Erik who shrugs at him while looking at Dani.

“Picture this, 15-year-old Danielle who had never been kissed or had any kind of relationship. Rumors flying around about who she may or may not like, but no one really knew. She decides that Valentine’s Day was the perfect day to reveal her crush because hey, who doesn’t want to find out someone is digging on them, ya know?” She shrugs stepping forward poking Erik in the chest and staring right at him. “And you know what he says to her? He looks her dead in the face and says that he isn’t feeling her like that and just wants to remain friends.”

“D,”

“No, you want me to tell the truth…be honest and shit, right? I am, so let me finish. I buried my feelings and didn’t tell anyone that I told him or what he said. I went back to just being his damn friend until I couldn’t.” Looking down and away, she looks over to Shaun. “The bastard didn’t even tell me that he got early acceptance to Annapolis and was gone three weeks later. Just dis-ap-fuckin-peared without a word, no goodbye, no letter, nothing. Until my first delivery of black and dead red roses after I graduated from college, only one person would know that this day was ruined for me. I knew then who it was and I let it be what it was because I still had my friend,” she shrugs. “But now, I have you, Shaun.”

Erik cringes seeing the tears that had started to blur her vision. 15 years later and the girl, now a grown ass woman, he left behind is still hurting over him. He rubs his hand through his dreads wondering if this was even a good idea anymore as he watched the two of them together.

Shaun steps forward to grab her hands in his own. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me? You know how much this day means to me.”

“Is this a sticking point for you? Seriously? I am the same woman you love.”

“It’s my mother’s birthday and my parent’s 50th anniversary. You knew today was important and you couldn’t just keep this in for one more damn day.” Shaun exclaimed while running his hand over his head.

��Muthafucker, I am down here and dressed the fuck up. I didn’t do this shit for me. I would rather be in my comfy sweats, eating ice cream and watching horror flicks.” Dani screams as she wipes at the tears that started running down her face.

Shaun continues, “Today! Tonight! All I wanted is one fucking day, and you couldn’t even give me that.”

Erik watches the bickering couple go back and forth about a stupid day. He looks over at Sergio who is just as confused by them. “Yo, can somebody escort the 30-year-old having a temper tantrum out of the building?”

“Which one?” Sergio snorts looking between the two animated people drawing attention from other residents. “This is a mess and in the middle of the lobby, too. It’s killing my vibe. It also sounds like something more than just today.”

Erik nods his head in agreement, “I. Got. Her. You just worry about his crybaby ass.”

“Yes sir.” He picks up the phone, “Grover, can you come to the lobby, please. We need a situation handled. Thank you.” Sergio replaces the receiver, offering Erik a piece of gum while they wait.

“And what was I supposed to think, you accepted all the gifts I ever gave you. You took them, but you hate what they represent. Make it make sense Danielle!” Soft whimpers come from her as she looks away. Shaun notices the death grip she has on Erik’s bouquet. “WAIT! You trash them as soon as you get them inside, don’t you? Fresh flowers that should last at least two weeks and I never see them again. But those fucking black roses or dead flowers are showcased on your mantel.” He steps back from Dani as the Security guard walks up.

“Is everything ok here?” Grover interjects, “I am going to have to ask the non-resident to leave the premises now.”

Shaun looks at Danielle who can barely keep her eyes on him and throws his hands up. “Yeah, no problem. I’m out.” She tries to grab his hand, but he pulls out of her grasp. “No, I just need time Dani. I can’t do this tonight. I gotta go anyways.” He turns and lets Grover lead him to the front door.

Bumping Dani’s shoulder, she is reminded that Erik is still there. “Asshole!” She says just loud enough for him to hear. Walking over to the countertop, “Sergio, if it isn’t a delivery person with my food, then do not bother calling me any more tonight. I have had enough excitement for the evening.” He nods silently at her. She turns back in time to see Shaun exit the building, “And throw all this shit away.” Running her hands along the counter, she shakes her head and briskly moves toward the elevator.

Erik grabs her arm before she pushes the call button. “Dani girl. Look at me.” She stops and slowly turns towards him. He freezes as her big brown bloodshot eyes look up at him. Inhaling deeply, he completes his train of thought, “Join me for dinner. You can’t let that outfit to go to waste.”

Pulling away from him, she wraps her arms around herself. “Are you asking me out? And on fucking Valentine’s Day?”

“Nah, I would never. But I’m saying you gotta eat, and I gotta eat. There is no reason that we have to eat alone since I am here.”

“E,” she drags out fumbling with his bouquet.

“Come on D. If you really want the ice cream and horror flicks; we can do that, too. But let me feed you a decent meal.”

She grabs his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket to dab at her eyes. “You know that I hate you right?”

Walking forward to link her arm with his offered one, Erik smiles down at her, giving her a peck on the cheek. “I know you do, Dani girl.”

“But you are right about this dress; I look too damn good. So, come on.”

Leading her through the lobby towards the front door, “Besides, we have a few things to discuss Best Friend.”

Can We Talk

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #withlovefromwakanda #thadelightfulone #wav series #best friends

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lonely-bored-writer · 5 years

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Winchesters meet the Phantoms Ch. 7

It was a simple djinn had gone surprisingly well for the trio, none of them had been put under the affects of the djinn's touch. It was a clean and closed case, the day was going good. It was after a celebratory dinner, that surprisingly didn't get interrupted, that their great luck took a small down curve.

When Dean and Sam opened the door to their motel room, the first thing that they noticed (pretty hard to miss) was a glowing, white haired woman floating in the middle of the room. The woman let out a shout when the brothers pulled out a handgun each.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, knowing the silver bullets would do anything to harm the specter.

"Danielle?" Sam and Dean shared a look when Danny went rushing into the room, pulling the older woman into a hug. Danielle smiled down at the teen, before her eyes turning back over to the two. A white flash consumed her, leaving behind a woman that looks like she could Danny's mother.

"And who are these nice pieces of eye candy?" Danielle grinned, sending a wink to dean. "Who would have known my baby bro could get some."

"Again Dani, I'm older than you regardless how you look." Danny corrected before turning to the Winchesters. "This is Danielle my clone, and Danielle this is the Winchesters."

"Come again?" Dean asked, eyebrows raise in a disbelieving look. "You're telling us she's actually two years old?" Danny and Danielle shared a look before nodding.

"We guess it has to do with how she was composed and her genetics, we didn't really look into it." Danny responded with a shrug. "All we know is that when she was created she was twelve, a year later she was about twenty four. A friend came up with those."

"I don't really mind." Danielle grinned, swiping her bangs from in front of her eyes. "Makes it easier to get into clubs, and supply my BABY bro and his friends." Danny huffed, shaking his head.

"And all this happened because of a 'froot-loop'?" Sam questioned, eyebrows furrowed. "He did all this to?"

"Cause he's a crazy son of a bitch." Danielle mused, smirking at the look Danny throw her way. "He was obsessed with Danny."

"More like my mom." Danny corrected, before turning to Sam. "He wanted my mum to marry him and for me to become his son. Also to murder my dad, but that's over now."

"Yup." Danielle piped, pointed towards the ceiling. "He's lost somewhere in space." Danny laughed along with Danielle at the reminder of that. Dean and Sam shared a look, maybe they had found another person who had a story almost as fucked up as theirs...

"This isn't good." Danny stated, eyes trained on the duo sitting across the motel room in the kitchen. The two were talking away between themselves, evil glints in both their eyes. "I don't know if I'd prefer this over a hook up if I'm being honest."

"I didn't think I would find someone as into pranks as Dean." Sam spoke, worry clear in his eyes. "I don't need Nair in my shampoo again." Danny looked over with wide eyes, receiving a 'don't ask' look. An evil cackle left Danielle and echoed on their side of the room, Danny and Sam shared looks.

"Maybe we should go get dinner?" Danny suggested, eyeing the two co-conspirators. He remembered the time when Danielle came back to visit, she had matured some and looked like an older sister. That whole time Danny, and Tucker were bombarded with pranks left and right. Danielle was too smart to attempt to get Sam M."I'd rather not be here and watch them conspire to torture us."

"Sounds like a pl-"

"We'll come!" Danielle shouted from across the room, Dean and her had matching grins. Danny groaned, give Sam his 'we're dead' look...

"Pie before dinner?" Sam questioned once their waitress left with their orders. "You don't usually do that."

"But Danielle does." Danny spoke, nodding his head towards his clone. Dean smirked, motioning around.

"Come on Sammy, what if we died in five minutes?" Dean questioned. "I want my last meal to be a nice piece of apple pie."

"He gets it!" Danielle grinned, jabbing a thumb in Danny's direction. "Now you just need to." Danny scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Sorry I don't want to spoil my dinner." Danny dropped his head into his hands and whispered under his breath. "God, you're turning me into Sam." Sam and Dean looked confused when Danielle suddenly bursted into laughter.

"Thank you." Sam politely smiled at the waitress, turning back to the others. Danielle and Dean ate away happily at their pies, but Sam noted how they keep sending glances over at Danny. He had just turned to see Danny take a bite out of his plate. What dragged his eyes next was the slight hiss that came from where Danny gripped the fork.

"Fu-" Danny dropped the fork, hand light up red with irritated and itchy looking bumps. A glare met the laughing duo, Danny jaws clenched. "It is on." Was his simple threat, it didn't do much to stop the laughing but it was enough to make Sam realize that a prank war was coming...

It didn't help when Sam happened to have his hand stuck to his cup of water. So yes, Danielle did start up a prank war that dwindled off a few days after her departure. But everyone could definitely say one thing, it was one hell of a time.

#Dani meets the winchesters #prank war #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural writing prompts #superphantom #superphantom au #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #danny phantom fanfiction #danny #Dani phantom #danielle fenton #She's like Dean #Danny's Sam #Winchesters meet the phantoms

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westywrites · 6 years

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Story with Gods - Chp 7

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

This chapter needs some hardcore editing when I eventually rewrite this, but for now, this calm (and for some reason super political, damn it Sophia) little van ride is our pause after the doozy of chapter 6 (which I can’t link yet because I am away and don’t have my laptop.)

Also, if you haven't yet seen my giveaway, go take a look at my blog and the post! I would link it, but as I said, travels have me trapped on mobile

Tagging: @infinitelyblankpage @ratracechronicler (if you wish to added/removed from the tagging list for this WIP just let me know!)

EXCERPT: "It's a big hill, a foothill for the mountains, covered by a forest. It looks out at a human town. The hill itself is covered in the homes of gods, right now I can see lights on in the houses. Families home together for a calm and peaceful evening." The van started to descend. "It's so beautiful here, Sophia, especially once winter comes and snow covers the trees."

"It sounds wonderful." Sophia had this lovely picture in her mind of the hillside town. The others enjoyed her smile as they pulled into the only building on the hill that was still inhabited, the rest broken and abandoned because of the war.

"I could have sworn I heard something from here," one man said.

"This is about where we saw a light too," another man replied. It hadn't even occurred to Sophia that is was probably dark out and the realization that she would never see the stars again made her shudder.

"What was that?" The first man took a step towards Sophia. "I heard movement from just here somewhere."

"What if this wasn't just the girls and they have a Creep with them?" A woman spoke up. "We'll never find them."

"They can't hide forever, judging by the blood in the halls the girls are suffering a lot of blood loss." The first man took a few steps away. "We'll scour these woods until we hear them." All of the footsteps retreated, split directions and wandered off into the woods. They didn't move for a while, just sat as still and as quiet as they could.

"What did they mean by a Creep?" Sophia had grown tired of the silence. "And why didn't they see us?"

"Creep is a name they call gods like me. We are rebirths of various gods of stealth, thievery, things like that." Heidi shifted her weight on the leaves. "The reason they couldn't find us, despite standing close enough to touch, is because of my powers. I can camouflage myself and those around me so that as long as we don't move or make a sound we can't be found."

"That's really cool." Sophia numbly imagined all the useful applications of a power like that.

"You really think so?" Heidi sounded doubtful. "Most of the more powerful gods think it's basically cheap parlour tricks."

"It's really useful, like you just saved us all." Sophia nodded. "That's super cool." Her words were staccato and Sophia thought she sounded like an idiot.

There was a weird buzzing sound from by Heidi. "Ben's on his way," Heidi said a moment later. "They'll park the van in the closest clearing."

"How far is the closest clearing though?" Sophia could imagine trying to walk through the woods blind.

"Don't you worry about that," Heidi assured. "We always work in at least three, our other partner will be able to carry one of you." Within minutes Sophia could hear two sets of footsteps running through the woods. Her heartbeat rose, she hated not being able to see who was coming.

"We need to move now," Ben hissed. "we think the Soundies heard the van." Heidi cursed under her breath and they started to rustle around the leaves doing something.

"Hi, I'm here to help,” a kind voice said next to Sophia. The man gently picked her up, his arms were even warmer than Ben had been and a whole lot gentler. The man ran with the others, they hadn’t run for very long before they stopped.

"Heidi, we decided you have to drive," Ben said as Sophia heard the sound of a sliding van door.

"I hate driving the van,” Heidi complained.

"The girls need to be healed and you remember what happened last time I tried to drive." There was the sound of other doors opening and closing.

"I'm going to set you on the floor of the van now." The man did as he said before gently climbing in around her. "Let's go,” he told the others. The van started with a slight jerk and started to climb a hill.

"How can a van drive in the forest?" Sophia felt like an idiot for asking.

"This is my vehicle, it's kind of special. Right now we're climbing up to fly above the forest." The man put a hand on her knee. "But don't you worry about any of that, I need you to try your best to tell me what happened so I can help you and your friends."

Sophia curled into a ball in the corner and explained what happened. Every time she said one of their names the man would clarify to make sure he knew who was who. She could hear him moving around the van as she talked. Every so often there would be a flash of warmth from where he was.

"Can you tell me your name now?" The man asked from just in front of her. "I'm going to do a few things around your face, I just want you to tell me a bit about yourself."

"My name is Sophia Grader,” she began, her words felt like they belonged to someone else, someone who had died back in that room with Bob. "I'm seventeen and I was supposed to be going into grade 12." She just kept talking and he would respond sometimes with questions about herself. At first, it hurt when he touched her face but after a bit, it just felt numb.

"I had hoped..." The man muttered.

"You had hoped what?" She prompted him to continue.

"I had hoped that the damage wouldn't be directly to your eyes." He sighed. "I had thought we may be able to restore some or even all of your vision but..."

"The damage is directly to my eyes and I'm screwed to be blind for the rest of my life." Sophia shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "Which means forever apparently."

"I was freaked out by the idea of immortality at first too." She heard him lean against the door beside her. "You get used to it."

"Where even are the seats in this van?" She stuck out her foot to see if she'd kick one.

"Smooth topic change." He laughed slightly. "Dani, the Hades rebirth, right? She's on the back seat. The rest of the seats are taken out so it's mostly open space. The other girl is on the ground."

"Her name is Olivia." Sophia curled back into a ball.

"Right sorry. I'm really bad with names." He paused. "Speaking of names I don't think I ever introduced myself. The name's Apollo, god of the sun, knowledge, poetry, music, healing, and all that."

"Wait like the real actual Apollo?" Sophia sat up straight in excitement.

"So far as I know there's no other god with my name." He paused awkwardly. "Oh right, um, I'm sticking out a hand for you to shake if you want."

"It is so amazing to meet you." She waved her hands through the air until she found his and shook it with both of hers. His hand was much smaller than she would’ve expected from a great god.

"We've got a long ride ahead of us, is there anything you'd like to talk about?" It was as if she could hear the warmth of the sun in his voice.

He was right, the ride was long. For Sophia, it seemed to last forever. They talked for most of it, about various things. Heidi and Ben would sometimes chime in from the front seat. The topic changed often, whenever it got to the subject of gods. Mostly they talked about music and listened to music on something similar to a smartphone that Apollo had in his pocket. Sophia laughed when she found that all it could do was play music and Apollo thought it was very advanced technology. The device could play any song that had ever been made, even if it had never been recorded, all it took was for someone present to know of the song. She showed them some of her favourite songs, most of which had simple tunes and meaningful lyrics that she knew Olivia would’ve called “hippy bullshit” or something like that. Prompted by a line in one of the songs the conversation shifted to politics.

"Look, I just think that something similar to elections are needed, and if both sides are saying no, it's probably because they know they wouldn't win." Sophia had been defending democracy against the others.

"But if you hold elections the majority gets to decide who is in charge, what if the person they choose is unqualified?" Ben asked.

"Only people who are qualified are eligible to run." Sophia shrugged. "It's simple."

"But it could result in some low-level god in charge of the higher level gods." Heidi seemed appalled by the idea.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, this system of power or class, or whatever it is you have going on, is stupid." Sophia was very animated about the subject and throughout their discussion, she had almost hit Apollo multiple times. Her hands moved everywhere as she talked. "You guys are just as bad as humans for thinking different means unequal." Sophia's words caught as she finished the sentence, the idea that they were anything but human was still foreign to her, though at this point it was undeniable. "We're going to talk about something else now."

"Why do you keep changing the subject?" Apollo probed. "When it comes to anything about gods, in particular, you being a god, you change the topic completely."

"It doesn't matter." Her voice cracked, giving away her emotions.

"It's ok." He placed a hand on her knee. "Tell me why you're upset."

"It's weird, scary, I don't know. I just don't want to even think about it." She pushed his hand away. He left her alone after that and they fell silent. The rest of the ride - Sophia refused to call it a flight - felt even longer. It was sitting there that she realized that she couldn't go to sleep, she definitely wanted to, but it just wouldn't happen. She started to cry. Silent tears that she couldn't feel through the scars on her face.

"I can see the hill now," Heidi announced. "Sophia, you'd love what it used to be. Lights and parties all the time. All kinds of music and fun."

"Tell me what it looks like now," Sophia said softly.

"It's a big hill, a foothill for the mountains, covered by a forest. It looks out at a human town. The hill itself is covered in the homes of gods, right now I can see lights on in the houses. Families home together for a calm and peaceful evening." The van started to descend. "It's so beautiful here, Sophia, especially once winter comes and snow covers the trees."

Heidi and Ben carried Olivia and Dani, Apollo led Sophia by hand. She stumbled slightly as she walked on her own but they went slowly. Apollo explained that the building was essentially the hospital and headquarters. Every god who wasn't a resident of the town stayed in that building. At that moment it was only a small gathering of gods, most of Zeus's armies were spread across the Americas for safety. They walked through long hallways, their footsteps echoed against the tile. When they passed anyone they would fall silent and Sophia swore she felt them stare. Apollo carried her up a few flights of stairs and finally, they stopped.

"You all will be staying in these rooms for the time being." He led her into a room on the right. "This is room 107. There's a bed, an end table, and a dresser we will fill with clothes for you. There's also a small washroom in the back right corner should you ever want to wash yourself." He guided her to the bed and placed her hand on a button at the top. "Just press this whenever you need anything."

"Please don't leave me alone," she whispered.

"I have to, I have other things to do." He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You will be alright."

"I'm scared." Her voice could barely be heard and her hands shook and suddenly her head started to hurt. It felt like it was going to burst, like she was going to burst. Apollo yelled her name as she fell to the ground convulsing.

#west's words #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #spilled ink #original fiction #story with gods #sophia grader #minor characters #ben heidi and apollo are a fantastic trio #fun fact: one of my best friends is named heidi #but i named this character before i ever met her #odd right?#i swear they even have aspects of the same personality #so i somehow wrote my friend into my story when i didn't even know my friend yet?

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