#in baby driver it was to show how he was still a blank slate of a character

[psychicbluebirdmiracle]

Not me psycho analyzing all of the characters colors in lockwood and co again

[whumpersdump]

Project Rebirth - CH7: Food, and a Well-Kept Secret Truth

Whumper has a name! Meet Marcus, to his subjects known as The Parent.

[ Previous ] -- [ Masterlist ]

TW: mild force feeding / infantilization. Like, Marcus will literally be treating Orian like an infant / collar mention / restraints / mild manhandling / implied minor pet whump (heavily implied, not shown at all. Minor as in age) / pet whump / dehuminazation / lab whump (minor tbh) / implied past torture / mass indoctrination of both ‘pets’ and people (mentioned) / unfair legal system

Marcus is enjoying Orian’s new personality (as far as they have one tbh), while also handling the preparations for the new stream of subjects that the government and a few private parties have supplied. This bit contains mostly some worldbuilding, set-up for some more story on Marcus’s side, and Toby’s backstory!

Marcus looked down on Orian from the side of their bed. They slept in the white training overall they’d gotten after the Rebirth, under the Project’s Rebirth certificate that hung on the wall. They twitched every now and then. Murmured, even though they weren’t supposed to be able to for months.

One of the technicians explained it was a malfunction they wouldn’t be able to fix. Supposedly it occurred just a week or two after they started the container procedure, but they couldn’t notice it until Orian woke up. He’d been tempted to strap them down and drug them until they couldn’t lift a finger anymore when they kept screaming for hours on end, but a little side effect of that malfunction meant they put so much pressure on their brain they needed almost as much sleep as an actual infant.

Almost innocent, which they’d soon be for real.

Even then it was the screaming that bothered him. They’d been in the container for nine months, there was nothing left of their muscles.

Their nursery, as the staff still called it, was a light green. Stark white floors, a rocking chair in the corner, though it would never be used. Marcus doubted he’d need it. Though Orian was small, it wouldn’t be a challenge. Orian’s bed was outfitted with barricades on the sides to keep them from rolling out. It could be rocked from side to side as well. He’d hung a light above it, which he let flicker when he needed their attention away from the window they gazed at during the day.

Marcus smiled as the twitches died out, and Orian let out a small puff in their sleep. Despite it being purple in color, now more than ever Orian’s collar marked them as a blank slate. And an opportunity. Orian was no more than a few weeks old by the Project’s calendar—which started at the Rebirth—but the ministry had been so pleased so far, they offered Marcus a deal. Orian. If he tamed them, and they stayed that way for a month in one of the ministry’s own pre-placement facilities, he got to keep them.

It was a small bonus compared to the dozen pets being evaluated and prepared as he sat there, but one he appreciated nonetheless. Toby fulfilled his role the best a pet like him could, but he needed someone who was exactly as he built them to be. Pets might learn best from their trainers, but the lessons only stuck with a good example. Toby was obedient, sure, but his personality was still his own. It got in the way.

If Toby were a fit applicant for the Project he would have done it, but he knew too much about how it worked. The implant could take care of it, but it would have to be permanent, which would mean Toby’s skills went away with it.

Toby was one of the rare pets these days to be raised as a person. Of course Marcus knew how the world really worked, pets were a matter of personality. Or chance, if they just happened to be left on the ministry’s doorstep. Pets these days were either obtained young, or born with the ministry. Toby was in his early twenties when he got into the wrong theoretical area at his university. Got too close to the ministry’s centuries old manufactured truth.

They did a decent job on him. He’d only been a pet for half a decade, but if you asked him he didn’t know any better. Too scared for defiance at the time of capture, that was the culprit. To aware of what he’d be turned into. When Marcus first read his file, when his previous owner submitted him to test the Project, he thought it was a conscious obedience at first.

The way most pets obeyed. Do what they say, so you don’t get hurt. It works well enough, but the owner plays too big a role. It only takes one to be too lenient, and one pet and all they’re in contact with can get ideas they shouldn’t have. Toby on the other hand, was very aware of his place in society. Acted accordingly, even when he didn’t have to.

Marcus played an experiment on him, after his owner died. He was first in line to take him in, since he’d been in his care for months. He had a few actors pull him from the kennel as if they were setting him free. Payed them thousands to try and break his training the way the few opposing groups still tried to do. He ran off and was found crying at the door of the last training facility he’d been in, begging to be fixed.

That’s what got him the first blue. The only reason the rest was still green was because sometimes he was a little too aware that he was unusually well-behaved for a pet. He tried to use it to his advantage with other pets every now and then. He would place himself above them, as if his collar was a status symbol pertaining to him, and not the trainers and owners that raised him to be the pet he was.

A soft rumble came from Orian’s stomach as they opened their eyes.

“Are you hungry?” Marcus asked. He’d gotten criticism on his supposed gentleness, but it only looked like that from the outside. The back of Orian’s mind was still aware they weren’t an infant, alongside the fact that they were as powerless as one.

He took out a bottle that contained a water-thin smoothie with enough vitamins and calories and the whatnot to suffice for a whole meal. Was a liter-sized baby bottle a bit over the top? Maybe, but training pets wasn’t half as fun without a little humiliation. Besides, Orian couldn’t see it anyway, and they needed to be fed somehow. They always felt it though. They’d stay still, until they felt it against their lips and pulled away with the memory.

That was implant not doing it’s job. They weren’t supposed to refuse it. They always got hungry enough eventually though. Sure, Marcus would have to stop letting them refuse it in the first place, but if the implant was malfunctioning that much, he had to ease them out of the bits of control they thought they had left. It had been weeks, so it seemed today would be eventually.

“Come on now, you don’t want to be hungry for the rest of the day, do you?” He brought the bottle to their face after they turned away. Orian kept avoiding. Rocking their head from side to side, it was a pathetic sight really—if he didn’t include the fact that it also looked a little cute—but to Orian it was all they could do. Enough was enough, though.

He waved his free hand, blocking the light from the window. It tricked them, allowing Marcus to force the bottle between their lips with the other before they noticed. He pressed down a little, so they couldn’t push it out. Orian pouted, but Marcus didn’t budge. They drank it up almost half way, before lulling back to sleep.

Marcus stroked their hair. “See, that wasn’t so bad now was it?”

As much as he liked watching the most defiant pet he knew sleep like a rose without the help of any sedatives at all, he had other business to attend to. He had a deal with the ministry’s department of re-training and a few private investors to put just over a dozen pets through the program, but the ministry had also given him another interesting offer.

Prevention.

Six of them. All pets that were close to coming of placement-age, or just had. Late teens, most of them. One was twenty. All of them showed signs similar to Orian’s before they peaked, even if they didn’t know it themselves.

The youngest of them could almost be measured up with Toby, but their head-trainer was concerned their obedience was too focused on consequence. They were a little too eager to please, and too disappointed if it didn’t pay off. A few years ago Marcus would have told them to place them at a residence with a… reputation, but the government had faced opposition in the past years. Placement age cut it out. No one was too happy about it, but escapes went down. Probably because pets got more time to be weakened out or trained far enough.

Except for these six, apparently. They’d been put away in the daycare as his staff interviewed the headmaster of the institute they all came from. Marcus had trained close to a dozen trainers to take on some their load. He could only be in so many places at a time. One of those six though, was a challenge he’d like to take on.

Subject Seventeen. Previously named only Theo, though at the ministry’s training facility they were planning to dub him Tyler. Eighteen years old, short file. They’d only belonged to the ministry for a week, after all.

The risk of taking in pet-smugglers to be pets themselves was a risk, but Theo was young. He was the driver at a plan to smuggle nearly two dozen escaped pets over the border. The pets got out, but the truck was easy to trace, since the kid was stupid enough to take it back. Someone high up in the government somewhere took a liking to him when they put him to trial. His luck, because he wouldn’t last a week in prison. He broke his own fingers trying to punch the Catchers that were after the pets he stole.

All it took were some government-sanctioned ‘brain scans’ and ‘blood-work’, and there it was. Misread at birth. Of course the trial wasn’t televised, but Marcus would have loved to see the look in his eyes when the judge decided he’d be shown mercy since he couldn’t know better.

Marcus strutted past the pens. Some were guest’s pets, some prospects, a few had already been accepted for evaluation. To keep his clean reputation running they got an hour in the fresh air for each six they spent there, so most of the pens were empty anyway. Seventeen was in the far back, in one of the more secure pens.

Muzzled, wearing a Rebirth-issue straitjacket and pants that strapped his legs together. A harness around his torso forced him to painlessly stay on his knees. Pain was the one thing Marcus wasn’t the greatest fan of. It thought pets to avoid punishment, rather than avoiding breaking the rules.

Seventeen leaned back with a frown when Marcus opened the pen’s door. “Oh come on now,” Marcus quieted his tone, knowing full well that Seventeen was only starting to show cracks, not breaks. He knew what he was, even if not for long. “You’ve been at this for a week and you’re this jumpy already?”

He eyed the hand trucks they used to move the subjects, but Seventeen couldn’t be sedated before evaluation, and he showed a bit too much fight for Marcus to manhandle him onto it. They had solutions for that, though. The harness that Seventeen wore was attached to a thin rail that ran through the daycare into the evaluation wing. Marcus tested the jacket to make sure Seventeen was secured, then pulled him out.

Seventeen was on the tall side, he had no problem standing. He also had no problem trying to kick him. His legs were bound together, which meant every time he tried he ended up dangling from the ceiling.

Marcus let him have at it until he was out of breath. “Are you done? We’re only going to talk.” Seventeen frowned, but didn’t kick again. At least he knew which battles he could and couldn’t win. It made him just a little bit more cooperative than he likely meant to be. “I doubt you’ve had much training, but whatever you’ve heard, this’ll be much less painful than the ministry’s methods.”

A muffled curse almost broke through the muzzle.

Marcus took the risk of standing closer. Seventeen didn’t take his chance. Good. The same rail that ran along the ceiling, also ran along the middle of the floor. Marcus leaned down and held still Seventeen’s feet as he wrapped a white bag around them, that connected to the rail. “Now let’s go, shall we?”

Pushing him forward at his back, Marcus and Seventeen entered the padded evaluation room. A chair stood in the middle, the straps dangling off.

“Now there’s options,” Marcus said. “I take you off this hook and you sit down without giving me any trouble, or you make the mistake of trying to best me, and six men will be in here to put you in an infinitely more uncomfortable position. Anything’s fine by me, as long you can speak, of course.”

That last part got his attention. Marcus untied the harness and led the subject to the chair, where he strapped down his head, and secured his limbs as far as needed.

“Now. Let’s start simple. What did your childhood bedroom look like?”

Marcus left the room with smile plastered on his face when he was done. The kid had no idea what he was doing. Answered every question in perfect honesty, so jumbled with confusion. He’d never worn a collar other than the purple one around his neck, but even without Marcus he could get on a orange or maybe even yellow on his confusion alone.

He considered running evaluation for the other five newbies as well, but his buzzer went off. Sound alarm, Orian’s room. They were screaming again, of course. He’d have to find the triggers for it. The Rebirth was simple, the transition was as smooth as it could be, but still not pleasant. After that, they knew his voice. It made it easier for them to reach the concepts of defiance and resistance. This time though, they’d been alone for an hour.

Marcus softly opened the door to their room and, sat down next to the bed. Orian’s screams had died down into sobs while he was on his way there. “Shush now,” Marcus said. “There’s no need for all this, what’s wrong?” Of course Orian wouldn’t be able to answer, but that was half the fun. The other half came when he ruffled their hair.

Orian nearly choked on a last sob, but then quieted down. Their face softened as Marcus kept running his hands over the pet’s head. “Lonely, huh?” Marcus smiled. “I guess this…” he looked around for the most effective term to use for the malfunction. Orian would be living with it for the rest of their life. “…Defect, is having some useful side effects after all.” They remembered their life before, or at least how it felt. Which meant they also remembered the severe lack in affection, just not enough to know that they didn’t use to mind.

“Don’t worry.” Marcus softly rocked the bed with his free hand. “I’ll teach you to manage them as you grow up again. I’m The Parent. That’s what I do, after all.”

Orian didn’t go back to sleep. Not surprising, given they’d had more of it than usual. Their first evaluation was in a few months, when they’d gotten enough of their function back to perform a few simple tasks and commands. Of course the implant would cause some trouble in the beginning. It might be hard for them to understand the commands. Still, a double red, or even a partial orange had to be doable. A partial yellow qualified them for placement, which meant with a partial yellow, they’d be his.

“You’re a very versatile pet, Orian. I’m sure you’ll achieve great things, for a pet.”

Tagging the Rebirth crew: @suspicious-whumping-egg @distinctlywhumpthing ​ @panic-and-chaos​ @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @whump-it @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[princess-mei]

Mei 美美 Qin – Character Sheet

it’s like everything you say is a sweet revelation / all i wanna do is get into your head / yeah we could stay alone, you and me and this temptation / sipping on your lips, hanging on by a thread, baby

late night watching television / but how’d we get in this position / it’s way too soon, i know this isn’t love (no) / but i need to tell you something

i really really really really really really like you / and i want you, do you want me, do you want me too?

Archetype — The Explorer Birthday — July 9th, 2002 Zodiac Sign — Year of the Horse, Rising Leo, Sun in Cancer, Moon in Cancer MBTI — ENFP Enneagram — 2, the Helper Temperament — Sanguine Hogwarts House — Gryffindor Moral Alignment — Chaotic Good Primary Vice — Lust Primary Virtue — Charity Element — Water/Fire (she’s a Water Horse, so she definitely identifies with that but in Western tradition she is Fire.)

Overview:

Mother — Tanya Qin Father — Peng Qin Mother’s Occupation — Editor-in-Chief of the San Francisco Chronicle Father’s Occupation — financial diviner Family Finances — wealthy Birth Order — middle Brothers —  none Sisters — Ting-Ting (Gemma Chan, May 13, 1993), Su (January 22, 2003) Other Close Family — close to their mother’s side, father’s side lives in China, but they’ve taken trips to see them once or twice. do not have any cousins/aunts/uncles, but close to their grandparents. Best Friend — Daisy Zanetti, they grew up together. Met in school and were thick as thieves right away. Daisy is a half-fairy, so they both understood the whole “half” background thing. Other Friends — Lots and lots of friends~ Enemies — There was probably like one Mean Girl that Mei was always antagonizing and who was always antagonizing her. Pets — None. Home Life During Childhood — Relatively happy. Has nice, loving parents. Did a lot of Family Activities, since that was important. Mother was busy a lot with work, but her father was around a lot and Ting-Ting was always around (until she went to school.) Town or City Name(s) — San Francisco, CA What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Posters everywhere! Very personalized and customized. Lots of reds and golds. Probably had like one of those net things around her bed. Always very messy, because Mei starts a project and then just jumps to the next. Lots of natural light too probably. Any Sports or Clubs — Dance and Gymnastics. Mei has kept up with both of these throughout the year. Does both ballet and hip hop. Her favorite gymnastics is rhythmics. Favorite Toy or Game — She wouldn’t consider it a toy or game, of course, but loves doing tarot and tea readings. Also enjoys a good board game, is very competitive though. Schooling — Public school. Favorite Subject — Physical Education ?? Maybe literature. Art classes… Popular or Loner — Decently popular. She wasn’t one of the people that everyone knew but she had a wide circle of friends. Important Experiences or Events — Discovering she had divination skills. Deciding her specialization. Moving to Swynlake! Nationality — American Culture — Chinese-American Religion and beliefs — Spiritual, borrowing from a spread of Taoism, Buddhism, Chinese folklore, and Confucianism.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Cheng Xiao Complexion — Fair-skinned Hair Colour — Naturally a dark brown, but she dyes it a lot! Eye Colour — Dark brown. Height — 5’6 Build — Athletic, but slim. Tattoos — None. Piercings — Ears. Common Hairstyle — Likes to braid it or put it in two buns. Does a lot of half-up/half-down hairstyles. Clothing Style — Chic and trendy, lots of colors and patterns. Mannerisms — Very bouncy, doesn’t sit still much. Twirls her hair around her finger a lot. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Pretty healthy! I’m sure this is due to Ting-Ting constantly balancing her Yin-Yang Physical Ailments — None. Neurological Conditions — None. Allergies — None! Grooming Habits — Rather good. Takes a lot of care with her appearance. Always makes sure to moisturize and exfoliate and change out of sweaty clothes. Sleeping Habits — Average. Eating Habits — Eats a lot because Su is constantly making things, but can forget meals if she is distracted or concentrating. Exercise Habits —  Exercises a lot! Does all sorts of things like pilates and swimming and jogging. Emotional Stability — I give her a 7/10, she loses points for being a stubborn, unreasonable teenager and for her temper, but otherwise is pretty even-keeled. Body Temperature — Average. Sociability — Very social! Loves surrounding herself with people. Addictions — Love? Drug Use — None, we will see. Alcohol Use — Has gone to parties where she’s drank before, but not often.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — Interrupting people, bouncing from topic to topic, meddling in things that she shouldn’t, talking back, being a general nuisance. Good Habits — Very kind, very caring. Wants to take care of all her people. Strong moral compass. Best Characteristic — Her certainty. Worst Characteristic — Her stubbornness. Worst Memory — Being told she would have to move to Swynlake. Best Memory — When her father told her that he was proud of her for completing her studies for being a sorcerer and accepting an apprenticeship. Proud of — Her magic, her family history, her looks, her sporting ability. Embarrassed by — Not much, probably the fact she isn’t very good at school. Driving Style — Probably was just learning how to drive. A speed demon, but surprisingly a good driver. Strong Points — Her moral center and her big heart. Temperament — Can be explosive, but general soft and sweet. Attitude — Generally positive. Weakness — Not knowing what she wants. Fears — Not knowing what she’s going to do with her life. Phobias — Anything unlucky, though I wouldn’t call it a phobia, more of a cautious regard. Secrets — None really? She doesn’t keep much from people. She’s very “This Is Who I am. Fight Me.” Regrets — Having to leave Swynlake. Feels Vulnerable When — People are angry or upset with her, she’s not following her heart. Pet Peeves — Being told she’s wrong, lol. Conflicts — Duty to Family v Duty to Heart Motivation — Following her heart. Short Term Goals and Hopes — Make friends and something out of her life in Swynlake. Long Term Goals and Hopes — Figure out what she wants to do with her life. Sexuality — As-is she is straight, but this can change. Day or Night Person — Day Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert. Optimist or Pessimist — Optimist except she can be really sour when things don’t go her way.

Likes and Styles:

Music — Oh, gosh–where to start? Mei loves love songs, of course. Big fan of Elton John, Elvis Presley, Celine Dion, etc etc. She also loves modern stuff, of course. Taylor Swift, Carly Rae Jepsen, Ed Sheeran…if she’s really feeling it some Florence and the Machine. Loves KPop too. I’ll let Lauryl tell me who she stans. (Is that the phrase I feel like there is a phrase.) Anyway, anything that is love related, she’ll give it a listen. Books — Doesn’t actually like reading that much, tbh. Doesn’t hold her interest. Magazines — Do people read magazines anymore? Does Buzzfeed count as a magazine? Probably giggles over Cosmopolitan. Foods — Sweets! Chocolate is her favorite, but she likes licorice a lot too. Is one of those weird people that likes black licorice. Also, loves a good rice pudding. That’s probably her favorite dessert. She also loves chicken, any kind of chicken–she doesn’t care what you put it in or what you put on it. Isn’t much of a picky eater. Actually really enjoys being adventurous with her food. Drinks — Green tea, green tea, green tea! Mei loves tea, especially iced. She also surprisingly likes salt soda water–she goes back and forth on sweet and savory. Sometimes, she just really wants salt soda water because it is just crisp and refreshing and wakes her back-up and reorients her yin-yang when she needs it. Animals — Elephants! Mei loves elephants. She’s that girl that has like elephant shirts and an elephant backpack and an elephant stuffed animal probably. They have such a high emotional capacity and Mei really respects them for this. They are also just so cute with their floppy ears and their soft, sweet eyes! Loves birds too as most of them are symbols of good luck and good tidings–besides owls, which are harbingers of death. Sports — Gymnastics and dance. Social Issues — Magick Rights is the biggest one. Also feminism. Also all the “main” issues. Favorite Saying — “Better to light a candle, than to curse the darkness” - Chinese Proverb Color — Golds, yellows, reds, blues are her favourites. She loves gold because it is a Classy color. Most of her jewelry is gold. She loves yellow because it is bright and happy! Red is lucky in Chinese culture and it always reminds her of times like New Year’s! Also, it is the color of passion and love. Blues she likes because they are calming and gentle.  These are her lucky colors. She also loves pink, even though it is technically a color that she should avoid. Really hates white, because she doesn’t like what a blank slate it is. Also, hates brown because it is an icky boring color. As you can see, she has a lot of Opinions on colors. Clothing —Chic and trendy, lots of colors and patterns. Jewelry — Loves it! Wears mostly gold. Probably has a few staple pieces but then exchanges things depending on her mood. Websites — Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter etc etc TV Shows — CW shows and K/Cdramas Movies — All the great love classics: Gone with the Wind, the Titanic, When Harry Met Sally, Roman Holiday, all of Audrey Hepburn probably, the Notebook, Singing in the Rain…I could go on and on. She loves movies that tug at the heart strings and are full of that wild, amazing, passionate kind of love. They always make her swoon and if she is choosing a movie for movie night, you know it’s gonna be a romantic tearjerker. Though, she also likes romcoms. Doesn’t like action movies or horror movies or anything too intense, they freak her out Greatest Want — To figure out what to do with her life. Greatest Need — To grow up and learn things aren’t all about her, lmao.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — A three bedroom apartment with Ting-Ting and Su. Household furnishings — Rather plain at the moment, but will probably grow cozy as they settle in. Favorite Possession — Her pseudogrimoire where she writes down all the signs and stuff that she sees and puzzles out the meaning to. Most Cherished Possession — Her wand, which is a fan that was her mother’s, her mother gave it to her and her father and Ting-Ting help her imbibe it with magic. Neighborhood — Tortuga Place Married Before — No Significant Other Before — Non-serious boyfriends and Serious crushes Children — She iS a child Relationship with Family — Very close with her dad, even though he’s always yelling at her and being disappointed in her. They have a lot in common and she loves him. Her and her mother also get along more or less, she’s less stringent than her dad. Ting-Ting and her probably have the most contentious relationship, but even that hasn’t been that bad really. Mostly Mei being a nosy, annoying little sister. It will get more intense now that Ting-Ting is the authority figure and Mei is pissed about their situation. Su and Mei get along more or less well, they annoy each other, as sisters are wont to do, but Mei would def consider Su one of her best friends. Car — None. Career — Student Dream Career — She doesn’t know !! Dream Life — Married, with children, though she doesn’t know what she wants out of a career. Love Life — Nonexistant, which pisses her off. Talents or Skills — Excellent gymnast and very good with her magic. Intelligence Level — Decently intelligent, has street smarts, tbh. Very sharp in conversation. Finances — Wealthy

[hellomissmabel]

The Red Queen (1/3)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Nat x reader, Bucky x reader

Warnings: Car crash. Someone being called a bitch.

Word count: 1.754

Summary: A small yet skilled art thief is drawn to the French Riviera to settle a score, only to be met with the surprise of a lifetime.

The prompt: The reader can erase memories, or so she thinks. In reality, she merely misplaces them. But those misplaced memories have to go somewhere, the only question is, where?

A/N: This is a mini series I’ve written while on the road. It’s not an AU (surprise surprise!) and I feel like I’m a bit rusty writing something else. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it @jurassicbarnes <3

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go down. It was supposed to be quick, an easy in and out. These past five weeks, you had meticulously studied the entire estate, including the stables, mansion and its occupants. You didn’t leave any room for mistakes or miscalculations, simply because you didn’t make any. Something else must’ve triggered the alarm, or rather, someone else.

“I am unarmed,” you state plainly, carefully turning towards to the three guards now in front of you. They are all carrying a handgun, two other knives stashed away in their monochrome uniform. Number one is already distracted, speaking into his walkie-talkie, muttering something about a young woman getting caught in the drawing room. The second guard has his eyes all set on you. He is a little overweight and therefore makes an easier target, unlike the third man who appears to be as agile as a figure skater and as strong as a body builder.

All in all, you have a 50% chance this goes sideways.

“Don’t move!,” the sturdy guard shouts, his finger ready to pull the trigger.

“It’s alright, Fred.” The third guard eyes you, his hand on the other man’s gun as he lowers it very slowly, still untrusting towards you. “Craig,” he says to the man on the walkie-talkie, “Tell Jean it’s nothing. She’s a guest, I checked her invitation upon arrival. She just got lost on her way to the bathroom, right?”

He winks shortly when his gaze lands on you again. You quickly nod, swallowing away the lump in your throat. You know for a fact he’s lying. He didn’t see you come in and he didn’t check your invitation, even though you did take the main entrance and you did have a skilfully forged invitation. But in the current situation, you don’t have the luxury to call his bluff. So you just go with it, trying not to blow your cover.

With a fake accent, you explain in perfect French that you asked one of the waitresses for directions but that you must’ve taken a wrong turn. “I simply wanted to reapply my lipstick.” You point towards your lips, painted in a deep red. “My husband... He’ll be worried, wondering why it’s taking me this long.”

You can see the shoulders of the first guard relax but the second man, Fred, still remains a stiff posture. In an attempt to make yourself sound more genuine, you add a touch of hysteria to your already high-pitched tone, nervously fidgeting with your Balenciaga.

“I didn’t know this room was under surveillance,” you say in broken English, laced with a thick, fake French accent. “Please,” you continue to plead, “I did nothing wrong.”

Fred and Craig both exchange looks with the third man who never, not even once, averted his eyes. You catch a glimpse of a smirk when he waves the men away, stating he will escort you back to the festivities. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, madame. But surely you must understand that with such an extensive art collection, the host, mister Valois, doesn’t want to take any risks.”

By now you’re sure you’re dealing with another thief, one that has wormed his way into the family’s security personnel and undoubtedly has his eye on the entire collection. Nobody goes to such great lengths for a small score. It must’ve cost him a great deal of money to get his identity together and a great deal of effort to gain the family’s trust.

He’s a professional, but so are you. “Yes,” you exhale in a long breath, still true to your act as the upset French wife. “Yes, I completely understand, monsieur.”

As he is walking you back to the garden where the party is taking place, one hand on your lower back and the other by his side, he eventually confirms your suspicions. “What piece of the collection are you after, hm?,” he hums under his breath.

When you have made sure no-one is eavesdropping on the conversation, you answer honestly. “The Monet. You?”

“My men are outside waiting for my signal. At midnight, there will be a diversion,” he nods in the direction of the ice sculpture. Behind it, people have gathered in anticipation of the fireworks. “Make sure you’re gone by then.”

“No problem. Still have enough time to secure my pay check and steal that Monet.”

He chuckles darkly, his hand on the small of your back curling around your waist in a vice-like grip. “You can forget about that, missy. The Monet belongs to my employer. And thanks to your little stunt back there, nobody will suspect me now.”

“Let go of me,” you hiss through clenched teeth. “You triggered the alarm on purpose!”

You’ve immersed the heart of the festivities and he finally lets go of you. “I’m the puppeteer,” he grins as he takes a bow. “And I believe my reputation proceeds me.”

“The puppeteer,” you mull the name around in your mouth like a bad taste.

He is one of the most wanted thieves in the art business, a well-known name on the black market. He can get you anything, from a long-lost Picasso to a highly desired Ensor from a private collection. But this kind of service also comes at a price, one only a very select clientele can afford to pay. He also likes to take his time, creating elaborate alibies as well as eliminating any competition.

He’s seen your face, so you’re as good as dead. But you’ve got a couple tricks up your sleeve, too.

Inching close enough, your lips hovering over his in a small smile, you cup his face and look into his eyes. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I believe my name must ring a bell.”

For a moment, disbelief is written all over his face. But as soon as you’ve uttered those words, they have been erased from his mind. His eyes are locked with yours as you search his mind for any traces of your encounter now and earlier.

He blinks a few times and you release him, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “This is for Monaco,” you whisper into his ear as you repeat the gesture, cradling his face in your hands and keeping his eyes on you until they turn expressionless, all memories wiped away. You’ve made him a blank slate.

“This is for ruining my life,” you tell him as you take a step back, “It was me you ran off the road while you were being chased by the police for stealing that Van Gogh. This is your judgement day.”

Taking out your cell phone from your clutch, you dial the number of the French police. Again in impeccable French, you tell them you’ve seen masked men enter the premises, followed by a description of the security guard that let them in. Immediately hanging up afterwards, you toss the phone in a nearby fountain, certain they will never trace it back to you.

At the makeshift car park, your eyes scan for an easily accessible car. Your heels click against the concrete floor as you find yourself an easily accessible car that will blend in nicely. It’s sleek and black and unlocked, one of the biggest mistakes made my rich people who think that the valet will take it all off their hands. Unfortunately for them, this valet didn’t even bother pressing that one little button. Luckily for you, you’ve got yourself a getaway car now.

Opening the door to the driver’s side, you slide into the seat and attempt to start up the ignition. Once the right wires have been crossed, the engine roars under your awakening touch, purring like a cat being caressed once your rest your hand on the steering wheel.

“Let’s see what this baby can do,” you smirk to yourself, pulling away and pushing the engine to a greater and greater speed until the houses and the city flashes by in an imperceptible way. Everything has become a blur and so has your life’s purpose. Dissolved. Erased.

Turning the radio up, another pop song blasting through the speakers, you block out the oblivion tingling your mind. But not long after you’ve put the party behind you, a charcoal grey motorcycle turns up on your left side, approaching fast. It’s impossible to discern whether the driver is male or female, the leather blending seamlessly with the darkness of night. This sets off an alarm bell, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

You decide to take an unexpected turn, spiralling down more narrow streets where the car poses a tight fit. It’s a silent drive down an unfamiliar track, with no GPS signal to guide you to the other end. But you know the French Riviera like the back of your hand and all roads eventually wind up together. You’ll find your way back in the nick of time. At least you’ve lost that fishy motorcycle.

A loud thud forebodes the screeching tyres that follow as your hands claw at the steering wheel. The motorcycle has returned and has now proceeded to push you off the road. If this were your own car, you’d always keep a gun at your disposal. But now you’re left completely defenceless, your only option the safety of this car. Nevertheless, the person on the motorcycle is already one step ahead of you, pulling out their own gun and shooting at your tyres. The car spins out of control and if not for your seatbelt, you would’ve flown out of the vehicle within seconds before the crash.

Your head feels like it’s no longer attached to your neck and your eyes are falling shut under the impact of the collision. The lead taste of blood fills your mouth as a dark figure shows up in the corner of my eye, the motorcycle parked not far away from the crash site. You’re about to pass out when the car door, already unhinged by the accident, is ripped from the vehicle by a strong and swift hand. The person controlling the motorcycle is not a man, but a woman. A woman with red hair and sharp eyes like the daggers attached to her thighs.

“Who the fuck are you?,” you whisper with the last of your strength.

She smirks and grips your hair in a fist, pulling your head back so I’m forced to look at her. “I’m Black Widow, bitch,” she snarls before slamming your face into the steering wheel, knocking you out instantly.

Part 2

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @myserium @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @bovaria @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @jurassicbarnes @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @xbergiex

[a-fandom-reimagined]

His Wife in Hiding

Warning: None

Word Count: 1933

Summary: Unbeknownst to many, Klaus Mikaelson is a married man but years ago, after an explosive falling out, she left Klaus and he’s been chasing her ever since. But when Klaus finds her hiding out in New Orleans…

Pairing: Reader x Klaus Mikaelson and Reader x Elijah Mikaelson (platonic)

Part Two

This morning had been extremely productive for you. You’d worked out, organized and cleaned your lavish apartment, you’d caught up on your favorite shows and successfully mastered the spells you’d been studying in your grandmother’s old grimoire and you’d done it all before the clock struck noon.

You’d practically raised Marcel so he allowed you to practice as much magic as you wished.  

You were in the parlor with a cup of tea and good book when you heard a knock at the door.

You flinched, startled. You rose from your seat with your brows furrowed. You so rarely received visitors and rarely left the house. Marcel’s men would gladly do you the favor of running your errands, hoping that it would bring them favor with Marcel and move them up in the ranks. After living a life such as yours so full of drama and despair this apartment, so peaceful and quiet had become your safe haven.

With caution you moved towards the door. You glanced through the peep hole and released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You sighed in relief and threw the white double doors open with a flourish.  

“Hello, brother,” you said with a bright grin.

Elijah Mikaelson returned your smile wholeheartedly. “Sister,” he said in greeting. He looked you over, taking you in, in that over-protective, brotherly fashion of his. “Isolation has been good to you.”

I dipped my head in thanks. “I’m glad you think so.” You stepped aside so that Elijah could come in.

Elijah sauntered into the apartment. He was the only member of the Mikaelson family that could enter your apartment. In fact, he was the only Mikaelson who even knew that you had an apartment. The less people that knew your location the better.

You shut the doors behind him. Turning around you met his worry-filled gaze.

You cocked your head to the side, taking him in. He’d gotten here in a rush. You could tell from his heavy breathing and his tousled hair and clothing. Elijah Mikaelson was usually well put together and ready for anything. His hair was always well done without a flyaway in sight. His clothes were usually wrinkle-free and as immaculate as he was. Something was wrong and he was doing a poor job of hiding it.

You put your hands on your hips. “What is it, brother?”

“Klaus is in New Orleans.”

You sucked in a breath. Your heart hammering in your chest.

“He knows you’re here. You have to move. Now. If you want to escape.”

You moved around the apartment in a literal blur. You knew this day would come. No one and nothing could stay hidden forever. Especially not from a Mikaelson. Let alone from Klaus Mikaelson.

“He’s a hybrid now. He’s awoken his werewolf side.”

You swore under your breath as you gathered your necessities and most prized possessions.

“How did he find out?” you asked, on the verge of hysteria.

“One of the witches told him.”

Your blood began to boil beneath your skin. When you got the chance, when you returned to your home in New Orleans, you would hunt down that witch, feast on her flesh and use her bones for tooth picks. You shook your head as if shaking the thoughts of bloodlust and revenge out of your head. You needed to be of clear mind. You needed to be in top shape if you were going to do this.

When you’d packed the last of your things, you looked around the apartment with tears in your eyes. These walls had been the closest thing you’d had to a true home in centuries. It had been your safe haven after years of running from your former husband and now it was time to part ways. You’d prayed that this day would never come and now it was here.

Your future was a blank slate and you hated it. You preferred having a destination in mind when it came to running.

“Got everything?” Elijah asked.

You nodded, swallowing the bile that had risen in your throat.

Your former brother-in-law opened the door and waved you over to it.

You nodded again and picked up your full suitcases and headed out the door and into the warm sunshine. You inhaled the clean fresh air. It was a stark contrast to the stuffy air back inside but you would still miss it all the same.

Elijah took the suitcases from your hands and placed them into the trunk of an awaiting black sedan. “I’ve taken the liberty of procuring a car for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You shook your head and laughed, “No. No I don’t mind.”

You ran to him, wrapping your arms around your brother’s neck. “You are the best brother I’ve ever had, Elijah.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Don’t you dare tell Kol I said that!” you threatened.

He laughed harder. “I won’t, I promise. I love you too, y/n. I wish that our time together wasn’t cut so short.”

“As do I,” you agreed. “I’ll let you know when I find a safe place.” You told him, stepping out of the embrace. “I only wish that I could tell Marcel goodbye and thank him for his hospitality.”

“I’ll give him your love,” he assured you, opening the passenger door for you. “I’ve compelled the driver to take you anywhere you wish.”

“You are too kind to me, brother. I don’t deserve you.”

He pecked you on the cheek as he ushered you inside the sleek vehicle. “Don’t talk like that. I love you. Stay safe.”

“You do the same. I love you.”

With some reluctance he closed the door and sent you off.

And then you were riding through the noisy, crowded streets of the French Quarter. You watched enviously as trumpets blared and people danced and sang and paraded down the streets and sidewalks like no one was watching. A pang of jealously hit you square in the chest. For a moment you decided that it wasn’t fair but then you remembered that it was your own fault. That’d you’d chosen this life and made this bed and now it was time to lay in it. You were just a moment ago, planning to feast on some poor witch’s flesh.

You leaned back against the soft leather seats.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked. It was the first time he’d spoke since you’d met him.

“The nearest airport please.” You told him in a small voice.

You still hadn’t figured out where you were going. Mainly because there was nowhere else you wanted to be. New Orleans was home. You wanted to go back to your apartment and reminisce about the good old days with Elijah. You wanted to baby and cook for Marcel. You were tired of running but you were tired of fighting too.

You sighed and closed your eyes, leaning your head against the plush leather seats.

You were nearly asleep when the door opposite of you opened.

Your eyes flew open. You gasped in horror when you saw who’d just gotten in your car.

“Don’t I get a goodbye too, love?”

“Klaus,” you gasped.

“Calm down, my lovely. I only want to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you!” you spat.

“Good. Then you can sit here and listen.”

“And if I don’t want to?” you challenged.

“You want to keep running from me then go ahead,” he invited. “Be my guest. I’ll even give you a head start if that’s what you want.”

You folded your arms across your chest and gestured with your hand for him to go on.

He cleared his throat, dramatically.

You rolled your eyes in response.

He opened his mouth to speak but he let out a rare nervous laugh.

“What? You wanted to talk so talk.”

He rubbed at his beard. “I never thought I’d get this far,” he told you with a grin. “I’d dreamt of the day that I’d get to talk to you. To beg your forgiveness and now that we’re here, you’ve got me tongue-tied. Just like when we were kids.”

You turned away from him, biting your lip.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you and I’ll never stopped. The day you left was the day when immortality felt more like a curse than the gift I’d always made it out to be.”

“Why is that?” you asked him.

“Because what is the point of forever without you?”

You leaned your head against the window with a soft thud. “Don’t do this to me,” you whined. “We’re not good together Klaus.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth! Together we are chaotic and deadly and cruel and I don’t want to be that anymore!” You said turning to looked at him.

His eyes were clear, blue, calculating and smoldering, they raking over you with unmistakable hunger that sent chills down your spine. “Leave it to you to focus on the negative.”

“And leave it to you to be the one to act like the negative never happened.” You said throwing up your hands.

“I know what happened and I know what I did. What we did. But I would take it all back if I could, if it meant that you would come back to me or that you would have never left in the first place.” He inhaled running his hand through his curly, ginger brown hair. “We may have been chaotic, deadly and cruel but we were also happy and madly in love. We belong together, y/n. Don’t you see that? We were meant to be together, always and forever.”

“But at the expense of other people, Klaus.” You told him. Anything to keep from him how his words affected you. You loved it and hated it when he got all romantic like that. You wrapped your arms around yourself.

He sighed when, leaning back against the seat. “I can’t make you stay but I’m begging you not to go. Let’s work this out, my darling. I know we can. There is no way in the world that you could have forgotten how good we are together.”

You remained silent.

He put his face in his hands. “I won’t come after you if you choose to leave again. And if you decide to stay and you want to work this out, I’ll be staying at the old plantation. If you want to stay and live in peace…I’ll leave you be.”

He leaned in towards you.

Your breath caught.

He kissed your temple and then your cheek.

His lips were warm against your skin. You were relishing in the familiar sensation of his lips on you when he pulled away.

You sucked in a breath.

“Stop the car.” Klaus told the driver.

The car pulled to a stop in the middle of the road. Thankfully they hadn’t been moving very fast but that didn’t stop the drivers behind them from furiously honking their horns.

Klaus looked back at you one last time. You could see the fear in his eyes. You could tell that he thought this would be the last time he’d see you.

Klaus stepped out of the car and walked back in the direction of the French Quarter. You watched him through the back window until he disappeared from your line of sight.

“Ma’am?” the driver called, startling you.

“Yes?”

“Still to the airport?”

For a moment you couldn’t speak. You were so torn. “Yes…to the airport,” you said unsurely.

Author’s Note: I had such a good time writing this! Please let me know if you enjoyed this story and if you would be interested in reading a part two!

Tags: @its-a-simply-me-thing

Part Two