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elias-code · 3 years

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Prisoner 0.5 - Part I

a classic c!Technoblade x gn!reader

c!Techno/reader/c!awesam/c!Dream

Link to part 2 (NSFW, 18+)

Warnings: Significant blood, death, gore

Summary: You're here to break Techno out, but aren't super bothered bringing Dream along if Techno insisted. You and Sam fight, he's desperate to lock you in there with them but you're more desperate to get Techno out. SFW, lots of gore though! It's fluff, Dream mainly being confused and there because he has to be (lmao nothing against you big-man)

------------ ENJOY!!!!! Thank you for the notes :))))-----------

A growl rose in your throat, “Technoblade,” is the snarl that rang in the hall.

Your hands and arms were covered in nicks, cuts, and blood. The blood was not all your own.

“Ah, he’s why you’re here. I’ll tell you once again,” He panted, “Pandora’s Vault will not be having visitors,” Sam sneered at you, clutching his side where your blade had just met flesh.

Instead of slowing, you doubled down on your onslaught, intent on taking at least one of the Warden’s canon lives whether he let you into the prison or not. He’d let you come in, through the portals, before shutting them behind you and trying to pull one over on you. As soon as you’d come through the portal, you could see his sweat on his brow, holding eye contact as he had you read aloud and sign the contracts.

You knew he wasn’t going to make this easy. He’s the man holding the two strongest people in a cell together right now. He’s the one who locked your lover away.

“Look, I gave Phil my Will because I know you’re going to come looking for me,” Technoblade explained.

You furrowed your brow, fully knowing he was right. It didn’t ease the void forming in your stomach, already aching from his departure. “Why would I need to come looking?” He’s going to die.

“Because you worry too much,”

“Do not.” You retort. The banter was much needed. As soon as his party was over and the rest of the Syndicate took their leave, he’d told you all about his encounter with Quackity on the mountain. Both of you knew it was fishy, so you begged him not to go. If Quackity was telling the truth, he explained, and I abandoned Dream-

Secretly, you’d been worrying, planning this out. You made sure not to tell Phil, Niki, or Ranboo about it, to keep the worry to yourself. They were part of the plan to get him free in case of an emergency, but they didn’t need to know about it until he needed help.

As your sword met his, easily blocking a weak blow from the creeper, and you leaned into his face, “I’m not here for Dream, I’m here for Techno. Let me go and I’ll leave your other two canon lives intact.”

He grit his teeth and pushed you away, blood trails leading from his mouth down his neck. “As if I’d let you do that! I put him in here for a reason, and I intend to do the same to you.”

The fight worsened, you almost felt bad for the warden, but you had something he did not: Love. You fought because you needed him back. You weren’t lying, you really weren’t there for Dream. If Dream came with, you wouldn’t have an issue, but as far as you were concerned he deserved to be in there.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved a worse punishment. He claimed to be untainted, a strict rule follower, but he and Quackity went behind everyone’s backs to lock Techno, your boyfriend, in prison. He was a hypocrite. Not to mention, he let Ghostbur die, who you were quite fond of, and he let Tommy die and then be revived by Dream. It left the poor boy scarred, and no matter how annoying you found him, you weren’t gun-ho on the traumatizing children part of the deal.

As you parried his hits, less than flawlessly, but well enough, you pondered this. The voices in your head, as well as Techno’s were frantic. Sam set the alarm, so Techno must have known you were there for him. They screamed, SLIT HIS THROAT, RIP SAM, LET HIM KNOW WHO HE’S MESSING WITH, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD.

Sam stumbled backwards from a particularly harsh blow, slamming into the lectern he kept the guest list on. You took your shot, aiming for the heart, you plunged your sword into his chest and through the pages behind.

“See you on the other side, Sam,” You said, almost cheerfully. He slipped from the lectern when you pulled your blade out. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be back shortly with Ant and probably some others, so you quickened your pace.

You learned from Tommy how the warden got through all of the contraptions. He’d nervously watched Sam go through those multiple times. Even though his knowledge was spotty, you were managing.

Door after door, you could hear your heart beat harder. “I’m almost there, Tech, hold on…”

Technoblade, staring through the lava, was thrilled to read Sam’s death message in the chat, but less thrilled that it was your sword that ended his life. It confirmed that you were here for him, and he never wanted to see you hurt. As much as he made fun of you for it, he was worried.

Techno’s eyes met yours as the lava receded, gazes piercing, almost as if you were trying to burn a hole in his soul. They stung with tears and felt close to melting due to the sudden lava proximity. You didn’t think about it. You had more important fish to fry.

Once you got to the other side, you ran to him, the Netherite blocks descending into the floor. Dream was cowering in the corner, thinking you were either here to come kill him or Techno. Instead, you flew into Techno’s arms, being crushed into a hug by a man who you’d just seen a couple of days prior, although it felt like an eternity.

Dream was confused, to say the least. His inventory was full of scribbles about the prison, its layout, everything Sam did, and whatever he could think of. He was taking in the sight, someone he’d never met being kissed by the only man he’d ever met that’d be able to rival him. Techno was not one to share his love story with other people, and so he failed to mention your name to Dream.

“Wh- what the fuck?” He sputtered.

“Can you get the netherite? Those are netherite blocks!” Techno pointed, you feigned interest as you swiftly mined them. You didn’t have the time but you didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Dream, nice to meet you. I’m here to get you two out. I’m Techno’s partner.”

“I didn’t know he had-“

“Do we have to bring him?” You gestured to Dream, “No offense, Mr. Dream but you seem like an asshole.” Techno chuckled.

“Dream, you ready to call in that favor?”

#dsmp x reader #dsmp #technoblade #c!technoblade #c!technoblade x reader #c!techo x reader #dreamsmp #dreamwastaken #dream #mcyt #mcyt x reader #awesamdude #sfw #techno x reader #eli prisoner #Elias original

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the-weirdos-mind · 3 years

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League of Villains X Teen! Reader: You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid

Songfic of the song with the same name by The Offspring. Here’s the reader’s quirk:

Quirk- Manipulation

Type- Emitter

How it works- Similar to Aizawa’s and Nighteye’s quirks you have to look someone in the eye to get them under control. They’re unaware that you’re controlling them but still aware of their senses. When you have someone under control you can do whatever you want with them until you either look away from that person (it doesn’t always have to be eye contact), blink, or release them. Whenever someone is under your spell, it’s like being trapped in a room with one-way glass. They are aware of what’s going on but, can’t get help.

Drawbacks- If you use the power for more than an hour you’ll get a headache. If you push yourself you’ll get a migraine. You can choose when to activate it and for how long but the time still adds to an hour no matter how many times you activate it in the day.

Trigger warnings: Blood and use of violence, if I’m missing anything then let me know so I can correct it

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

Show me how to lie You're getting better all the time And turning all against the one Is an art that's hard to teach

You followed Giran down the hallway to an unknown place. You had the hood of you (F/C) on to hide your (H/L) (H/C) hair with your eyes on the ground. You watched as foot after foot in (F/C) shoes put pressure on the dirty ground. You mentally sighed as you reflect your life choices. You didn’t want to live this life but everyone around you saw your quirk as one thing; villainous. You got tired of the words and became what they wanted you be. You realized that heroes are worthless and they didn’t care that a young (boy/girl/person) was heading down a dark path. You glanced up to see the man opening the door. You immediately looked down and followed him in the room.

Side glancing at the room you noticed it was a bar. There was a purple cloud like man with yellow eyes in a suit and a metal brace around his neck. He was polishing a glass behind the bar. On a red stool was another man holding a glass of alcohol. He had his pinky raised away from the glass though and you silently raised an eyebrow. Is this because of his quirk or is he British? His shaggy blue hair was covering most of his face but when he turned to face the two, you saw a pale hand covering his face and his red eyes glaring at you. You glanced down at the floor. Not yet.

“You seriously brought a child?” He asked setting the glass cup down. “You do know that this is for mature adults? And (she/he/they) can’t stare at me in the eyes? How rude.” His voice was raspy and you concluded he was holding the glass like that was because of his quirk.

“Shigaraki, this is (Y/N), I brought (him/her/them) cause (he/she/they) need some training with (his/her/their) quirk.” Giran said and took a drag from his cigarette. He exhaled and a smoke cloud came in the room. “(He/She/They) is getting better at it but, (he/she/they) still needs some help.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “At least I don’t treat kids like they’re nothing.” You mumbled still bitter about Shigaraki’s comment.

“What was that?” The blue haired man asked, dangerously.

“So, you’re deaf huh? I thought an excellent leader would treat a new recruit with respect no matter the age they are.”

Another clever word Sets off an unsuspecting herd And as you get back into line A mob jumps to their feet

“Shut up.” Shigaraki muttered and scratched his neck. He was stressed about the trouble this kid was causing. Sure he and Dabi didn’t get along but he liked being in control. “(He/She/They) is mature for (his/her/their) age.” Giran said. “Maybe with (him/her/them) as leader it won’t be bad.” He added. He knew what you were doing. If you get him mad enough to get him to look at you in the eye then you can show off your quirk. You did keep your mouth shut as the man stood up and walked over to you. You looked at him in the eye and a (F/C) hue came to your (E/C) eyes. His eyes begin to fog up a little, not enough to appear blind but enough to look suspicious.

Now dance, ****er, dance Man, he never had a chance And no one even knew It was really only you

Shigaraki barely saw the change of your eye color. He was so surprised to started dancing. His feet moved in a fast pace in place. “What the ****!?!” He yelled, only in his mind. Dabi started laughing again. The scarred man leaned over clutching his stomach. He’s laughing so hard he might start crying, or blood will fall from his destroyed tear ducts, if he’s not careful. After a few minutes of dancing you blinked to end the curse on him. They didn’t know that you caused it to happen. Giran smirked and patted you on the head. “What the h***?” The man asked looking around, wondering what just happened.

“That is (his/her/their) quirk at work.” He man said before the other could get angry. “With a power like (hers/his/theirs) would be useful for heist situations and causing diversions wouldn’t it?”

“What is (his/her/theirs) quirk?” The wisp man asked.

“Manipulation.” You said. “Whenever I look at someone in the eyes it activates my power. I can hold control of them for at least an hour before I get a headache. Best part is no one knows that they’re under my grasp.” You said.

“I’ll admit that I’m impressed.” Shigaraki said. “Welcome I guess.”

Giran smiled. “You won’t be disappointed.”

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

And now you steal away Take him out today

After a few weeks of joining the League you’re on your first solo mission. Before this one you were mainly paired with a blonde haired girl named Toga. She was pretty nice when she wasn’t obsessing over blood or trying to stab you. Other times you were paired with a man named Twice. He would say two different things and it would give you mixed feelings about a job well done.

You walked through the area of the city to a hero agency. Your job is to find maps of the inside and steal them. Shigaraki didn’t care if they were on paper or not all he cared about was getting them, It’s pretty simple to do but considering this is you, you had a knife and a handheld gun just in case if things went south. So far it was going well. You got a security guard under control and using him you were able to get a computer with the building’s layout on it. Pulling out a flash drive that Compress had given you, you stuck it in the computer and start downloading. Unfortunately, you looked away from the guard and he glared at you.

“I don’t know your plan here kid, but it’s best if you leave now.” He said. He did try to alert someone but it was useless, he was trapped in his mind until you looked away. You looked at him and put your hand in your pocket with the knife.

“I don’t think so.” You said. Before he could call for backup you pulled the knife out and threw it at his chest. He gasped at the impact of the knife and slumped to the floor. Blood was falling from the wound fast, staining his shirt and forming a puddle. Thankfully there was a ding as the data had finished uploading to the flash drive. You walked over to the computer and pulled it out. You smirked as you pocketed it and pulled the knife out from the guard. You left the building leaving behind a guard slowly bleeding to death.

Nice work you did You're gonna go far, kid

You walked back into the hideout and put the flash drive on the bar next to Shigaraki. He nodded at you when he saw it. “Good job. A win for us.” He said and carefully pocketed the piece of tech.

“And in an hour too.” Spinner said.

“That’s really impressive!” Twice said. “It’s not that impressive.”

You feel a hand clamp on your head and ruffle your hair. “Not bad, kid.” Dabi said. He could tell you’re gonna go far in the villain industry.

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

With a thousand lies And a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You had gotten in the school with one of the best lies you have, your parents went there. It wasn’t U.A. but it’s also training people for the hero industry. The plan was to get the best marks in the school and transfer to U.A. as the highest in your class. Giran came into play for making fake documents that pass off as real.

The one on one fight that took place with some kid you didn’t even bother to know was annoying. His quirk was something water related and you almost drowned a couple of times. You finally looked at him in the eye and ordered him to stop. You ran up to him and punched his face, in the between the eyes a couple of times. The first one stun him while the other knocked him out.

When you walk away Nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

You panted and wiped the sweat away from your forehead. You walked away from the ring where the training took place and looked at everyone else. They looked away from you in fear and parted like a body of water. You swore you saw someone running for their life. You smirked to yourself and took your seat on the bleachers. Pride danced in your eyes like lightning.

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

Slowly out of line And drifting closer in your sights So play it out I'm wide awake It's a scene about me

The first thing the infamous Class 1-A noticed about you is how secretive you were. You shared nothing about yourself other than your name and quirk. They noticed that you did some… shady things to put it mildly. Some noticed you snuck out of the dorms at night. Idia, Miydoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki had followed you to an alleyway and heard you talking to some shadowy figure there. Both spoke in soft whispers that they couldn’t tell who you were talking to and whether or not they were male or female. Other than that occurrence, they didn’t get anything else.

About a week later, the League attacked UA. You had managed to get them in through your student ID and gave them full access to the school, by a really good copy of the little plastic card. Five minutes prior to the attack, you had excused yourself from math, who needs it anyways, and went to the bathroom. While the lockdown was going on, you met with Toga in the halls. The plan was to get to All Might and kill him, the typical plan made by the man child of a leader you have. You both heard footsteps running towards you and saw it was the class president, Iida. “(L/N), get away from her!” He yelled, doing his hand chop thing. You smirked and took out the dagger the blonde handed you. “No, I don’t think I will.” You responded. Time to shine.

There's something in your way And now someone is gonna pay And if you can't get what you want, Well, it's all because of me

He stood there, shell shocked at the sight before him. His classmate was a villain? You couldn’t use your quirk yet, anyways. You decided to let the scene play out. You let a dark chuckle seeing his face. “All my life I’ve been told that I was best suited for a villain. You know, you could’ve used the time you knew me to get to know me but, everyone treated me the same as before! It’s too bad that things had to end like this. Wait, no it’s not that bad. You and your class are gonna pay!” You yelled. You lunged at him and he dodged as he snapped out of his shocked state.

“(Y/N), it doesn’t have to be this way!” He said and continued to dodge the blade. He was still surprised and didn’t attempt to fight back because he couldn’t believe the suspicions about you were true. You growled in frustration. “It’s too late for me anyways. You can’t turn me to the light.” You said and looked at him in the eyes and yours started glowing (F/C). He almost let out a gasp but it didn’t leave his body as his eyes fogged up a little.

Now dance, ****er, dance, man, I never had a chance And no one even knew, it was really only you And now you'll lead the way

You smiled as the class representative had fallen for your trick. “Now, we’re going back to the class, and you’re going to act like everything is alright.” You ordered.

He nodded. “Yes, (Sir/Ma’am/Other).” He said, voice coming out robotically. He set off to find his class and you followed him, due to your power. The irony of the situation was almost amusing to you. Almost. The head of the class, now a puppet. A puppet that can dance to whatever twisted moves that you have set for it.

Show the light of day Nice work you did You're gonna go far, kid Trust deceived

You followed him down the twisting paths of the hallways to the rest of the class. Your gaze fixed on the back of his head. You knew Toga was going to inform everyone else that everything was according to plan. Finally, the two of you reached the hiding area where everyone else was. “Thank goodness you found, (him/her/them!)” You heard Izuku said. Then he noticed that something was off about his classmates. You were refusing to look at anybody else than the boy in front of you and Iida’s looked dazed. Like he was… under someone’s control.

The greenette’s eyes widened. His classmate was… no. He had his suspicions but the truth is hard to handle. Before he could say anything, Iida gave him a swift kick in the face.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

They stood there in surprise and shock. A blanket of fear had covered them, making them stand there like statues. The only sounds were the groans of Miydoriya and the thud of his body hitting the ground. “I-Iida.” Ochaco stuttered in fear. No one had expected the class president to attack their classmate outside of training. The blue haired boy then hit the nearest person, Mineta, giving him a punch to the cheek. No one really reacted to that. In all honesty, the grape had it coming.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

While they were distracted, you used the opportunity to leave. It didn’t matter if Iida was going to spill the secret you kept from them. That s*** was already out. You smirked to yourself knowing which side of the street you belong in.

Now dance, ****er, dance, he never had a chance And no one even knew, it was really only you So dance, ****er, dance, I never had a chance It was really only you

The mission went out as planned. It was only a ploy to strike fear in the hearts of citizens. After all, an attack with no causalities is far worse with ones that do. You now sat at the bar, a bottle of water in your hand. You may be a criminal but the age of drinking consent is something that you can’t argue with. No matter how hard you tried. The news was on talking about the event. Everyone was able to get away without anyone being caught. Call it luck or whatever but, you’re thankful that they did. The anchorwoman was talking about how a student was involved with the League and helped out. A picture of your face appeared on the screen and you smirked. It wasn’t a school photo but a mugshot from a previous capture. One you managed to get away from. No one even suspected you, or so you think, but regardless it’s wonderful to see.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You couldn’t help but chuckled remembering the looks on each of their faces. What they thought was a classmate was really playing a part. A perfect disguise if you asked yourself. You have the innocent looking (boy/girl/person) appearance and if anyone who didn’t know you found out about your job. It would’ve made you laugh as not everything is as it seems.

Your fists tingled as they remembered the feeling of their face contacting your skin. You placed the hand that held the plastic bottle on top of the other’s knuckles. The feeling is something you’re going to remember for a long time.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

A pair of footsteps came walking in and you dropped your hands to your lap. You see Shigaraki walking into the bar holding a folder, with a finger away from it as always. You know it could only mean one thing. “Another mission?” You asked, voicing your thoughts. The boss nodded and handed it to you.

“Go over it and be ready for when the time comes. You did good on your last mission, keep up the good work. You’re a valuable character.” He said before walking away. You weren’t sure if the last sentence was a praise or another video game term but regardless you nodded.

“Will do.” You said and opened it up, wondering what will be to cause more fear in the people. And more pride in yourself. Each success makes you happy.

Clever alibis, Lord of the Flies Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You almost busted out laughing seeing which role you were supposed to play. An innocent citizen who loves all the hero crap. You won’t be alone this time, having Toga to accompany you on this one. You felt excited for the mission. It would mean more people will realize what idiots heroes truly are. The truth will knock them down from the clouds.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

But right now, it’s time for a nap. The last mission tired you out. You took the folder with you and walked to your room. All that matters right now is a bed, a blanket, and wonderful dreams of a world where people run in fear from you.

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visenyavires · 3 years

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Bleed Not For Death, But For Love

Chapter 2: My First Day

I had spent the remainder of my day after my interaction with Lady Dimitrescu exploring the castle grounds, making an internal map of all the rooms including the Lady’s. I came across the kitchen and found other maids cleaning up for the end of the shift. I met a beautiful Parlour Maid by the name of Elena, who helped me finish my tour after she finished her remaining tasks. After learning the layout of my new home, I returned to my room to turn in for the night when I noticed an envelope sitting below the Lady’s lipstick-stained wine glass I had “forgotten” to take to the kitchen. My breath catches as I see the house sigil pressed into the wax seal. It’s from Lady Dimitrescu.

I wondered if I had done something wrong… already. But other than not returning her wine glass just yet, I couldn’t think of anything. I lift the wine glass off the letter, pick up the aged parchment envelope, and set the glass down, my eyes glued to the deep red seal. I sit down on my chair in front of the fireplace and turn it over to see my name written in beautiful, angled cursive that seemed almost ancient. I carefully peel the wax seal off the body of the envelope, leaving it on the flap, and with a shaky hand, I pull the letter out. I take a deep breath and read the ancient cursive writing slowly:

“Dearest Y/N,

I have some tasks to train you on when dusk falls. Come to my chambers then and we shall get started with your first day. I am very precise about how I wish to have things done.

P.s. You can keep the wine glass if it pains you to part with it.

-Lady Alcina Dimitrescu”

I let out a deep sigh of relief that I’m not in trouble, but I’m also extremely anxious about meeting her first thing tonight. Could she tell I was already feeling some type of infatuation? Did she leave the glass on purpose? Maybe I will be able to tell tomorrow evening during our meeting, but as of right now, I really need to rest. I only have about 6 hours till dusk. I slip into a nightgown I bought myself on the way here. I found it in Italy, it’s made of dark red silk and black ribbon. Something drew me to it, and I could not refuse. I settle down in my bed and fall asleep to the crackling of the dim fire.

……….

I wake up a few hours before dusk to an embroidered canopy, a heavy down comforter, and soft, silk sheets, something I’ve never experienced. The fire has dimmed to embers and there’s a slight chill in the room. I don’t figure I’ll be able to fall back to sleep, so I climb out of bed, stoke the fire, and find my clothes for the day. I find my gown easily, but notice that my apron is a deep red instead of white like the other maids. I wonder if that is due to my position as the Grand Chambermaid. All my uniforms are graciously provided by the Lady of the castle, so I only had to bring a small bag of personal items. I only had a few material possessions from back home, so being in a castle with a maximalist style was very overwhelming.

I go to the kitchen quickly to find something to eat before I begin my shift and notice an older maid in her 70s or so is already preparing food. I notice she, too, is wearing a dark red apron.

“Another early riser,” she says joyfully. “It’s nice to finally have some company at this time of day.”

I give her the friendliest smile I possibly can and introduce myself. “It smells wonderful in here. My name is Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Doina. I’m one of the head kitchen maids. If you ever need something to eat, just come see me,” she says with a sweet grin. She seems to love it here, I expect Lady Dimitrescu treats her well.

“I would actually love something to eat. I’ve got to meet our Lady in a couple of hours and I’m so nervous that I’m a bit nauseated,” I say sheepishly. Doina nods her head and walks to the stove and brings me a bowl of porridge back, and it smells lovely.

“This should settle your stomach, dear,” she says with a smile and a pat on my back. I take a few bites and instantly feel my nerves settle. I take a deep breath and smile.

“This is delicious, Doina. Just what I needed. Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, dear. The first day is stressful for everyone,” she says with a tone of experience. I wonder if she feeds all the newcomers like this.

Curiosity begins to stir in my mind and I swallow a bite of warm porridge before I ask, “Doina, may I ask what the red aprons are for, you’re the only other one I’ve seen wearing one. I thought maybe it was just for chambermaids but I suppose not.” She sets her spatula down, turns to me, and lowers her voice.

“It’s so that they do not stain when we help her clean up.”

And with that, I knew exactly what she meant. Her role as a cook, mine as her handmaiden, it all makes sense. People told me what the Lady of the castle is when I signed up for the job, but I honestly didn’t believe them at the time. But after seeing her daughters and their ability when I arrived, I’m starting to believe it’s true.

I nodded my understanding and Doina turned back to the stove, her spatula in hand. I finished my breakfast, cleaned my dishes, and went back to my room to straighten up. I decided to pass my remaining time by walking around the castle one more time to really familiarize myself with everything so that whenever I was needed, I could provide. When I finished, I opened a door to the courtyard and noticed it was almost dusk. It’s time to meet the Lady of the castle for my first day of training, and I suddenly wish I had more of that porridge again.

……….

I’m a few minutes early when I open the door to the building where Lady Dimitrescu’s chambers are and walk up the stairs. I hear her voice and my heart begins to race. It sounds like she’s on the phone so I wait till I hear her put it down to knock on the door. I don’t even get to touch the door before I hear her say, “Come in. It’s open.” Her heightened senses impressed me, as I am not a heavy walker.

I open my palm from a knocking fist to push the cracked door open only to reveal her sitting at her vanity. She is applying a fresh coat of crimson lipstick, paying no mind that I’m even here. I lower my head in respect but glance up to watch her finish applying her lipstick. When she returns the cap to her lipstick and rubs her lips together to smooth everything out, I look back down at my feet, waiting for her to finish. I know that she is one to give commands, at least starting out. Then she would expect you to know what to do without a word coming from her mouth.

She turns towards me on her stool, a cigarette now in her hand. She flicks her lighter and the end begins to burn, so she closes the lighter, puts it to the side, closes her eyes, and takes a long drag. She holds it for a moment, then lets it out. She slowly opens her eyes and we make eye contact before she speaks.

“Did you rest well?” she asks softly, tilting her chin up slightly. I nod.

“Yes, my lady, thank you for asking,” I say with a soft smile and a head bow, only breaking away from her pools of gold for a moment. She tilts her head to the side just barely, as if figuring me out. While she’s sitting on her stool, we are at the same eye level.

“Your manners are pleasing. I’ve had many maids who wouldn’t even speak. Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever drawn a bath for someone before?” She asks with a hint of attitude as she arches a brow.

“Yes, my lady, for my parents frequently. How do you prefer your water?” I ask, maybe too boldly.

“I’m glad you asked. Follow me” she says with a grin. She puts out her cigarette and I follow her out of the chamber and down the hall. I figured she would lead me to this room at some point. We enter the Hall of Ablution, where four statues stand around a large bath of blood. Elena showed me that there are towels under a sink that is in the wall, so I figured this was part of her routine.

The Lady only wore a black robe, her raven curls put up with pins. She takes a long inhale and sighs with a smile. With her back turned to me, she looks over her shoulder and lets the robe fall. No warning. I avoid a gasp as I see her… all of her from behind. She smirks and lets out a quiet laugh as she looks away from me and walks straight into the ruby bath. She sits and is covered from the tops of her breasts down in the deep red liquid, leaving her arms to rest on the edge of the bath, and sighs with contentment. I pick up her silk robe from the ground and hold it patiently as she soaks. I expect that she wants silence and I gave her such so she can enjoy herself, but the hall soon echoes with her deep voice.

“Tell me, Draga mea,” she says in an intoxicatingly sweet Romanian accent, “why did you come all this way to be here?” I struggled to find an answer, as all I could wonder was why she was even interested.

“To get away from my family, my Lady. I always promised myself I would leave as soon as I turned 21 when my little sister turned 18 and she could leave. I didn’t want to leave her there by herself,” I stop myself as soon as I realize I’m beginning to overshare.

“And where did she go?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, seemingly interested in new stories and gossip.

“She stayed in Italy after we passed through. She found a good place to stay and was offered a job. I really hope she’s happy there,” I say with a worried smile. She nods as if it’s in approval. She looks to her side and asks, “What do you expect out of your time here?” And turns her head to look back at me, her eyes entrancing. I do my very best to give her a vague answer.

“I want a place to call home, somewhere I belong, a place I can care for, and someone I can devote my loyalty to. That’s all I’ve wanted for a very long time,” I say, attempting to add a sultry hint to my voice, but keeping a serious face. Her crimson lips spread into a small grin and she flicks her wrist towards the cabinet with the very large, red towels. I grab one and hold it out as she stands and walks to the ramp in the tub. I have to force myself not to stare as the ruby liquid drips from her ivory skin, down her hips and legs. For modesty’s sake, I cover the portion of my gaze that would be able to see her, but it seems as if she wouldn’t mind if I hadn’t. I help her wrap up, and she walks me to her bathroom in her chambers where I then run a warm bath for her.

I stand at the head of the tub after she gets in and I remove the pins from her hair. I take a golden brush off the table next to me and brush through her hair. I move slowly, and she seems to prefer that as I hear a soft sigh escape every now and then. I notice dusk is fading, so I wrap up her bath by washing her hair, back, arms, and legs. I leave her to finish while I fetch a warm, white towel.

I meet her back at her vanity where I brush through her hair again and strategically place the curlers while she talks about a meeting she has with the other Lords of the village later in the night and what she expects to be done in the meantime. I lay out her dress, necklace, hat, and gloves for the day.

“Thank you, Y/N. This was the most pleasurable “morning” I’ve had in quite some time.

“Of course, my Lady. I’m glad I was able to meet your standards. Enjoy your meeting, everything shall be prepared for you when you return.” I give a little curtsey and close the doors behind me after locking in on those enchanting, golden eyes and her scarlet grin one last time.

……….

I go about the duties Lady Dimitrescu gave me for the remainder of the night, cleaning her chambers, preparing her nightwear, cleaning her bathroom, making sure everything is in its home. After all my tasks are done, I go back into the kitchen to see Doina wrapping up for the night.

“I left you a plate, dear,” she says kindly and points to a plate of potatoes, squash, and a few pieces of chicken on the side.

“Thank you again, Doina. You’re so kind,” I say, my hungry belly already full of gratitude. Doina hangs a towel up and sits across from me and we converse about the day. I thank her again for the food, clean my dishes, and head towards my chambers to turn in for the night.

Once I close the doors to my room, I kick my shoes off and take my hair down. I sit at my own vanity and brush my hair out before I walk towards the fireplace to stoke it again. Before I reach the fireplace, I see another note with a wax Dimitrescu sigil sitting under the wine glass on my table. I didn’t notice the Lady return home, I hope everything was done to her liking.

I sit and peel the letter open once more, a repeat of last night. Once again, I read the beautiful cursive slowly:

“Draga Mea,

Come to my chambers at 7 am, don’t be late.

-Lady Alcina Dimitrescu”

It’s another chamber summons, but this time, it doesn’t sound like it’s for business… and I only have half an hour to prepare.

***** STAY TUNED, CHAPTER 3 COMING SOON!!! *****

Next: Chapter 3: Devotion, You Shall Have

Previous: Chapter 1: Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu

#alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x maiden #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 fanfic #alcina dimitrescu x reader #re8 village

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rachi-roo · 3 years

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-------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }--------------

Alright, honestly, I'm terrified of posting this but it's taken waaay to long! Here is the first part of my Angels of Death AU series! Sanity Spectrum! ⚠️Contains spoilers and violent content⚠️

Angels of Death: Sanity Spectrum

-----------} Part One {-----------

“Then stop crying... And smile...”

How many months had it been since that night? Two? Three? It didn’t really matter. A promise is a promise, it’s not like it left a lasting impression or anything. It was just the right thing to do.

Not much has changed. He, Issac Foster that is, still loves killing and he hasn’t stopped doing so. Apart from a couple days after fleeing the psych ward where he fulfilled his promise to Rachel. It was best for him to lay low and disappear for a while before finding more action. After hiding in am abandoned storage unit for a couple weeks, Zack is back on the streets, doing what he does best.

“Please-! I-I have money! I’ll give you everything I have-!” His latest victim, a woman looking far to smiley on this gloomy Wednesday evening. Doesn’t she know it’s the middle of the week? Normal people don’t get to have fun at this time.

Zack grinned down at the woman as he stood over her waist, his scythe hanging lazily over his shoulders. “Everything, huh? Well isn’t that sweet of you. I’m afraid you’re bribing the one person who has absolutely no use for money. How about we just wrap this up-!” A sharp scream, followed by a gurgling sound as his victims lungs filled with her own blood, choking the crimson beads all over her fair complexion.

Zack sighed, plucking his weapon from the woman’s chest as he watched the light in her eyes die with her. “Wish you coulda’ run a little more before spraying your ankle, stupid bitch.” He huffed, swing the scythe to remove the excess blood. He had become more cautious about leaving trails of the fluid that might lead the cops to his new hideout. “Oh well, next time.”

“Hey, you Issac Foster?” An unfamiliar voice called from behind. Zack turned, glaring at the stranger that stood in the alleyway. It was another girl, maybe this one would put up more of a fight.

“Who’s askin’?” He responded, feet already itching for a chase.

She wore a pair of leggings and a light coat, covered in various sized pockets and some thick soled running shoes. She was short but looked a muscular build, probably about the same age as Zack. She smiled, stepping closer. “Right now, my name isn’t important. Do ya’ think we could talk for a little bit?” She didn’t seem afraid to be so near him. She knew his name, so she’s gotta’ know he’s a murderer. Why isn’t she scared? Probably just another sad fan girl.

Those were his favourites, the betrayed look in their eyes as the one they treasured and cherished cut them down without a second thought. Brilliant.

Zack was hyped up on adrenaline, he wanted her dead on the concrete. “A chat? Haha, sounds nice but I’m afraid I’m not in the mood right now, girly. Sorry, you’ve caught me on a good night.” He gripped his scythe, licking his lips in anticipation. “You know my name, so you must know how I like to play!” He giggled before charging at the girl who quickly took off down the backstreets, Zack hot on her heels.

His manic laughter cut through the cold nights air as he swung his scythe, narrowly missing the girls head as she ducked just in time, darting around the corner.

The grin on Zacks scarred face grew. He had learned the layout of these streets relatively quickly. “Haha! Dead end, girly! You got nowhere else to-GAH!” A sudden blunt force struck Zack across the head as he rounded the corner, knocking him off his feet. He landed on his back with a thud, his scythe being thrown a short distance down the alley.

For a moment all Zack could hear was a high pitched ringing and a muffled voice. The girl from before stood beside Zack as he turned on his side, cradling his head in his hands, his skull pulsating in pain.

The girl huffed, setting down the pipe she had just whacked him with as he groaned, dizzily trying to get his bearings. “You... You bitch-” He hissed through gritted teeth.

Sighing sympathetically, the woman crouched by Zacks side, taking a syringe from her coat pocket.

Zack wasn’t able to focus, the shifting floor beneath his palms was making it difficult. “Fucking... Stupid little- ow-” He flinched, being pulled from his thoughts by a sudden sharp pain in his thigh.

“What the hell?!” He exclaimed, swinging his fist at the woman as she retracted, holding an empty syringe. “The fuck did you just stick me with?!” Even as he spoke, he could feel that something was wrong. The girl smiled, resting a her chin on her hands as she watched his pupils become dilated.

“Having a chat would have been easier, Foster.” She chuckled.

In a desperate attempt at escape, Zack suddenly pushed himself from the ground, stumbling to his feet and making a dash for his discarded weapon. He only made it a few metres before he collapsed in a heap on the ground, his weapon just inches out of reach.

Footsteps approached behind him, his vision growing foggy as he lay helplessly on the floor, his limbs now weighing a ton. He couldn’t even think straight at this point. His grip on consciousness was slipping fast, the urge to give in was overwhelming.

A pair of shoes stepped into his line of sight as his eyelids grew heavy.

-------} Part two coming soon {-------

“You’re kinda’ cute when you’re sleepy.” The girl said with a chuckle. “We’ll talk later, you just rest.” A soft hand ruffled the sluggish boys hair as his world faded to darkness.

This was not how this evening was supposed to fucking go.

👀 So this is going to be a spin-off series since we all hated the ending of the show 🙃 It will be heavily OC involved with Zack still at the centre of the plot 😁👍 I'd love some feedback if you're comfortable sharing! Nicely, I'm a delicate soul XD

#angels of death #angels of death au #angels of death sanity spectrum #AOD #satsuriku no tenshi #Satsuriku no Tenshi au #issac foster #issac foster is baby #zack foster #angels of death oc #Satsuriku no Tenshi oc

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beckwritesfiction · 2 years

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Slow Ride - Chapter 7

CHAPTER INDEX: X

Summary: Scarlette makes a threat while Hangman makes Henrietta his elevated macaroni and cheese recipe, and they have a little heart-to-heart.

Notes: I'm thinking of taking requests. I'm down for anything in this realm and those adjacent. Outer Range, Set It Up, anything with anyone from Top Gun, I've probably seen it and probably will write for it. This is a longer work for me, and I'm thinking of taking requests for smaller things. It's up to you guys!

Content Warning: Mentions of parent deaths and grief. Let me know if I missed any and I'd be happy to add them!

Word Count: 4.8k

DAY THREE: HENRIETTA

Hangman started his day the way he usually did. The kitchen was crowded, so the balcony door was often open. People would come and go when they needed, often far too close for comfort. Scarlette, one of the last to wake up, was making her own portion of eggs.

“I’ve been meaning to tell everyone that the vent hangs super low, so it’s really easy to hit your head while you’re cooking.” He looked over at her, far too amused. “But it looks like you’re the perfect height. Being short’s working to your advantage for once, it seems.”

She put the spatula down, narrowing her eyes as she turned to face him. “Do you know what I feel like doing? Enjoying my eggs on the balcony, and right when someone finally shuts up so I can get a word in, I’m going to ask why you were giggling about crunchy peanut butter with Henrietta last night.” He stiffened. She smiled. “Thank you for leaving me alone.”

He walked away, trying to find a solution to his problem, but also trying to find a nickname for Henrietta that didn’t sound like an old lady name. He couldn’t exactly continue his nightly meetings with her if it meant everyone would eventually become privy to their conversations. She was already setting boundaries. He wasn’t sure who else knew that Maverick was her uncle, but he kept that to himself. She liked to be taken seriously, from what he’s gathered, being seen every night with him likely would make her look unprofessional.

Bowing out early, he decided to see where she went when she left him at night. The first time she came to his floor after training, it had clearly been the wrong one. That meant she was either above or below him. First, he checked the lower level, and found nothing. Then he checked the one above, and he found a single door open, and the sounds of a shower running from the bathroom. It was the same layout as the floor he stayed on, which meant there was a kitchen. He checked to make sure, even going as far as to check the cabinets. They were empty. If he came to her with what they needed to cook something, then she wouldn’t have to go downstairs. They’d have an entire floor to themselves. It was solving his problem and hers. Then she walked out of the bathroom, and it caused another right away.

Her hair was piled atop her hair, held in place messily with a clip. He could still see droplets of water on her back, exposed because all she had on was a towel. At first he thought she wouldn’t notice him, but she did. She turned, holding her towel up for extra security. The way he looked at her seemed as though it was because she was in a towel. But it was actually because he was trying to make out the tattoo that was on the back of her neck. He had never seen it before, and he thought it looked like a pair of wings, but he couldn’t be sure.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“We needed an extra pan, and I thought I’d find one up here.”

“No, the kitchen’s empty. Is that it?” Henrietta seemed bothered, and it only became worse when he acted as though he couldn’t imagine why. He leaned against the wall casually.

“Why do you sound like you don’t want me here?”

“Because I’m naked.”

He laughed. “You’re in a towel. You think we’re not all walking around in towels down there?”

She made her way towards her room, shaking her head. He followed, but only because he had to walk by her room to get back to his floor. “I’m not down there, I’m up here. And Maverick’s running on the beach so I was under the impression that I was alone.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” His tone sounded genuine, and it took her by surprise. She lingered in her doorway, and he stopped because of it. When she simply nodded, he wondered if she was trying to appear casual, or if she wanted him gone. “Did you still want me to leave?”

“I’m still not dressed, and last time I checked, call time is in thirty minutes. Pretty sure holding up a woman in a towel isn’t on the list of things to do if you want to succeed in training.”

“You don’t know what sets me up for success,” he said with a smile. All that innuendo got him was a door closed in his face.

Their paths didn’t cross much while he trained. But when they did, she did a great job of pretending he didn’t exist. It was her instinct, and not only for the sake of how the others perceived her. She had done everything Maverick asked and she did it well. She wasn’t going to ruin the one thing that was going right in her life because she fraternized with the people he considered his students.

When he said he was going for a ride to clear his head, she felt as though it would be a pattern. It had happened two nights in a row, and she knew she could stop it if she just told him that she felt like she needed him to stay. The cursor in the blank word document blinked, taunting her. Writing seemed like the right thing to do in Maverick’s absence, but she couldn’t. She was thinking about how hungry she was, and how all she had to do was go downstairs and get something. There was fruit, she remembered as she closed her computer.

Of course, when she got off the elevator, she immediately wanted to go back in. There was music playing, and someone in nearly every corner. She knew almost no one, two of which she didn’t even want people knowing she knew. Rooster was the only one in the kitchen when she rounded the corner, and he was the only reason she stayed.

She didn’t say anything, even after meeting his eyes before entering the kitchen. While it comforted her that he was there, she also didn’t want to talk to him until he apologized to her. He hadn’t been there for her as much as she wanted him to. Maybe she was a little much, and maybe he had his own things going on, but they didn’t talk nearly as much as they used to. She faulted him for that.

“You know what I’ve noticed? We never argued a lot growing up, but when we did, it was me that said I was sorry, even when you were the one being ridiculous. Right now, you’re being ridiculous. What are you even doing? I’m saying this out of concern, exactly like I was the other day.”

“I’m taking advantage of the time I have with him. I don’t have a lot left, you know that. So, if this is what I need to do, it’s what I need to do. If you came back once after the funeral, you’d know that I’d probably still be in their house, not leaving, not going to school. The fact that I’m here is big for me. Mav gave me an opportunity, and I took it.”

“What happened to journalism? New York? London?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Who do you think made me want that?” He looked over at her, but she didn’t look at him. Henri didn’t want to be the person that cried all the time, because she wasn’t that person before. “This is me trying. Just because I’m doing it now doesn’t mean I’ll be doing it forever.”

When she went to leave, he sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I just don’t want you getting so far off track that you get lost.”

She turned back around. “I promise, I’m not. And if you have any more questions, I’d love for them to be in the form of curious inquiries and not accusations.”

He nodded. “I’ll promise that if you promise you’re not downplaying this.” He held out his pinky, and she smiled, amused. Eventually, just in time for Hangman to open the balcony door, she held out hers. Their pinkies linked, and they moved their hands in sync. Up a little, then down.

She went to the other end of the counter when they parted, taking an apple from the bowl of fruit. Hangman lingered, watching Rooster stir his food and Henri examine the apple. He wanted to ask her if she was actually eating dinner at a normal time, but he also didn’t want to indicate that he knew anything about when or what she ate for dinner.

Rooster didn’t leave, and she began to cut her apples into pieces, doing it the wrong way. Both things bothered Hangman, but he said nothing.

“Am I in your way?” Rooster asked.

This snapped him out of it. “Oh, no. I just suddenly forgot what I came in here for.”

Rooster turned his attention back to his food, and Henri picked up the cutting board, walking past Hangman and putting the unusable parts of the apple in the trash can. She made eye contact with him, holding it until she grabbed her palate.

When she walked out of the kitchen, she wondered if he was thinking about what the apple meant. She wasn’t sure if it would be her dinner, or if it was just a snack. At least not until it was midnight and she was tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Her door was open because she wanted to see when and if Maverick came back. Of course, when he returned, she pretended to be asleep. He would wonder why she wasn’t sleeping.

The sound of the door to the stairwell opened and closed, and she thought instantly of Hangman. She was fully intending to go downstairs, and not only because she was hungry. Even if getting to the part of the conversation where he wasn’t unbearable was hard, it was with it. She hadn’t had a friend in a long time. At least not one that wasn’t considered her family.

“You up?” Hangman whispered loudly.

“Yes,” she said, sitting up.

“I brought the party up here. And by the party, I mean dinner. An apple isn’t enough.”

“Why don’t we just do it down there?” She stood up, sliding on her slippers. “Isn’t that where everything is?”

When she was beside him, they walked to the kitchen together. “Because you want to be taken seriously, and I don’t want people thinking I’m soft.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t describe you as soft.”

“What would you describe me as?”

“A know-it-all, pushy, invasive…” she trailed off, looking over at him. “If you give me a few more minutes, I can come up with more.”

He put everything down on the counter, turning to face her. “Do you not want me doing this? I’m really curious. I can go back downstairs, and I’ll leave you alone. As long as that’s what you want.”

“I didn’t peg you as sensitive.”

“Are you strawmanning?”

Henri smiled. “You can tell me everything you don’t like about me, if you want.”

“You could give me a few minutes, and I probably wouldn’t come up with much.” Her smile faded. Something shifted behind his eyes. “Maybe you get easily offended. You assumed I was making fun of your name the night we met. And you’re clearly holding a grudge since I told you you can’t cook.”

Did he really think that highly of her? She wasn’t sure he had the right impression of her. There were times when she was much more open about how she felt with him because he seemed like he could take the criticism. Everything she accused him of, he’d admitted to with a smile on his face.

“You don’t really know me that well,” she pointed out. “I’m sure you could think of something if you did.”

He wanted to ask her if Rooster knew. There was something about what he saw in the kitchen that made him wonder what was going on. Was Rooster making her breakfast? Were they bonding? You didn’t pinky promise someone that you hardly knew.

“Why do you think I’m doing this? You refuse to talk to me during the day. Plus, I’d never forgive myself if I let you leave here without at least teaching you cooking basics. The unsalted water was a cry for help.”

“Are you not tired in the mornings? You’re up so late every night with me.” They woke up much earlier compared to her. But she also didn’t have to do all the things they did.

He shrugged, putting the pot on the stove and arranging the ingredients. “I’d be up, anyway.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “Why?”

“Sometimes I just can’t sleep.”

“Do you have insomnia?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I just like routines and I don’t have one here yet.”

As he looked over at her, she thought he was about to say something revealing. If it wasn’t insomnia, then why was he awake? “You like cheese right?”

Henri offered him a shrug. “I like most cheeses.”

“Good, because we’re making macaroni and cheese, but we’re doing it better. I’d pick a noodle that holds its shape better, but we’ve only got so many options here.” As he explained what they were going to do, she found herself staring at him again. He seemed like he was enjoying himself, and it made her enjoy listening to him talk about it. Was this all it took? She was annoyed before because she’d perceived his instruction as putting down the way she did it. Now, she saw it as him showing her a better way. There was no denying that he knew what he was doing, so she listened.

Right when he was beginning to think she had significantly less attitude than before, he thought of the first night he cooked for her. She left, saying he knew how to ruin a moment. Now, before he said anything to her, he asked himself if it would ruin a moment.

“Are you watching tonight, or are you helping?”

“Are you extending an official offer to me? I can be your soup chef?”

He laughed, not correcting her. The smile she gave him implied that she knew that was wrong. He had always thought she was smart, but after spending some time with her he was beginning to see that she was also clever.

When they put the pan into the oven, they went out onto the balcony. The waves were soothing, and she was surprised when she realized she hadn’t gotten annoyed once that night.

“Where are you from?” he asked, getting her attention. Henri had been so lost in thought, she forgot to make conversation.

“I was born here. But I’ve lived all over the place. That’s why I don’t mind following Mav around. I prefer it, really.” Anything was better than being a shut in, not leaving her house and losing any meaningful relationship she’d managed to form in college. Her adult life, the one apart from her family, was now nonexistent. “What about you?”

“Austin, Texas. Born and raised. I go back every chance I get. I’ve got a big family.”

She looked down as she leaned against the railing. Not wanting him to ask about her family, she changed the subject before he could. “Where’d you learn to cook so well?”

“My dad. Taught me everything I know. It’s not something I advertise, though. If they knew I could cook, I’d be making every meal. I’ll suffer with dry chicken and overcooked vegetables if it means I’m not the den mother.”

“Right, you just leave it to the two women on your floor, don’t you?”

“Scarlette would never cook for anyone, but Phoenix does. She’s got her own soup chef, as you call it; Bob. For the record, me not cooking doesn’t mean I expect the women to. I’m a lot of things, but misogynistic isn’t one.”

She looked over at him. “Why’d you come up to me at The Hard Deck?”

He didn’t expect this, so he took a moment to think of what to say. “That boundary you set? I can’t exactly tell you as long as you’re enforcing it.”

Henri smiled, but only a little. “You can tell me.”

“You’re not the kind of person I talk to in bars. Matter of fact, I’ve never seen someone studying in a bar before. I saw you, and I though ‘Whatever she’s thinking, I wanna know.’”

“I promise you, before you came up to me, it was all just a jumbled mess of words.” She shook her head slowly, remembering her struggle to write with all of her books spread out around her.

“You said I don’t even know you. I’m trying. We’ve got a month, why not use that?”

“Because it’s unlikely we’ll see each other after.”

He nudged her gently. “If you’ve got a boyfriend back home, you can tell me.”

She laughed humorlessly. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t had a boyfriend in…” she trailed off, trying to think.

“Are you…is that why you’ve been avoiding every compliment I’ve ever given you?”

“If I’m gay, does that mean I can’t eat your macroni and cheese?” He went to say something, then hesitated. “I’m not gay. I had a rough year. And before that, I had a hard time connecting with anyone at school. I had it in my head that I’d go to journalism school on the east coast because I’m west coast. I’d be cultured, and I’d have stories to tell my family when I came home for the holidays. I just wasted a bunch of time. I was never happy there, anyway. As much as I wanted a…separate identity from my family, it wasn’t worth it. I missed them too much. I still do.”

“Then why do you have a job that takes you everywhere? And it’s not exactly normal, a Captain having his own assistant.”

If she didn’t just say it, she’d think about it more. And the more she thought about it, the more emotional she’d be. “My parents died last year.” The moment of silence stretched on, then he put his hand on her arm, which rested on the railing. It didn’t feel performative like some of the other things he’d done before. “I dropped out of school, didn’t leave the house for a few months. Then Maverick showed up, coaxed me out, and now I’ve been working for him for the past few months. I’m not as bad as I was. But, I used to…” she stopped, shaking her head. She sounded ridiculous. “I don’t know what I was doing. But it got away from me; realizing when things are bad. You’re sad on the couch for a few days, then it’s a week, then two, then you’re ordering groceries and you don’t even think to pay the water bill until it gets shut off. I owe Mav a lot.”

“When my dad died, I quit the baseball team and everyone lost their minds.” He said this not because he wanted to make it about him, but because he could tell she wanted him to say something. This was all he had. “My mom was worried about my scholarship. My coach thought I cost us the playoffs. My friends felt betrayed. But I had my family, and I thought a job would be a better use of my time. If I hadn’t done that, I probably would’ve been the same way.”

“You’ve still got your mom?” she asked.

He nodded. “I send her a text every morning, and one every night.”

That made her smile. “That’s…” If she said what she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to take it back. “Adorable.” She refused to look at him, instead focusing on the waves crashing on the beach. When he moved even closer to her, his arm pressed against hers. She didn’t move, liking the comfort that the touch brought to her.

“Does this mean I can say what I’m thinking now? Or are you firm on the fact that I can’t?”

Henri thought about this for a moment, considering what that would mean. Earlier that night, as she typed off and on her computer, barely keeping up with her coursework, she thought about how he stayed up every night, visiting her. He could’ve not done that, but he did. Maybe she didn’t need an explanation in the way she felt she did. Not everything needed to make sense.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. She was tired, and she wasn’t sure if that contributed to her sudden bout of honesty. Finally, she turned to face him. They were close, and she did nothing to distance herself. “We have a month here, and it’s not like it’s for fun. Maybe you should focus on that.” This wasn’t dismissive, like she had been before, but concerned.

“If this were affecting the training, trust me, I wouldn’t be doing it. You seem great, but if there’s one thing I want, it’s to be able to fly it. I want Maverick to pick me. And if I felt like this would stop me, I’d make you wait.”

This made her laugh. “Make me wait?”

“But I don’t have to. We’re only here for a month, like you said.” He shrugged. “Why not take advantage of that?”

“In what way?”

“You really don’t do this a lot, do you?” He said this with affection, and would’ve told her he thought it was cute if it wouldn’t have felt like he was laying it on too thick.

She wasn’t even sure what to say. But she knew she wasn’t going to pretend like she knew more than she did, or like she did this all the time with anyone she wanted. She didn’t leave her home enough to get the kind of attention from anyone. That hadn’t bothered her before. Now, she wished she had, and she hated that.

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted.

Her phone vibrated, and relief washed over her. She didn’t wait for him to follow her into the kitchen. When she grabbed the oven mits, sliding them on, he opened the oven for her. The pan was heavy, but she put it down on the stove with ease; more ease than she thought she was capable of.

“I forgot plates,” he realized. When he went to go get some, she grabbed his wrist. While she didn’t think before she did this, she didn’t regret it, or the way he looked at her. She let go after a few moments, shrugging. “It’s just me eating, right? I’ll just use a spoon. Unless you eat some, too.” He took a breath, and seemed unsure. “Why don’t you ever eat the things you make?”

“Stay in shape on assignment, succeed,” he replied.

“Oh, so it’s self-inflicted.” She frowned. “Is that why you watch me?”

“Watch you?”

Henri laughed. “The entire time I eat, you watch me even more than you usually do.”

“I’m living vicariously through you. When I’m on assignment, what I put in my body is fuel. When I’m not..” he trailed off, shrugging.

“You did not just say food is fuel.” She shook her head.

He nodded. “I did, because it is.”

She smiled, letting it go. Reaching over the stove, she grabbed the spoon, brushing against him. “Do I start in the middle, or from the side?”

“Do you want to be an animal, or a civilized person?”

She took from the middle, taking a decent amount, then blowing on it. The steam was hot. “So you’re an animal.”

“Did you ever come up with a nickname? I could just give you options.” She held the spoon over the pan, waiting for it to cool. “Hen, Henri, someone tried to be clever and called me Ri once, and that was weird.”

He still had yet to come up with anything, so he nodded at the spoon. “I’m not calling you Ri, I can promise you that. Can you eat that already?”

She did, nodding casually. When she went in for another bite, feeling his gaze on her, strong and unwavering.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“You know everything you make is great. Why are you asking?” When he didn’t respond, she looked over at him. “Oh, you want validation, don’t you?” He looked away, and she dug the spoon into the macaroni again. “Out of all the macaroni and cheese I’ve had, this is the best. And I mean it. I’ve never put it in the oven before.”

“You’ve lived a sad, flavorless life.”

When she moved away from the stove, closing the balcony door, he started to do the dishes. Without need to coordinate, she dried everything he handed to her.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“I had to break the lease on my apartment in Boston when I left school. Most of my stuff is at my parents’ house. I haven’t been able to go back. I told myself I would after this”

He was trying to put the pieces together. “Where do you stay, though?”

“Maverick usually works something out for me.”

The comment lingered. It was sad, and she knew it. She had nowhere to go, relying on Maverick to either find or offer her a place to stay. It wouldn’t always be like that, and that was the only thing that got her through it.

“Why do I feel like you’ve got a bachelor pad somewhere?”

“I do, actually. I’m gone so much, it’s kind of pointless to keep an apartment if you’re not using it. But I do, for my sister. She chips in, takes care of it, and when I come home I have a place of my own. I used to just stay with my mom. That was fine except my room is still the way it was when I was in high school. That gets weird.”

“Not nearly as weird as not having a place at all.”

He turned the water off, letting the sink drain as he turned to face her. “It’s not that weird. Something happened and you’re dealing with it. There’s no set way you’re supposed to do things when you lose someone.” He wanted to know what happened. What could’ve taken two people at once? “Do you have any siblings?”

“No,” she replied sullenly. “I’ve got some people I grew up with, but no real siblings. No one that really gets it.”

Some time passed, and the subjects grew less serious. Neither one wanted to go back to talking about death, so they talked about nothing. It was nearing three in the morning when she looked over at him.

“How do you stay up so late with me and not feel exhausted in the morning?” she asked.

“This actually helps me get more rest than if I got in bed at like ten and went to sleep.”

She frowned. “How does that work?”

He’d hoped she wouldn’t ask for elaboration, but she did and he wondered why he hadn’t expected her to in the first place. She was different from anyone he’d tried to get to know. When she laughed, it was because he earned it. When she argued with him, it was because he deserved it. He didn’t think she cared that much about pleasing him, and that made him want her more.

“That’s a question for another time,” he decided. She looked at him, and he could read her expression, so he continued. “There are some things you’re not telling me, and there are some things I’m not telling you.”

Henri nodded. “I get it. You don’t know me.”

“But you’re letting me,” he said, though it came out as more of a question.

“If you keep acting like this, yes. I like getting to know you this way.”

When he got to his feet, he reached down, offering her a hand. She took it, and found that he wasn’t just offering his hand for the sake of it. He actually pulled her to her feet like it was nothing, and it left them standing too close for comfort. At least for her. He liked looking down at her, though she didn’t let it go on for long.

She lingered in the doorway of her room, her hand on the doorframe. She wasn’t letting him in. “Enjoy your slumber.”

He smiled. “My slumber?”

She began to close her door, and he stopped her.

“It was cute.”

“I know. It’s called being witty.” Then she actually did close the door.

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sunkisseddaffodils · 3 years

Text

reunion- pt 2 (final)

Pairing: sherlock x fem!reader

Request: 'hi! can i pls request a sherlock x fem!reader fic in which reader is kinda john's childhood bestfriend, but they were separated when reader with her parents moved somewhere (to united states, for instance). so now when she is in britain again, she sort of struggles with finding a not very fancy place to stay. fortunately, she meets our johnny boi and he immediately proposes for her to stay in 221c, baker-street. so reader moves there, meets sherly and they sorta starting to fall in luv with each other'

Summary: Sherlock accidentally drags up some old unwanted memories for the reader

Genre: reader insert, angst

A/n: this is the final part of the above request. Sorry, I didn't exactly follow the request but I mostly tried to. Thanks to anon for requesting though! Enjoy!

Read pt 1 here.

The following day, after a restless night’s sleep, Y/N sat nervously in Mrs’s Hudson cosy kitchenette. Mrs Hudson had switched on the kettle and was preparing to make both of them a cup of tea. From what John had told her, she was perfectly lovely but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It was in her nature; she worried about everything. She made sure to bring papers to prove to her that she had a monthly income. But what if that wasn’t enough and Mrs Hudson had already decided that she wasn’t good enough to stay in her upstairs flat? The sound of china cups being placed on the table brought her back from the depths of her mind.

‘What brings you to London? John tells me you moved all the way from the States?’

John was right, Mrs Hudson was delightful. Y/N felt more relaxed at the sound of her comforting voice.

‘I’m starting my training next week to be a dentist in Harley Street ’

Mrs Hudson’s eyes genuinely glistened with interest.

‘Oh? John told me you already completed dental school in Seattle? Aren’t you already qualified?’

‘Yeah in the States. To work here, I have to do an extra year before I’m qualified. I don’t mind though, I wanted a fresh start in the UK.’

A door closing behind them interrupted their conversation. Both Y/N and Mrs H turned to where the noise came from but couldn’t see who or what made it. The latter called out.

‘Sherlock? John? Is that you?’

With no response, they returned to their conversation.

‘Y/N, you seem like a lovely young woman with a bright future. Of course, you can stay in the upstairs flat!’

She smiled widely, uttering a thousand ‘thank yous’. Y/N grabbed her important documents and handed them to Mrs Hudson.

‘Thank you. I’ll take a look at these later.’

Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson gave Y/N a tour of 221c. She fell speechless as she looked around. It was the same layout as Sherlock’s but had recently been renovated to have a more modern look. The apartment was already furnished so all she had to do was move her belonging's in from storage. She couldn’t believe that she was able to afford this apartment! Especially, as it was in central London. Promptly, she strolled over to where her new landlady was waiting by the front door.

‘So I get all this for this price? That’s insanely cheap for London.’

Y/N commented while pointing to the tenancy agreement Mrs Hudson was holding.

Simply, she just chuckled.

‘I do special rates for Sherlock and John. If you’re a friend of John’s then you’re a friend of mine. I’ll do the same for you.’

She continued.

'I met Sherlock in Florida when my husband was sentenced to death. He was able to help out so I owed him a favour. ’

Her face was completely serious yet it sounded so implausible. How could a lovely little lady like Mrs Hudson have such an impossible past like that? Adding to that, Y/N wondered that Sherlock really must be a genius if he can stop someone from being executed.

‘Wait, are you saying that Sherlock stopped your husband from being executed?’

‘Oh no, he ensured it.’

And with that bombshell of a statement, Mrs Hudson disappeared downstairs leaving Y/N utterly astonished in her new apartment. She made a note to herself to remind her to ask John about Mrs Hudson’s past. There was so much she wanted to know about her life.

A few days passed and the time finally arrived for Y/N to move into 221c. She was standing outside the cafe with Mrs Hudson, waiting for the moving company to arrive along with her possessions. She glanced at her watch, anxiously. The moving people were already five minutes late. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were upstairs having carried three boxes between them that Y/N had brought herself. John was busying himself, tidying up the flat, waiting for a text from Y/N so he and Sherlock could help her move in and set up the place. He had told Sherlock to make himself useful but looking over his way, he hadn’t. Sherlock was staring intensely at the three boxes they had placed on the dining table by the windows. John marched over there to tell him off.

‘Sherlock! What are you doing? If you’re not going to make yourself useful up here, then can you at least go downstairs to check what’s taking the mover’s so long?’

Sherlock completely disregarded everything he just said.

‘Look at these three boxes, John. What do they tell you?’

He just groaned.

‘Nothing, they’re just boxes.’

‘Fine, if you’re not going to play ball then I will just tell you.Y/N has made sure she took these boxes here herself. Why? That suggests they’re private and she doesn’t want strangers, i.e the movers, to touch them. The first two boxes are labelled: electronics and toiletries. Makes sense then for why she would want to move them herself: one’s valuable and the others personal.’

He pointed towards the last cardboard box.

‘But why hasn’t she labelled this one? I’m sure I’m right to assume that she would have labelled every single box from what I’ve seen from these two. So what’s in this box that separates it from the rest?’

John stepped away from the dining table and started fluffing some pillows on the couch.

‘Sherlock, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing weird going on. She’s not part of some underground crime syndicate. Just leave it alone. You can’t know everything.’

However, the crinkling of tape being peeled off from the box told John that Sherlock, was in fact, not going to leave it alone.

John raced back over to the table and seized the box from Sherlock. Soon, a tug of war for the box began between them.

‘You are not going through Y/N’s private things!’

He yanked the box harder.

‘But John, I have to know what’s in there.’

John glared at him, pulling the box back towards him.

‘Tough luck. Once again let me spell this out: you cannot go through other people’s belongings. It’s rude.’

Sherlock’s grip remained firm, however.

‘Don’t you want to know more about why she’s moved back here? The answer could be in this box. It’s strange that she just packed up and left her life back in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t have any family here. Otherwise, why would she come to you for help? And there’s also the fact I heard her tell Mrs Hudson that she has to do extra training to be a qualified dentist in the UK. Why go to all that effort when she’s already qualified back in the US? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?’

John once again dragged the box back to him.

‘Oh so now you’re not only going through her stuff, you’re also eavesdropping on her?’

Sherlock was offended even though there was a hint of truth to what John was saying.

‘It wasn’t eavesdropping! I just happened to overhear her.’

What Sherlock was saying did make John curious, but still, Y/N deserved her privacy. It was up to her if she wanted to them the real reason she moved back to the UK. John was about to tell Sherlock this when the door burst open.

‘Hey, guys! The movers are here now if you wanna come down.’

Y/N’s voice staggered when she saw the scene before her.

In a moment of alarm, both Sherlock and John had dropped the box. Its content spilt out onto the floor. An off-white ornate picture frame smashed onto the hard wooden floor, glass spraying everywhere. The picture in the frame was of Y/N and a man in front of the Seattle Great Wheel. Y/N stood in surprise as the said man was knelt down holding a rose gold diamond-encrusted ring. The picture frame was custom engraved and it read ‘For my love.’

Oh.

It all made sense now to Sherlock.

However, there was no time to think more about the picture. Sherlock and John stood like a deer in headlights

‘It was Sherlock!’

John pointed accusingly towards Sherlock.

Y/N didn’t say anything, simply walked over to where the box had fallen, glass crunching under converse trainers. She knelt down to pick up the photograph. She remained there for a moment, an expression of profound anguish on her face.

John tried to help her up, but she refused. She practically ran out of the flat, trying to conceal her pain. John didn’t even have time to tell her that she had cut her knees on the glass from the floor. He grabbed a broom from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. He looked at Sherlock who was still in the same place. He had a look of regret on his face.

‘Sherlock there’s no point making that face now! You’re cleaning this mess up too. We’re going to make it up to her by making this apartment look really nice before she comes back.’

As he shifted the box back onto the table, he thought of his own way to make it up to Y/N.

Y/N was falling asleep at her desk, she was now four hours into writing her essay on dental hygiene. She placed her head in her hands, thinking she would just have a quick nap. Her phone ringing ended that plan though. She saw that it was Sherlock and hesitated. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trying to go through her things and bringing back unpleasant memories. It had been a week into ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. She let it ring out. Sherlock still didn’t get the hint and texted her.

‘Y/N meet me here. I wanna make it up to you. S.H’

That text was accompanied by a GPS location.

Y/N couldn’t think of any possible reason why Sherlock had asked to meet her here. Her uber ride had stopped outside of a manor house just on the outskirts of London. She quickly checked with the driver to make sure she was at the right place. To her bewilderment, he answered yes. Hesitantly, she strolled up to the door. She didn’t even have to knock when Sherlock opened the door. He motioned for her to follow him.

‘Sherlock, what the actual fuck? Do you live here?’

Sherlock led her through a ton of rooms. Y/N swear she could have counted there were at least five formal living rooms.

‘Nope.’

He opened a set of French doors and led her out into the back garden of the estate. Not that you could call it a garden. It was massive. In the distance, she saw stables as they walked through a formal botanical garden. Sherlock was more like running though, but Y/N didn’t know what was so urgent.

‘So if you don’t live here. Then who does?’

An undesirable thought entered her mind.

‘Don’t tell me you broke in here?’

Sherlock turned around just outside of the exit to the formal gardens, jangling keys in front of her face, a childish grin on his face.

‘It’s not breaking in if you have a set of keys.’

They had finally reached their final destination. Y/N saw that someone had set up a bonfire in the middle of a field. A can of petrol and a box lay adjacent to it. That box seemed really familiar. Sherlock picked it up and brought it over. It was hers!

‘Sherlock, you’re going through my things again. You know what, I’m done here!’

She began jogging back towards the house. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

‘Wait! Y/N. Let me explain.’

She gazed back at him intensely, waiting for an explanation.

He placed the box down.

‘I know you haven’t told me about what happened. But unfortunately, I am good at deducing things. Those things in that box came from a bad past relationship. I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened.’

He started to stammer, not sure of how to word what he wanted to say next.

Y/N wasn’t sure where he was going with this but could see he was trying.

‘John will be the first to let you know that I’m no expert on love or on relationships. But I can see you haven’t moved on. I thought it might help if you chucked all of the old stuff from the relationship on that bonfire and set it alight.’

She looked down, knowing that Sherlock was right. He had guessed everything perfectly. He had read her like a book.

‘You’re right. But I took running away from your problems to the extremest.’

She sat down on the grass, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sherlock shortly joined her.

‘He was my world. Or I thought he was until one night I returned home to see him shagging my best friend on the sofa.’

There was a moment of silence before she continued.

‘I just felt so foolish. I had to get away from Seattle. The place was full of memories of my time with him. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

Sherlock got up and picked up the box.

‘And that’s why you should burn this stuff. He doesn’t deserve to have this much hold on you when he never cared about you in the slightest. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But please just think about it.’

Y/N stood up with determination. Sherlock was right. She had to burn all of this stuff to finally move on. Together they placed the contents of the box around the bonfire.

Y/N stood back as Sherlock poured the can of petrol over the bonfire. He asked.

‘One more thing. Do you have that picture with you?’

She grabbed it out of her bag as an answer and showed it to him.

‘I thought you would', he stated.

She placed the picture in the centre of the bonfire.

They walked back a safer distance from it and Sherlock got a box of matches from his pocket. He lit one up and handed it to Y/N. He could see that she was having trouble actually lighting the bonfire. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her. Y/N greatly appreciated that. She took the final step and with her other hand, threw the match into the bonfire.

The bonfire went up in ablaze. It was oddly beautiful watching the embers rise up into the sky. Standing there in hand in hand with Sherlock, she felt the weight that had been on her shoulders for months slowly lift off. The whole experience was cathartic.

Out of the blue, they heard the distant sound of alarms ringing from back at the house. Y/N looked to Sherlock for answers. He just told her to:

‘RUN!’

They sprinted, holding onto each other, seemingly heading towards a gate at the end of a stone wall surrounding the estate.

‘Sherlock! What’s going on?’

Sherlock tried his best to explain as they were running.

‘Technically I did break into this house. But it’s my brother's so it should be fine. There should be a cab waiting just outside this gate.’

‘Oh my god!’, she exclaimed worrying about the consequences to come for their actions.

When they had reached the road outside the gate, they stopped to catch their breath. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

She hadn’t laughed that like in months. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

#sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagines #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock au #sherlock x john #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock #john watson #john watson x reader #sherlock and john

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

cardigan

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence

a/n: this is a limited three part series based on three of my favourite songs from taylor swift’s 2020 life saving albums; cardigan, willow and invisible string. this one is cardigan, hope you enjoy xx

WILLOW

She clutched onto her worn out brown leather bag as she stepped inside the her father’s precinct. There wasn’t much that looked different from when she was a little girl, the tables still stood on the same messy layout which made no sense, the officers still didn’t look up whenever someone came in and the whole room smelled like stale coffee and burnt bread. The only difference was that the once endless room now felt small, nauseating, confining, a place where she didn’t want to be.

- Y/N. - her father’s voice rang through the small room, making her look up to where he was standing. Captain William, or dad if she was lucky enough to call him as such, was an intimidating presence even after all these years yet after her mother’s death it was him who was left of her family. - Come in.

Her shoes felt heavy as she stepped inside his office, two more officers standing inside as she walked with her father. He closed the door, nodding his head which was a tell tale for everyone to sit down. She sat at the end of the dark green couch, away from the other two officers who were looking her up and down as if she were a prey.

- I told you she would be perfect. Inconspicuous, he wouldn’t even think she’s undercover.

- She’s not the type of woman Barnes go for.

- She doesn’t need to be the type of woman he goes for, she needs to be the one who works in his bar and listens to their plans.

Her father had told her about James Barnes. They had been trying to get him in for minor offences yet nothing seemed to pan out. The force knew they could never apprehend him for the crimes he knew he had committed but if they could get him in for something small: weapon charge, drug charge, something. For that to happen they needed someone to be in their circle and unluckily for them, Barnes and his men knew everyone who worked in the force but they didn’t know her. In return for her working in his bar, the force would pay her tuition fees as well as any books she needed.

“It won’t be hard” was what her father had told her but as they dropped her at the bar she couldn’t help but freeze at the door. They were expecting her, she had gotten the job yet she couldn’t find herself walking inside. In any other situation she would’ve rushed past it, it wasn’t the place she would like to be in. Her hand grasped the bar of the door, pushing it open. The nightclub looked vastly desert with squeaky clean floors and bright lighting which showed the dark aesthetic of every single owned Barnes club in town. She didn’t know the man but she knew his style, dark, sleek, leather, sensual even, enough to make people feel sexual whenever they walked into his club. Yet, in broad daylight it was merely an abandoned establishment with one a table with a few hangover men still nursing a bottle of beer each, waiting for 7 PM for the club to come back to life.

She stood out like a sore thumb, dressed in brown tones. A loose gingham black dress over a brown turtle neck covered and low black Mary Janes. Her eyes roamed the room, looking for someone to speak to but someone found her first. A tall man, probably pushing fifty, toothpick hanging from his lips and dirty rag on his left hand. She felt short, cowering under the gaze of the man.

- You're the new girl, or what? - he questioned, thick Brooklyn accent yet Y/N didn’t dare reply, instead nodding at him. - Do you have a name?

- Y/N.

- Y/N, that’s nice. I’m Bobby, I’m the bar supervisor. You wanna talk to anyone? You talk only to me and you’ll do well.

She nodded her head quickly, almost like a bobble head figure, following him behind to bar. Now Y/N knew about bars or at least what they did in them, she just wasn’t expecting to see the huge amount of spirits, wines, and beers behind her. She was almost sure if someone robbed the club, they’d be better off with the booze than the money in the cash register. The man, Bobby, ran through the basics, showing here with the cleaning products were, where some more complicated cocktail mixtures were written, how the washing machine worked and how crucial it was to constantly collect glasses from the bar and put them in there. She held a small reporter notepad, pen scribbling down messy wiggles which she wouldn’t be able to understand later on but it was still worth it. She could memorise it, she was a university student after all hence her memory for cocktails shouldn’t be hard. Everything was so polished, meticulously placed, almost too organised for a bar; the bottles placed onto glass shelves which light from under, placed almost the same measure apart in a sea of expensive beverages.

- Don’t serve any drinks to people who haven’t presented a payment form. If the boss comes in, serve him whiskey on the rocks. Glenlivet, no other brands.

- I’ve never seen the boss.

- You’ll know.

She was left there watching as more staff came in, the sun going down at the same time. “Just breathe, Y/N” she remembered her father’s words, she could do it, she could do it. How hard could it possible be to be a bartender? Just breathe, Y/N. She can do it, she can help his father, she can do this and then no longer have to worry about how many hours she would have to do at that little mean shop which had taken more of her than she gave them. She could be a regular university student, she just needed to breathe.

The purple, blue lights started to light the sunlight coloured bar as people started to queue up outside for a chance to get inside one of the most famous bars in town. She could faintly remember hearing her friends talking about how exclusive it was but as she looked out the window and at the queue she could finally understand it. As the doors opened and people started flocking in, suddenly she was serving drinks left and write, vodka and other shoots drenching her dress and apron as she messily tried to serve everyone at the bar screaming at her to hurry up. She kept running around like a crazy person, dragging bottles and bottles and pouring drinks which kept overfilling and dropping onto the floor. People kept yelling at her “hey sugar, how long does it take you to bring me some vodka?” but one man who was sitting still, gaze glued onto her while a cigarette hanged from the middle of his lips. She cowered under his gaze returning to hand a tray of jello shots to some girls.

She continued to work until the last person was out of the bar but the man remained calmly leaned against the bar, the flame of his cigarette dying down. She tried to avoid him, pretending to clean the spot over and over again but the man merely scoffed, rubbing the butt of the cigarette against the ash tray.

- You’re terrible. - he spoke out, voice raspy. - Who hired you?

- That’s nothing to do with you. - Y/N turned around to place back the bottles onto the shelves.

- Are you the owner?

- No. - she placed the bottles on the shelf, hands shaking.

- Then it is something to do with me. - the air seemed to be punched out of her lungs, as her grip tightened around the neck of the bottle she was holding. She refused to turn around and look at him, understanding what it implied. Instead she just looked at herself in the glass wall. Just breathe, Y/N. - Can I get a ...

- Glenlivet. - she rose herself on her tippy toes, interrupting him mid sentence. Grabbing from ice from under the bar, she added it to the glass, topping it with the expensive whiskey before placing it under a black square napkin. She continued to wipe down the counter until Bobby came back from the storage unit with more alcohol.

- You can go now, Y/N. I’ll see you at 7. - Bobby dismissed her and almost like thunder, she bolted off, not even stopping and allowing him to question why their boss was sitting at the bar.

Clutching her bag against her chest she started walking up to campus. She had done it, or at least managed to do something yet get no information her father wanted. That is unless her father wanted to know James Barnes’ drink of choice which she was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. Reaching her flat, she turned the key around, opening the door to see her friend Wanda waiting in the couch.

- You’re alive. - she mocked, turning the TV on. - Once again, tell me why you said yes to working in a mob bar ...

- It’s not a mob bar, Wanda.

- It is a bar owned by a mob boss who has been blamed on several murders. It is a mob bar.

- I’m just a bartender, nothing is gonna happen.

- Can you tell me again why you’re doing this? Your father is the reason why you were raised by John Hughes’ movies.

- Okay, Wanda, you made your point. - Y/N took her jacket off, hanging it onto one of the hooks in the door.

- I’m buying you pepper spray.

- Pepper spray is illegal, Wan.

- So is the bar you’re working.

- Okay. I’ll be careful, don’t worry. I’ll go to sleep now.

Wanda continued to ramble about her working where she was but there was really nothing she could do other than continue. All she had to do was breathe and listen and the department would pay for her tuition for the rest of her degree. Small price to pay for a much bigger price.

As another day started, the routine started once again with her awaking up and running into class with Wanda complained about her brother followed by spending the rest of her free time until her shift began. Walking back to the bar she was telling herself once more that she would be just fine and that Wanda slipping a knife inside her bag was only her overreacting. Stepping inside the same building, Bobby was setting some shoot glasses on the counter.

- Y/N. - he acknowledged her. - Glad to see you’re still here.

- Wouldn’t be anywhere else. - she placed her bag and jacket under the bar and tied her apron around her waist. - Busy day?

- Fridays are the busiest. All the university kids. Let me know if you need a hand.

- I’m sure I’ll be okay.

Once again, wrong. She was not okay and as everyone found themselves flocking to the bar she was already running around like a crazy person, holding two bottles on each hand as people. The lights were blinding, shining on her as she served and slide more drinks onto the bar counter and to the waitresses who’d give her snide remarks whenever she took too long. Her hands were numb from the ice already yet her face was warm from moving side to side. At least, Mr. Barnes wasn’t around and that was already something she could be thankful for. She knew she had to eventually speak to him if she wanted to ever hear anything or maybe she wouldn’t have; she was good at being invisible, maybe she could just overhear something without having to ever speak with him.

- Hey, sugar, where’s my drink? - a sluggish voice came from the bar and Y/N ignored it. Bobby told her, if anyone sounds or looks drunk to cut them off that “Mr. Barnes doesn’t need drunk people being roudy in his bar”. She continued to serve the group of girls celebrating passing an exam until the man moved over to them. - Hey, I asked where is my drink?

- Sorry, you’re cut off. - she shrugged, grabbing some glass onto a plastic bucket so Bobby could put them in the washing machine.

- What the fuck? C’mon give me my drink.

- No. - Y/N just ignored it, turning around to put the bottles back onto the shelves.

- Well then be useful and show me your tits. - the man scoffed as if it was the best joke in the world. Y/N turned around, speechless at what he had said before grabbing an half empty drink from the bar and throwing it at him which surprised the man just as much. - You bitch!

- What’s the problem here? - fuck. Of course he had to show up. Mr. Barnes made his way towards them, holding that same powerful yet frightening stance as the strobing lights painted his face. His eyes were on her, waiting for her to say something but Y/N was mostly frozen. That was it, she was about to get shot, or worse, lose a finger or a leg or an arm. Oh god, how could she take exams without an arm?

- Your bartender isn’t serving me. - he pointed at her as if he were a 5 year old.

- Really? - Barnes stood slightly behind him and all she could see in a glimpse second was his metal arm, reflecting the strobing lights, come up to the nape of the man’s neck before he slammed his face against the glass topping of the bar counter. Y/N was startled by this, jumping back against the wall of drinks. - Get the fuck out of my bar.

The man ran off, bloody nose, like a scared wounded animal leaving Y/N only to stare at him. Her mind rushed miles an hour, wondering if he had done that to someone what he would do to her. She should’ve taken the pepper spray from Wanda.

- Get back to work. - he left her with that, turning around and getting lost in the sea of people dancing.

- Hey ... - Bobby touched her arm, waking her from her own mind. She looked at her hands; good she still had both hands. - Go take a break, wash the glasses, I’ll do the bartending for a while.

- I’m fine, Bobby.

- I know. I just want you to go do something else. - Y/N nodded, not wanting to disobey anyone yet she couldn’t help but be glad she would be in the back where the big washing machine was for most of the pint glasses and other oddly shaped cups. After all, Mr. Barnes wouldn’t be hanging in the kitchen.

She pushed her hair away from her face and put on the big pink gloves and started to wash the glasses and plates from some small appetisers they sold until closing time started to near. Once the bar was cut off, she joined Bobby to clean the always messy bar and make it look as precise as it looked every single day. Another day survived, no limbs lost.

- That was a good one, Y/N. See you tomorrow. - Bobby bid her farewell as he exited through the door. Y/N stayed behind, moping the floor behind the mar which was mostly a pool of mixed drinks that she always somehow managed to overfill and drop onto the floor on her way to serve them. As she continued to mop, the person who she didn’t want to see sat at the bar and without much thinking, she served him his drink of choice.

- I ... hm ... I have to go, I have to walk home and my flatmate is waiting for me.

- You’re walking home with your flatmate?

- No, she’s waiting for me at the flat. - Y/N grabbed her cardigan, putting it on which immediately brought her a nostalgic warmth.

- I’ll drive you.

- Oh .. no, Mr. Barnes. It is not necessary, I’ve walked home before, I know the way.

- And I know the type of men who walk around my bar. - he downed the whiskey as if it were water. - Come on.

Oh god, I’m going to sleep with the fishes. He’s gonna kill me in his car. Y/N thought to herself as she followed him to the back of the bar where he had parked his car. Of course it was a good car, a new model black Audi with sleek matte black leathered seats which looked more expensive than everything together at the bar. She wondered how much money he made. Her father hadn’t told her much about him and all she knew was merely gossip. He opened the door for her which she took as a sign to get inside the car. Once in, she noticed how awfully warm it was, he probably had the heating on so she took off her cardigan, shoving it in front of her feet as he entered the car.

- Where am I dropping you?

- The student campus, south building

- You’re a student? - he asked as the motor roared, signalling the start of the car. - Why you working here then?

- It pays well. My mother paid for my first years but I still have my third one and a possible masters.

- Why not ask mum for the rest of the money then?

- Well she’s dead. - she said, not taking the eyes off the road. - Her inheritance lasted as long as it could but tuition is expensive.

- I’m sorry. - he tried to sneak a look at her but gave up, instead keeping his eyes on the road. - You’re a terrible bartender.

- You’ve said that one time already, I’ve heard it. If I’m so terrible why don’t you fire me?

- Bobby likes you. Says you’re a quick learner. Yet again, he likes every single wide eyed Disney Princess girl who works behind the bar. I give you a month or two before you quit or get knocked up.

- I’m not gonna quit and I’m not gonna get knocked up either.

- Got a boyfriend?

- No.

- Husband? Friends with benefits?

- I don’t have the time so if you want to get rid of me you’ll have to fire me.

- I don’t fire people. - she saw her building come closer and closer from the car window. - Is it that one?

- Yes. - she grabbed her bag, eager to leave the car before anything could happen.

- Hey, you got a black dress? - he asked as she exited the car and she nodded yes. - Good, bring it to work tomorrow.

She mumbled an okay as the car drove away. God, she was alive. Good. All she wanted now was to return to her home and in a few minutes she was back in her living room where Wanda and her twin brother Pietro were waiting for her. Of course waiting meant watching Shark Tank and discussing how bad all the inventions were.

- How was work in hell? - Wanda didn’t even look at her, eyes glued to the TV while she stuffed popcorn in her mouth.

- I didn’t need to use the knife you snuck into my bag, thank you.

- You snuck a knife onto her back? - Pietro looked dumbfound at his sister who immediately snapped back with a response.

- She’s working for James Barnes, she needs to carry a knife block and she’s lucky I only put a steak knife. - Wanda turned around in the couch. - Hey where’s your cardigan? I swear you left with it.

- Shit. - Y/N looked around. - Fuck, I’ve left it in his car.

- Whose car?

- Mr. Barnes’. He gave me a ride and I took my cardigan off because the car was so warm. Fuck. I’ll never see it again.

- Why were you in his car, are you crazy? - now Wanda was interested. Clearly her best friend’s lack of judgment was more interesting than the poor soul trying to pitch a tuna can opener shaped like a tuna to a bunch of executives.

- He gave me a ride ... oh and do you have a black dress?

- I do. - Pietro said gaining an odd look from the two girls. - What? Girls love me and I love them. Stuff get’s left behind. What can I say?

- You’re disgusting. - Wanda rolled her eyes.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky/reader #bucky/you #bucky/y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #mob boss!bucky #mob!bucky

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writing-by-candlelight · 3 years

Text

Hargreeves Mansion Layout: Second Floor

Thank you for coming back for part 2! If you haven’t seen part 1 (the ground floor) you can find it here. And Part 3, the third floor, here!!!

The second floor is slightly more complex than the first floor and it has a lot more rooms.

If you haven’t seen my first post; yellow symbolizes doors or double doors, green are archways, the neon pink is the staircase coming up from the floor beneath (same goes for the light pink - its the main staircase coming up from the ground floor.), the blue is the long staircase from the stair race scene that goes through the entire house from the basement to the third floor. The orange and black will be explained later.

So overall the second floor has the most rooms out of all the floors and the most colors so here we go!

So for the ‘home’ section of the house lets start on the far right.

The empty square there is the balcony area above the living room. Its thicker on the bottom since that’s where the bar is and the bar is completely covered. There also seems to be a small sitting area above it.

I’ve realized now in hindsight that the other end of the walkway ends at the wall and does not have the same sort of walkway across the top. I may correct my drawing in the future.

Speaking of the top section, this is where I’ve put Hargreeves personal rooms. I’ve placed the surveillance room here - the room where Hargreeves watches the children’s brainwaves and where Allison watches the tape of Hargreeves death. I’ve also placed it at the beginning of the hall. We only know there’s a hall since Diego walks down one on the way to Hargreeves’ Bedroom.

I placed Hargreeves’ Study right next to it. I know its not L-shaped as I’ve drawn it but I didn’t want to make the surveillance room super big so I’m just going to run with it. We see a living room and another room through a second door in the study so I assumed that this was another way into his bedroom.

The dotted line through the main walkway is just how I separated the house into sections so it may be ignored.

Now the central section is simpler.

On the bottom we have the Academy oil paintings. The small tragic things taking place from their debut until there was only Luther, Everyone leaving or dying or disappearing.

A bit further, slightly around the corner, is Grace’s charging station with its portraits. I put a dotted line around it because there are no walls but I wanted to show where it was.

Ignoring the courtyard we now get to the most complicated part.

The Bedrooms.

So Luther and Allison are side by side with their doors angled like we see in the dance scene and a lot of other scenes as well.

Then to the side is the bathroom which we see in the show has its own small hallway lined with attack posters like the rest of the hall (horrifying, I know).

Now to the interesting part. Klaus and Vanya’s rooms.

In the flashback scene we see both of their rooms. They are next to each other and both about the size of a closet with Klaus’ being slightly bigger.

But in the scene where they are older and Vanya is destroying the mansion room by room, you can see that Klaus now has a bigger room and that the sort-of-brick wall that we only ever see in Vanya’s room is a part of it.

So at some point the wall was knocked down and both rooms were given to Klaus. It even seems to have both doors, as in one scene Five enters through one and leaves through the other. This results in this chaotic mess of the room:

See? Both doors!

Moving on.

Any black sections on my ‘map’ are just thick walls or areas filled up with dirt or cement (though that last bit is more likely for the basement.)

The rest of the layout is sort of only based in canon since I had to change things around for them to fit (this is what happens when you film in multiple locations and not one house)

Now Diego’s room is the one at the end of the hall as we see in the flashback of Grace walking along it. Now I know in this scene we also see a hallway veering off to the left but it doesn’t make sense with the layout of the house, since that’s where the house ends, so I’ve erased it.

Diego’s room is the smallest of the rooms (once Vanya’s wall is removed) and it doesn’t change much at all so I have little to say about it. But its canonical location is interesting. Originally Diego’s room is diagonal to the third floor staircase (which I’ve striped orange) and has a slight angle to the door. Thing is, for the bathroom to have its hallway and for said hallway to be within the constraints of physics, I had to switch the rooms around a bit.

From the hallway scene we know the bathroom is next to Allison’s room and Klaus’ room is next to Luther’s. But in order to fit the bathroom hallway I had to flip them so I could cut the bathroom into the walkway. That’s why there’s a dotted line through the bathroom since the walkway wall would be there.

The creators also just...forgot??? About the staircase coming up through the floor from the ground floor? so I put the pink stairs right next to the bathroom.

This meant though that I had to put Diego’s room next to Klaus though.

I’ve added a new room for Vanya since she needed one and we are never shown were it is. I’ve put it at the end of the hall, slightly closed off from her siblings since that seems to be where Reginald would have put it.

This is from the hallway flashback just before Reginald comes in frame from that side hallway that doesn’t make sense. The open door we see is Diego’s original (nonsensical) room, which is the room I’ve given Vanya. And the stairs there are from the orange staircase that goes up to the third story. That dark doorway you see is (now) Diego’s room.

Now imagine that the hall just ends with Vanya’s door and that the stairs are folded halfway down to face Vanya’s door.

That’s how I finally got everything to make sense. It took me hours!!! Now we can finally move on to the training section of the second floor.

The second floor is the main training floor. This floor houses the training and exercise room on the far right. This room is mainly for overall training. I’ve headcanoned that it has tan oval running track, weights, workout equipment, punching bags, a climbing wall, gymnastics equipment, and an obstacle course in the center.

The sparring and weapons room is exactly what it sounds like. I’ve put it here for a separate space without all the equipment, because there is no way Hargreeves didn’t pit his children against each other. I headcanon it as having a boxing ring style space at the top and empty weapons space at the bottom with targets secured to the wall (the targets can move with a remote). This space is separated from left to right 3/4 of the way by a large metal weapons case with almost every weapon imaginable. There are dozens of types of guns, swords, war hammers, battle axes, bow and arrows, spears, knives, flamethrowers, scythes, clubs, maces, batons, both dual and singular sticks & staffs, num-chuks, shuriken, and even ‘non traditional weapons’ like ropes and chains.

We know from the scene where Five reappears in Ep 1 that they were taught how to use anything as a weapon. I assume this was either tested in the kitchen itself, or he set up a replica of a household room here.

(This is really really sad, look at it!)

We can see the following:

Egg Beaters - Hair Pull

Stock Pot - Explosive Device

Toaster - Use Cord For Strangulation

Coffee Pot - Throw Coffee In Face

Blender - Hand Mangler

Then I added a row of personal training rooms for their individual powers. Each room has an observation room - with a two way mirror and its own entrance - beneath it. I made it like a prison interrogation room on purpose because Hargreeves goes for functionality and trauma over anything else, and he would not like to be in the same room as some of their powers.

As you can see, the seventh room, which had been Vanya’s, has had its wall knocked down (hence the dotted line) and observation door boarded up. Hargreeves changed it all and made himself a small office instead. This was because it was no longer in use and because he wouldn’t want anyone to suspect anything.

And that’s it for this second installment in the mansion layout!!! Thank you so much for reading, id love to hear any thoughts!!!! Stay tuned for parts 3 & 4.

#The Umbrella Academy #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

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daydreamed-snippets · 4 years

Text

Part One Part Two

Personnel in crisp cream uniforms walked the brightly lit hallway with a purpose; either conversing with each other, gazing at datapads, or rushing off to who knows where. Supervillain nodded to some in passing; taking the time to pause with others. Sidekick squeezed in closer, stepping on the back of their boots, grazing their shoulder against supervillain’s arm in a pathetic endeavor to just hide. No one warned them about the trepidation that tugged at their soul, nor did anyone prepare them for the general neurosis of it all. The lights overhead strained their eyes, and the cloister of people moved like an insect hive, an incursion on their senses. They could feel a headache forming. Their various cuts and scrapes burned. Their knees hurt too, body still twitching from electrocution.

And they were all staring at them.

Keeping their head lowered, eyes affixed elsewhere, sidekick could still see all of them through their peripheral. Supervillain’s ‘team’ consisted of far more people than the association originally thought. They tensed as each gaze befell them; probably taking in their tattered costume, unkempt hair, and the collar around their neck.

Eyes curious, judging, questioning.

Shame itched at the back of their neck, screaming to be scratched, but they kept their hands in front of them where they could be easily seen. At least the supervillain wasn’t parading them around, so there was that. The leash was lax and discrete enough so long as sidekick didn’t resist.

But who were they to resist now? They were powerless. It was done and over. Supervillain won. Teammates had no idea where they were if they were even looking for them at this point.

Cramming their eyes shut, they tried to hold onto those little ribbons of faith that gleamed at them through this emblematic darkness. Usefulness dictated importance, which in the Hero’s Association meant a role working with the team. Here it would be no doubt ensure their survival. Usefulness drawing the line between life and death.

They wanted to live, but being of use to the enemy churned their stomach. Policy made no room for turncoats. An informant maybe, but they had no mercy for traitors.

So be an informant.

What was the layout here? What were the dimensions of this hallway? How many doors did they pass? Count the number of people, sidekick. Gather information, no matter how scant. Be docile to the enemy, but pragmatic to the team.

Sixteen. They already passed sixteen people. Good. The Hero’s Association would see just how useful they were once teammates rescue them out of this sterilized hellhole. They will rescue them.

Sidekick bumped into supervillain again, a warm, solid presence, and supervillain turned, looking down. “I’ll let you hold your leash, puppy, if that would make you feel better. At any rate, you keep stepping on me and I don’t want my boot scuffed." They made a motion of unwinding the wire from their wrist and handing it over. But when sidekick moved to take it, the supervillain drew back. "But remember,” they said, voice holding a dark promise. “If you choose to bolt know that I have hundreds of people under my command in this annex alone.”

Sidekick gulped.

Hundreds? Hundreds? So this wasn’t just an assortment of random villains and a handful of henchmen? This was an organization in of itself. One that could rival the Hero’s Association.

Holy shit.

In dismay, sidekick nodded numbly and the wire was placed in their hands. They murmured a thank you before realizing it, and the supervillain started again, sidekick stumbling to follow.

Let it be knowledge to tuck away at a later time. No matter how small, knowledge always proves to be advantageous.

They walked a few more meters and when supervillain stopped again. This time sidekick followed suit keeping a healthy distance between them, shuffling a bit, and looking dubiously at supervillain. They keyed something in a pad—out of sight—and a door swished open.

Their breath caught and, sidekick raised their chin. Here was their cell. They’d probably rot in here, or spend a majority of their time recovering from torture and wondering when their next session would begin.

Hope against hope, they wished it would be clean at least. Were they ever? The association gave no indication on cell parameters, or any information really save for the unpleasantness of it all. Sidekick wasn't delicate but they were averse to pain in general. They were told it made for a bad hero.

Sidekick hesitated, realizing that they should say something smarting. Brave. What would teammates say if they were in this situation? Something wisecracking and sarcastic. But then again, whenever sidekick opened their mouth the supervillain always had some observant retort. Something comment to off-balance them, and set them on their toes.

They opened their mouth anyway.

A hand on the small of their back maneuvered them through the threshold.

Supervillain stepped in as well, and the door slipped back sealing shut, leaving them in complete darkness. Walking past them, their captor roused a computer interface with a verbal command, and the area rustled to life.

Sidekick’s eyes widened at the sight.

This wasn’t a cell. These weren’t even quarters. This was a well-furnished apartment with a full kitchen, dining room, and living area. A hallway split off to their right, where sidekick assumed the bathroom and bedroom lay. No windows, but large light therapy lamps joined regular ones behind traditional furniture and on end tables. A sudden contrast to the hard lines and surfaces of the garrison hallways, an apparent appeal to a softer aesthetic.

What the?

“It’s late,” supervillain called making their rounds, checking on something sidekick was unaware of in the adjacent room. “You will take a shower, and have something to eat before settling in for the night.” Their words held no room for argument.

What kind of game was this? Sidekick leaned back against the door willing for it to open. Policy stated all enemies would treat captors roughly. That they would have no regard for their corporeal needs. Unless this was all a ruse. To get sidekick to trust them, to get them to join the supervillain’s team.

"Don't worry, your collar won't zap you if it gets wet. Medic isn't that sadistic. Not without permission." They came back into the room, eyes sliding back to sidekick with a hidden glint. “I could always bathe you myself, puppy…”

Ducking their head, sidekick shook it vigorously at supervillain’s knowing chuckle. Directing them down the hall, supervillain steered them towards the bathroom: a single shower, sink, and toilet. Newly cleaned. Immaculately decorated. They turned on the shower, showed sidekick how to adjust the temperate then left after unknotting the wire, unleashing their collar. The door remained propped open, a subtle warning not to close it.

A glance down the hallway to assure themselves that the supervillain had indeed left, sidekick shed their costume, tearing a bigger hole in the sleeve in their haste to behind obscure glass and out of the open. Granted, it wasn't like there was much preventing supervillain from entering again.

Still, they glanced back before quickly stepped into the shower, relishing the hot water on their stiff muscles. Blood and grime pooled on the tile floor, circling the drain. It shouldn't have surprised them how much there was. The team called them in to act as a diversion as much as an escape route. Sidekick was hit, but not hard as the wires spread paper-thin cuts along their arms and legs. It was not really that bad if you compared it to broken bones and missing limbs.

It stung like hell though.

The only soap available was one held in a dark grey bottle. Uncapping it, the scent of muted fern and something like vanilla filled their sinuses. Fresh. Admittedly soothing. Bringing it to a good lather, they quickly scrubbed themselves, breathing in the aroma more and more until it clicked. This was the supervillain’s scent they were covering themselves in. In fact, everything smelled like this. Everything in this part of the garrison smelled like it the moment sidekick stepped into the room.

It was maddening.

It was intoxicating.

Sidekick finished up quickly, shutting off the valve, and stepped out, wrapping a towel hanging on a large ring around themselves. It shouldn’t be intoxicating. It should be revolting, or at least off-putting.

Their costume was missing, they soon realized a little too late. In its place a crisp cream uniform, the same as the ones they’d seen everyone else don. Supervillain did sneak in when they were showering, probably when their back was turned. Color filled their face again, as they caught the reflection of themselves in the mirror. Neck red from maltreatment, and a bit too pale.

Taking no chances for their captor to return, and truly appreciate the view, they pulled on the uniform quickly, combed fingers through their shoulder-length hair, and called it a day. What did it matter how they appeared? They couldn’t go home. The team abandoned them, and the supervillain was being… odd. Nothing mattered and all the rules were bent.

They padded out and took a seat in the dining area where a chair had been pulled out for them.

“This will be soft on your stomach,” supervillain said, placing a plate before them before easing into the other chair. “I don’t want you vomiting on my carpet, puppy.”

“I don’t—” sidekick glanced up, searching the plains of their sharp face. The circles under the supervillain's eyes were more than noticeable, in the temperate light they were etched in stone. Supervillain made a noise for them to continue. “I don’t like being called puppy.”

“Give me your real name, and if I like it better than puppy, I’ll stop.”

Their already clenched jaw ground tighter; a compromise they were unwilling to make. Picking up the spoon, supervillain held it aloft, food tucked neatly on it, and directed it to sidekick’s lips. “I need you to eat puppy, so I can go to bed. I don’t want to your pathetic mewling in the night.”

Sidekick’s teeth ground together.

“Have you ever used your portals to injure anyone?” The change in subject was sudden, and sidekick’s lips slackened. “Have you ever cut someone in half before, or even just a limb?” Sidekick looked away, nervous fingers playing with their sleeve. They couldn’t help but tremble. The answer was a resounding no, but they be damned to articulate it.

“Have you ever killed anyone with your portals?” The question brought the sidekick’s attention back, and they tried to fix the supervillain with a dead stare.

They should have known by now it was impossible to win a battle of wills when they looked into the supervillain’s eyes. There was a darkness there so deep, it moved. It took shape. Haunting. Plotting. Sidekick could practically see the desire to devour them completely reflected in those stirring pools.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” they said evenly, after a beat. “Have you been given combat training?”

Yes, the basics, sidekick thought, but nothing which could defend against a supervillain.

“Have they given you any training besides making you housebroken?”

“I’m not—!” The opportunity supervillain had been waiting for came, and they shoved the spoonful into sidekick’s mouth with a look that dared them to spit it out. They chew slowly, stomach in knots but it was good.

“Let me guess, you’re not a dog,” supervillain supplied lazily. “Eat.”

“I have had training. In multiple areas,” they picked up the spoon with a shaky hand, stomach rumbling. “But I’m not going to answer your questions. If captured, policy states that I am not to give out anything besides my affiliation to the Hero’s Association. I am not going to give you any information," they let out a shaky breath, a spoonful of food in their cheeks, "not even under extreme coercion. Teammates would never forgive me, and the Hero's Association has a zero-tolerance policy."

“What kind of ‘heroes’ organization punishes you for breaking under torture?”

Sidekick’s voice squeaked. “That’s not what I said. They’ve… been good to me.”

“In what way?”

“I-I’m not answering that.”

Supervillain relented, and sidekick ate in tense silence.

Once finished, the supervillain led them to the living room. A small cot pulled out from one of the couches. After dressing it, supervillain pulled out a chain from one of the end table drawers and clipped it to a ring recently drilled into the wall. They then handed sidekick a glass of water and tucked a small pill into their hand.

“No, I—”

“It’s melatonin, and it will help you sleep. It won’t put you to sleep.” They poured several into their hand and tossed it into their mouth as they wandered to find water. “You’ll need it," they called. "You’ve been shaking since you got out of the shower. Get some rest.” Their footsteps became more distant as they went down the hallway to the bedroom, bed creaking as they entered it.

The lights clicked off and the sidekick was left in darkness.

They shrugged into bed, pulling the light sheets over themselves while kicking off the comforter. A cold sweat claimed them, and they stared at the ceiling for the better part of three hours, thoughts churning, churning, churning.

So what if they’d never hurt anyone with their powers before, that didn’t mean they weren’t a threat. That didn’t mean that the supervillain could treat them like a patsy. It didn't mean that they were incapable.

They could do it if they wanted to.

They could do it to supervillain if they wanted to.

Why, they were just sleeping in the next room. Sidekick could hear deep breathing and the stutter of a dream-filled sigh. There was no need to use their full power to slip a link in the chain or to silently creep over to the room. They could make a sliver of a portal for half a second, and endure the buzz from their collar.

Sidekick set their plan in motion.

After the mini-portal, they blacked out for a second and woke with a gasp. Part one done. They were free, chain hewn in two. They probably had moments before anyone noticed, so they needed to move quickly.

Have you ever used your portals to injure anyone?

Supervillain's words came back to them, as they wandered the hallway, honing in on the dark bedroom. They stepped through the threshold, a thought sparking of how they were invading. How a bedroom spoke of intimacy, a cozy and solitary space.

A single red light blinked from the ceiling corner. Sidekick's eyes were already well adjusted to the dark that they could see supervillain's outline on the bed, lying on their back, arms spread out defenselessly.

They could picture it now. Sidekick fails the demon supervillain. Sure they might die in the process, but it would serve the association. It would cement them in the annals of heroic feats.

Have you ever killed anyone with your portals?

Moving to the side of the bed, sidekick’s hands hovered, not yet touching. Faltering in their pursuit. Where was that rage their felt earlier? Where was that appetite for vengeance? It was there, they could feel it under the surface, but it was a poor substitute for bloodlust. A poor replacement for the mindset needed to end a life.

Could they do it?

"Why don't you go back to bed like a good little labradoodle? You don't have to stomach for this."

Sidekick almost jumped at the sound. Hands reached up to boldly clamp onto their wrists.

"Let me go!"

"I warned you, puppy."

They lunged for the supervillain's throat, the heat back again. Volatile, it roared to life. Erupting, unpredictable, but sidekick was grateful for its presence now. It wasn't bloodlust, but it possibly could be damaging enough.

Supervillain pulled them on top of them, and sidekick's legs swung around their body, hoping to get a better angle to grip their neck. "You think I'm going to cooperate with you? I will fight you at every turn. You will regret keeping me alive. I will gather enough intel that once I escape, teammates will be able to take you down."

"If they want you back."

The statement made sidekick pause. "What did you just say?"

"If," the repeated, slowly, the next words in a rhythmic manner. "If they want you back."

"What do you mean if?"

Supervillain's eyes drift up to the red light winking steadily at them.

Blood drained from sidekick's face.

"It records video, but no sound. Makes it easier to edit, I'm told. And I have people in my employment that can edit anything. They can and will make this little tussle we've having look like a lover's tryst." They let go of sidekick's wrists and trailed a pitying hand down their cheek. "What would teammates think of you once I send them this video of us in bed together? Would they jump to the conclusion that we've been joined this whole time? That our affair was the reason why you closed the portal? Did you choose to stay with me? Or would they assume that since you have such a weak constitution, that it only took one day for me to seduce you?"

"This was a trap. You knew," sidekick licked their lips, and supervillain's eyes followed the movement. "You set this up from the beginning."

"I set up fail-safes in case you chose this path."

"You tricked me."

"You disobeyed me," they said, voice hardening and a chill crept down sidekick's spine. They sat up, moving sidekick to their lap, and gripped their chin roughly, face inches from theirs. "I was nice before, and you squandered my kindness. Now you will face the punishment."

Wire detached from the ceiling like vines, wrapping themselves around sidekick before they had a chance to scramble off the bed and bolt. Their feet lifted off the ground. Once again they were suspended, drawn tightly to the four corners of the room. Supervillain didn't spare a glance at them as they got out of bed, and left the room, all but ignoring sidekick's screams.

#not my prompt #continuation #my writing #sidekick #supervillain #part 3 #just keeps getting longer and longer #part 4 after I've taken a break from this story

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lovecanbesostrange · 3 years

Note

#is it too late to write 2k words of how Ruby stays chained up and turns and she's in control yet scared but Belle stays with her NO!!! It is never too late for red beauty content

Is this a dare or are you just mocking me?

But, well, okay, let's go back to that night in the library then, shall we?

(under a read more, but also up on AO3 now)

Ruby frantically went through the rooms, making sure all the windows were shut, nobody else was here and she knew the layout of the place. But Belle was still here, that was not good. She needed to go, lock the main entrance from the outside.

"You need to leave. The moon's going to be up soon."

Belle didn't made any effort to go, instead she followed Ruby around. "But will the chains hold?"

"Hopefully." Like a familiar tune another conversation about chains played out in Ruby's head. Familiar and devastating. Those chains did hold. But only because they held a human back, leaving him defenseless.

"Then, I'm staying." Belle's determined tone stopped Ruby in her tracks. She was so upbeat and positive, as if this wasn't about a beast showing up any minute, who could tear her to shreds. Belle reached out, not just mentally, but physically now. Ruby felt the hands on her shoulders, a gesture to spark comfort. "Think of it as girls' night."

Ruby was at a loss for words. Belle was so cheery about all of this. So unfazed by the horror of the situation. Was this how Peter had seen her? When she convinced him he might be the wolf and he was ready to be tied up and send her away, but Red had stayed with him. Unintentionally dooming him to a grim death. Red had felt the same determination to stay with him that Belle showcased now. It was such a weird switch in perspectives. Except Ruby knew much, much better now.

Slowly Ruby backed away, breaking contact with Belle, who finally showed concern, but not in the way Ruby wanted. "What's wrong?"

How could Ruby explain all of this? The way her heart ached, because of a lost love, a life taken and now also because this thing might happen again. May have in fact happened again. Belle hadn't seen Billy's body. Belle didn't know how easily werewolf fangs tore human bodies in half. Belle didn't know that deep inside of Ruby a monster lurked. And that every bit of self-doubt made it stronger. That only self-acceptance could tame it and Ruby had run out of that this morning in front of the cannery. Why was she the only one that was afraid?

"I know David wants to believe the best, but I've killed before, and I'll do it again." Ruby picked up the chains, the rattling sound a faint promise of safety. "Everyone in this town is right to be afraid of me."

"Okay, well I'm not."

"You should be!" Ruby almost yelled back instantly. How did Belle not understand this? This was about her life! People outside gathered in a mob to hunt for a wolf and they were right. Because if Ruby had killed Billy, the sweet mechanic who always smiled and was up for a chat, then anybody could be next.

But Belle didn't budge. She didn't give in a single inch and Ruby stared at her. Trying to figure out what to do. "No matter what you might've done in your past, David sees the good in you and-" A slight pause, Belle's face was perfectly calm, her eyes warm and her lips twitched into a reassuring half-smile for a second. Just looking at her twisted Ruby's inside. "And that tells me one thing."

"What?" She was skeptical, because Belle didn't listen to reason, making up her own theories here. Ruby had on of the cuffs in her hand. Thinking back to Peter a thought formed. He would have been safe if Red had gone away. Maybe this was how she could keep Belle from getting hurt. Put this on her and leave. The building was secure. And the people outside took the risk serious enough to end the threat once and for all.

"That it's in there." Belle kept going, while taking a step forward. Stepping into Ruby's personal space again, closing this gap to show how serious she was about not being afraid. "So if we can all see it, why can't you?"

"You really think so?" All Ruby wanted was to believe Belle. Believe in her kind words, her trust that the wolf wasn't the problem.

"Trust me. I'm sort of an expert when it comes to rehabilitation."

Ruby looked at Belle. Her face. The utter and unfaltering support. The way her eyebrows moved, the corner of her mouth pulling up radiating optimism and just those gentle eyes.

"Maybe. Maybe you're right." Ruby played with the cuff. Now or never. She could leave Belle to safety and make a run for it. She deserved whatever the mob had in store for her.

But under Belle's gaze she faltered. For a split second she wanted to believe her so much, that she closed the cuff around her own wrist. She had only met this type of kindness once before and it overwrote her will towards self-destruction long enough to change her course of action.

"But you do need to leave." Ruby closed the second cuff and pulled at the chains a bit, the weight was noticeable, but she was worried if the pipe was sturdy enough.

Belle smiled. "I'm staying and now you can't throw me out anyway." She took Ruby's hands into her own. "I'll get you through this. And tomorrow you'll see that you worried for nothing. David will find out the truth."

Ruby ground her teeth. It was too late now. She could only hope history was not about to repeat itself. The literal hand-holding was maybe too much, but it had a calming effect. Ruby was not alone, even though she should be, while also not wanting to be. This whole day had taken a lot of energy from her and it was nice to surrender for a moment. But she needed to focus and let go of Belle.

When Ruby grabbed the other cuffs that were supposed to go around her ankles, Belle intervened.

"Wait, you need to straighten those out first, they're all twisted. You'll make it worse for yourself."

"That's kinda the point."

Again Belle gave her that sympathetic half-smile. "The point is to keep you locked up, not to strangle yourself. I have had my share of uncomfortable nights in chains."

Under any other circumstances Ruby would have a question about that, but she only stood there and let Belle straighten out the chains like christmas lights. She then knelt down to put the cuffs on. All Ruby did was raiser her feet one after the other a bit to help.

"All set?", Belle asked.

Ruby yanked at the chains, the pipes didn't give in. And the chain connecting her wrists and ankles now restrained her movement. The wolf would not be able to make huge leaps in those, even if it broke loose. She leaned against the wall and slowly glided down. "The last one around me, please?"

Now she had to look up at Belle and her stomach turned once more. Was this how Peter had felt? She remembered vividly helping him into the chains, securing him against the tree. Both believing it was the right thing to do. She remembered her love for him and the trust he wouldn't hurt her. Like Belle trusted her now contrary to all evidence.

A bit of shame rose up in Ruby, battling with her nervousness. She had given Belle a crash-course in everyday life in Storybrooke, but avoided any question about her pre-curse persona. And now here they were. Because of the wolf. If she had warned Belle from the start, she wouldn't be so insistent now on helping and staying. She wouldn't be crawling around on the floor of her library to fasten chains around Ruby.

"Done." Belle squatted in front of her.

Ruby had pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs. "Please go?" It was more of a question than a request and Ruby knew the answer already anyway. Because Peter had said the same. And she had stayed. For him.

Belle cocked her head to the side, rubbing Ruby's leg for a moment. "I'm responsible for what happens in the library. And if my friend is chained up in here, I'm responsible for her, too." She brushed a strand of Ruby's hair behind her ear and locked eyes.

Ruby took a deep breath in. She could feel the beast creeping closer, the moon was rising. "But get back. Get to the door." She mustered every ounce of command she could. "You have to!"

Belle got up and stepped away. She made her way to the main entrance backwards, never taking her eyes off of Ruby. And Ruby felt exposed. It was time. The beast was near. The wolf wanted out. What was it that made her black out last night? She had been in the freezer and woken up in the woods. She remembered nervous pacing and endless worry. She had rejected the reality of what was happening. The thing Anita had warned her about.

The wolf was her, she was the wolf. Different, but the same. She was the beast, with fangs and claws and animal instincts. All of that monstrous potential. It was all her. All a part of her. Under her control.

Ruby turned. Her senses grew sharper, the noises and smells that already had been loud and clear, became more distinct. The strength that put her above normal humans was now fitted with all the right muscles. And there was an immediate need to move, to run, to use those muscles and to get outside. A want for fresh air and dirt under her paws.

Ruby threw herself against the chains and let out a howl. Belle had to press her hands against her ears, because the closed space wasn't the best place for such a noise. But the howl turned into a low whine, when Ruby kept struggling. The cuffs cut into the skin, not fitting her legs as well as a minute ago. And the chain around her body kept her from any decent movement. She was trapped. This was terrible. And Ruby panicked.

Deep down she knew this was what she had wanted. To be tied up in a way that would not allow her to escape. But the craving for freedom in her wolf form was far stronger than any human reason. This was the thing with being a wolf. Some things felt different.

"Ruby?"

Belle's voice reached her as she tried to get up on all four paws, but the chain yanking her back towards the wall.

"Ruby? Are you okay?"

Ruby barked. Once. A warning. She couldn't come closer! She growled, but also tried to retreat, she needed to make sure she was far away from Belle, right? This was her friend, she was in danger from something. Ruby needed to stay away.

When Belle stopped moving so did Ruby. She looked at her. If she stayed away all was right. Nothing bad would happen. If she stayed still herself Belle was safe. Ruby tried another approach and tried to lie down. The chains pressed against her body in various spots, but she managed. She pulled her ears back, flattened herself as best as she could and whined.

"Ruby?"

She only moved her ears in confirmation. Belle's face spelt surprise. But Ruby couldn't read if it was a good or a bad thing.

"I get it now, where the big part in big bad wolf comes from." Ruby growled and bared her teeth for a second. "No, no, you're not bad. Definitely not bad. But kinda big." Her furrowed brow smoothed out and she put a smile back on. "You are a big wolf. And I don't think that's the same as being a monster."

Ruby pointedly turned her head, not looking at Belle anymore. But she could hear her sitting down. And then a few moments of silence. Until a soft rustle piqued her interest. Belle was pulling out books from the shelf she leaned against.

"Sorry, I'm still reorganizing things. Some of these shelves don't make any sense to me." Her eyes darted over the back of a few books, skimming the contents. "The good thing is there is lots to discover I have never heard of." She held up a thick volume. "Here, an anthology with short stories and I don't even know any of these writers. Bradbury, Vonnegut, Ellison, Le Guin. Any of these names mean something to you?"

Ruby dared a quick tail wag, because buried in her false memories was reading Fahrenheit 451 as a school assignment. Belle put the book down and pulled out a much thinner one.

"The Last Unicorn." Ruby lifted her head. "Oh, someone we know? Maybe I should take that into consideration. Rearranging the fairy-tales and stories with people we've met."

She opened the book and started to read. "The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea." Belle had a soothing tone that made Ruby forget the cuffs cutting into her skin, the chains hindering her from moving and biting into her body. She wasn't supposed to be comfortable. And Belle wasn't supposed to be here and definitely not reading to her.

There were people outside hunting for a bloodthirsty wolf and yet, Ruby was inside, hidden away, listening to the story of a lonely creature searching for her family. Belle looked up every so often, giving different voices to the characters and making facial impressions, but not disturbing the flow with comments on the plot. Ruby was too focused on her that she didn't even hear footsteps coming closer and she was startled when the door to the library was pushed open.

"We've got it!" David shouted, holding up Ruby's red signature cloak. "And you're cleared. It was all Spencer."

Granny followed, still some fury on her face. "He tried to frame you, so David would look bad. But we got him." Granny's grin gave away that she had used the crossbow in her hand.

"That's fantastic," Belle said as she got up. "See, no need to worry."

"Everything okay in here?", David asked when he slowed down as he approached Ruby.

"Nothing happened. I don't think she even needed the chains."

David threw the cloak over Ruby and the second she turned back, she hugged him. "Thank you, David."

"No, thank you for not doing something reckless. I've told you, I believe in you."

They both know the thing that wasn't said in this moment. That Snow had believed in her first and if she had been here, things would have been different. And with that Ruby noticed that David was holding back something else.

"What happened?"

"We can talk about that tomorrow." His smile wasn't completely genuine, but Ruby let it slide. She felt a weight lift off of her chest. Literally, because Belle had opened the lock on the chain keeping her down. David held out a hand to help her get up.

He stepped back. "I have to get back to Henry."

Ruby tried to pull the cloak tighter, but the chains prevented it and Belle took her hands. Again. "Let me." She held up the key. "This is the best part." And for what felt like the first time in years, but it had probably been only a day, Ruby smiled back at her.

When the chains fell down she immediately hugged Belle. All the worries about keeping a safe distance forgotten. The beast had been contained, in fact there was no beast to fear at all and her friend had stayed through it all. How lucky to have friends who believed in her more than she did herself.

Granny cleared her throat. "Are you coming home or are you going for a midnight run, now?"

Ruby looked at her over Belle's shoulder, still holding on and enjoying the way Belle hugged back firmly. "Run", was her simple answer.

And as sudden as they had come in, David and Granny vanished again, leaving the two alone.

"A midnight run?", Belle asked as she put the books back on the shelf, except for The Last Unicorn.

"Yes. That's all I could think about."

"And you remember everything that happened, while...", she gestured to where Ruby had been lying down so miserably.

The self-consciousness returned. "I hope I didn't scare you."

Belle laughed. "I was only scared for you, not of you. That looked unpleasant." She pouted.

"It was." Ruby picked up the book and thumbed through the pages, trying to find where they had left off and put a piece of paper in almost halfway through. "Will you read the rest to me?"

Belle took the book from her, lingering a bit when their fingers brushed. "I wanna know how this ends."

"This?"

"It. How it ends."

Ruby had seen a flashlight in the utility room earlier and quickly picked it up. "So, you want to join me?" She offered it to Belle. "A stroll through the woods?"

This night there was a wolf running around the woods surrounding Storybrooke. Circling around a woman wearing the well-knows red riding hood. When Belle sat down, Ruby put her head on her legs, enjoying a scratch between the ears and listening to the rest of the story. Maybe there was hope for finding companions when you thought you were the only one of your kind.

#OUaT #Red Beauty #Ruby Lucas #Belle French #OMG ANON WHAT DID YOU MAKE ME DO????? it's almost 3k now... what even....#do I maybe have feelings about them?! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#if anybody throws a title at me I will proof read and throw this at AO3... it's only 8 years late...........#$!

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

If you are still taking meet ugly prompts, sternclay 22 nsfw???

Here you go!

22: you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship.

Note: I interpreted "first date" loosely. Slight content warning for mentions of blackmail, including blackmailing someone into a relationship.

It’s hard to tell where the sting of gin on his tongue ends and the sharpness of the pines through the window begins. The combination would invigorate him were it not for the conversation playing out at the other end of the short bar.

“...Last time, I’m not leaving.” The bartender, a mountain of a man who Joseph would love to climb, has been dealing with a persistent suitor for the better part of an hour. They’re the only people in the place; ski season is far behind them and summer isn’t here yet.

“C’mon, you’ve got no reason to hang around.”

“Yeah, actually, I do.” The bartender finishes cleaning glasses, turns to put them up.

“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me! I’m not through with you, oughta drag you outta here by your hair you cheap, dull-”

The next word is an unkind name for men who, like Joseph, prefer men in their beds. The bartender doesn’t respond, though his hands tighten around the glasses. Damn it, the world did not go for a second war just for him to let everyday evil slide by.

“That’s enough.” Joseph stands, moving to where the other patron wobbles on his stool, “him being uninterested doesn’t give you the right to abuse him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy.”

“I know that if you don’t leave, I’ll escort you out.”

The man throws up his hands, spits at Joseph’s feet before stumbling and stomping for the door, “Three years, Barclay, you’re throwing away three years in one night, and you’re gonna regret it. I’ll make sure you do!”

“Don’t think you will.” Barclay mumbles as the door slams. He’s twisting his dishrag to the point it’s ripping.

“Three years? Good lord, I thought he was just a run-of-the-mill drunk.”

“Nope. If you can call him tracking me down every few months a relationship.”

“I’m sorry.” Joseph pulls out his handkerchief, kneeling to clean up the spit, “still, I apologize for getting in the middle of a, um, lovers quarrel.”

“Please don’t, I’m glad you stepped in. Don’t know what I woulda done if you hadn’t.” His brown eyes study Joseph more closely, “have I seen you here before?”

“Through there.” He indicates the pass-through to the kitchen, “I come here as often as I can since the food can’t be beat.”

“Thanks.” Barclay smiles, starts wiping the counter, “yeah, Dani usually tends bar after the kitchen closes but her wife is down with the flu. Only seemed fair to let her take time to look after her.”

A big heart to go with a big frame? Joseph’s in big trouble.

“You, uh, you up here for the lakes or…” He’s now directly across from Joseph, sliding a fresh gin and tonic in front of him.

“I’m a private detective, a one man operation as of 1949; Kepler’s the optimal spot for me, since it’s between the mountain towns and the eastern edge of the city. That’s a lot of people who might need help. Not to mention lots of the residents closer to the lakes are wealthy, the kind where they’re always looking for someone to trail a straying spouse or track down the pearls their no-good layabout son sold for dope.” He lets a little bit of scorn enter his voice in hopes of letting Barclay know he doesn’t always agree with his clients, but that a man has to make a living.

Barclay rolls his shoulders, then leans forward, “any fun cases so far?”

Joseph pulls off his jacket as he thinks; if Barclay’s really interested, they might be here awhile.

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

He’s an early riser, so the banging on the door to his house (and office) interrupts his breakfast and not his rest. Joseph opens it and then fights to keep it that way.

“Detective Hayes. This is a surprise.” He smiles.

“I’m not here to catch up, Stern. I’m here so you can answer one, simple question: where were you between eleven-thirty and midnight last night?”

“In the dining room at Amnesty Lodge, talking with the bartender. If you need to verify that, just go to the Lodge and ask for Barclay.”

Hayes glowers in a way he recognizes as, “this won’t be an easy case like I assumed” and turns without a word. Two officers follow him. The third, Dewey, hesitates. He’d always been a pal. Joseph shoots him a confused look.

“Guy got shot in the woods near the Lodge last night. His only known contact in town was the bartender, and everyone else we questioned said the two had been arguing for a few days. Hayes thought the cook was a shoo-in to book but, well, his alibi aligns with what you said. Plus, some ranger Owens talked to said he saw Barclay talking to someone in the dining room at the time of the murder. Guess he was walking by the window on his way to-”

“Dewey! Get the hell over here!”

As his informant scurries up the hill to join the others, Joseph steps back inside to finish his toast. He only gets through one piece before the phone rings, summoning him to the managers office at Amnesty Lodge.

Madeline “Mama” Cobb sits behind her desk, whittling with the kind of force that suggests she’s doing this in place of putting her knife to another use.

“Barclay tells me you’re a detective.”

“That’s right, Miss. Cobb.”

“Great. I’m hirin’ you to find out who the hell killed his useless ex and is tryin to frame him for it.”

He sits down, intrigued, “I thought the police were handling the investigation.”

“I ain’t inclined to trust ‘em. Barclay can’t think of someone who’d set him up, and the police don’t think he was. Yet. But I happen to know there were scraps of a shirt Barclay owns on the trees nearby and that the fella who died had this on him.”

She holds a crumpled paper out. He unfolds it, reads, “Come to the old mill at a quarter until midnight. B.” He looks up, “meant to stand for Barclay, one would assume?”

“Yep. Whoever wrote that did a decent job forgin it.”

“How can you be sure it’s fake?”

“Because I got plenty of documents where Barclay describes a time. He just uses numbers, not words like ‘quarter until.”

“Did you suspect a set-up before you lifted this from the body so the cops wouldn’t find it?” Joseph tucks the note into his inside pocket.

“Course I did. You’re new in town, but there ain’t a person here who’d say Barclay is anythin but gentle. He ain’t about to shoot someone in cold blood, even that fucker.” She sighs, takes off her hat and runs a hand through greying hair, “that boy is as good as a brother to me. I know he’s been through some rough shit. He don’t deserve to get caught up in some goddamn murder scheme. So name your price, Mr. Stern; so long as it keeps him outta trouble, I’ll pay it.”

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

He’s elbow-deep in Barclay’s dresser when the cook returns from his shift; he gave Joseph permission to search his room for signs of whoever took his shirt, but still, the other man doesn’t seem pleased with his presence.

“I’m sorry, but I have to be thorough. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.”

“S’fine.” Barclay slumps down on the bed. After a moment he murmurs, “I know Mama hired you, but is there anyway I can convince you to quit? She, the Lodge doesn’t have much cash to spare this time of year. I don’t want anyone going without on my account and, and maybe this will all blow over if I just lie low, y’know?”

“It might. But until I think that’s the outcome, I’m inclined to agree with Miss. Cobb that we should work to keep you clear of this. And” he watches Barclay stand, moving to the window so he won’t have to see Joseph rifling through his life, “I promise that if it comes down to getting paid or bankrupting the Lodge, I’ll stop taking my fee. This is a good place and, um, it clearly means a lot to you. That makes it worth some belt-tightening on my end.”

“Thanks.” Barclay stares into the woods, then looks over his shoulder, “Joseph, I-”

It’s only because the mirror is above the dresser that he sees the black barrel peek from the trees. With no time to yell, he dives forward, pulling Barclay to the floor as the first bullet makes shards of the window.

“What the fuck?!” Barclay covers his head as another shot flies over them

“I think we just confirmed Miss. Cobb’s theory!” He pops up, fires once, and drops back down. Whoever’s in the trees isn’t expecting someone armed, so in place of another bullet they get breaking branches.

Joseph gives chase, leaping out the window and sprinting into the trees. Were they in downtown L.A, hell, even if he was still in Chicago, he’d have a better chance of staying on his target. But there’s no paths, no short-cuts, and every tree looks the same at this speed, cloaking the shape in the distance. Worst of all, he discovers that instead of dead-ending at a brick wall, he dead ends at a rockface.

Oh, and his hand is bleeding. He must have cut himself jumping out the window.

It looks like his investigation just took on a bodyguard element, and his wish to spend more time with Barclay could end with them both looking like swiss cheese.

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

“You could talk to Duck.” Barclay finishes bandaging the slash on the back of Joseph’s left hand, “he works in the state park near here and knows a ton about the layout of the woods. There, not too tight?” He sits back on his heels as Joseph tests the tightness of the bandage.

“It’s great, big guy. Um, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“I don’t mind it” he winks, “pretty boy.”

His visit with Duck the next day, while informative, doesn’t give him much insight into how their assailant disappeared, especially when Duck points out that the rock face he ran across is over a mile long and hard to climb without equipment or a death wish. At least the ranger outfits him with a map with written-in details; most are about trails that are likely to be muddy (and thus hold prints) or spots where a person might be able to hide. And some hike recommendations, just because.

He tries not to think about taking Barclay on the one to a secluded lake and fucking him under the stars.

His schedule alternates between sitting in his office taking and making calls, shadowing Barclay when he’s out on errands or otherwise vulnerable (he’s spent more than a few nights on the floor of his room, that velvety baritone talking to him until they both fall asleep), and scouring the woods for clues.

A jay heckles a squirrel, which surrenders it’s pinecone and scrambles along the rocks. He’s wishing he could be so nimble when it climbs up and then...disappears. Following it, he discovers what he dismissed as endless rock is an optical illusion; the rocks above and behind align with the ones in front and below to make it seem as if it’s a flat face. But when he climbs over the bottom rock, he finds a narrow slot canyon. One big enough for a human.

Fifteen minutes of granite scratching his back later, he’s at the other side of the rocks. Smoke curls up his nose, and he trails the scent to a cabin which, according to Duck, is on a strange pocket of private property, just up a frontage road. Stranger still is the sign out front.

I.C All

Tarot, Palm Reading, and Other Psychic Services.

He knocks as wind chimes sing lazily around him.

“Come in!”

The first room is divided by a curtain, the half he’s in a rather eclectic waiting room. The dining room and kitchen are probably on the other side of the pink and yellow cloth.

Waiting for him in the next room is a man with a distinctly beatnik air about him, from his red glasses down to his brightly colored shawl and shoulder length hair. Laid out before him is a tarot deck, crystal ball, and several black candles. But that’s not what concerns Joseph.

“Before I sit down, can you ask your friend hiding in the bureau to come out?”

“Fuck” the beaura hisses, “uh, I mean, uh, there ain’t, uh, fuck-”

“It’s alright dearest, I suspect we may all benefit from this.” He gestures for Joseph to sit, “Apologies, but my hope was you were either a client I could turn away or one in search of a brief reading that I could perform before returning to more...pleasurable activities.” He grins as none other than Duck Newton steps from the creaky wooden bureau, looking like he’s been wrestling a very amorous tiger.

“Afternoon, Joe.” Duck sits on the nearby couch, “didn’t take you for the fortune tellin’ type.”

“I’m more interested in whether Mr…”

“Cold, but my friends call me Indrid.”

“Whether Indrid has noticed anyone coming and going on his property without permission?”

“I can’t say that I have, though it’s hard to do so; the walkway is guarded by Beacon, our dog, and everything but the walk up to the cabin is fenced off or, well, a massive wall of rock.”

“...Come with me.”

Soon, Duck is studying the slot canyon while Indrid worries his lower lip.

“I had no idea this was here.”

“No one did. It ain’t on any of the maps, and I never heard of anyone findin it on accident.” Duck pulls back, popping his hat on as he turns to Joseph, “this got somethin to do with Barclay?”

“I think whoever shot at us used this to get away. For all we know, the person who killed Mr. Douglas did the same.”

“To think, I encouraged Barclay to come here even more often once he told me his predicament; I thought no one could approach us without me seeing them coming. No, no this will not do at all” he shakes his head, “he needs to go see her.”

“You know he won’t, sugar.”

“He must. It’s the safest place for him. And the last anyone will look.”

Joseph looks between them, but before he can ask Indrid simply says, “You should ask Barclay about the Greenbank House. That story isn’t ours to tell.”

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

“Home sweet home.” Barclay grumbles as he and Joseph step out of the car and into the shadow of a mansion in the most exclusive neighborhood in Lakeshore. It took all of his friends telling him he should go--and Joseph assuring him it’s location meant it wouldn’t look like he was trying to run away from the scene of the murder--for the cook to agree to a stay at his family home.

“What are you afraid of?” Joseph keeps his tone gentle as they climb the front steps. His friend had simply said he had unhappy memories of the house and would rather live in a mausoleum then stay there.

“It’s more dread. You’ll see when we get inside.” He knocks on the front door. It’s opened by the least congruous face imaginable; a man with greying hair and a groundskeepers clothes. When he sees Barclay, a smile bursts across his face.

“Barclay! How are you kiddo?”

“I’m...I’m okay. It’s good to see you Thacker.” He offers a genuine smile as he opens his arms and gathers the older man into a hug. When they separate, Joseph offers his hand and introduces himself. Having an extra guest delights Thacker, and he ushers them in with a promise that he’ll have rooms ready to go in a jiff.

“How’s Maddie doin’?”

“She’s good, and she’ll still slug your arm for that nickname.”

“Good old Maddie.” Thackers cheer falters, “do you wanna go see your ma? If I didn’t know you were comin, gonna guess she didn’t neither.”

“Yeah. Yeah I should go see her. Joseph, you don’t, uh, you don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s only polite to meet my hostess.”

Barclay leads him up a flight of stairs, then down a hallway where dust substitutes for walllpaper. Waiting for them in a red and orange toned bedroom is a woman with greying, black hair and a face not unlike Barclay’s.

“Dear heart” she rises from her armchair, drawing her son to her, “you came back.”

“Just to visit, Ma. Uh, this, this is Joseph. He’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too.”

She studies him with a critical eye; Joseph thought Hayes had a judgemental gaze, but she could beat him any day.

“Hmm. The more the merrier, as she always said. How long will you stay?”

“A few weeks.”

She nods, regards the photo of another woman above the mantelpiece as if seeking council, “You’re not here for pleasure.”

“No.” Barclay rubs his arm, “I...I got into some trouble. Andrew Douglas was shot the night I broke things off with him. The cops are leaving me alone for now but someone else wants me dead.”

The woman’s face suggests she both recognizes and despises that name, “We will keep you safe.”

With that, she sits once more and picks up her book. Barclay hesitates, then bends to kiss her forehead before pulling Joseph from the room.

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

“How long ago did your mother die?” Joseph kicks his legs up onto the ottoman. Barclay alluded to her passing previously, but never gave details.

“When I was eighteen. Car accident. She went off the Kepler bridge. They, uh, they never found her, and just found part of the wreck.”

He intends to leave it there; they’re on the back porch overlooking the garden (“Thackers pride and joy”), early summer dusk on their skin and their arms occasionally brushing from the edges of their chairs. No need to kill the mood further. He just wanted some kind of context for the house and the widow within it.

“Ma never recovered. She loved mom so much that losing her was like losing a lung; she can get through her days, even enjoy them, but it will always be hard. She tried to keep mom around however she could; the whole goddamn house is the same as it was the day she died, even my room. She wanted me to stay too, but Mama offered me the job and I just...I couldn’t live in a haunted house anymore.”

Joseph tips his hand to the right, extending his fingers into the space between them. Barclay takes it and holds tight.

“I’m so sorry, Barclay. You had every right to leave, to make your own life.”

“I know.” He runs his thumb across Joseph’s knuckles, “okay, pretty boy, my turn for a tough question; why’d you really leave the police force.”

It’s not that tough a question, not when he knows the man he’s confiding in won’t go running to Hayes, “I joined the force because I wanted to solve mysteries and help people. But it turned out there was a lot less seeking justice and a lot more chasing off drunks who just needed a place to sleep off benches and harassing certain neighborhoods. Then I worked out that the chief was taking bribes from all kinds of places and was naive enough to think someone might listen to me and help me when I told them. Instead they threw me off the force. In hindsight, it could have been worse; they could have killed me and covered it up.”

“Jesus.” Barclay polishes off his drink, contemplates the ice, “glad they didn’t. Both because, y’know, world is better with you alive, but, uh, also because if they had we’d never have met.”

Joseph meets his eyes, smiling in a way that makes the other man blush, “that would’ve been a damn shame.”

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

This is turning into one of the stranger cases he’s worked, in good ways and bad. The good is that his work days, when he’s not on the phone or digging through his notes, are spent with Barclay. His friend insists on cooking, has even brought him lunch at his desk, and usually the two of them have dinner with Thacker in the garden. They read or play chess in the study, take walks through the labyrinthine grounds, and even swim in the open air pool. Barclay in his swim trunks is a fine sight indeed. Joseph wonders if he ever brought boyfriends here, ever kissed them in the blue water or let them have their way with him in some hidden patch of lawn.

But it’s not all roses and revelry. The more he roots around in Andrew Douglas’s past, and in Barclay’s, the more questions he has. Why did Andrew come and go? What happened to large portions of Raquel and Sylvia (Barclay’s parents) fortune? And who wants to kill someone with no criminal record, no known enemies, and no heirs? If it’s the same person who murdered Andrew, killing Barclay would remove their fall-guy, so that makes no sense as a move.

His best lead comes when he learns Barclay’s family and Andrew Douglas lived in San Francisco at the same time. A friend in the city agrees to do some sniffing around there for any information that might point towards their killer. Two days later, he calls back and says he’s sending Joseph a “fucking brick” of evidence in the mail.

It’s been several days and he’s still waiting. He dozed off in his room after dinner, intending to cat nap, but it seems he’s overshot; it’s after ten. At least the mail must have come by now.

“Barclay? Did anything come--you have five goddamn seconds to explain yourself.”

His friend stammers from his seat on the bed, surrounded by papers, photo’s, newsprint, and a manila envelope with Joseph’s name on it.

“I, uh, I, it isn’t-”

“This is all evidence collected for the purpose of protecting you, so if you have something you’re afraid of me finding you’d better start talking now.” He snaps, looming over the other man from the edge of the bed.

Wordlessly, Barclay hands him a piece of newspaper. It details a kidnapping, one that ends--happily--with the victim being returned to their family. Four names are mentioned, but none of the perpetrators are the man in front of him.

“I was sixteen. A stupid kid. I had this perfect life and I got a little stir crazy, a little bored, and fell in with some other rich kids who felt the same. It started out harmless. Then James, the guy in charge, decided we should dream bigger. I was so, so fucking in love with him, I didn’t try to stop him. Not right away, anyway. I...I was their look-out for that kidnapping. But I couldn’t let them keep it up.”

“You struck a deal.”

Barclay nods, “Best part is, I managed to do it without either of my parents getting wise. We moved here soon after. I thought I could put it behind me.”

Joseph takes a closer look at the paper. The byline for the article is one A. Douglas.

“He blackmailed you.”

“Not at first. He, he” Barclay takes a shaky breath, “he went to mom first. Asked her how much she’d pay to keep my name out of the papers. James had told him about me and he was going to spread the story. That’s why she was on that fucking bridge in the middle of a fucking storm; she was meeting him.”

“Oh, Barclay.” Evidence crumples under his knees as he sits to comfort his friend.

“Then he came to me; now not only was I paying to keep the story quiet, I was paying to keep him from telling Ma why Mom died.”

“She died because of a blackmailer, wet cement, and a weak guard rail. Not because of you.”

Barclay looks at him, eyes coffee cups of sorrow, and simply shakes his head. Then he crumples forward and Joseph catches him, holds him tight while he finishes his story through his tears.

He paid off Andrew for three years. Ned Chicane, owner of the Kepler Museum of Curiosities, helped him with the family accounts so Raquel wouldn’t notice anything suspicious. Whenever Andrew came around, he demanded Barclay act as his “boyfriend” for the duration of the visit.

“Everyone must think I have terrible taste in men.”

Once they establish that, as far as Barclay is aware, only Ned knows about the blackmail, Joseph cups his face and says, as firmly as gentleness allows, “From now on, I need you to be truthful with me. You said you didn’t want me putting the pieces together because you were ashamed, but all I want is to help you. I can’t do that if there are big things you’re hiding from me. Understand?”

Barclay nods, and apologizes the entire time they’re gathering the strewn pieces back into the envelope.

“Barclay?” Joseph cuts him off and eases him down until he’s on his back, “I forgive you. Now please go to sleep before you pass out from stress.”

The cook smiles at him, eyes already fluttering closed, “You’re the boss, Joseph.”

He ignores all the urges that kickstarts in him and leaves his friend to sleep in peace.

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

“Y’know, kind of wish we’d known each other back then.” Barclay looks up from where he’s helping Joseph sort the new evidence on the floor, “when I was in San Francisco, I mean.”

“It would have taken more than just a change of scene for me; my family does alright, but I’d have been way outside your circles.”

“So? Maybe then I coulda had a boyfriend who was ‘disreputable’ for bullshit reasons instead of real ones.”

“I’ve never once been disreputable.” He looks up from the photos in his hand, “and is that your way of telling me something, big guy.”

“Yes. I, uh, you can tell me to knock it off, but I, uh, I think you’re swell. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way but you said I should be…” he trails off as Joseph leans into his space,”honest.”

He kisses him once, so brief it barely counts but the larger man whimpers and tries to grab him before he pulls away.

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me to hit the brakes if you need to; it won’t change my dedication to the case.”

“I promise.” There’s no dishonesty in his face, just boundless hope and affection.

“In that case, big guy” he lunges forward, pinning him to the rug, “you’re all mine.”

An unexpectedly high whine leaves his lover.

“You like when I’m rough?”

“Uh, uh huh, so much, people always want me to be and I don’t want to, wanna be, wanna beAHHHhhnnn” he arches his back as Joseph bites the patch of skin just below his beard.

“You’re so gentle, big guy, I thought you’d go straight to making love but” another bite, another gasp, “I think I’d better fuck you instead.”

“Please.” Barclays hands glide up to cup Joseph’s face and guide him down into another kiss.

Joseph rolls his hips forward and his sleeves up as speaks, “Now that you mention it, I can see how things would’ve gone if we met earlier. I was an obedient son but not beyond sneaking someone into my room when my parents were away” he undoes Barclay’s shirt, keeps grinding against him and licking his lips as he feels him getting hard, “or maybe we met down here, and you’d sneak me into the backyard.”

“Fuck, yes.” Barclays chest heaves as Joseph cards his fingers up through the dark hair to tease his nipples, “god, if how I, fuck, feel now is a clue, I’d have been so fucking mad for you.” He makes a charming groan as Joseph tongues his nippls and then nibbles his way up to his ear.

“It’s funny” Joseph kisses his cheek, “I knew so many guys like you on the force. Not you now, used to hard work and worry, but you then; spoiled and softer than a boiled egg.” He allows himself a moment of savoring their cocks teasing each other through their pants before continuing, “always wanted to discipline them, because it was clear no one ever did.”

“Please show me how.”

“Why?” He grins down at him, toying with his left nipple until it’s bright red.

“Because I wanna be good for you, Joseph. Wanna be every fantasy you ever had.”

“...Lord god almighty how am I supposed to say no to that?” Joseph undoes his suspenders, laughing at Barclay’s triumphant smile, “you’re a dream, big guy.”

He crawls so he’s straddling Barclays face, cock dripping pre-cum onto his lips. Barclays tongue keeps peeking out from between them, but doesn’t go further without permission.

“Since this is disciplinary, you don’t get a say in how it goes. You’ll take my cock as long and as deep as I want it, because I’m superior to you and you’re here to do what I say”

“Fuckyeah” Barclay paws Joseph’s thighs, opens his mouth so he can guide the head in.

“That, ohyes, that being said, if it’s really too much, tap my thigh twice.”

Barclay nods to show he understands, but is already pre-occupied sucking his cock like he’s starving for it.

“A good start, big guy, but if I just wanted my cock wet I’d have gone swimming.” He cups the back of Barclays head in both hands, “I want something to fuck, and your face is it.”

The man beneath him moans, fucks the air uselessly as Joseph pushes further in. He finds the resistance of his throat with a half-inch to go, and decides that’s good enough. He pulls halfway out, pushes back in, repeats the process a few times before finding his rhythm. Weeks of wanting mean it’s hurried and greedy, but the resulting moans suggest Barclay approves.

“You look so good like this, Barclay. God, if you’d been some fresh-faced officer, one look of those doe-eyes is all it, shit, would’ve taken for me to make this the only discipline you ever got. Any time I needed to put you in your place or just, fuck, just needed to let off some steam, I’d do this, get my, my cock in your mouth so often you’d run out of spit and be thankful for my cum in, in it’s place.”

Barclay is groping him again, eyes bright and lips managing some upward curve as his cock forces them apart.

“Then again” he tenderly massages Barclay’s scalp, “there’s no reason I can’t do that in this universe. Oh, ohshit, Barclay-” his words desert him as he cums, the other man swallowing eagerly and sucking him clean before he pulls out.

Joseph glances over his shoulder, “Can I take care of that for you?”

“Fuck, please?”

He rolls off of the cook, stays on his side and slips one arm under his shoulders. Then he sets his palm on the monstrous bulge in Barclay’s jeans and sets to work.

“I, I should unzip-”

“No” he kisses him, “we’re surrounded by evidence that I can’t have you cumming on. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the mess you make cumming in your pants like a teenager.”

“Promise?” It’s an odd thing to say, but Joseph thinks he understands.

“I promise.” He quickens his pace, Barclay’s grunts growing louder when he does, “I’ll take care of you, big guy. I’ll look after you. You don’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.”

“Joseph.” Is all the reply he gets, Barclay already turning as cum spreads across his fly and clinging to the detective. His breath is hot, stays shaky even as his cock stops pulsing.

“Barclay? Baby, are you alright?”

“So fucking good, babe. I, I uh” he holds him tighter, “this is the first thing to make sense to me in years. Loving you, having you in my life, I get how we fit together so easily. Everything else, the murder, Ma, this person lurking around the last place that feels like home waiting to hurt me or hurt Mama or someone there, all of it, it’s so goddamn tangled I’m worried it’ll never get straight.”

Joseph rests their cheeks together, “We’ll figure it out, big guy. I promise.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #TAZ amnesty #noir au #detective au

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hillbillyoracle · 4 years

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Tarot as Representations

So one of the recommended uses I talk briefly about in my zine, tarot in the time of the apocalypse, is to use tarot cards as icons in a parred down travel altar set up. What I didn't get into too much is how to select these cards to use as representations. I wrote the zine originally with a more experienced practitioner in mind and thought that most folks would select a card based on intuition.

Which will totally work. But recently as I was using cards to set up a petition, I realized there was a lot more I could have said there. Some of it

Astrological Representations

So a lot of people know that Tarot has astrological associations. I knew about a lot of these but I've been learning about so many more recently. You can use these associations to create representations of your work with the planets for petitions, prayers, or other workings. If you have decks you don't need, you can us the card as a base to attach paper talesmins to and give them some rigidity while adding to the correspondences (good for if you need to tuck it in a car visor or a book). Really there are so many options for using tarot as representation for astrological concepts.

The classical planets and the 12 zodiac signs are the most agreed upon from what I can tell and they are as follows.

Classical Planets

Moon - the High Priestess

Sun - the Sun

Mercury - the Magician

Venus - the Empress

Mars - the Tower

Jupiter - the Wheel of Fortune

Saturn - the World

The Moon card is traditionally associated with the sign of Pisces but I've swapped these out a few times and not noticed a major difference. I have also substituted Judgement for Saturn when not working with them in an earthly or cthonic capacity and that's worked alright for me. I try to stick to the traditional associations when reading a spread but when picking a representation it seems like it's slightly less important.

Outer Planets

Uranus - the Fool

Neptune - the Hanged One

Pluto - Judgement

These are less agreed upon but what I've found most common. I use them when reading but I will swap them out when picking a representation. I think they work okay for the most part. But truthfully I don't work with the outer planets a whole lot and don't often need a representation of that.

Zodiac Signs

Aries - the Emperor

Taurus - the Hierophant

Gemini - the Lovers

Cancer - the Chariot

Leo - Strength

Virgo - the Hermit

Libra - Justice

Scorpio - Death

Sagittarius - Temperance

Capricorn - the Devil

Aquarius - the Star

Pisces - the Moon

Just as a note, the signs also correspond with parts of the body and can be used to represent requests or petitions in that way too. I have some times used the Emperor (the sign of the head) and the Moon (the feet) to represent that my request is for my whole body. It's too much to fit into this article but it's easy to find on Google and something to add into the language of what you can represent.

Representing Fixed Stars

It's become more popular to work with fixed stars of the Zodiac (Deneb Algredi, Algol, Regulus, etc) and one way I've been using to set up an altar to the ones I work with is to select the tarot card that corresponds to the decan that the fixed star is found in and par it with the Star card.

The decans and card associations are too many to list here but the principle is fairly straight forward. There are 4 elements of the zodiac (Fire, Earth, Air, Water) and they correspond with the four suits of the Tarot (Wands, Pentacles, Swords, Cups; respectively). The Aces embody the elements themselves. Without the Aces, each suit has 9 cards, that are then divided by the three modalities of the Zodiac (Cardinal, Fixed, and Mutable). Each of these modalities has three cards representing the three decans of each sign. Each decan covers 10 degrees of a sign and have associations themselves.

Cardinal signs are at the beginning of each season, so they are equated with the beginning of each suit (2,3,4). Fixed signs are in the middle of each season, so they are equated with the middle of each suit (5,6,7). Mutable signs are at the end of each season, so they are equated with the end of each suit (8,9,10). Using this you can figure out what decan belongs with which sign.

Say you want to represent Algol, who is at 26 degrees Taurus. Taurus is a Fixed (5,6,7) Earth (Pentacles) sign. 26 degrees is between 20-30 and so is in the last decan of Taurus. Meaning the card you'd select would be the 7 of Pentacles.

Sun, Moon, Rising

So on occasion, when I realize I probably won't be using a deck but I want to keep it around, I'll pull a few of the cards and use them as artwork. One way I've done that is by displaying my Sun, Chart Ruler, and Rising Sign using Tarot Cards. I don't have any presently to show as an example but I will get stiff paper, attach cards in a grid, and put it in a cheap frame. Now that I know the decans, I would also include the decans in addition to or replacing the sign cards. I use the World here for Rising Sign because it has felt right to me and at one point incorrectly learned Saturn as being associated with Judgement so I still use that when laying out cards for this kind of artwork.

For instance:

The Sun - The Chariot - 2 of Cups

The World - The Devil - 3 of Pentacles

Judgement - The Star - 3 of Swords

Hell of a combination, I know. The reason I've done Chart Ruler instead of Moon is purely because I have a total solar eclipse in my natal chart so they'd use the same sign and decan cards and this way I don't have to have a second deck.

I'm actually working on turning this layout into a spread/worksheet. More on that in another post though.

Deity Representations

I have used tarot cards as deity representation a lot in my practice, especially with travel altars as I mentioned. But it really could be extended to others as well. This is where there's more intuition and less structure to go off of so what I say here is by no means law. Artwork of the cards themselves will dictate quite a lot.

For the Greek and Roman deities associated with the planets, the choice is pretty easy; the Magician can be a representation of Mercury, the Empress for Aphrodite, etc. For Kemetic deities that were syncretized with Greek and Roman deities, you can also use those correspondences too. I have used the Magician card to stand in for both Hermes and Yinepu for instance.

For other deities, my recommendation is to stick with the court cards as your basis. These already are often read as actual people in a given situation and the artwork in a lot of decks will only include a single person - which is just helpful for me personally when using it as a representation in an altar set up.

However, where you want to call a deity in a specific role, combining a court card and a major arcana can be really powerful. When I use the cards in my work the Morrigan, I always use the Queen of Swords as my base. But if I want to call her in her role as prophetess, I might combine the Queen of Swords and the High Priestess. If I want to call her in her role as battle raven, I might combine the Queen of Swords and the Tower.

If you work with the Elements as entities or as guardian spirits, you can utilize the Aces for their representation as they are the embodiment of the purest qualities of each element. This also works in combination with a Court Card for deities you are calling in connection with their association with an element. Say if I wanted to represent Geb, I might use the King of Pentacles and the Ace of Pentacles.

Ancestor Representation

I have not done a lot of this personally though in the times I have tried it, it has worked pretty well. Court Cards not only refer to people but often have associated ages as well and in a pinch I've used the Court Card associated with the gender and age that someone passed away. I have not used this yet for someone who has passed away that was nonbinary but I would probably default to using the Knight or the Page as they're less gendered, even though they correspond with younger age groups. It's imperfect and I'll write more on this later as it evolves.

The age groups associated with the court cards (as I learned them) are:

Page: young, usually under 35

Knight: someone mid career, age 35 - 50

Queen and King: someone at their height or who has reached old age, 50+

I tend to pick the suit for what they were most known for; were they really emotionally oriented (Cups), did they work really hard (Pentacles), were they especially known for their intellect (Swords), or were they fiery and artistic (Wands)?

If you want to use the cards to honor your dead generally, you can always use a representation of a psychopomp who opens the way for you if that's a part of you practice. You can also just use the Death card, perhaps in combination with the Six of Cups. I am much more likely to do this than represent a specific ancestor but I have needed to on occasion and this is roughly what I used.

Spellwork Representations

This honestly could - and hopefully will - be it's own article or zine at some point but I did want to mention a little bit on using the cards for spellwork on the fly. The main ways I've used them so far is either to petition the spirits of the Major Arcana for assistance or use the pips to specify what I want to happen.

The former is pretty straight forward. I personally have found the Major Arcana to be spirits in of themselves, which makes sense to me coming from a Chaos magic background, and I have petitioned them with offerings like I would any other spirit. The Magician has seemed to be most open to this so far but others are helpful in their own ways.

The latter works the best if you've worked with the cards long enough to understand their concrete meanings. Often beginners will have these very general understandings, that are still accurate by all means, but hard to take action on. If you're at a point in your tarot practice where you can see for instance the 4 of Wands know it's connotations with marriage and contracts or the 9 of Swords associations with bringing on nightmares, then this method should work for you.

Sometimes I'll combine this with a deity representation and lay a pip before it as my petition and then give offerings and burn a candle or incense. Just using them as representations for what I want to happen alone hasn't worked well but using them in combination with something else has. Have someone walk over the 5 of Pentacles or 3 of Swords enough times and there will be consequences. Just as walking under the 6 of Wands or the 10 of Cups will bring blessings.

Conclusion

So I hope this was helpful to someone out there. It's been super helpful for me to just grab my deck and go in so many situations. I can grab it and then scrounge for offerings when I get some place and not feel like I'm without something core to what I need.

And I know there are so many variations on this. This is by no means the be all end all of how you can use them and I do hope to expand on some of them in later writing, but I do think this is a decent springboard to experiment with.

How do you use your tarot deck for representations?

#witchblr #tarot #tarot lesson #witch #tarotblr

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supermarvelgirl15 · 3 years

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Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 1: New Neighbor

Summary: You hated moving, but luckily you had a helping hand. Bucky just wants to go home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert

Word Count: 1,440

Warnings: A few curses, mentions of death

A/N: I know, I know. Another series. Don't worry, I'm still working on Home! I just been in a Bucky craze lately hehe. There's gonna be oneshots with these two and when the TFATWS comes to an end, I'll write into those episodes. Anyways, enjoy! Tags are open for this series/oneshots!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

“James, did you hear me?”

Bucky’s eyes snap back from the window, landing back on the cold orbs of his therapist. For someone that was supposed to be welcoming, she tended to come off as unreceptive. Then again, she did have to put up with his bullshit.

Doctor Raynor crossed one leg over the other, her pen tapping the dreaded notebook. He knew it was just an inanimate object, but it was too passive aggressive for his liking. Or maybe it just reminded him of that red book with that grating star.

“Did you make any progress with your amends?” Raynor repeated her apparent earlier question, locking her eyes with his own.

He’s been looking into a couple of politicians that he had helped gain their positions, ones that still held their place in office even after Hydra collapsed. They were terrible people that needed to be stopped before they harmed anyone else. All he needed was some evidence that would be enough to convict them, since he had to follow “the three rules” set by his therapist.

“No.”

Raynor let out a small sigh at his dry response. It was hard to get more than three words out of him at times, but she had come to not expect anything else. If he wanted to open up some more, he would. Today just wasn’t one of those days.

She opened her mouth to comment but was interrupted by the timer going off, signalling the end of the day’s session. Bucky got up and started out the door before she had the opportunity to add anything else. He’s come to learn that if he doesn’t leave immediately, Raynor would definitely keep him there longer than an hour.

All Bucky wanted to do now was to grab a bite to eat and get back home. He’d usually meet up with Yuri afterwards, but the old man-- that was still younger than him-- already had plans for the afternoon.

Yuri Nakujima was also someone that he needed to make amends to, but he wasn’t going to let himself think about that right now. Right now, he just needed a damn burger.

You hated moving, you decided.

If someone ever heard those words leave your mouth though, they would have probably called you a hypocrite. You would have gladly informed them that moving across the world with a SEAL team was extremely different than moving across the state.

At least with a SEAL team, you were with people that you knew and loved as you bounced from an unfamiliar place to another, with the promise of returning home to see your family after the operation was over. Moving from Syracuse to Brooklyn alone wasn’t really ideal, but it was the only way.

You had been one of the half billion people that vanished during the Blip, waking up one day to find out that five years had apparently passed. You came back only to find out that the United States government had disbanded your squad. The only thing the government did for you was give their thanks and sent you into early retirement, made, no, threatened you to keep your mouth shut about the highly confidential operations that you and your squad worked throughout the years. But that wasn’t the worst part.

Before the Blip, the only family you had were your mother and your younger brother Colton. They still lived in your hometown while you were off working. Your mother and Colton were the only people that kept you grounded when you came home for a few weeks at a time, helping you hold yourself together when you thought you were going to fall to pieces.

When you came back, not only was the only job you’ve known stripped away from you, so was your family. Your mother had passed away a couple years after you vanished, and a couple years after her passing, Colton went missing, apparently without a trace. And no one looked for him. Everyone told you that they couldn’t look for someone that had been missing for over a year, that you needed to accept the possibility that he was no longer alive.

So, your taking matters into your own hands.

Brooklyn was the last place where Colton had been seen, why he was there, you hadn’t the slightest idea. You found his abandoned car at one of the docks with no indication of where he was heading. It was apparent that he had some kind of business in Brooklyn, so that’s where you were going to set up camp. He wasn’t the first person you had little to nothing to use to track him down.

You set a box down on the floor of your new apartment, cringing slightly at the emptiness of the room. Maybe a couch would make it feel more homey instead of a camp out. A sigh left your lips as you walked back out the room, jogging down the stairs to retrieve the last of your belongings.

Bucky had his gloved hands stuffed in his jacket’s pockets as he moseyed his way up the stairs of his apartment building. He didn’t exactly have any plans for the rest of the day, but he just wanted to spend it at home. Maybe he would get around to reading that book the waitress at that restaurant he and Yuri frequented recommended.

Upon reaching the door of his apartment, his hand reached into his back pocket to grab his keys, freezing when he noticed the door across the hall was open. Bucky looked down both ends of the hallway before inching closer to the opened door. He didn’t recall that room being vacant, so it was a bit strange.

Bucky double checked his surroundings once again before he proceeded to open the door some more. Peering inside, he saw almost the same layout of his own apartment with a few boxes littering the floor. Who exactly was moving in across from him?

His silent question was answered when he heard a string of curses coming from the flight of stairs. He watched as you came into his view, struggling to balance three boxes, one of them falling out of your grasp, which pulled another curse out of your mouth. He hadn’t heard anyone curse so much since he was on the battlefield during the war, let alone from a woman.

After a few moments of seeing you continuing to struggle to retrieve the fallen box, he made his way over to you, picking it up off the ground. “I got it,” he alerted you as he held it in front of him.

“Oh, thank you,” you thanked him, looking over the other two boxes to see your savior. Bucky noted how your eyes briefly glossed over with recognition and how your smile faltered for a second. You know him.

You moved around him to get to your apartment, kicking the door open more with your foot. “You can just set it in here,” you called back to him over your shoulder. Bucky nodded as he followed you into your apartment, setting the box down where you directed him to.

You wiped your hands on your pants after you set down your own boxes, turning back to face the man before you. “Thanks again. It was really a pain in my ass,” you offered him a small smile as you placed your hands in your back pockets.

Bucky offered you his own smile, his less warmly than yours had been. “No problem,” he replied shortly, stepping backwards out of your apartment, turning with a final nod to you before reaching for his keys once again.

You quickly stepped out after him, sticking your hand out towards him. “I’m Kris, by the way. I guess we’re neighbors,” you mentally face palmed at the awkward greeting that just left your mouth.

Bucky glanced down at your outstretched hand, hesitating a moment before shaking it. “I guess so. I’m…”

“James Barnes. I, uh, know,” you finished for him, closing your eyes tightly immediately afterwards. “I’m so sorry, it just came out. Now I made things weird,” you apologized, opening your eyes to look back at him.

Bucky chuckled dryly, unlocking his door behind him. “It’s fine. Hope you like it here,” he said with another tight lipped smile before slipping into his apartment.

You groaned internally as you walked back into your own apartment, locking the door behind you. After all the training you’ve been through, nothing would have prepared you for anything like this.

For being literal neighbors with the Winter Soldier. One of your squad’s old targets.

××××××

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