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📦 delivery.

[powerhungry]

[ The morning before Gwen's first shift at the Hex Club, an envelope finds its way to her door. Inside is a gold pin in the shape of a hexagon, as well as a note: ]

Gwen,
Welcome to the Hex Club.
I look forward to working with you.
— Silco

[internship]

[ Just a very tasteful photo of the pin on her blouse, morning of her first day. ]

See you soon!

✉️ text — un: amy.

[begot]

hi, gwen! i think you left your water bottle at the gym — i can drop it off at your room, if you want, or just bring it to you next class!

[internship]

Oh, hey Amy! You're a lifesaver. I'll just grab it from you in class, I think.

I know we all have different colors but I wonder if I should get some kind of charm to put on it? A sparkly G, or something. At least if someone confuses mine with Greer's we live in the same suite.

@yellowjackie

[katharma]

Hey Gwen :)

IDK if you're serious about learning how to draw but I think there's an art studio somewhere around the premises?

[internship]

Hi Jackie! I swear this house has everything you can imagine. Plus things you can't imagine.

That sounds fun, though! I don't know how good I'll be at it but I could get into painting a mug, or something like that.

✉️ text — un: amy, day one of the lock-in.

[begot]

what a storm, huh? you land somewhere okay?

[internship]

Hey, Amy! Peter’s with me, which is nice. And my suitemate’s Greer, so I’m also with her, Ash, and Embry. Do you know any of them?

Can’t complain yet, but we’ll see how stir crazy we all get. How’s yours so far?

→ action (cabin fever)

[hymen]

[ it’s not the first time and it’s far from the last time he’ll consider ignoring ash’s instructions completely, on account of them being fucking insane. case in point: the pink panties balled up in his fist, since he’s been tasked to deliver them back to their original owner. the owner who happens to be the cute, freckled blonde, trapped in this snowy hell with the three of them.

ash must have fucking planned this.

there’s enough space in their lodge, in theory, to avoid their two guests. at least for embry there is, who is seasoned in avoidance. whatever ash wants to get up to with gwen — that’s his business, even if embry manifestly believes it’s also his business. ever since ash brought up the possibility that he’d like to be dominated in a way that embry can’t quite provide, he’s been hyper fucking surly about the comings and goings of ash’s dick. which, to be fair, really hasn’t been far.

but now, this. an order to return the panties, and embry can only go so long with disobeying before there are actual consequences to be had. to make matters worse, it’s been particularly impossible to avoid crossing the mistletoe, his fingers icy and his breath tight with cold despite the crackling fireplace, approaching gwen where she sits curled on the sofa, a book in hand. embry looks the part of the model that lounges on the furniture to make any room more enticing — white trousers, a pinstriped button-down peeking out from beneath a slate gray sweater, his eyes as blue as the sharp winter sky.

in his hand, the offending panties. color dusks his cheeks, his jaw flexing as he imagines ash’s voice spilling filth into her ear, her cunt slick and nipples pulled tight. he gives her an aggrieved look, his cock stirring despite the chill settling in his bones. ]

I took these from Ash. [ what he did with them, he only hopes she doesn’t ask. ] I’m told they’re yours.

[internship]

[ Gwen doesn’t know what to make of Embry Moore. There’s the picture Ash painted, when Gwen was crying over Peter the night they met, of a prince who would always have his heart; there’s Ani’s missive to the Hex Club and Pink Slip banning Embry from both (and, as far as Gwen’s aware, he’s the sole person on that ban list). She means to ask Ash or Greer more about him—or ask Silco about the reasons for the ban—but there’s some weird shyness that’s stopped her short.

Ash is intimidating in a way Gwen’s coming to understand (because it makes her wet, because there are parameters around it, because she can see some of his softness around Greer). Intimidating might not be the right word for Embry, but Gwen gets the distinct sense, from all three words they’ve exchanged, that he doesn’t like her. And she realizes, with girlish embarrassment, that in some fantasy version of meeting Embry she’d imagined he might like her the way Greer liked her, or Ash liked her, some instant affinity slotting into place.

That was naive. She’s not going to dwell on it, which means she gives Embry as much of a berth as is possible in this space that’s really not meant for five people. So she’s surprised when she looks up from her book and sees that it’s Embry, not Ash or Peter or Greer, approaching her with— ]

Oh. [ It’s all Gwen can manage, for a second, when confronted with the sight of her panties in Embry’s fist as the mistletoe’s chill slips down her spine, making her sit up straighter. She’s not dressed for the cold: she’s in a blue knit sweater and white skirt that skims her thighs, slouchy pink knee socks that match the color of the panties she’s very much not wearing.

She wonders if this is—a game? A scene? But Ash hadn’t talked to her about it, and Gwen doesn’t yet know where Embry fits into what they have.

Whatever work her brain is doing to contextualize this, her body knows what the mistletoe means (fingers retreating into her sleeves to try to warm up, thighs pressing together beneath her skirt, nipples peaking with cold) and she can’t help the flush of embarrassment across her cheeks, the way her ears pink at the sight of the pretty lace edge wrapped around Embry’s knuckles. The last set of knuckles they were wrapped around, taken as a souvenir. ]

I gave them to Ash. [ In a manner of speaking. It’s a little humiliating that anyone else knows about that, but she’s trying to stay—composed? Until she can figure out what, exactly, Embry is doing here. Her head tilting, brows knit, ] If that’s what you’re asking?

misfire, un: dom

[wicka]

[ There is no text, no saucy photo: just a series of clips of Deolinda sent from his phone to Gwen's inbox. Sometimes Dom is heard exclaiming, especially when she does a little parkour, or laughing when she puts her nose right up against his camera. ]

[internship]

Okay, I still can’t believe how big her paws are

I think I’m gonna need some pics of you, though, if I’m going to accurately judge who’s cuter

[ Because this is now a cuteness contest, obviously. ]

@kool_jewel_08

[mygoodsir]

[pls enjoy one slightly saucy pic sent alongside a message from an incredibly stupid username:]

The things I shall do to you while you are tied down are the sorts of things only whispered about by the world's great libertines.

[internship]

[ Okay, the juxtaposition of really nice photo and titillating message with that username is honestly endearing.

Her teasing’s good-natured, which hopefully translates over text. ]

You could always whisper those things to me, Mr… Kool Jewel 08.

text — un: COLCHESTER cw: nsfw link

[achilles]

Before that, well. We took a video for you.

( middle of a conversation to greer — the last good thing shared between him and embry. attached. )

[internship]

[ For a second, Gwen thinks she’s missed a message from Ash—something that would contextualize the mid-conversation leap, until she clicks on the video.

Gwen lets it loop a few times too many. Ash hasn’t—let her see or touch him yet, only the shape of him through his slacks or his sweats, thick and hot when he pulls her into his lap. She’s been waiting, and she wants him, and sometimes she feels like she’d do anything for exactly what she’s watching right now, her cheeks burning.

She knows he’s fucking Embry. Guilt and desire twist sharp in her gut, and dots appear and disappear a few times as she starts to type, erases, tries again. ]

Daddy. [ So he knows it’s her. ]

Did you, um

mean to show me this?

text — un: guccibug (misfire)

[highlyemotional]

Your Christmas present.

[ ATTACHEMENT.JPG ]

[internship]

[ Oh! That’s for sure a photo she just opened in the middle of the Christmas market. ]

Hi. I didn’t know we were doing that kind of Secret Santa this year?

@faith — misfire

[stake]

not rly my color but i bet i can make u beg for it anyway 😈

[ IMG_085.JPEG ]

[internship]

[ hello 911 she’s never seen a strap on a hot girl before and her brain is rearranging its cells accordingly ]

I think it looks

nice on you? But I’ve always been partial to pink.

— action. cw: nsfw

[achilles]

( having something pretty kneeling at his feet has always been a unique kind of medicine for ash — he thinks clearer, breathes easier, once gwen is on her knees and crawling to him, hot shame turning her cheeks a pretty pink. they're in his room, and he made the impulsive decision to leave the door wide open. anyone passing by might see a flash of her cunt through her panties, the skirt short ash dictated she wear enough to leave little to the imagination. ash sits, somewhat imperially, on a wide backed chair, feet flat, legs spread. when she's close enough, he wordlessly points to his thigh, until her cheek rests on it.

very cute, very pouty. pretty, bright green eyes, shiny in subspace or tears — both are equally attractive to ash, who pets her hair, tugging out the scrunchy and sliding it on his wrist. he has a fascination with blonde hair, it being the first thing he ever noticed about greer — he slides his hand through her silky strands, rubbing threads against his thumb with an exhale of contentedness. once he thinks gwen has suffered in the quiet long enough, he reaches a hand to the side of the chair and picks out a square box, holding it out for gwen to take. )

I got you something. Think of it as a birthday present, for me.

( he waits for her reaction. inside she'll find: one beginner sized butt plug, with daddy's favorite toy printed on the back. )

[internship]

[ Gwen’s felt like she has to be her best self, this holiday season, and probably hasn’t measured up. Not with Greer, not with Embry— not with Ash or Peter, either. In the absence of concrete tasks (in the absence of school and family, marking a familiar milestone in a strange place) she’s floundered, a little.

It helps, talking to Ash about it. It helps having a set of instructions (pleated skirt short enough he can see her ass when she’s on all fours, white panties she wore under her Halloween costume, leaving the door open to the hall instead of closing it when she enters his room). There’s always a moment at the beginning where she thinks she’ll be too embarrassed to follow through, and then—

All it takes is seeing Ash’s face, the wide spread of his legs once she sinks to the floor to drop in, this time. Her breath is deep and even, as Ash strokes through her hair; Gwen rubs her cheek against the rough grain of his jeans, feels the hard warmth of his thigh beneath. Smells him, masculine and clean.

She lifts her head enough to take and open the box, and heat prickles across her cheeks and chest as she reads the words. Toy, degrading and humiliating and just right, squeezing her thighs together where she’s knelt on the floor. ]

Thank you, Daddy. [ Not quite stammered, though her lashes are low against her cheeks as she takes the plug out of the box, feeling the weight of it in her hand. Light and slim, all things considered, but— Gwen huffs a soft breath, looking up at him again before biting her lip. ] It’s a little embarrassing, but I don’t know how to do this.

🎁 delivery (dated 12/25).

[begot]

[ On Christmas morning, a large box sits outside of Gwen's door, wrapped neatly in shiny gold paper. Peeling it away reveals:

— a light blue leather handbag,
— a white satin headband, and
— a white gold watch.

Pressed between the gifts is a simple piece of off-white card stock, upon which has been written: ]

To the little sister I never had,

Sometimes I think we must know each other in another universe.
Whether or not that's true, I'm lucky to know you in this one.

Merry Christmas,
Amy

✉️ text — un: silco.

[powerhungry]

I won't be at the club this weekend. Hawk will mind things while I'm away. You're welcome to still come in, if you wish. Shauna or Dom may come by the office; please direct them to my phone. Otherwise, if at all possible, I would prefer that nobody else be made aware that I'm not available.

[internship]

Sure thing.

Is it anything I can help with? Or just taking the weekend off?

text; un: koby

[kobes]

[sliiiiiding into her dms~]

Hi, Gwen. I hope this isn't invasive, but I wanted to gather your opinion on Doctor House's recent network post.

I noted we both engaged with it, and I value your input greatly, so I thought I'd ask.

[internship]

Hi, Koby. Did you know him before? He seems

[ what’s the nicest way to put this ]

colorful.

I also don’t really love that he’s talking about puppies in 9 months. Do you think there’ll be puppies in 9 months?

@koby | post angelusgate

[kobes]

Are you all right, Gwen?
There was a lot going on, but I wanted to at least check and see.

[internship]

Hey, Koby.

I should be asking you that, I think. Are you okay?

✉️ delivery.

[begot]

[ A few days after things return to (relative) normal, an envelope finds its way to Gwen's door, containing a piece of pale blue card stock upon which has been written, in Amy's neat, looping hand: ]

To my little sister,

I've had some time on my hands, recently — time enough to wonder if I'd have been as brave, in your shoes, at your age, as you were the world turned itself upside down. And the answer I came to is that I'm not sure. I guess you've had a little more experience with the strange and supernatural, based on what you've told me about your New York, but this place is still so wild by comparison. What I mean to say is that I'm grateful to know you, and that I hope you know you can rely on me. Neither of us has to go this alone.

— Amy

— delivery 🥞

[achilles]

( after a rough night, gwen wakes up to room service — a tray full of fluffy pancakes with salted maple butter and a canister of canadian syrup. orange juice, a latte, and a bottle of water balance beside the plate, along with two asprins in a draw string bag. it comes signed with a note: )

Drink all the water. I'll know if you don't.

— Ash.

text @stacy

[internship]

[ Gwen doesn’t really sleep. Or—she drifts, she guesses, on the couch in Silco’s office, where he was kind enough to let her crash after finishing most of a bottle of Fireball by herself.

At some point mid-morning, she makes the walk of shame back to her room to at least brush her teeth and change her clothes, and finds the tray after her shower. She’s famished, despite a twin feeling of nausea, and finishes all of it; and then feels sick again, lying back on her pillow with wet hair and the shades drawn, a hand over her eyes after she sends this text. ]

Thank you, Ash. For the pancakes.

I’m pretty embarrassed. And I think I’m still a little drunk?

action — in the days after gwen's birthday

[blabbering]

[what sudden and loud through yonder window outside of gwen's room thumps? it is to the east, and peter has lost his footing, tripping onto a ledge in the process.

it is also, unfortunately, loud enough to get him discovered, after days of hanging out here in silence. does he have time to move? should he move?

he kind of doesn't know, and his ankle kind of hurts, like he'd rolled it or something? enough for a stream of owowowowow out of his mouth. so, yeah, he doesn't really have a choice; he stays.]

[internship]

[ Gwen’s hangover lasts a good 36 hours. She spends a chunk of that time in Silco’s office, her phone in his desk, trying not to check the aftermath of her drunk post every 5 minutes; she comes and goes from her room to freshen up, and eventually decides she shouldn’t test the limits of Silco’s hospitality.

It’s worse to be alone. There are people she knows would come sit with her, if she only asked, but Gwen’s focused on one who hasn’t said anything since the other night. Who’s been avoiding her, like he does. It hurts, and she sits in that hurt for a while the way she sits in the dizzying hurt of not feeling quite real.

She’s journaling in bed when she hears that thump. She knows that thump—there’s only a millisecond of surprise before she knows exactly what she’ll find when she opens her curtains and unlatches the door to her balcony. ]

Peter. [ Gwen pulls her robe tight around her, the outside air cold. Her eyes are red, puffy, because she’s spent most of the week crying off and on; she bites her lip before it can quiver. ]

How long have you been out here?

@goodsir

[mygoodsir]

Miss Stacy,

I hate to ask, but I don't suppose you would be able to do me a favour and feed the creatures in the museum today?

Humbly yours,
Harry

[internship]

Hi, Harry. 💙 I’d be happy to. Can you remind me of their diets, and how many there are?

P.S. You can call me Gwen!

✉️ text — un: amy.

[begot]

call me crazy, but i think we can say we're on for galentine's?
might be a nice break from the reality tv of it all, even if none of us can control if it'll get broadcast or not.

[internship]

Honestly? I think I’d rather be on TV eating french toast and drinking mimosas than the content they’re really angling for.

@g.colchestermoore

[guinegreer]

I'm sorry. Embry didn't need to speak to you like that.

[internship]

He’s awful sometimes.

Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. I’m just

[ Tired, and hurting for Koby more than herself, since he fielded most of the anger. ]

it’s a lot

@strange

[rehandle]

Gwen Stacy? This is Doctor Stephen Strange.

Dom mentioned you're experimenting with mystery pizza.

[internship]

Hi, Dr. Strange.

Less experimenting and more trying to figure out where it came from and what it’s made of?

A DELIVERY.

[transfuse]

[ Perhaps, not so long after they become liars, become subtly cordoned off like they are the greater plague upon the household than others — a dark, wooden box arrives for Gwen at her door. A debt racked up, yes, but a worthy one ( a Bronze receives a task that keeps them busy, and Gwen is given a gift ). Within, a set of three bath bombs, hand-packed with carefully-chosen elements: aloe and green clover, with fine golden glitter; almond and rosewater, the petals packed within to ensure they hydrate slowly upon their release; and the third the most complex: white orchid, vanilla, bergamot and Earl Grey packed into a teacup with a saucer. For the whimsy.

With it, stationary in a neutral-toned green and golden script reads: Indulging in a bath oft raises my spirits. I hope it does the same to yours.. ]

text — @ethan

[wolven]

[ It's late. Around the time of evening when people are turning in for the night. Silvers and Golds, long gone; maybe an hour that's more appropriate for mandatory Bronzes to finally say when: ]

Think this would be yours.

[ No introduction. Attached: a picture of a knit scarf, rescued and draped over an unfamiliar chair. ]

[internship]

[ Gwen’s hit that point of overwhelm where she doesn’t want to look at her phone or answer any more questions, if she can help it—except she still has to keep on top of Voyeur requests, and accept any and all work from Gold, so turning her phone off isn’t actually an option. ]

Oh! Thanks. I thought I lost it.

[ During the hour she did abscond out onto the grounds and the edge of the woods, earlier in the evening, to have an undignified cry on a rotting log. Cameras are everywhere and always on, so maybe the answer to this is simple, if still unsettling: ]

How’d you know it’s mine?