#it is now a new year and the red envelope duty has come around once again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

collidescopeeyes · 13 days

Text

Time is Roulette Whee: Swain WIP Pt3

“I'm not allowed to make deals with you anymore,” you tell the raven sternly on your next outing. “Also, that was very rude. It's not like dying is new to me, but some warning would have been nice. Not that I think you can talk, per se. I mean, you have those creepy whispers, but I don't know the demonic language. I can probably guess what you're trying to get at, though, and no. I'm not letting you rip my head open for juicy tidbits, and also, I'm not making any bargains to free you from Swain's control. Anything you know he knows anyway, and he's less likely to fuck me over than a literal demon. Especially one that very rudely let's me get my throat shrapneled from the inside.”

The raven caws from your shoulder. “Yeah, that's what I thought,” you grouch.

—

You don't do much over the next month, honestly. Once every few days or so, a raven arrives with an envelope clutched it's beak, and inside is a time you're to arrive at Swain's office, wrangle Raum under control, and chat. He seems to like talking to you, or at least you assume that's why he keeps doing it. You do occasionally feel like you're on the business end of a reconnaissance mission, but you can't imagine knowing your opinion on yordles somehow gives Noxus an edge on their many conquests. No, at this point you figure that Swain just has an intense demeanor that makes him seem like he's always doing something important, even when he's just asking you how your days been, or how you're settling in, or your thoughts on the book you were reading. That last one might be a reminder that you're under constant surveillance, actually, but it's not like you particularly care. Spending years in a nightmarish hellscape completely isolated save for the inhuman monsters trying to kill you kind of maxed out your lifetime requirement for alone time. Besides, you're pretty sure the birds can't open doors or unbar windows, and if you really wanted privacy you could always rewind yourself to Piltover or something. Still, you leave your window open for the birds most days.

—

The bird on your windowsill caws to get your attention. You wave it over without looking, focused on your book and your breakfast. Noxus probably would've been higher on your list of leads if you knew their food was so good, honestly. Who knew artisanal bread and cheese could elevate a grilled cheese sandwich so much?

The bird lands on your table, Swain's fancy envelope in beak. You wedge your bookmark in place and take it with your clean hand, breaking the crimson red seal and fishing the card out one handed. “Three pm,” you read aloud, tossing the card back on the table. “Standard Raum wrangling duty, it seems.”

The bird croaks at you. You shrug. “I don't make the rules.” You rip off a piece of crust to feed to it, then frown. “Come to think of it, how do you work, anyway? Does Swain see everything you see, or do you just report the important stuff to him?” You frown. “That would be awkward. He is technically my boss. That being said, respect for authority was never my strong suit.” You consider the bird a moment, then turn back to your meal. “Ah, whatever. He has like a hundred of you running around. I'm sure he's not paying attention to me telling you about embarrassing things I did in primary school. Hell, maybe it'll convince him to stop having you follow me around.”

—

“I can hear everything you say, and no, the inanity of your conversation is not going to convince me to leave a mage of your caliber unchecked,” he says by way of introduction that afternoon.

You blink, shutting the door behind you. “I’m not a mage.”

He raises a brow. “Oh? How does one traverse the Void without magic, then?”

You shrug as you seat yourself across from him. He changed the chair out shortly after your first visit–it’s nicer now, with actual padding. You wonder if that's for your benefit, or if someone got the other one broken over their head. “It's a secret. Hand,” you wiggle your fingers at where his left arm lies hidden inside his imposing military coat.

“Would you tell me in exchange for a recommendation to a cake shop?” He asks, placing his red-lit palm in yours. His tone is dry, but there's an edge of sincerety there that makes you think he's not entirely joking. “They make a lovely lemon meringue.”

You click your tongue. “Sorry, no dice. Besides, I'm sure you can figure it out from the tidbit your birdie already got out of me.”

“I understand it was a Voidspawn that took you from your world, and I take it your powers are a result of harnessing whatever you found there,” he says offhandedly. “What I don't understand is how you came to be here.”

You glance up at him. He has that look again, the one that makes you feel vaguely like a butterfly pinned to a board, like he wants to peel you open and see what's inside. “If I knew that, I probably wouldn't still be here.”

“Hm. I hope you know I won't be opening any Void Rifts on your behalf,” he says casually. “Far too much cleanup.”

“If you can find me a trajectory through a hellish nightmare void that defies time, space and euclidean geometry, I will personally slaughter every Voidspawn from here to the nearest Shuriman Rift,” you say cheerfully.

He raises a brow. “Not overselling yourself, I hope?”

You shrug. “I don't die. Don't strictly need to eat or sleep because of that, either. And believe me, I know how to kill Voidspawn.”

“You also take several hours to revive,” he points out. “Hardly time efficient.”

You shake your head. “Reality is…rigid, here. Inflexible. Not the Void. Those things bring a little bit of nothingness with them. Makes it easy to change things, change me.” You frown at his hand, trying to find your way around your curse. “First time I died after coming here, it was morning by the time I woke up, and I was not happy about it.”

“Hm. How fast would you say, with exposure to Void energy? Minutes?” He peers intently at your expression. His brow hitches. “Seconds?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” you say breezily. “And if you don't mind, I'd rather change the subject, before I say something I shouldn't and end up spitting blood in your face.”

He grimaces. “Very well. What would you like to speak about, then?”

You blink. “Yknow, you're different from what I was expecting.”

He raises a brow. “Oh? And what did you know of me, before you met me?”

You open your mouth, except you have no idea how to answer that question. “I don't think I can fully answer that,” you say slowly.

“Partially, then,” he says.

You frown at him. “Hey, you were following me for weeks before we met, and you don't see me interrogating you about what you know about me, other than that I like lemon meringues.”

He blinks. “I did not know you liked lemon meringues, just sweets. And putting aside what you have willingly divulged to my birds, I know that you're stubborn, intelligent, pragmatic, and more ruthless than you like to pretend you are. You go out of your way to help others, but pain doesn't seem to phase you anymore and without that nothing in this world seems to pose any real threat to you, so the life-threatening risks you take aren't particularly high-stakes for you. You subject yourself to the mundanities of human life your powers could erase the need for–food, water, rest, walking to places you've been or practicing a knife when you could unmake a city. You don't shy away from your powers, so you must not think they pose any threat, but you don't use them as a crutch either–that leads me to believe you mistrust them, perhaps that they'd desert you once you return to your world. Please, correct me if I'm wrong on any of those counts,” he says, spreading his free hand invitingly. You don't. “There. I've told you all I know about you.”

You raise a brow at him. “I know you didn't tell me all that just to hear about yourself,” you say dryly, and release his hand. “But if you really must…I know you get kick out of getting under people's skin.”

He smirks. Whatever answer he was looking for, that was apparently good enough. He's handsome when he smiles–well, he's handsome all the time, but in the same way a classical statue is, a cold and untouchable sort of beauty. When he smiles, that wicked little twist on his lips, it makes him look human. Not quite approachable, but at least like someone that lives on the same plane of existence as you. “I can neither confirm nor deny. You may restore the walls of Bitharix tomorrow at your convenience. That will be all.”

“Yes, sir,” you say with a mock salute, rising from your seat as he returns to his work.

“The shop is called Halcyon, and it's near the war memorials,” he says as you turn to leave. You look back to him, taken aback.

“Are you just telling me that because I wasn't expecting you to, and you like throwing me off?” You ask skeptically, though there's mirth in your voice.

“I decided I should reward you for your rare approximation of respect,” he drawls.

“If I'd known I got a reward for being a good girl I'd have done it sooner, sir,” You say teasingly, because spending years in the Void talking to yourself just to stay sane has really done nothing good for your already tenuous brain-mouth connection. Swain looks up at you, brow raised, and the satisfaction you derive from his taken aback expression is almost enough to cancel out the fact that you just hit on your boss.

…Your boss, Jericho Swain, Grand General of Noxus, who you have to look in the eye in a scant few days. Who, judging by the smirk curling on the edge of his lips, has no doubt cottoned on from your deer in headlights that you weren't just fucking with him, and you've completely lost why opportunity to play that off as a joke.

Welp. He might think you don't use your powers as a crutch, but you've never left somewhere so quickly in your life. You make your escape before he has the chance to say anything.

—

He doesn't call on you for a few days after, and you almost, almost put the incident out of your mind. You've had more embarrassing fuck-ups, you're sure, and honestly everything you've been through kind of puts social blunders into perspective on an odd way. You decide not to worry about it.

—

“What is that?” Swain asks, squinting at the paper bag you've deposited on his desk.

“A lemon meringue?” You say, plopping into your seat and wiggling your fingers at him.

“Why is it here?” He says. He doesn't even look at you when he puts his hand in yours, busy opening the packet to peer inside, as if you've somehow put a bomb in a clearly labeled baked goods bag.

You blink at him. “It's for you?” He gives you a blank look. “I figured you liked them, since you didn't know I did and you brought them up anyway. If you don't want it I'll take it. You were right, though, they're amazing.”

“Hm. No, I'll take it. My thanks,” he says. There's a strange look in his eye when he regards you. “Is there something you want?”

You consider him. “People don't often just do nice things for you without wanting something in return, do they?”

“Implying you don't want something from me?” He asks.

You pointedly do not think about your last encounter. “Well, sure, but you know what I want.”

“Do I?” He says, his voice low and considering. His palm is warm in yours. You're so fucking made.

You resist the urge to squirm. You've spent years in the Void, whatever this is can't be worse. “Look, if this is about what I said last time–”

“It's not,” he says easily, completely derailing what was about to be a very awkward apology about your lack of professionalism. Not that you'd ever had much of that. Before you can ask what the fuck that means, he hands you a sheet of paper. “In any case, your services are required in Ionia. We will be departing tomorrow morning. The details are there.”

You scan the piece of paper, which is part mission detail and part itinerary. “We?” You ask, flipping the page over. “Wait, you got the Leviathan back? Didn't Gangplank steal that?”

He grimaces. “Yes. Captain Fortune returned it after she deposed her predecessor, as a gesture of peace towards Noxus.”

You glance up at him. “Did it work?”

A smirk pulls at his lips. “For now. Bilgewater is more useful to me as it is now. Besides, bringing that mis-managed shantytown to heel would be far more effort than it's worth.”

“Would be useful to have serpent callers on staff, though,” you point out idly. “If there's one thing I'm not going to miss about this world, it's the sea monsters.”

“A fair point,” he says thoughtfully. “Though I must say that relying on the favor of a god sits ill with me.”

You shrug. “Can't say I know much about Nagakaborous, but gods can be brought to heel like anything else. Look at Aurelion Sol.”

He gives you a sharp look. “The celestial dragon? What about it?”

You blink. “Oh. I suppose that would predate your demon. The Aspects enslaved it using a magic crown and bent it to the will of the Ancient Shuriman’s, creating the god warriors which ultimately led to the civilizations downfall. As far as I know he's still floating around Targon doing their bidding. When I tracked him down, he refused to help without the crown being removed, and putting aside how long I'd be comatose for if I tried to undo however many thousands of years, I'm pretty sure he intends to blow up the planet if he gets free.”

There's a predatory gleam in his eye. “I see. What else do you know, about the Aspects?”

You raise a brow. “If you're expecting me to sit here and lay out the secret history of Runeterra, you're at least buying me dinner.” Shit. Wait. You've done it again.

He laughs, rich and dark. He turns his hand in yours, his clawed fingertips brushing over the inside of your wrist, where your pulse is currently thundering through your veins. “I can give you so much more than that, dear girl. Tell me, what is it you're craving today?”

…You're so fucked, and what's worse, he knows it.

—

Once you scraped your brain into your head, the first thing that came to mind to request for dinner that didn't involve clothes coming off was steak. You spend an hour comparing your understandings of the Aspects, Mount Targons general political landscape and possible resources, and you go into a impassioned aside about how the cosmic dragon that created the stars in your sky was a pretentious prick. He does, in fact, get you dinner–which is to say, the tower has its own kitchen staff, and he invites you to dine with him. He's actually very cordial–for all that talking to him sort of feels like you're somehow being played, he also holds open the door and pulls out your chair. You notice he only uses his demonic arm in front of you–in the hall, he keeps it tucked away in his coat when you're walking, but as soon as the serving staff have filed out of the room he's back to normal.

“How many people know about Raum?” You ask, cutting into your food. It is, of course, excellent.

“Only the Trifarix, Katarina Du Couteau, and you,” he says. “More convenient to have our enemies underestimate me as a cripple, and those who witness my powers firsthand don't tend to survive the experience.”

You glance at him. “Is it really that bad, that you lost an arm?” He raises a brow at you, and you wave a hand. “Not as in–look, I've been dismembered before and it fucking sucks, but what I mean is…I don't think having two arms is what makes you dangerous.”

For a moment a bittersweet smile pulls at his lip. “Things were different under Darkwill. Martial strength was all that Noxus valued, and that is one of the many reasons it was rotting from the inside. It's a mentality some still share, inside Noxus and out.”

You snort. “Like it matters how good someone is in a fistfight when they have a fortress and an army?”

“Some would describe that as cowardice,” he points out mildly.

“I'd call it pragmatism,” you retort. “Do you frequently say the opposite of what you mean just to see if people will agree with you?”

He smirks. “No. But I don't particularly care for most people's opinions.” Implying he cares about yours? “Wine?” He offers.

(The wine is, of course, as excellent as the food.)

—

“When you said morning, you did not say pre-sunrise,” you grouch, huddling under your new coat. The wind is bitingly cold in the harbor; Swain seemed unbothered by it, though it sends his coat flaring dramatically around him. The upper deck has a balcony that leads directly to his quarters, and he cuts an imperious figure overseeing the Leviathan's launch.

“Not a morning person, I take it?” He drawls, as if he doesn't know damn well from his birds.

“There are three things that wake me up in a good mood–sex, food, and coffee, in that order,” you say archly. “And I don't imagine you have an eggs benedict and a vanilla latte under that coat.”

He raises a brow. “Unfortunately, no.”

Hm. That's a surprisingly lukewarm response. You pause, finally taking a good look at him. “You look tired,” you say, noting the shadows under his eyes. Exhausted would probably be the better term.

“Yes,” he agrees. “There was much to do before we left, and I hadn't planned on our talk being quite so engaging.”

You hold out your hand and wiggle your fingers at him. He glances at you curiously, but places his gloved hand in yours. You rewind him back to rested, and his brows hitch. “Convenient,” he notes.

“I'm not doing that on the regular, and I don't care how efficient you'd be if you didn't need to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, releasing his hand. “Even without the physiological side effects, there are deep-seated psychological ramifications to not sleeping you really do not want to mess with.”

“I'll take your word for it,” he says. “I appreciate the assistance, but the reason I called you here is because there's been a slight change of plans. You'll be serving as my primary bodyguard for the duration of this trip, not just part of my entourage.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you need a bodyguard?”

“No, but the Ionians’ don't know that, and I'd prefer it to stay that way,” he allows. “That does however mean that I expect you to stay by my side, unless I explicitly order otherwise.”

You nod. Internally, your head is in your hands. You're sure that being next to him all day will have only positive effects on whatever bizarre game of cat and mouse you're in with the man. Which, now that you think of it, you're not entirely sure if he's trying to seduce you, use you for the good of Noxus, or just enjoys fucking with you. Probably all of them, to some extent or another.

He turns to look at you, considering. Then he looks back over the still-grey horizon. “Your quarters are there. I suppose I won't take issue if you chose to return to bed. We are still in Noxian waters, after all.”

And little acts of kindness like that are doing nothing to help you make up your mind.

#league of legends x reader #league x reader #reader fic #leauge of legends #x reader #f!reader #reader #my fics: tiarw #swain lol #swain x reader #WIPs

7 notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 3 years

Note

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom Wonder Woman #Bio!mom Diana prince #bio!dad Bruce Wayne #Bio!dad Batman #idk what this is #but it happened #and it’s something

1K notes · View notes

lovehotelreservation · 3 years

Text

Praise Be

Summary: With The Firmament’s imminent debut on top of so much more, all Aymeric wanted to do was to enjoy and indulge this night with you, the mother of his dearest son.

Or rather, as you had come to cheekily reveal.

The mother of his dearest children.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Plus-Size F!Reader/Aymeric

Sequel to “Belle of the Ball”

YEEEEHAW TIME TO CAP OFF THIS ROUND OF COMMISSIONS WITH MY FAVORITE DRINK OF CHOICE: ISHGARDIAN MILKIES 💦💦

THANK YOU AGAIN TO MY LOVELY COMMISSIONER AND I HOPE YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE HAVE ENJOYED READING ALL THE FICS FROM TODAY!!!

UNTIL NEXT TIME~!!!

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

It was a night to indulge.

The fireplace crackled with flickering red and orange flames, filling the lounge room of Borel Manor with much needed heat to deal with Ishgard’s neverending winter.

Though, even without the kindled fire, there was enough warmth within Aymeric’s chest to keep him immune to the cold for days to come.

Especially when tonight would be dedicated to just him and you, his most beloved wife.

It was a much needed break.

As the current Speaker of the House of Lords, his work was endless. Though he was happy to serve his revered home, there was only so much delegation and meetings that a single soul could bear to take, especially with The Firmament having reached completion and with its full public unveiling on the horizon.

While he was thankful for the work that Francel had done under his watch, as Ishgard’s main representatives, he was due to traverse across Eorzea and formally invite leaders and ambassadors for the official debut of the newly developed residential area.

And so his paperwork continued to pile up while his eyebrows furrowed all the more.

Though, as much laborious work that he had been doing, surely nothing could even come close to what you had to bear the burden of.

Your duty as the Warrior of Light carried a responsibility that made his duties and obligations look like the schoolwork of a mere child.

However, unless absolutely crucial, the brisk rate of your work as Eorzea’s savior had thankfully slowed in the midst of the current peaceful lull that the entirety of the realm was enjoying.

For in the year since past, the two of you had welcomed your most darling blessing of all.

With eyes and hair that mirrored his own yet with a nose and smile that were unmistakably yours, it had been a year since the arrival of your son, Nicolas, and Aymeric couldn’t have been more in love with you as you granted him the gift of fatherhood that he had wanted so dearly.

The few precious days that granted leave of his duties to be with you and your newborn were something he constantly looked back to fondly. Nestled by your side, your head on his shoulder while he cradled Nicolas with absolute loving care, only ever wanting to relinquish hold of your son over to you so he could attend to any of your needs.

It was heaven.

And while duty eventually called for his return to his office, nothing soothed his soul more than returning home to be greeted by you, a kiss shared between you both before the soft babbles of Nicolas would catch his ears and have him immediately scooping his beloved son into his arms.

Earlier today was no different.

Though, upon returning home from the Congregation of Our Knights Most Holy, Aymeric was greeted by the dutiful servant of Borel Manor, who noted that you had already taken off to the chirurgeon for your monthly check-up.

He did not think too much about this after thanking the servant for the update while he headed over to Nicolas’s nursery to greet and spend time with his son.

After all, he was already aware of your appointment, your absence of providing him enough time to prepare for tonight’s proceedings.

And now, after having tucked Nicolas in for bed, there was a fond look in Aymeric’s deep ocean blue eyes while he continued to inspect the wine bottle currently in his hands as he stood in the center of his lounge room.

The finest bottle from Wineport, a pair of gorgeously ornate wine glasses paired with a delectable display of chocolates on a table, the crackling fireplace, along with petals and blossoms of your favorite flowers decorated all throughout the lounge room.

His attention turned towards the sofa, noting its spaciousness just moments before his lips curled into a small but utterly pleased grin.

Tonight would be one to truly indulge.

There was simply one missing vital component to complete the scene, one that eventually made itself known with the knock on the door that ignited a jolt of anticipation through him.

“I was wondering why you weren’t snoozing away in bed already.”

The familiar chime of your voice had him turning immediately, all while a light chuckle escaped his lips as he faced you, “To slumber without a kiss from your lips, my love? How can I even think of committing such a sin?”

While his tone was light and humored, his eyes immediately took in your current attire--a gorgeous winter set that hugged your thick curves perfectly.

He had to assess how quickly it would take for him to strip you down, after all.

You returned his laughter with your own, the sound so sweet and lovely to his ears. “Well now, has someone started worshipping Menphina all of a sudden?”

“I think Halone herself knows that my devotion to her guidance cannot match my love to you,” Aymeric responded, his tone half-teasing yet fully sincere.

Gesturing over to the spread of chocolates and the pair of wine glasses, he proceeded to offer his hand towards you as you approached him, a smile forming on his lips. “Now then, shall we spend this evening with a deserved respite, dearest?”

Your eyes grew wide for a moment as his fingers threaded with yours, just before they softened, an eager smile quickly spreading across your mouth, an excited mirth noticeable in your voice as you then spoke, “Ahh, I’m afraid I will have to refrain from a glass for a while, Aymeric.”

“‘A while?’” He repeated with confusion only for his dark blue eyes to grow wide.

Your visit to the chirurgeon.

His jaw went slack as the realization dawned on him. “Wait...could you mean--?”

You rested a hand upon your stomach as you joyously affirmed, “Our son is only a year old and he’s already going to be an older brother. They’re twins, Aymeric! We’re having twins!”

Your husband’s breath caught in his throat.

Taking in each word you spoke, your exhilarated energy as you stood before him.

It was then that he proceeded to set the wine bottle down onto the floor.

For it was the last thing he wanted to be mindful of while his quickly deteriorating composure still remained intact.

Because as he proceeded to ensnare your body into his arms while his lips hungrily sought out yours, he was not going to hold back whatsoever.

The wine was forgotten for he was going to get drunk off of you instead.

While the pop of a wine bottle cork was ever satisfying to the ears, Aymeric much preferred the sound of your moans as his hands fondled your skin as he stripped you down upon the sofa.

The taste of Wineport’s finest had absolutely nothing to the sweet creamy mouthfuls of your milk as he feasted on your supple breasts, his lips suckling reverently all his fingers grazed over your thick curves, delving between your plump thighs to stroke over and plunge into your sopping core.

He had come far from the blossoming days of your relationship when merely brushing hands with you would render him weak to his knees.

Now, your husband--the noble and poised Aymeric the Blue--had become like that of an insatiable disciple to you, doing all he could to satisfy your pleasure, all while eager and galvanized to fuck you senseless.

As he did once he had rid himself of his own clothes, wasting little time to plunge the full and long length of his cock inside your slick heat, his mouth claiming yours once again as his arms enveloped around you lovingly, savoring the feel of your gorgeously plush body against his naked skin.

While mindful to not exert too much pressure upon your frontside, keeping some distance as he hovered above your form, his hips remained near conjoined with yours by the striking, brisk snap of his thrusts, his dick plunging into you with shameless desire.

Amidst your moans, you gazed up at your husband with a teasing twinkle in your eye. “I take it that you’re excited by the news.”

“I’m already looking forward to creating even more with you, my love,” he groaned, lowering his head to ghost his lips over your breasts, kissing and suckling on your nipples yet again. Ever far from the manners that were instilled into him, he continued, voice muffled and mouth happily full. “By the Fury, how you continue to bless me so.”

His thrusts quickened.

Your back arched.

A kiss shared between you both.

The flood of his seed was soon pumped into you with needy pounding thrusts was hot, inviting, with much more to come along the way as Aymeric lifted himself off of you to instead have you ride his lap instead, your hearts alight for each other.

It was a night to indulge, surely.

But it was a night to celebrate from dusk to dawn and beyond.

#aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #wol x npc #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

58 notes · View notes

rainbows-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Our Nightmare (Chapter 13)

Summary: Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like living with The Pumpkin King.

A sequel to Two Dearest Friends, where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as they start to spend their deaths together.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel

–

Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.

–

It is early in the morning when the crowing of a skeletal rooster makes it into Jack’s bedroom. The Pumpkin King throws his pillow over his skull in an attempt to deafen the noise. A few seconds pass before a bright light begins to seep into the room, as the pumpkin sun rises slowly in the sky outside. The skeleton groans when it hits his eye sockets. He mentally swears at himself for forgetting to close the curtains last night, and aggravatingly turns on his other side to avoid the window. His eyes snap open when he finds a face only a few inches away from his own.

Sally…

His frame freezes at the sight, finding himself in some sort of trance. His gaze is locked on her closed eyes, her slightly parted lips, and her breathing figure moving and falling by the second. It doesn’t take long before a smile grows on his stitched lips. He remembers all about last night. His proposal to move his girlfriend into his room...rightfully sharing a bed together as soon as they could. He remembers sleeping so peacefully throughout the night. He carefully brings a hand forward and moves the fallen strands of hair from her face. This notion catches her attention and her eyes slowly flutter open.

“Good morning, my dear.” He greets softly, cradling her face in one of his large hands. She looks surprised before relaxing her shoulders.

“Good morning…”

The air around them is entirely peaceful. She recalls feeling like this on her first morning in the Skellington Manor. Except now she has the pleasure of waking up right next to her skeleton man. He leans towards her and leaves a kiss on her lips, brushing her hair to the side before sitting up in bed. She follows his movements and lets out a small yawn. He notices this and tilts his skull.

"You can sleep in if you'd like."

She shakes her head. She already feels well-rested. "No, it's alright."

She leaves a kiss on his cheek before they hear something stirring in the room. Zero shakes his head from his doggy bed before peering around the bedroom. He levitates from the surface and meets with the eyes of his master and Sally. The ghost dog joins them and nuzzles both of their sides excitedly.

Jack chuckles as he pats his small head. "Good morning to you, Zero!"

Some more movement comes from the floor before a small, black figure jumps onto the edge of the bed. Ophelia tiredly blinks her yellow eyes at the figures, running along the blankets to meet with her owner. Sally coos when the feline jumps into her lap and nestles into her arm. What a wonderful way to start the morning!

"Good morning, Ophelia.."

The Pumpkin King takes this time to leave the bed and approach the windows, fully moving the curtains so the sun completely envelops the room. He moves to his dresser and searches around in his drawers for his clothes. The other figures watch him intently from the bed. Sally rubs her eyes as she adjusts to the light in the room.

"Did you sleep well, dearest?" The skeleton asks, pulling her from her thoughts.

She nods. "Just terrible!"

"I'm glad to hear it. I wanted our first night together to be perfectly unpleasant!"

He moves behind the screen to start dressing himself. He hears his beloved leave the bed after a few minutes and passes right through the door. The pitter-patters of her cat follow behind, and he can hear Zero's tag chiming down the stairs. It's only when he's fully dressed when the familiar sound of sizzling comes from the kitchen. She must be making breakfast already!

He grins to himself, elated with everything so far. This was the right decision to make after all this time. He'll have to spend the rest of the morning moving her things from her room and properly making his space into theirs . He’s already cleared plenty of time in his schedule to do it. He's more than excited by the time he rushes down the stairs to meet with Sally, kissing her neck once or twice while she stands over the stove cooking the food.

The sound of her giggles brings a new delight to his bones.

. . .

The nights go on, as do the mornings. They've moved past what happened on Halloween night. In fact, the subject never comes up again as the two get more comfortable. Jack's favorite part, albeit self-indulgent, are the mornings he spends waking up next to her . He finds he rises even earlier than usual just to watch her form next to his - sleeping so peacefully, auburn hair messily strewn over her face and the pillows, looking like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his death. He listens to her small breaths in this time until she eventually wakes, and then he greets her with a kiss.

As the weeks pass, the skeleton and ragdoll start noticing each other's habits. While she sleeps, he finds she makes the tiniest of snores on some nights, almost virtually unnoticeable if it hadn't been for his keen sense of hearing. She will, in return, find the King overworking himself most nights, cooping himself up in his study while he reads or experiments. She has to drag him to bed every time this happens, sweetly reminding him to get his rest and that it's time to go to bed together.

He never resists. He feels like he's in some sort of Heaven as his angel leads him temptingly to their bedroom with a tight pull on his wrist. He sighs in bliss every time it happens. Things truly couldn't be better.

----

It is a quiet afternoon when Sally Finklestein sweeps around the entrance of her sewing shop. It is the usual time she takes a break and temporarily closes her business until she returns. She normally spends this time either in the plaza or the Town Hall, where she meets with Jack during his own lunch break. The two usually eat together and catch up at this time, before having to return to their responsibilities for the rest of the day.

She plans to meet with him and talk over a modest meal she packed for both of them this morning. She returns her broom inside and locks the front door of the shop with a hum. She eagerly turns on her heel and is about to begin her way until she is interrupted by the sound of laughter. It isn't a normal, childish one - rather, a collection of shrieks that sound from across the street. It is accompanied by the sound of running feet. She assumes it's from the Town children playing together as they usually do around this time, and continues on her way like normal.

The laughter continues until she stumbles upon the source of the noise. The sight makes her stop completely in her tracks. It is coming from three children she's never seen in Town before...she marvels at their bright clothing. They look exactly like the trick-or-treaters she’s seen in the human world - dressed in costume from head-to-toe. There is one young girl and two little boys - the girl is dressed as a purple witch, with a tall hat, stringy black hair, and a long green mask. One of the boys seems to be a skeleton, who has stubby green hair, a round face, and only three pointy fingers and toes on his hands and feet. He wears a circular mask sporting a wide, toothy grin. The last boy looks to be a devil, with his hair gelled upwards to represent small horns, and a long red mask situated over his tall face, as a pointy tail flickers from his pants.

The three are currently standing in front of other children, except these are ones Sally recognizes from Town. There is the mummy boy - a child wrapped entirely in paper whom she knows loves to help the Mayor with his duties, a small winged demon with large black wings, and the corpse couple’s kid, Ethan. There is a look of terror on their faces as the trick-or-treaters stand before them, attempting to hide their bags behind their small figures. She notices they’re filled with many colorful wrappers, which she assumes must be candy.

The small witch steps forward, batting her broom on the ground in warning. “Give it to us! We know you’re hiding it!”

Ethan narrows his stitched eyes. He is among the few residents that happen to be blind. “Who says we have to give it to you!? Aren’t you supposed to EARN your own candy?”

“Push off!” The devil warns as he steps forward. “You owe us for helping you last Halloween! Give us the candy!”

“HELP? You got all of us in trouble for that trick you played last year!” The mummy boy joins in. “We don’t want anything to do with you bullies!”

“ ‘Bullies..’ ?” The skeleton kid snickers from behind.

The trick-or-treaters exchange a glance. Despite their masks concealing most of their faces, it is clear that there is mischief in their gaze. The other children loudly gulp and begin to back away as the taller figures step forward threateningly. It is at this point Sally realizes something is about to go badly. The three suddenly take the masks off of their faces, revealing almost identical expressions underneath.

“It seems like we have to remind you of who we exactly are ..!” The girl giggles menacingly.

The other figures nod in agreement before joining her side. This is when they completely advance on the Halloween Town children, cornering them until they have no more space to go. Then they arrange themselves in a line, with the devil coming first while the witch and skeleton follow from behind. They momentarily hold the masks over their faces before dramatically lowering them.

“Lock!” “Shock!” “Barrel!”

The last member licks the lollipop in his hand greedily, eying the bags they are currently concealing from them. He nudges his fellow trick-or-treaters. “Say, I think I know where they’re keeping their candy..!”

“Oh? Where is it, Barrel?” Shock plays along.

“Hey! I think I see them, too!” Lock comes forward and points a finger behind them, making the small kids quiver in fear. “You’re hiding it behind your backs! That’s the oldest trick in the book! Our book!”

“P...please…” The demon’s red eyes start to moisten with tears. “This is all we have..! Our parents would get mad if-”

“ Psh ! This is why we don’t have any parents! We work for the boogeyman, and he doesn’t have any of those lame rules..!” She snorts at them. Barrel nods in agreement.

“We take our job in pride...and the boss wants us to get him some extra candy! Which means you will have to give it to us. Don’t make us ask twice.”

Ethan sobs as they attempt to grab the bags from their hands. “ Stop !”

“Or what ?” Lock pushes him. His large figure falls onto the floor harshly. “Are you gonna tattle on us?”

The other two cohorts shake their heads in disappointment. “You’d be really stupid to try that.”

Before they attempt to push them down any further, a feminine yell interrupts them. The kids jump in alarm as a tall woman approaches them with a displeased look on her face.

“You stop picking on those kids right now !”

Lock, Shock, and Barrel freeze in their spots. The bags fall from their small hands as they turn around and find Sally Finklestein standing a few feet away from them. She has her hands clenched to her sides and her eyes firmly narrowed - completely upset at the scene she has just witnessed. In this silence, the mummy boy helps Ethan back to his feet and the hastily three collect their candy. Before the trick-or-treaters can do anything, they suddenly flee on the spot, running as far and quickly as they can. Shock lets out a frustrated groan at the sight before turning sharply to the older woman, pointing an accusing finger in her direction.

“Hey! What’s your problem, lady!?”

“Why are you treating those kids like that?” Sally implores with a frown. “You can’t bully them out of their candy! That is just...despicable!”

The three look at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. ‘Despicable ..?’ They guffaw right there on the floor, slamming their hands on their stomach amusingly. The ragdoll watches them with a confused look. Then she gets upset and steps even closer, wanting these mischievous children to understand how unacceptable their actions are. She points in the direction the others left in.

“I want you to go to them and apologize, right now!”

“Who do you think you are? Our mom?” The devil inquires sarcastically.

Shock laughs right with him while Barrel tilts his head at her tall figure. He suddenly tugs on his cohort’s sleeve and leans forward to whisper something. The surprised look on Lock’s face stops their laughter and he whispers another thing to Shock. The smile leaves her lips as she takes a small step forward.

“Wait..” She looks her up-and-down. “Do we know you ?”

“ Know me..?” Sally repeats quietly. She thinks if she has ever seen these kids before in her life. Then something starts to click...a past memory she has pushed aside for a long time. It is the same ordeal Jack apologized for when they first properly talked together - how she got kidnapped by that wretched Bug King, years ago...it is almost terrifying to remember.

She was newly-created at the time, by the hands of the town’s mad scientist, Dr. Finklestein. She was only alive for a few days before Halloween Town was completely overrun by horrible bugs. She got separated from her creator at the time, and was suddenly stuffed into a bag by the hands of three small children. She remembered the way they giggled when they stuffed her in the bathtub, speaking to her as if she were Jack Skellington. Her heart sinks remembering how she didn’t even know him, at the time. And the way she reacted when she first saw the Boogeyman...the sheer terror displayed on her face when he insisted on keeping her captive...

“That’s it!” Barrel exclaims. “She’s the one we kidnapped for Oogie! Susan!”

“Not ‘Susan’, you idiot!” Lock smacks him upside the head. “It was….erm...uh….”

“ Sally !” Shock slaps her forehead in realization. The other’s eyes widen before they look back at her, then make small ‘ah’ sounds. They look at each other again before laughing once more, slapping their knees this time. The ragdoll is even more insulted this time, but it is nothing compared to how she feels with their next words:

“Oh, man! Didn’t Jack have to come and save you? How helpless are you? And you think you can boss us around!?” The witch giggles. “I think the Doctor forgot to give you a brain!”

“Hey, what’s that over there?” Barrel abruptly points in a direction.

The others follow his finger and notice a newly-constructed building in this part of Halloween Town. They read the sign plastered outside proudly - “ Sally’s Sewing Shop ”. The pristine paint, the intact windows and doors...it certainly catches their attention. Both Lock and Shock stroke their chins the longer they look at it. Plenty of ideas stir in their mind, wondering just how they can vandalize it and make their work look proud. Sally frowns as she notices the expression on their faces. Panic settles in her leaves. She doesn’t feel right about any part of this situation at all.

“No!” She exclaims firmly. “Whatever you’re thinking of...don’t do it!”

“Is that YOUR sewing shop?” Shock teases. “I don’t remember THAT being there before..”

“How’d you get it?” Lock asks curiously. At her silence, he gives a knowing look at the other two. “Guys, don’t you remember those rumors in Town? That Jack got a girlfriend ?”

“Ew!” Barrel and Shock stick out their tongues in disgust. Then they realize his words and grin devilishly. “I mean, yes... we do !”

“I bet he got you that shop! And I bet how upset he’d be if something happened to it...because some doll wasn’t watching her mouth around Boogie’s Boys!”

Something snaps in her at those words. She doesn’t appreciate how cocky they sound, nor the coy smile that boy has when he says them. She steps forward and clenches her fists tightly. So tight she can feel the seams begin to weaken….her eyes widen as she comes even closer and the three take a step back. They notice her stiff posture and the smile is promptly wiped off their faces. In a dark tone, Sally Finklestein warns them:

“You will NOT be going anywhere NEAR my shop! And if you do, Jack will bring the WORST punishment on you three that you have ever SEEN! Do I make myself clear!?”

They don’t appreciate being talked to like this. But they think twice of it, and decide it’s not worth the trouble right now. They * can * get in serious hot water with Jack whenever he is angry - they’ve learned that lesson plenty in the past. And knowing this is his girlfriend...that would make things worse! They decide to drop it for now, only out of caution, and exchange a defeated nod with each other. They stick their tongues out at her before scurrying off in a random direction, glancing back only once to snicker wickedly. She is left standing there, fuming, as their small figures disappear through a gate. She releases her fists and lets out a sigh, worryingly glancing back at her shop and feeling the anxiety start to raise in her leaves.

‘I should talk with Jack…’

----

Sally is disappointed to learn that the skeleton has to cancel their arrangement that afternoon, as the Mayor is overworking him especially on this day. She shares some understanding, knowing he took the day off with her not too long ago just to spend some time together...he asks her if there’s anything urgent she needs to tell him - and she decides to bite her tongue, for now. She can spill everything about it to him tonight, when they can relax together after dinner, and all of his work is off his shoulders…

Finding she has a free afternoon, she decides to visit the Witches in their shop. They told her she is free to come by anytime, and that they’re interested in getting to know her. This certainly holds true, as the women inform her it’s their own lunch break, and insist on bringing her to a small arrangement with the other women in town. They demand on doing it to make up for the cruelty they all showed her in the past. She’s almost nervous accepting such an invitation, but agrees to it in the end. She would like to make new friends, after all…!

Sally Finklestein is led to a small table in the Residential part of town, shaded by an umbrella, where the Undersea Gal and Corpse Mom are currently sitting at, sipping small cups of tea and eating at plates with sandwiches on them. She is surprised at how welcome she is received, as there is no trouble making room for her the moment they spot her. She brings her own lunch to the table, a small bowl of worm and pea soup, before comfortably sitting beside the witches.

“Sally! We’ve been wanting to see you for some time now.” The Corpse Mom adjusts her glasses with a smile. “We just want to know all about what you’re up to..!”

“Your shop must be getting so many customers. I would visit you myself, if I had any need for clothes.” The fish butts in. “What I’ve heard from everyone else is terrible!”

“Oh, please..” She bats her eyes at their words. “It’s really nothing special. I am busy with all the clothes I’m making, but it’s only to help everyone in town.”

“You won that award on Halloween..! I would say it was rightfully deserved!” Helgamine exclaims, almost too passionately. It’s clear she’s making an effort, at least.

“You made my little boy some new clothes. He goes through them quicker than the vampires getting out of the sun.” The large woman sets down her sandwich. “We are all incredibly thankful for what you do.”

Her ruby lips curve into a smile. This is going all so well..! The five of them start having an incredibly deep conversation, speaking about how things are going in town. She appreciates getting to hear from some of the residents she doesn’t know. They don’t seem all that upset with her presence and even ask plenty of questions to her. She grows more comfortable the longer they speak, and a full hour passes before their lunches are finished, and they are now drinking through their cups and enjoying the afternoon.

“You are such a delight, Sally.” The Undersea Gal compliments her. “We should get together more often..!”

The witches bow their heads and look another way at this suggestion. They agree regardless, and the creation appreciates this gesture. Before further words can be exchanged, the loud sound of a door slamming shut interrupts them. The women snap their heads in the direction, to find an angry shopkeeper disposing of unwanted customers. Sally isn’t surprised when it’s the same trick-or-treaters from before.

Lock, Shock, and Barrel rub their backs in pain as they remove themselves from the floor. They throw their hands angrily up in the air. “Hey! How could you treat your own customers like this? We’re just kids!”

“Yeah - rotten little brats, is what you three are!” He rebuts angrily, returning to his shop. “Come back when you know how to follow the rules!”

The figures flinch as the door slams shut again, even louder this time. The three exchange angry frowns before nodding and reaching into their bag, surfacing rolls of toilet paper and straws. It’s clear to any outsider what is going to happen - they’re going to play a classic ‘trick’ on the unfortunate owner. Sally frowns as she witnesses this, and begins to stand in her chair to stop them. The other women notice and push her back down in her seat, giving her a firm shake of the heads.

“You don’t want to do that, dear.” The mother warns her. “Those three are more than you can handle.”

“I scared them off from my shop earlier.” She crosses her arms angrily. “They threatened to vandalize it, and I made it very clear Jack would punish them for it if they did.”

“You must’ve gotten lucky.” The Undersea Gal rolls her eyes. “They’ll never leave anyone alone before getting either candy, or playing a trick. They’re the worst trick-or-treaters in town, and I don’t mean that as a compliment..!”

The witches stand from their chair, shaking their heads and letting out disappointed ‘tsks’ . “Children..! They just never learn, do they, sister?” Zeldaborne asks. Helgamine agrees as the two leave the table.

Sally and the others watch curiously as they confront the kids. They were in the middle of throwing the paper all over the building and preparing some spit wads. They notice their visitors and resort to name-calling and screams, before the two women flick their wrists and begin to chant a spell. Without any warning, a purple glow is cast on the trick-or-treaters, freezing them mid-air and forcing them to drop everything in their hands. They struggle in their grip and yell harshly at them. Helgamine grins in satisfaction.

“Now, are you three going to scram before we have to turn you into toads again?” She asks. “And this time, we’ll make it last for more than 3 days!”

“No! Don’t do that to us!” Barrel struggles to move his arms. “Not again !”

“Then promise you’ll leave and quit bugging everyone! We don’t want you here, and we don’t know how many times we have to say it..!”

“Not until you learn how to behave!” Zeldaborne adds before turning to one of them. “And Shock, you know how disappointed we are in you..! You could be learning how to be a proper witch instead of all this nonsense!”

The little girl laughs bravely. “From who? You hags? I would never want to!”

They move their fingers and the glow grows only stronger. The kids groan as the grip is tightened. It doesn’t take long before they begin to plead. “Please, stop! We’ll go!” “Yeah! Far away!” “-Back to our treehouse!”

“Good. Off you go, then.”

They release the spell, and the three land on the ground harshly again. They throw sour looks in their direction before grabbing their stuff and running off. It’s clear they’re more afraid this time, as they don’t even bother looking back. The witches clean their hands off before returning to the other women at the table, sitting back down casually and acting as if nothing had happened at all. Sally is in awe at what happened, and smiles in delight at them.

“That really works..?”

“Oh, yes. We’ve had to throw so many spells on them just to stop their shenanigans.” Helgamine huffs. “It’s expensive to keep doing it, and it seems like every week we have to..! I wish they would stay in that treehouse of theirs.”

“Who exactly are they..?” She inquires. “They kidnapped me once, to give to their ‘boss’ . That was when that Bug King took over the town.”

“Right. That debacle.” The Undersea Gal frowns at the memory. “They are trick-or-treaters, obviously, but they’re more of miscreants. Always causing trouble and bringing bad things with them..! None of us want them here.”

“That’s right! They do all of these awful, nasty things for that terrible Oogie Boogie...they are never good news. Don’t believe them if they promise anything to you.” The Corpse Mom shivers in her seat. “They’ll just wreck your stuff and bully your boys just to get free candy!”

“We believe in the name of trick-or-treating, we truly do! But they take their ‘tricks’ to such levels…” Zeldaborne clenches her hands. “No matter how much candy you give them, they’ll keep coming back and demanding more each time!”

The Undersea Gal comes forward and lays a scaly hand on her shoulder. “Don’t ever let them into your shop, Sally, or even around it for Halloween’s sake! They will only cause trouble for you. Believe me. It’s happened to all of us.”

She frowns at all this information. She can believe it. Those words they said to her earlier...none of it was good news. “How come such children behave this way? How could they work for someone so awful? And what you said, Zeldaborne...that girl doesn’t even want to become a witch like you two. How could that be?”

“ -That Oogie Boogie !” They all exclaim, angrily, in unison. She looks around the table in confusion.

“He makes those little ones work for him, and it is just so cruel.” Corpse Mom frowns. “He constantly feeds them candy and junk food all day, and lets them do whatever they want! He’s the reason why they cause so much mischief.”

“They live in a treehouse in the Hinterlands forest. Far from town, but not far enough , in my opinion!” Zeldaborne waves her fist in the air angrily. The other creatures sigh and nod in agreement.

“Oogie Boogie is terrible news. You don’t want to meet him, which is why you should avoid those trick-or-treaters at all costs. It’s best you don’t catch their attention, otherwise the Boogeyman will know about you , too.” Helgamine warns Sally darkly.

She wishes to ask them more about this subject, but the ladies insist on changing topics - to something more... cheerful . She slumps in her seat as they begin to talk about business in town. She joins in the conversation when necessary, but her mind feels... troubled , and overwhelmed with all this information. She can’t get the image of those children out of her mind, and finds that somehow, somewhere , deep down...she feels a little sad for them.

----

The rest of the day is spent cautiously in her shop. She finds herself hanging around near her front door more often, constantly peering around the streets in search of those miscreants again. She’s relieved to find no sight of them, and is quick to close her sewing shop once the time comes. She makes sure she locks the door and closes the curtains before leaving for the Skellington Manor. Ophelia blinks worriedly at her owner from the basket held in the crook of her arm. The ragdoll seems so tense, that even an animal like her can sense it..!

She makes her way through the doors and relaxes once she’s inside. She lets Ophelia onto the floor and discards her wicker basket on the table. The cat happily meets with the ghostly dog and the two retreat to the other end of the room. She watches them run off before suddenly being met with two long arms wrapping around her figure. She smiles as she feels Jack Skellington hugging her, digging his skull into her shoulder. His pumpkin cologne eases her instantly.

“Welcome home, Sal..!” He greets her proudly in her ear. She hugs him back tightly.

“Glad to be home, Jack…”

He withdraws after a moment, allowing her to get comfortable. It is still a little early before dinner has to be made, so the skeleton joins her side and rests on the cushions of the couch. The animals are playing on the carpet in front of them, giving quite an amusing sight to the Manor’s residents. He chuckles when Ophelia manages to paw at Zero’s pumpkin nose, which lights up in alarm at the contact. Sally catches this scene and giggles as well.

“Aren’t they adorable together?”

“They certainly are.” He agrees with a knowing tone. Zero catches their words and quietly growls, only to be cut off when the black cat paws at him again.

“He won’t admit it, but I know Zero’s gotten very fond of her.” The tall man informs his girlfriend. “He enjoys the company so much, he waits right by the door for you to return from your shop with Ophelia!”

“Does he, now?” The ragdoll teases and the dog turns away. “I’m so glad he loves the new addition to our little family..!”

The apparition decides he’s had enough of their teasing and flies entirely into another room. The cat is confused at this gesture and runs straight after him. The two figures laugh from the couch as they watch them disappear through a doorway. They’re left alone now, and the silence starts to linger. She goes to cuddle with Jack and sighs in relief once she’s in his grip. She still has to tell him about her day...but she’d rather do that after they’ve eaten….

“Would you like me to cook dinner tonight?” She offers. He thinks about the idea, stroking his finger along hers.

“Why don’t we make something together ..? We’ve haven’t done that yet..!”

“Cooking together?” She blinks in interest. “I’ve never done such a thing...sharing the kitchen was never an option because, well, the Doctor had trouble with cooking!”

“Not a problem for me.” He picks her up in one smooth movement from the couch. She lets out a surprised noise before hugging his frame tightly. “Why, we should get started right now..!”

He moves his skull down to brush his nasal bone against her nose. She enjoys the touch while he brings them into the kitchen within only a few steps. He lets her down and starts searching through a cookbook. She joins his side and, after a few minutes, the two agree on a special meal to make together. It’s a new experience entirely to be cooking by the Pumpkin King - she’s always thought sharing a kitchen would feel cramped and bothersome, but it is entirely the opposite! Rarely would they bump elbows or get in the other’s way; it is delightful to help pour the ingredients in bowls and have him reach anything she can’t.

They spend a wonderful time cooking a casserole together, and by the time it’s finished, they’re both eager to try it. They waste no time helping themselves to their servings, sitting in the dining room to share this meal they made together. She feels almost excited as she squirms in her seat, eagerly stabbing her fork through the food and bringing it to her lips, savoring the taste…It doesn’t take very long until she comes to a judgement.

“It’s...delicious!” She exclaims. He takes his own bite and soon agrees.

“Absolutely wonderful! See? We make such good things together..! Remember the Halloween costumes?”

“That we do...it was delightful, Jack. I hope we do this again.”

“Then we will.” He replies smoothly before taking another bite.

She relaxes completely in her seat as they resume their meal, finishing it shortly with its tempting flavors. They return to the living room to cuddle once more, allowing their supper to be digested. The pets have long moved on in the house, but they don’t mind being alone at that moment. He especially misses her contact after not making it to their lunch together that day...he feels guilty having to be away, and frowns as he combs his hand through her yarn hair. He’s obligated to ask.

“How did your day go, my love? It didn’t trouble you that I couldn’t make it to our arrangement, did it? The soup you made was very good...”

“Oh, it was fine. I know you have plenty of work with the Mayor.” She nestles his side sweetly. “I went into town and had lunch with the Witches and a few other women from town.”

“Did that go well?”

“Yes. They’ve been wanting to make it up to me for what they said in the past. And we had a lovely time together. We talked so much about my shop and what’s been going on in the town…except, well…”

He notices her hesitation and leans forward. “Except…?” He inquires, crooking an eye socket.

“I had an unexpected encounter today, with...well, some children.” She awkwardly begins explaining. “I met the trick-or-treaters today. I found them picking on the Corpse Kid, the Mummy boy, and the winged demon...I just had to put a stop to it, so I interrupted them. It didn’t go quite as I planned…”

“You met with Lock, Shock, and Barrel?” The skeleton asks in surprise. She waits before nodding. “Did they give you any trouble?”

“Well, yes * and * no. They noticed my shop and threatened to do something to it, before I told them you would punish them if they did. And then they ran off. But when I had lunch with those ladies, we noticed them picking on some of the shopkeepers in town. The Witches stepped in and put an end to it, but-”

“-They’re a lot of trouble, Sally.” He interrupts her, waving a skeletal finger. “You need to be wary of them.”

“That’s exactly what they said.” She sighs. “But, Jack, who exactly are they? They told me they were miscreants and trick-or-treaters, but that’s all I really know…”

He hums before removing his arms and sitting upright. She can tell this is a serious subject and allows him to collect his thoughts. After a moment, he replies, “-They’re Halloween Town’s finest trick-or-treaters. And by that, really, they’re just good at what they do. Which is to get candy and pull tricks. But they cause much more trouble than they’re worth, and often try to give me and the Mayor a hard time…”

She leans forward and listens intently, wanting to know more about these children. “Where did they come from? I heard they don’t have any parents.”

“No. They don’t.” He frowns. “They came into town a long time ago, recently deceased at the time, I believe...they caused a lot of trouble back then, not particularly interested in meeting us, but demanding candy from everyone and pulling lots of pranks and tricks on them. It was overwhelming for me and the Mayor, and we tried our best to put a stop to it but...we weren’t very successful, you see…”

She blinks at his story.

“We were desperate and out of options trying to get these kids to behave. I could only scare them so much to put them in line. Not to mention, we had Halloween to worry about, and couldn't babysit them all the time. We eventually brought them to someone whom we thought could correct their behavior...but it hasn’t worked since.”

“Did you bring them to the boogeyman?”

He flinches at the word and visibly tenses. She is about to ask why until he grits his teeth and continues. “-- Yes . We brought them to Oogie Boogie thinking he could correct their behavior...but he took advantage of it instead, and made them his henchmen. They carry all his wrongdoings now since he can’t leave his casino.”

“And why can’t he?”

“I banished him. The same day he kidnapped you, and I met you for the first time.” He finds it within himself to smile softly, reaching for her hand and holding it firmly. “He had to be punished for what he did with the town, and trying to overthrow me. It’s the only way he can get what he wants - by making those children do all his dirty work for him.”

“Don’t you feel bad for them..? That they are under his control, and they had so much potential to be innocent little children…”

“It’s a difficult situation.” He sighs exasperatedly. “I’ve given them plenty of opportunities to better themselves and get * away * from Oogie Boogie, but they never seem to want to do it. They insist on telling him everything and involving him in everything I’ve asked them to do. He inevitably has some influence on them, one way or another.”

He notices her picking her seams nervously(a habit he might scold her for, it worries him immensely that she'll pull herself apart), and brings her gaze back to his. He tells her firmly. “Sally, everything those witches and women told you is true. They are trouble and do not come with good intentions. Please, avoid them all you can, and let me know immediately if they start bothering you and your shop.”

“I will. I don’t trust them.” She replies firmly, then softens her gaze. “But I still feel so bad for those children…”

“As do I. But, please, it is not your situation to fix. Don’t worry about them. Eventually, I’m sure they’ll overgrow everything and want to move on ....” He begins to mutter with his sentence, and snaps himself out of it. “Just don’t talk to them or let them inside your shop. Understand?”

She nods again. He drops the subject from there and announces that it’s time to get ready for bed. She obliges and follows him into their room together, changing into their pajamas for the night and freshening up before heading into bed. They sleep together closely, with Jack holding her unusually tight, more so than normal. The entire evening, she thinks of those children and the boogeyman…and her first encounter with all of them….

#The Nightmare Before Christmas #Nightmare Before Christmas #Jack Skellington #Jack and Sally #Jack X Sally #Lock Shock and Barrel #Oogie Boogie #TNBC #Tim Burton #Disney #Our Nightmare #fanfiction #long post #long

29 notes · View notes

sweetlavenderwritings · 4 years

Text

Back To His Nest- Pt. 2

A/N: I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I DIDN’T EXPECT THE LOVE THE FIC GOT AND WAS VERY SURPRISED. I initially planned to leave it at that maybe?? but then many of ya’ll actually wanted a part two and i had to rack up my brain on what was gonna happen ( ´△｀) anyways it’s here and i hope it doesn’t disappoint!

Pairing/s: hawks/keigo takami x reader

Word Count: 2 772

Tags: very light angst, love, eventual fluff, domestic fluff,

-ꦼ———▸ Part 1

⋅. ♪ .⋅ Loving Keigo Playlist

8 Years later…

You haven’t heard from him ever since you left. As planned, your parents had called him in advance. Telling him he shouldn’t try and contact you anymore, that trying to find you would be a waste of time. You were such a coward that you couldn’t even leave a message, your parents bearing the responsibility of telling him you’ve cut off ties with him completely.

It hurt. The pain was unbearable for the first few months, restless nights of crying as you struggled to keep your composure. You couldn’t even erase his number from your saved contacts. His callers ID still the same nickname you had for him. Despite your parents warning about not contacting you anymore, he still left a call every day. There were neither questions nor any form of pleading you to come back. Because you never answered, he left small messages that he sent at random times of the day. There was no consistent message of what the calls were all about. It was as if he left these messages like a personal diary he’d write to when he felt like it.

“The day’s great today. It’s a bit hotter than usual but I’m quite grateful for the heat since flying always got me cold.” Yes it did, it was one thing about flying that he disliked. He just got too cold easily, which was why every time he got home, he’d head straight to the showers for a long hot soak then demand cuddles. He liked to call you his personal heater.

“It was too bright though, I had to keep squinting and I almost slammed face first to a billboard! Could you imagine that? Number Two Hero Getting Clumsy! Slams into Make Up Ad Starfish Style.” He laughed. “Okay, that was the worst headline ever. Could you blame me? I’m not really much of a writer like you are. Somehow, you always knew how to string words together beautifully… Ahh, looks like a low class villain is up to no good. I’ll catch up to you later. I love you baby bird.”

And just like that, he hangs up. They always ended in the same way, him having to cut it short because of his duties, and the constant line of ‘I love you.’ It felt so unfair, how he’d make it harder for you to move on. You knew better than to listen to them, but you still did. You drunk up his voice whenever you heard it, closing your eyes and imagining he was actually there right in front of you, talking to you. When he hangs up, the sad illusion is gone.

There were times you almost called him back, desperately wanting to run back into his arms. To apologize for leaving, to tell him the truth, to tell him you never stopped loving him in the first place. But as your fingers almost reach the call button, your fear of the Hero Public Commission stop you every time.

So you settle for watching him in the news, seeing the headlines as he saves dozens of people every day. You read every article you see online, scouring every page for stories. It was torture, but you had to keep strong, not just for yourself. It wasn’t like you were alone in this anymore.

After 9 long months, you finally gave birth to your child. His child.

She was perfect. She looked almost exactly like him, honey blond hair and yellow eyes that seemed to glow. Her image made you miss him so much it hurt. But these feelings of pain and misery were shoved off to the back of your mind, choosing instead to focus on your newfound feelings of joy and contentment. After so long, you felt like you could be happy again.

You named her Keiko, meaning “adored one”, because she was. With enough patience, you raised her by yourself. You dedicated your whole life making sure she grew up to be happy; it felt like you were compensating for the pain you brought upon to you and Hawks. Somehow, you comforted yourself with the fact that you saved your child from the horrors of what may come to her when the world comes to know of her existence.

---

“Mom, come look it’s him again!” Keiko cheered, pointing at the television. An all too familiar winged hero comes on screen, gracefully flying in the air as he saved civilians from a burning building one by one. Your daughter let out another cheer as the number two hero successfully saves all of the civilians. Thankfully, the fire didn’t spread further with the help of the fire fighters helping from behind the scenes.

You stare at the screen as the news reporter interviews Hawks, him looking quite worn out but he manages to give the camera a smile and an enthusiastic response. If it was anyone else, he would’ve looked well composed, not breaking a sweat as he nonchalantly brushes off the praises he gets.

“All in a day’s work.” He says.

But you knew better.

Your daughter turns to you with a beaming smile, happy knowing her favourite hero once again saves the day. Her next words made your heart sank, “For my birthday tomorrow, can we meet him please?! I just want a picture and an autograph, that’s it I promise!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that baby. Hawks is a busy man and there are no chances we can just see him.” This was a lie of course, you knew he’d jump in at any opportunity to see you again but you couldn’t risk it. It pains you to see your daughter so disappointed, but you had to continue lying. For her sake.

“Tell you what, we can at least go to his district tomorrow and buy his merch. I can even get you one of those limited edition wings if you want.” Hawks’ merch was expensive, so his limited edition merchandise was gonna hurt your pockets like a bitch but it was worth it just to make up for what you couldn’t give your dear Keiko.

“Really?!” Keiko squealed as she bounced around the living room, “I can’t believe I’m going to have my own wings like Hawks, the number two hero! I can’t wait to tell Kiyoko as soon as I get them, she’ll be so jealous of me haha!” You smiled as you picked her up from the couch, stopping her from jumping off.

“If you sleep early tonight we might be able to make it there tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!”

You’ve never felt so nervous before. Because one, you were going to Hawks’ precinct with your daughter, all the more chances of meeting him despite NOT wanting to do that. Two, if by some chance- or karma- you both crossed paths, all your hard work would be all for naught. Hawks wasn’t stupid; he’s by far the most observant man you’ve ever met. Many people don’t know this with the way he eludes them with his charm, thus forgetting he’s the number two hero for a reason. Which means even a small glance at your-his daughter; he’d be able to puzzle the pieces together.

So by desperation, you snuggled your daughter with a big fluffy hat, tied her hair into neat pigtails, and then gave her the favourite pair of pink, heart sunglasses she always liked to wear. She scrunched her nose at you fussing over her appearance, but this was only because she was too excited and wanted to leave immediately. You wore a coat, and sunglasses to hopefully hide yourself as well without looking too suspicious. With a final look in the mirror, you left the house with your daughter in tow.

An hour turned into two, then three, four, five…

“Kei honey, please. It’s time to go home.” You pleaded. You two spent the next hours walking around and buying her gifts. But whenever you stopped near a shop, Keiko never seemed to lose energy and somehow pulled you into another store to “check things out.” It’s times like this you wondered if you spoiled her too much.

“Wait not yet! We might see him here somewhere!” Keiko tugged at your sleeves as she pointed to the main plaza. “I saw him give interviews here last week mommy; maybe he’ll do it again!”

“Baby please, I told you we’re not here for that. We already bought your gifts so it’s time to go home and-“

“Mommy, look! I think it’s him!” Oh no.

As if on cue, the famous red winged hero zoomed in on a scene. A villain, large one at that, appeared in the middle of a crowd and began harming nearby civilians as if it was panicking. How did you not notice that?

But now was not the time, you had to get your daughter out of harm’s way and hopefully, his too. Hauling your shopping bags into the loops of your arms, you carried your whining daughter into your arms and darted in the opposite direction you saw Hawks headed.

Hawks POV

How long has it been, eight years? He never wanted to keep count, but he still did.

God, he was pathetic. He’s supposed to move on by now, find another woman to give his affections to, forget about you then happily live his life.

But he couldn’t and it sucked.

He always felt he was too sentimental despite being a double agent. You would think after all he went through, he’d be hardened and cold as stone. Yet he remained quite soft, too empathetic as what his superiors commented. Fuck that.

He’s on his last patrol for the day, flying over the main plaza to keep civilians bustling on the streets. He doesn’t have any plans for later (as he usually does), so he thinks he’ll spend another night away drinking in his balcony or watch a sappy chick flick in the late hours.

He remembers he has fan mail he’s yet to open. Not that he’s ever obligated to do so, he’s free to throw them in the shredder for all he cares. They’re mostly enveloped underwear sprayed with sickeningly sweet perfume anyways. But he’s been receiving sweet letters from a little girl lately. Messages full of pure adorations and gratitude for his work. Judging by the handwritings and small creative decorations, the letters clearly had been made with a lot of effort. He can’t help but look forward to them every week, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

His thoughts of his late evening plans are disrupted with the sudden sounds of screams and shrieking from below. Without wasting a second he rushes to the scene.

As he got closer, his eyes widened at the sight of who was causing the ruckus, or rather, what.

He dodged the Nomu’s sharp claws that swiped by his face at an alarming speed. In a beat, his feather flew from different directions, all leading to his target. They cut deep gashes onto its skin, but the Nomu’s regeneration was fast, healing its wounds as soon as it was inflicted on it.

Hawks never deterred, continuing his attacks while sending some of his feathers to keep away civilians from the disaster transpiring near him.

He could vaguely hear cheers and shouts from the crowd as he rapidly attacks the creature, somehow finding it difficult to cause enough damage to knock it out of conscious. As he flies around the attacking monster, he spots a vulnerable looking spot in its neck. Pausing for a second, he narrows his eyes as he aims. He was about to release a feather until the Nomu lets out a loud piercing shriek, causing everyone near them to shut their eyes at the screeching wail and cover their eyes.

Fuuck, it must have sensed me. He thought.

As soon as it stopped it’s shrieking, it speeded off to another direction. With a curse, Hawks followed it in pursuit. Pushing and carrying away with his feathers to keep them from getting harmed. The Nomu sets its eyes on a little girl with her mother, launching itself on its haunches then runs at a great speed towards the two.

The little girl screams then hides herself in her mother’s arms. The mother tries desperately to get away, but with the Nomu’s great speed and the closing distance between them there was nothing left to do but to brace herself in front of her child.

“No!” Hawks yells as the Nomu’s claws at the mother. Before it could land another attack, he strikes one of his biggest feathers at its neck. The Nomu stills, and then drops to the ground.

Hawks doesn’t have time to check if it’s dead or not, rushing over to the poor injured mother with her crying child. As he finally makes his way to the woman his heart stops.

It was you.

With shaking arms, he cradled you against his chest. He couldn’t believe it. After all these years, he got to see you again. And with a child! Wait… a child?

He took a look at the crying girl, blond hair and honey eyes… just like him.

His eyes widened in shock. Hair and eyes just like his, it couldn’t be.

“Is my mom gonna be okay?” The girl sniffled. He mentally slapped himself in the face, how could he forget the situation at hand and not comfort his distressed child? “She’ll be okay,” he assured her, “Help is on the way, okay? Can you breathe slowly for me birdie? So you can calm down.”

She wipes the tears from her eyes and nods. At the sound of an ambulance, he stands up while he carries your unconscious body. As the medics put you in a stretcher, he takes the time to actually look at you.

You looked much more different. Hair a different length from before, eyes much more tired, and cheeks less full. It must’ve been hard for you, he thinks. But now I’m here.

He turns to look for his daughter, who was behind him all along. Slowly, he bends over to pick up her shaking form. She raises her arms in surprise, but trusting nonetheless. As he settles her in one arm, he holds her close and looks at her.

“What’s your name, kid?” he softly asks.

“Keiko.” She mumbles shyly. Keiko, you named her after my own name? Hawks felt tears springing into the corners of his eyes. Before he could wipe them away, Keiko surprises him with a hug to his neck. She clings onto him as if he was her lifeline as he mutters something in his ear.

“Thank you for saving me hero.” Hawks finally lets his tears fall.

Reader’s POV

After waking up, you found yourself lying in a hospital bed. Your body felt heavy, you desperately needed to pee, and your throat was parched. You looked around and see your daughter was asleep in a couch near your bed. There was a small bouquet of flowers in your nightstand, but what surprised you the most was the warm, calloused hands that held your left hand; the very same hands that you held years ago. Keigo was asleep.

You ran your hands softly in his hair, a small habit you used to do when he came home utterly exhausted. Hawks stirred in his sleep before opening his eyes. Honey orbs met yours as you felt a smile form on your face.

“Good morning to you too, Kei.”

“Chealsey, oh thank god.” He leapt up from his spot on your bed then embraced you. The hug made you wince but you could’ve cared less. You missed him, you craved for his warmth for years and you never thought you’d ever feel him again. Now he was finally here…

You felt tears fall to your cheeks as you formed apologies in your lips. Hawks merely shushed you as he held you in his arms, “It’s okay, I understand. I know everything.” You clutched his shirt as you sobbed in his chest, letting go all pain and misery you’ve been holding in for years. He kisses your tears away, letting you release all your pent up emotions. He was just glad he had you in his arms once again.

Keiko woke up from her sleep, looking at the two of you in a mess of tangled limbs and tears. “Huh?” she mumbled. “Mommy, why are you crying? What’s going on?”

You both let out a laugh, sharing the same thought. There was going to be a lot to explaining to do.

A/N: fINALLY!! The ending is here! Hope ya’ll liked it everyone ≧(´▽｀)≦ this is unedited and i might do so when i wake up the next day lol. tysm for the love ya’ll gave this ficlet and im sorry for the wait.

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #bnha fanfiction #mha hawks #bnha #mha #mha x you #keigo takami #keigo #keigo x reader

196 notes · View notes

spuffybot · 3 years

Text

Walk Me to the Graveyard

Summary: Buffy walks through the graveyard alone at night, contemplating the past few months following the fall of Sunnydale. She reflects on her relationship with Spike, her friendships, and her future before receiving a shocking phone call.

Characters: Buffy, Willow, Dawn, Spike (mentions of Giles, Xander, Andrew, Kennedy, Faith, Wood, Angel, and Fred)

Warnings: Some adult language

Word Count: 4515

Author’s notes: If you read this, thank you. I’ve been chipping away at it for the past few weeks and I’m just glad I was able to finish something I started. “Ghostface” is a reference to the Scream movies, which Sarah Michelle Gellar had a cameo in. The high tea spot with the egg shaped bathrooms is Sketch, a place I didn’t get to visit this year due to the pandemic. I hope you all have a safe holiday season and new year. Hopefully I’ll finish the second part of this story in 2021.

Walk Me to the Graveyard (part 1)

Buffy’s joints creaked as she stood up from her crouched position. She’d been staking out this grave (no pun intended) for hours and dawn was slowly approaching. In the last few minutes the air had started to change, and she could hear the telltale rustling of birds in the trees. If this vampire was going to rise, it wouldn’t be tonight.

Stretching her arms up over her head, she rolled out her stiff shoulders, feeling strangely relieved by the lack of action.

Buffy had been coming to this cemetery every couple of nights for weeks, sniffing out even the barest hint of vampire activity. Technically she could have assigned graveyard duty to any of the Potentials, but she craved the silence and the normalcy of the activity.

She chuckled to herself. How far she’d come that she could relish a few hours of graveyard haunting and call it normal. If only her sixteen-year-old self could see her now.

The truth was she was tired. After the fall of Sunnydale, she’d been fueled by an insatiable need to just keep moving. Giles had suggested they hole up in LA and take refuge with Angel Investigations, but Buffy refused. She wanted to get started on rebuilding as soon as possible. They couldn’t afford to waste time in LA, on Angel’s turf, killing time as his sidekicks while thousands of girls woke up with powers they couldn’t explain. So instead the Scoobies had moved to London, taking on the role of de-facto Watchers Council. They’d rounded up the few surviving members of the former Council and had started reaching out to as many activated Potentials as possible.

They recruited the ones they could and provided support (emotional and financial) to the ones they couldn’t. It was rewarding and it kept her mind off things.

Things like telling a man she loved him only to have him choose death over a future with her.

Buffy kicked a crumbling headstone, cursing when she stubbed her toe.

She knew that wasn’t fair. Spike died saving the world. It was a sacrifice she’d made more than once, and she knew how much she resented the people she left behind for not understanding the weight of that choice. She didn’t want to sully the memory of his heroics with her bitterness. She just couldn’t help it. Besides, focusing on missing Spike was easier than accepting she didn’t know how to function now that she wasn’t the “one girl in all the world.” The irony of having an identity crisis over getting the one thing she’d always thought she wanted was not lost on her. She should be grateful that she wasn’t the only Slayer. Grateful that her future was finally hers to shape. Instead she just felt lost.

It didn’t help that everyone around her was adjusting to this new life and mission like they were born to it. Dawn was training to be a Watcher, and frankly, they needed as many as they could get. The Slayer to Watcher ratio had been drastically tipped and it was only a matter of time before things got out of control.

Faith and Wood had stayed behind in America, taking up shop at the Hellmouth in Cleveland. It was weird to think of Faith as the reigning defender of the Hellmouth, but it felt right. With Wood by her side she would stay grounded and on track. He understood the mission better than most.

Giles was in his glory. He’d vetted the surviving Watchers, firing some gleefully and taking others under his wing. Between them they’d established a kind of Watchers Hogwarts, training Watchers by day and guiding Potential Slayers on field missions by night. He was happy, which was something she’d never really seen him be before. Their relationship had taken a hit in the last few years and while she wasn’t ready to forgive him for everything, she didn’t begrudge him his success. Her Watcher had floundered ever since he was fired, unable to find purpose while she and her friends had grown up around him. Seeing as she suddenly found herself in a similar position it was hard not to understand how he’d gone off track. Besides, she’d lost enough people to know she wasn’t going to lose anymore. She’d fix things with Giles, eventually. For now, she’d just settle for on the same continent and on polite speaking terms.

Xander and Andrew led the Potential Identification and Retrieval Taskforce. They came up with the name. Obviously. They spent their days traveling the world, chasing down leads and giving their best “join team save the world” sales pitch to scared and angry girls.

Buffy smiled thinking about them. The last time they’d video chatted, Xander had looked better than she’d seen him in years. He’d lost the chip on his shoulder that he’d been carrying since they graduated high school. For the first time in his life he was the best person for the job, and he knew it. Trustworthiness and warmth radiated from him and his knowledge of tactics and the cost of the fight lent him an authenticity the girls were drawn to. He never bullshitted or misled them, but he did inspire them. Like he’d inspired all of the Scoobies over the years to keep on fighting.

The sun was starting to peak over the horizon, and a misty fog enveloped the graveyard. She knew she was dawdling but she couldn’t bring herself to rush home. The alarms would be ringing any second now, Potentials and Watchers scrambling to the mess hall for breakfast before a day of study and training.

Technically she didn’t have any classes to teach until the afternoon, but Giles liked the staff to be present in the morning. He said it communicated solidarity and responsibility. Personally, she thought Dawn had just made him watch the Harry Potter movies one too many times.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she let it go to voicemail. It was either Willow calling to say she had another hit on the Potential alert locator spell or Giles calling to ask where she was.

Either way it could wait.

She just wanted to be in the quiet for a little bit longer.

That’s what she missed the most about Spike. Having someone she could be in the quiet with. He had always seemed to know what she needed, anticipating her every mood and desire.

She’d never met anyone she could just be alone with before him. He never expected anything of her other than to just be. In this chaotic mess of a life she now led she craved his company and his silence. Since she couldn’t have that she came to the cemetery. The dead kept her company in a way the living never could. The occasional scuffle with a vampire didn’t hurt either. The familiar comfort of a stake in her pocket, grave dust on her shoes, her breath quickening for the thrill of the kill, reminding her that even though everything had changed, some things never would.

Her phone buzzed again.

She frowned, wondering why she couldn’t even get a few hours of peace before the sun was fully risen.

Flipping it open she saw two missed calls from a number she didn’t recognize. No voicemail.

It was probably someone trying to sell her something.

Technically her phone was spelled against telemarketers, but magic was fickle. If someone really needed to reach her, they would call the office and leave a message with her secretary.

God. How had she ended up here?

When they’d first arrived in London she’d panicked. Back in California it had seemed so clear. Get to London, find the Watchers, find the Potentials, save the world. Simple.

Except once they arrived there had been bureaucracy and red tape to get through. The surviving Watchers had needed convincing and playing nice with morons wasn’t Buffy’s strong suit. After one particularly eventful meeting that ended with some snide British dude’s head slamming into a wall Giles and Willow had pushed her to take a back seat on the negotiations. Much to everyone’s shock, she listened.

As soon as she stopped leading she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. Without meetings and planning sessions to fill her days she’d found herself wandering the streets of London with Dawn, playing tourist.

They were having high tea at this ridiculous spot with baby pink furniture and weird egg-shaped toilets when it hit her. She could walk away. The Hellmouth was gone, and there were more than enough Slayers to pick up the slack. Her friends would be disappointed but eventually they would understand. As she sat there watching Dawn sample pastries, no fear of imminent death getting in the way of her fun, Buffy couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like. This could be their every day.

They could finish out the summer backpacking through Europe then head home to America to finish school and settle down. She was pretty sure she’d heard somewhere that there were hardly any vampires in New Jersey.

She was so wrapped up in the fantasy that she almost missed what Dawn said as they were walking home to their flat.

“Sorry, what with the what now?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I said, it’s crazy how there’s this whole world out here and no one was helping keep it safe before.”

“Ummm excuse me, Slayer here, has saved the world, a lot. Even got a nice shiny headstone for my troubles.”

“Obviously but...you were always in Sunnydale. And sure, most of the big bad world endy guys ended up there too but...what about all the other regular level baddies hurting everyday people? I mean, look at them all.”

Dawn stopped and looked around, forcing Buffy to take it all in. The couples strolling along, groups of friends, kids in strollers. The street was flooded with people going about their day. As soon as that sun went down, they’d be joined by all the things that went bump in the night.

“I just think it’s kind of amazing what we’re about to do. For the first time we’ll be able to protect people all over the world. These people will have a chance like they’ve never had before. Like everyone in Sunnydale got because you were around. We can give that to them. I’m just...glad.”

Buffy’s heart warmed even as dreams of running away slipped from her grasp. Dawn was right. This was her calling. She’d find a way to live with it. Normalcy would never be available to her and the sooner she embraced that, the sooner she could start working towards happiness.

At least that’s what Willow was always saying.

Willow who saw a therapist three times a week and a substance abuse counselor twice a week.

After the battle she and Kennedy had parted ways. Their relationship had run its course and Kennedy wasn’t interested in staying on Team Scooby. Instead she took her slaying act on the road, traveling town to town looking for monsters to hunt and people to save. Occasionally she’d run into a Potential and send a heads up their way. She seemed happy. Everyone seemed happy. Buffy just couldn’t seem to find her groove.

Ironically, Willow was the only one to notice how out of sorts Buffy was. Maybe it was all the therapy or maybe it was just that she was more herself than she’d been in a long time, but Willow had become Buffy’s sole confidant these past few months. If she thought about it too much she knew she’d cry. It hadn’t occurred to her how much she’d missed her best friend until she got her back.

At first when Willow tried to reach out, Buffy had been cold and distant. Willow understood, even writing Buffy a letter to explain that she respected her need for distance after the way she had torched their friendship and Buffy’s trust. The letter had melted something in Buffy’s heart. It was the first time Willow had really acknowledged the fact that their sisterhood had been a casualty of Willow’s addiction.

The first time they sat down for coffee together felt like coming home. Willow seemed lighter, more like the girl Buffy had met her sophomore year of high school than the all-powerful Wicca she had come to know lately. She seemed shy, hesitant to take too much from Buffy, a reticence that allowed her to give more than she had intended to when she agreed to meet.

By their third coffee date it was clear that they were going to push through this. When a third turned into a fourth and fifth they decided to just make it a standing girl’s night. Every Tuesday for the rest of their lives.

Last Tuesday they’d finally broached the subject of Spike. Buffy had been dreading this, afraid to pick at the scab only to be met with judgment and condemnation. She wasn’t sure their renewed friendship could handle it. As much as she loved having Will back, Spike was a sensitive spot and she was afraid of how she’d react if Willow said something she didn’t like.

“Buffy, I tried to end the world. What’s a little bumpin of the uglies between former enemies compared to that? I am judgement free Willow of the no judgies zone.”

Willows face scrunched up like it did sometimes when she was trying to find the right words, her nose crinkling and her eyes rolling skyward.

“I just want you to be ok. And if that means loads of tasty mochas and squishy details about Spike sex, I am all ears. I’ve even got marshmallows.”

Buffy saw the sincerity on her friends face and felt something crack deep inside her. She’d been prepared for judgment at worst and stoic acceptance at best. Being met with such openness and warmth took her by surprise and she found she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her eyes welled up and before she could reign it in and full body sobs shook her.

As she cried, Willow rubbed her back and let her get it all out, careful to avoid pushing her to talk. It was exactly what she’d needed to be able to open up.

And open up she did. It was like the levies broke and all the confusion and hurt came pouring out. She told Willow about what happened in the Hellmouth. About her last days with Spike, how he supported her and strengthened her when no one else could, or would. This last part she said without any venom, all her anger and resentment at Willow long gone.

She even spoke about their last night together. How they’d made love in the basement, on that shitty cot. The first and only time they’d ever been truly intimate, Buffy’s walls fully down, her heart totally exposed.

“I know having sex with someone isn’t like, a big deal or anything. Especially when you’ve had sex as many times as we did.”

Buffy cringed as the words left her mouth. The familiar guilt over her physical affair with Spike flaring up.

“No!” Willow exclaimed.

“Buffy no. It is a big deal. It’s like, the biggest of deals. You and sex haven’t exactly had the most copacetic relationship, no offense.”

She smiled apologetically, eliciting a soft laugh from Buffy despite the anxiety that was clenching her gut.

“If you let yourself feel something good with Spike, even just that one time, it’s important. Special. You shouldn’t downplay that. He loved you and you let him show it to you. It’s romantic.”

At that Buffy really laughed.

“God Will. Spike. Romantic.”

Willow laughed too.

“You know...it’s not that weird. Remember when he kidnapped me and Xander? He wanted me to do a love spell for Drusilla. I think he’s always had a romantic streak. In a weird, murdery, vampire kinda way”

Buffy shook her head in amusement.

“Did I ever tell you Spike was a poet when he was human?”

Willows eye widened, and her hands flew to cover her cackling laugh.

“A poet? Oh my gosh. That’s...that’s too good.”

Buffy took a sip of her mocha, relishing the warm caffeinated goodness before adding, “he would kill me for telling you this but, the best part is the whole “William the Bloody” thing? That’s because he had a reputation for being such a terrible poet.”

At that Willow dissolved into full on giggles, hands clutching her stomach

“Ugggggh ok ok, I’m done laughing. Promise. Also why is that so cute? That’s so cute. Little Spike the poet.”

Buffy sighed. “The thing is Spike has this immense capacity for love. Even as a violent serial killer he was still driven by love. It scared me. That he was so willing to throw himself headfirst into love without a shadow of doubt. I’ve never...I’ve never been like that.”

She looked up at Willow, trying to read her reaction. The witch just nodded encouragingly for her to go on.

“I just...I told Giles once that I didn’t know if I could love. I was worried I was broken, like all the slaying made me cold and loveless or something.”

“Buffy, no,” Willow cut in, but Buffy held up a hand to stop her.

“I know it’s not true. I died to save Dawn, to save all of you, weeks after I said that.” Buffy’s eyes filled up again but this time she swallowed it down and wiped them clean.

“He really loved me Will. And I don’t know that I was in love with him but that last night we spent together...I kind of thought that I could be, someday. You know? I wanted him to know that. To know that there was a chance for us. I figured we’d have all the time in the world after...”

Buffy trailed off, suddenly tired. She didn’t need to explain the rest. How Spike had died, believing she’d never love him. How all the time she thought she’d have to figure out if she could evaporated in a burst of fire and ash.

—————————

She’d reached the cemetery gates just as the sun broke through the horizon. Her car was covered in dew, glistening in the hazy morning light.

She still couldn’t believe she had learned how to drive. And on the wrong side of the road! Her mom would die of shock if she were still around.

The thought of Joyce made her wistful. If only her mom could see her now. In her heart Buffy new her mom would be proud of the choices she’d made. She’d encourage her to let go of the past and focus on the future. She’d be overjoyed to know that Buffy had a future now. Sure, it still involved a massive amount of slayage but for the first time in a long time, the fate of the world didn’t rest solely on her shoulders. Her mom would tell her to embrace that and to live this new life to the fullest.

I’m trying mom.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time Buffy yanked it out in annoyance and flipped it open.

“What do you want?”

The silence on the other end only ticked her off more. If it was so important for someone to call her three times before she’d even had a cup of tea they could freaking respond when she finally picked up.

“Hello? I’m hanging up in three seconds if you don’t get all un-ghostface on me and just tell me what you want.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Her annoyance bled to curiosity and she willed herself to be patient.

Infusing her voice with a level of calm she didn’t feel, she asked “Do you need help or something? I don’t know how you got this line if you’re not part of Scooby Central but…you got me.”

The silence eked on for seconds that felt like minutes before the caller sighed. Buffy’s pulse shot up, anticipation making her antsy. She shuffled from foot to foot, fighting her instinct to hang up. If this was a Potential calling for help she needed to wait it out.

Finally, a voice broke through the silence.

“Slayer?”

Buffy dropped the phone on the ground, her fingers losing the ability to function along with her brain, which had gone fuzzy and staticky at the sound of the all too familiar voice on the other end of the line.

She stared down at her phone, the call still connected, wondering if she had fallen asleep somehow.

A muffled “bloody hell” came out of the fallen phone, causing Buffy to gasp and jump back. She crouched down low, getting as close to the phone as she could without actually picking it back up.

“Shit. SHIT. Spike?”

The muttering and cursing stopped.

“Slayer…yea. It’s a long story. But yea.”

Buffy felt her limbs turn to jelly and she sat down on the cold gravel, her head falling into her hands. A sob bubbled up from her chest, turning into a laugh that she couldn’t control. She giggled for a solid minute before gingerly picking her phone up and pressing it to her ear.

“How? You better explain yourself right now.” Her voice was edged with steel, anxiety and adrenaline giving way to nervous anger. If this was someone’s idea of a sick joke she was going to get murdery.

She could almost hear Spike roll his eyes.

“Good god woman, can’t I come back to life without brassing you off?”

She bit her lip to stop a smile, not willing to let hope overrule a protective layer of skepticism.

Rocking back on her heels Buffy gulped down the crisp morning air, willing her body to calm down so she could take stock of the situation. Her dead ex sort of boyfriend was calling her…she looked at the phone number quickly…from LA. Ok. She could handle this. She was the Slayer, queen of things that go bump in the night and let’s face it, this wasn’t her first ex to come back from the great beyond. If Angel could do it…Angel.

“Spike, why are you calling me from LA?”

He sighed again and she could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, a grimace on his face as he debated the best way to tell her what was going on.

Despite the rush of anger, her heart warmed at the thought.

“Eh look, I said it was complicated. I just thought it was right. Telling you I was alive. Thought you should know is all.”

Whatever ice had melted in her heart immediately froze back up. No way was Spike going to call her from beyond the grave and then immediately get shady and secretive.

“So, is that your weird dodgy British way of saying you’re not going to tell me why you’re calling me from LA? Where Angel lives? Are you with Angel?”

She heard Spike mutter something to himself that sounded an awful lot like “bloody bint”. She rolled her eyes and stood up, pacing the lot in an attempt to keep her temper in check.

“Yea. Alright yea.”

His voice had changed, his accent becoming sharper, and she knew he was starting to get worked up.

“I’m in LA and I’m with Angel. If you want to talk to him you can damn well call him yourself. I don’t know what I was thinking. Bloke comes back as a sodding ghost, gets himself corporealized by a nice scientist bird and calls his girl up and she wants to know about Angel. Figures.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, not even bothering to interrupt his tirade. She knew he’d run out of steam eventually.

“Are you finished?”

Spike sighed again and Buffy felt the fight go out of her. She sat down on the hood of her car, overwhelmed by the emotions swirling within.

“Yea Slayer. I’m finished.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped and she laid back, gazing up at the sky. It was going to be a cloudy day.

“How?”

“That’s the million-dollar question love. Seems no one can answer it.”

“Wait.” Buffy sat up; brow furrowed in concentration as she started to put together the various odd things Spike had said so far.

“You were a ghost?”

She tried to picture that. Spike all floaty and haunty. The image made her chuckle, which she quickly tried to suppress.

“Yea, yea, yea, laugh it up. I don’t know if I was a ghost. I was a something. Couldn’t touch, couldn’t feel. Just trapped at bloody Wolfram & Hart with your beloved Prince of Brooding.”

“Wolf ram and what now?”

“It doesn’t matter. Done what I set to do. You know. Guess I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Buffy felt white hot anger burning in her chest. Did he really think he was going to call her up, say hey, and then leave? Maybe forever? Who did he think he was?

“Fine,” she spat out.

“Fine,” came Spike’s huffy reply.

They’d reached a stalemate and Buffy did the only thing she could think of doing.

She hung up.

She stuffed the phone in her pocket, unlocking the car door and sliding into the front seat. She stared out the frosted windshield for a moment before screaming at the top of her lungs. When that didn’t calm the storm she felt brewing inside she slammed her hands repeatedly into the steering wheel. The metal and leather began to crunch and warp under the weight of her blows but she didn’t care. She felt like someone had set her insides on fire. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry, couldn’t do anything but scream and rage into the void.

Eventually she ran out of steam. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but her throat was raw. Rubbing her face she switched into Slayer mode. Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Cagey Spike and his caginess be damned.

She forwarded the number he’d called her from to Willow and Andrew. Between the two of them they’d be able to trace it and dig up some dirt on where Spike was. As for how he got there, she was going to need boots on the ground. Luckily Kennedy had last checked in from Arizona a couple of days ago. She couldn’t be far from there and she owed Buffy more than one favor. She might not be Spike’s biggest fan, but she would do some recon and get Buffy the answers she needed. Once she knew what was going on, she could show up in LA and punch Spike and Angel in the face herself.

Buffy felt calmer. She had a plan. It wasn’t perfect but it was a start.

She’d let Spike get away once before. This time would be different. She didn’t know why or how but it seemed the Powers That Be had given her a second chance.

She wouldn’t waste it.

—end—

85 notes · View notes

wakatoshine · 3 years

Text

all summer long (miya osamu x reader) part 1

after a disastrous confession, you find yourself running away from your problems and finding shelter in the countryside at your mother’s coworker’s summer camp in hyogo. you never had the intention of making friends, but something changes when you meet a certain grey haired counselor and his interesting group of friends

word count: 4.1k

you hadn’t meant to fall in love with your best friend’s cousin during your second year of highschool, but here you were. crying in sakusa kiyoomi’s basement as he awkwardly tried to comfort with you.

you and kiyoomi had known each other since second grade. your parents had attended university together and had stayed friends since. you grew especially close to the sakusa family after the passing of your father during junior high. since then, it was easier to find you at the sakusa household than your own.

komori motoya had entered your life early on as well, it was impossible to ignore him since he was in fact your best friend’s cousin.

you had realized your feelings for the brown haired boy two weeks into your first year at itachiyama, and had confessed the first week of the break leading up to your third year.

maybe you should’ve seen it coming when he had said he thought of you as a sister. i mean, the kid was completely blindsided by your confession. it’s not like you had given any signs of your liking for the boy.

“y/n can you calm down i don’t want your snot all over my couch,” sakusa said, bringing you out of your own thoughts.

you laughed dryly, and sakusa shot you a serious look. you know he was being serious.

“you know omi, i was kinda hoping toya would say yes, you know?” you said pitifully, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your hoodie (that happened to be komori’s).

“but he didn’t, and you shouldn’t be spending your whole summer break moping around about it.” sakusa stated, handing you a box of tissues.

“it’s not like i could even though i wanted to, there’s a reason why i chose to confess this weekend,” you told the curly haired boy.

sakusa sent you a questioning look, so you graciously chose to elaborate instead of keeping your shroud of mystery.

“i have a job,” you said, “i’m being a camp counselor at this summer camp in hyogo. i knew that if i confessed now i’d be able to run away from any problems it would cause,”

sakusa scrunched his nose, “hyogo, huh?”

you nodded, “mom’s coworker needed a favor, do you have a problem with it?”

sakusa shook his head, “no, i just know someone from there. he’s quite problematic.”

“i’m glad that you’re so worried about me omi, but there’s no need it’s not like i’ll make any connections. it’s just a summer job it’s not like i’ll be going back,” you said, gently pushing him on the shoulder.

“don’t touch me with your snotty hands y/n, that’s disgusting,” sakusa bites out.

you roll your eyes, “only since you asked so kindly.”

extra #1

the first thing you noticed when you stepped onto the train platform in hyogo three days later was the heat. you could already feel beads of sweat form on the nape of your neck.

the change in scenery did not go unnoticed by you. the tall concrete buildings of your neighborhood in tokyo had been replaced by greenery and blue sky. the air felt clearer, and you felt relaxed.

after sending a text to sakusa (and komori reluctantly) that you made it, you start searching for your mom’s coworker in the small crowd of people waiting at the station.

“y/n chan!” you heard someone call. you spot an older lady with clipped brown hair and warm brown eyes.

“watanabe-san,” you greeted, “thank you for picking me up,”

the watanabe matriarch smiled at you, “no need to be so formal! i’m so glad your mom agreed to have you join our staff this summer! the other counselors are excited to meet you!” she said while shaking your hand.

you opened the back door and put your suitcases in the back seat before slipping into the passenger side.

“i’m happy to be here,” you offered weakly, trying to play off your nervousness.

you had never considered yourself to be good with children, so working at a summer camp was quite out of your comfort zone. watanabe had told you that you’re a good fit for the job, but you couldn’t help but be a little self conscious of your lack of experience.

the further and further down the road watanabe drove, the more the scenery changed from small houses and neighborhoods to sprawling fields of rice and various grains. two hours into the drive, the farmland transformed into dense forestry. you were approaching your final destination.

you checked your phone, the reception was gone. you had expected this, and came prepared with envelopes and stamps to write letters to sakusa and your family when you were away. you turned your phone off and pocketed it in your backpack. it would stay there the duration of the summer.

watanabe pulled in front of a run down cabin, “this is where you and your group of campers will be staying. after you drop your luggage off i’ll walk you to main camp where the other counselors are waiting,” she explained.

the unit contained two other cabins besides yours, the other female counselors waved at you and you waved back.

the cabin itself was quite nice on the inside. there were six bunk beds for the campers, and a cubby with a single bed for you and your belongings.

you’d be living there for the next three months, so you packed quite a bit of things from your room so you wouldn’t feel too homesick.

one of them being a few strings of fairy lights, which you decided to hang over the ceiling of the cabin and not just in your area. other decorations you had brought with you included curtains, a carpet, and various board games you planned to play with the kids.

an hour later, you stood in front of the photo wall you created over your bed. there were currently only ten or so photos, most of them pictures of you with your family and friends. your favorites being the time izuna had treated you to ice cream but then spilled your order all over himself (komori had somehow caught it on camera), the photo of you and sakusa from fifth grade in your matching uniforms, and the picture of you with the itachiyama volleyball team after their nationals win earlier this year.

you sighed and gently chastised yourself for getting stuck in your own head when watanabe was most likely sitting on the picnic table right outside your cabin waiting for you.

after reapplying a substantial amount of deodorant and slipping into one of sakusa’s old practice shirts, you stepped outside and told watanabe you were ready to go.

the walk to main camp was about ten minutes, somewhere along the way watanabe had mentioned that your unit was the furthest away from the main attractions.

your jaw dropped once you saw main camp for the first time. it was situated in front of a small lake, the trees gave way to a small clearing where a pavilion and other cabins were built. there were several picnic tables along with a bulletin board listing the week’s camp activities.

watanabe led you to a table where a group of boys were loudly bickering. they all shut up once they noticed the newest arrivals.

“what’s up boss?” one of them asked.

“this is our newest counselor l/n y/n, i trust you guys to make her comfortable,” watanabe said, shooting the blonde who had spoken earlier a stern look.

“we wouldn’t dream of doin’ anythin’ else!” he said with an innocent smile. you called bullshit.

sadly, watanabe had left immediately after introducing you claiming she had her own logistical duties to do before the first session of campers arrived next week.

you stood awkwardly as the boys eased back into their own conversation. great, five minutes into meeting new people and you were already feeling left out.

“would ya wanna sit down?” one of the boys asked, and you nodded. sitting down next to him in the spot he had made for you.

“i’m kita shinsuke, it’s a pleasure meetin’ ya.” kita said, extending a hand in your direction.

“l/n y/n.” you said, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“everyone,” kita said to the group, “introducing yerself to l/n. ya heard what watanabe-san said,”

“i’m miya atsumu, but don’t go callin’ me miya, i wouldn’t want ya to get me confused for this idiot,” atsumu said, punching the grey haired boy sitting next to him.

the other boy rolled his eyes, “osamu,” he said simply, “don’t listen to what that idiot has to say, he doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

“i’m suna, and believe it or not both of them are complete idiots. pleasure to meet someone who doesn’t speak like an eighty year old farmer,” suna says, offering you a sly smirk.

“ignorin’ sunarin’s last statement, i’m aran. there’s a few other counselors in our group as well but they’re settin’ up.” the last member of the group said.

you nodded, hoping that you had committed their names to memory.

“you all seem to know each other well, have you guys been counselors here before?” you asked, propping your chin up on your hand.

“yes, but we also play on the same volleyball team,” kita said, “or at least played on the same team. aran and i just graduated,”

you hummed, “nice. i know a few volleyball players myself,”

“where are ya from?” aran asked, curious about your connections.

“tokyo,” you stated simply, noticing how atsumu promptly came to attention at the mention of the capital city.

“what school do ya go to?” he asked, giving you a weird look.

your nose scrunched, “i’m a second year- third year now i guess, at itachiyama. does that matter?”

the boys looked at each other, “we played against them in finals during interhigh nationals.” kita said.

oh, it clicked.

“i knew your names sounded familiar. especially yours atsumu, i don’t think my friend likes you that much,” you said bluntly.

atsumu’s face flushed red from embarrassment.

“yer friend wouldn’t happen to be omi-kun right?” he said, looking down at the table.

“yup!” you said teasingly, “i’m his neighbor actually, so i’ve heard a lot about you.”

suna laughed, “good luck with this one atsumu,” he said, initiating boisterous laughter at the expense of one miya atsumu.

time flew by and at the end of the day sleep came fast with the knowledge you had five new friends.

extra #2

“oh my gosh my god oh my god,” you mumbled to yourself as you ran through the woods to main camp.

it was the second day of the first camp session, and you had decided to take a small nap during your break in the hammock woods. the hammock woods was arguably your favorite place in camp. the kids never visited because they found it boring, so it was often the quietest place you could find.

the downside of the quiet was that you had to rely on technology to wake you up, and for some reason (later you would learn that you forgot to set an alarm) your phone didn’t go off fifteen minutes before your class.

so here you were, springing to the pavilion and praying that watanabe was in her trailer instead of making her rounds.

you arrived five minutes late, face red and completely out of breath. a few campers, thankfully none in your unit, turned and looked at you weirdly. you smiled at them. they turned back to their projects.

“what was that?” suna questioned, sending you a teasing smile.

you point at him menacingly, “don’t say a single thing sunarin,” you threaten.

he chuckles, “you have a lot to say for someone who was late to their second class ever,”

“you’re an ass, i hope you know that,” you whisper, making sure that none of the campers heard you.

“okay okay,” suna said, “stop flipping out i won’t tell watanabe,”

you sigh and pat suna on the head.

“i’ll buy you chuupets from the general store on my night off this week in thanks,” you say happily.

suna feigns anger, “you better.”

in the week before the campers arrived for session one, you had grown a lot closer to the other counselors. suna especially. the two of you co-taught nature studies so the majority of your time so far at camp planning lessons with him.

since both atsumu and osamu taught on the same day you did (mondays and wednesdays), you also got to spend a fair share of time with them on tuesdays and thursdays.

even though your conflicting schedules made it hard to see kita, aran, akagi, oomimi, or ginjima, you still made sure to talk to them during campfires and in passing during meals.

not having phone reception was annoying at first, but after the first three days you got used to it. you had written sakusa first, telling him about the miya twins and the inarizaki team who happened to also be counselors. he expressed his distaste in his response, but included well wishes (and disinfectant wipes).

you were aware that komori had written to you as well, but that letter was still sitting fully sealed under your mattress. you would deal with that later.

when it came time for the first batch of campers to arrive for session one, you immediately became a hit. both with the campers in your cabin and their parents. because of this, you were thankfully on watanabe’s good side.

your campers were entranced with the way you spoke (“like a true city girl!” one had said), and many of them regularly asked what it was like to live in a big city.

you had tried to keep their questions to a minimum while still answering them with as much detail you liked, which wasn’t too much.

even your students in your nature studies class loved you. they often called you their favorite teacher, which you loved to rub in suna’s face.

you were very grateful that you were given this chance to get away from the trainwreck of emotions you had left behind in tokyo. the change of pace was amazing, and so were the new friends you made.

“y/n i would very much appreciate if you came back to reality,” suna said while waving his hand in front of your face.

“huh?” you shook your head, “sorry, i was just lost in thought,”

suna looked at you, “i could kinda tell,” he scoffed.

“what do you have after class today?” you asked him, eyes doing a once over across the room to check if any campers needed help with their flower drawings.

“i’m on unit duty with aran, but i think i’ll just sleep in my cabin instead if none of my kids are there,” he said, and you nodded, fully understanding how tiring being a counselor could be.

“i’m on lifeguard duty at the lake,” you told him and he grimaced.

“ew,” was the only thing he said back, and you fully agreed.

lifeguarding was easily the worst rec time job. it was always in full sun and humidity, and the mosquitos were absolutely insane close to the water.

“i think both of the twins are on duty with me though,” you thought aloud, “that should be interesting,”

suna nodded eagerly, “you better tell me what they fight about today or i’ll never talk to you again,”

you playfully smack him on the shoulder, “you’re such a drama queen. why they fight?”

oh boy, suna thought, she has a lot to learn.

“well this morning atsumu asked osamu to make him coffee, osamu said no, atsumu got mad and complained to kita and the rest of his cabin, and then kita yelled at him to stop embarrassing himself in front of the kids,” he explained.

you looked at him baffled, “you say that as if their arguments are a daily occurrence,”

suna looked at you with a dead expression, “because they are,”

the rest of nature studies passed by without a hitch. the campers lined up in front of you and suna to pridefully show their artwork off, and after many compliments you were finally free.

after running back to your unit to change into your swimwear, you walked to the beach with low expectations. once you arrived, osamu greeted you with a wave and atsumu gave you a tight side hug.

“y/n why do ya always wear itachiyama shirts and never inarizaki shirts,” atsumu whined once he pulled back from the hug.

“are you serious,” you ask, and atsumu nods, “atsumu i wonder why,”

atsumu groans, “every time i see ya i have to be reminded of omi’s stupid face and i hate it,”

you rolled your eyes, “i’m going to my post and i’d advise you to do the same if you don’t want to get caught slacking off,”

you quickly made your way to your lifeguard bench, and noticed that it was (thankfully) osamu sitting to the right of you. you were way too tired to deal with atsumu right now.

“so y/n,” osamu started, “i’ve been meaning to ask ya why yer here, i mean, it’s not like i don’t enjoy yer company and yer a great counselor and all-“

“you can ask me why i’m here, osamu, i’m not offended,” you interrupt, and he sends you a sheepish smile.

“so why are ya here then?” he asked, not meeting your gaze.

you giggle at his shyness and he blushes, you think to yourself for a moment before replying.

“i got rejected, and i thought a change in scenery would be nice,” you said, not bothering to hide the reasoning to someone you’d most likely never see again after summer ends.

osamu looks at you completely shocked by your brutal honesty. you laugh at him once again, his reaction was priceless!

“was it sakusa?” osamu asks, hoping he isn’t being to direct.

“oh god no,” you exclaim (much to osamu’s shock), “that’d practically be taboo!”

osamu sends you a questioning look that seems to say ‘are you going to continue?’. you sigh and oblige.

“it was komori, if you must know,” you say, somehow managing to keep a smile on your face. “told me i was like a sister, which kinda hurt if i’m completely honest,”

this time osamu looks at you with pity, and you quickly back track.

“oi quit it!” you exclaim, managing to get atsumu’s attention as well, “it’s not like i’m gonna let a silly boy ruin my summer,”

atsumu whistles from his own station.

“shaddup ‘tsumu, we were havin’ a moment!” osamu yells at his twin.

atsumu throws his sandal in osamu’s direction, but it falls short and hits a camper square on the head.

both you and osamu jump down from your respective stations and rush to the camper as atsumu is frozen in shock.

“look at what ya did ya scrub!” osamu scowls at his brother. atsumu just hangs his head, too embarrassed to say anything over the cries of the camper.

you take your hand and gently wipe away the camper’s tears with your thumb.

“hey bud don’t cry, it’s just a small owie ok? you’re such a strong boy, this is nothing!” you tell him, squeezing his tiny hands.

he sniffles and stands up straight before giving you a hug. osamu offers him a high five before the kid runs back to his friends in the sand pit.

“you don’t think we should take him to the med hut?” you asked osamu.

osamu shook his head, “nah, he’ll be fine. plus we don’t want to overwhelm the staff there unless it’s really needed.”

you nod, thankful that your first camp crisis was handled so well.

“thanks for being the bestest lifeguard buddy osamu!” you tell him, giving him a high five that he reciprocated with ease.

“i heard that y/n! don’t forget i’m right here!” atsumu yells in your direction.

“did ya hear anything?” osamu asks, mockingly cupping his hand over his ear.

“nothing at all,” you responded, shooting atsumu a playful glare over your shoulder.

“let’s get back to work then,” osamu suggested. then it was back to the station for you both.

the first session of your time as a counselor ended with many tears, both from you and your twelve campers in your cabin. on the last night of session one, you sat your campers in a circle on the cabin floor and had them share their favorite camp memories. even you were moved to tears by how strong their friendships were after only twelve days.

the next morning was hard for you, seeing all of the children you had called your kids go back home. you would have never expected to feel so strongly for a group of twelve eight through ten year olds.

now that your cabin had been emptied out, you walked to main camp with a backpack full of clothes and toiletries for the weekend. the boys were going back to town and staying at home, and the twins were kind enough to open up their house to you.

“thanks again for your hospitality,” you told them while kita drove the three of you down the road, “i think i’d be lonely alone at camp over the weekend.”

“it’s nothin’” osamu said, “we can hang around town and show ya around,”

atsumu nodded along with excitement, and kita smiled. even he was excited to get to know you better.

as you neared civilization again, your phone began to go off. you ignored it for awhile but when it started ringing the special ringtone you saved for just for sakusa you knew you had to pick it up.

“hey yoomi, what’s up?” you greeted as his face filled up your small phone screen.

“are you coming back to tokyo for the weekend?” he asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

you shook your head and sakusa’s eyebrows furrowed.

“where are you staying then?” he questioned.

then, in a cursed sequence, atsumu woke up from his nap and took your phone out of your hands.

“omi-kun! what a pleasure!” he smirked.

“miya can you please give me back to y/n, i haven’t talked to her for two weeks,” sakusa said, clearly displeased at seeing atsumu.

“so cold,” atsumu mumbled, but he listened and sakusa’s sigh could be heard loud and clear in kita’s small sedan.

“i don’t think i like the idea of you staying with miya, but it’s unavoidable. it’s too far for you to travel back home only to leave again in two days.” sakusa concluded.

you nodded, “i miss you though,” you said, trying to mimic the secret handshake the two of you came up with in fourth grade. it was hard without him actually doing his part. but you did elicit a laugh from the dark haired boy, which made atsumu whip around in his seat.

“motoya misses you too you know. he said you never wrote back to him,” sakusa said after a minute or so of silence.

osamu stiffened next to you and squeezed your knee, knowing that the topic of your rejection still makes you feel uncomfortable.

“is he with you right now?” you asked him.

sakusa nodded, “he’s in the living room, i figured you wanted to talk in private first so i went to my room,”

“i’ll say hi,” you said, and watched nervously as sakusa stood up and walked into the living room you practically grew up in.

“here he is,” sakusa said before passing the phone.

“hiya y/n!” komori greeted. you blushed. it was as if nothing had changed.

“hey toya” you whispered and watched as he curled up more into the couch. you were still unsure how it was possible for one to be so adorable.

“i’m sorry if what happened earlier upset you, but i still love you, you know that right? i was worried when you didn’t write back,” he said.

“sorry toya, but i think i needed some time first,” you answered with a sad smile.

osamu shot you a concerned look but you nudged his calf with your shoe to try to convey that you were ok.

komori nodded, “i’m sorry again, y/n,”

you shook your head, “you don’t need to apologize for not feeling the same way, let’s just get back to normal ‘kay?” you asked.

komori smiled brightly, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. (smiles do look really good on him, but it’s not like you could tell him that without making it weird anymore).

“that sounds great, i’ll pass you back to omi now,” he says.

“bye toya,” you said, thankful that that conversation was out of the way.

sakusa took his phone back and you heard him gently close the door to his bedroom.

“that wasn’t too painful now was it?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“no yoomi, you’re right as always,” you quip, knowing that’s what he wants to hear.

“i’ll let you go now, i know you can hear me miya don’t try anything funny,” sakusa says sternly, “have fun y/n, don’t fall off the face of the earth this time,” he said in a softer tone and proceeded to hang up before you could say goodbye.

you sighed, “sorry you all had to hear that,” you apologized.

the three boys shook their heads.

“yer all good y/n, it seemed like ya needed to have that conversation,” osamu said.

you smiled, “yeah, i really did.”

—

this is long! too long for one post actually! here’s part one though! part two will come later tonight.

general tag list: @cadenceh2o

part two.

#haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu #inarizaki

109 notes · View notes

justalittletomato · 3 years

Text

A morning interlude (Dad!Maul and little Aster)

In which little Aster needs some help and Maul considers his fate...Fluff

For those who are new; this is an AU in which Maul has two children with a mandalorian. A pair of twins known as Aster and Cress, affectionately known as the tomato twins due to inheriting his red skin and also his horns

@apocalypticwafflekitten @spookiifi @patchiefrog @hannagoldworthy @dvthomir @literatureandqueen @lovelyzabrak-meadow

The little Zabrak curled up in her plush bed. Pillows and a delicately stitched comforter wrapped about her.

A red sun peaking into her bedroom and creeping up onto the small child who gave a small yawn as the light enveloped her.

She slowly sits up arms still cradling her beloved teddy bear with its red and black markings. Her black curls are smushed and wild in some places. That must be dealt with.

She sets her bear down and adjusts its blue bow before stepping down her comfy bed. The little Princess yawning away the last remnants of sleep as she goes to her vanity. Three mirrors that show 3 Asters. She rubs sleep from her eyes but still 3 asters remain. One per mirror.

She reaches for her brush, a bronze plating on its back. Each item of this set made to resemble her beloved buirs own. At a whole 6 years old Aster was more than pleased, now she was just a bit more like her wonderful buir. However this brush set had an additional item, a small file for her horns. But first , Aster picks up her brush and begins.

She fixes her black curls back to a more manageable state. Pretty and fixed black curls framing a truly rosy complexion, but there is a problem and Aster pouts.

Her horns need filing. She picks up the tiny file and mutters the steps Maul taught her. She starts to the sides, each little horn being filed to a sharp point and smooth alll around. The ones in the front as well. She’s gotten quite good at this.

She moves once more and stops, she can’t possibly reach her horns at the back!

Aster pouts she needs to file each one on her crown! She sets the file down and pouts again. Her little crown is unfinished. A familar sound reaches her ears. Metal clinking on the floor. A soft voice speaks.

“And how fares my beautiful princess this morning?”

Maul sees his little girl has brushed her black curls and the file has been put back down. M He may arrived just at the right time as Aster’s pout fades to a a hopeful smile.

Aster holds out the file, “Daddy, I can’t reach the back horns.”

Of course Maul has other duties to attend to but when it comes to Aster, his precious daughter, well everything can wait. Right now this took prescedent.

“Is that so?” He takes the file, “we can’t have that can we?”

These moments were mundane but to Maul they were the most adored. A reminder that he had now had some semblance of a life...

No this was a life. A life as a someone who had people such as his little Aster. His precious Aster who loved him so and asked for his help. Never would he ever dared conjure such a fate.

Ordinary...and a far cry from what had been forced upon him. It was wonderful.

Aster hums a tune as Maul files her horns. He ensures that each one is filed to perfection and just the right amount of sharpness and smooth. As he does this, her eyes are closed and a smile on her lips. Her small legs swing slightly.

Maul reminds her to stay just a bit still, she wants him to do a good job doesn’t she?

Aster stops swinging her legs, and opens her eyes. Soft brown eyes that make his hearts melt. “ You always do it perfectly.” She says.

“Well I strive to, but possibly in another few months you won’t need my help.” He frowns a bit as he says this, he has again reminded himself of time. How long would his darling child need him for this?

Aster has the same reaction, “But you make sure each is perfect! I’m always going to ask,”

Maul kisses her rosy red cheek. Such small statement was impossible to ever consider but now it is all so different, “ I’m honored,”

That barely scratches the surface of what he feels, to have her seek him out? That she looks up to him? How such a small person held his hearts so? He is still struggling to grasp the concept himself.

He puts the file down and kisses her other cheek smiling at her giggle, “and I believe done.”

His Aster turns her head side to side as through one mirror to the one in back. Each horn filed to a point and even polished like a real crown!

The little Zabrak smiles widely, “ Like a princess!”

Maul chuckles at that, “ The most beautiful one, you were born with a crown.”

Aster loves hearing that, “ Thank you Daddy.” She wraps her arms around him. Maul hugs her back and gives her another kiss this time to her crown of horns.

“ You’re welcome, my darling princess.”

@vinciwolf @tupdidtherightthing @any59

#maul #dad!maul #star wars #baby tomato #aster #star wars oc #give maul a child who loves him and I think we’d be good #twin tomato au #star wars fanfic #darth maul

34 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Perfect Opposites, chapter three

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: General audiences

Tagging @today-in-fic

Read the first two chapters here on A03

The first clue was the need to pee constantly. On a drive out to Massachusetts, I’d had to ask Harry to stop every 45 minutes and he was openly irritated, lecturing me for drinking too much coffee. That night we were making love and when he squeezed my breast I shrieked with how much it hurt. That wasn’t normal for me. I didn’t say anything to Harry because I didn’t want to worry him, but when I tried to recall my last period I realized it was at least two months ago. To say I was scared was an understatement; I was petrified. For three years we’d kept things under wraps, no one the wiser that we were more than just coworkers, but you couldn’t hide a pregnancy. And back then, there was still a lot of stigma about unwed mothers. Walking around the Hoover building with a big belly and no ring was sure to ruin my career prospects, even if we managed to avoid anyone finding out that Harry was the father.

I had a friend, someone I trusted, who worked in the lab, and I asked them to run a pregnancy test for me. It took a couple days before they could sneak it in among other work but the result was positive. Very, very positive. HCG levels that suggested I was close to 10 weeks along. I had a pit in my stomach all day thinking about telling Harry. He was going to be mad, maybe even tell me to get rid of it. And I knew that would be the best thing to do, for our careers, but there was a part of me that wanted this baby. Maybe he would have Harry’s blue eyes and my dark hair. Maybe she would be tall and slender like him with my wavy curls. Harry and I had long since confessed that we were wildly in love, and having a baby, his baby, felt like the ultimate expression of that love. What if he made me choose, him or the baby? I don’t know if the vomiting that occurred directly after that thought was due to nausea or the idea of losing Harry or our baby.

He knew something was wrong, of course. He could read me like a book, saw my pensive expression and heard the deep breaths pushed through my nose as I begged my stomach to calm. He asked me several times that day if I was okay, and I told him I was feeling a little sick and wanted to go home. The way he looked at me, I was sure he could tell. He could see inside by body somehow, see the little life forming in my belly. I listened as he called AD Kirkbride and told him that I was very sick and he needed to drive me home, that we’d both be out the rest of the day. He didn’t say anything as we walked out to his car, drove the 35 minutes to my apartment, walked inside. He must know, must have wanted to get me someplace private so he could tell me that I needed to have an abortion, that there was no space in this twisted life we’d built for a baby. I knew I’d have to tell him no, I couldn’t do it. I wanted this baby. I wanted HIS baby. I knew I was about to lose him.

I sat on the couch and he kneeled on the floor in front of me, his hands resting gently on my knees.

“What is it, Bunny? What’s wrong?” My heart lurched hearing him use his private pet name for me. Would this be the last time I’d hear it?

“I-” the words got caught as a wave of nausea hit me. I pushed him aside and ran into the bathroom, dry heaving painfully. His hand was on my lower back, rubbing small circles as he brushed my hair away from my face with the other. When it passed, I sat back against the wall, tears running down my cheeks quietly. When I looked at his face, his blue eyes were so full of worry and fear, and so much love.

“Are you sick, Bunny? Really sick?”

“I-. I’m pregnant.” It came out in a barely audible whisper, as the unspeakable tends to. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see his reaction. I didn’t want to have a visual memory of the moment I lost him.

He was quiet. So incredibly quiet. He didn’t yell, didn’t question. His hand on my leg was the only sign he still existed. Finally I opened my eyes and saw a face so beautiful that I’m forever grateful that I looked. His eyes were soft and wet, his lips parted and the corners betraying a tiny smile. His expression was so rapturously happy, so deliriously overjoyed, and I felt the weight that had settled on my shoulders take flight, releasing me from the prison of doubt.

“Bunny, we’re gonna have a baby?” His whispered question was paired with a single tear breaking loose, traveling down to wrap around his square jaw where I wiped it away with my thumb as I nodded.

“Oh my god” he breathed, and pulled me to him, burying his face his my neck. He squeezed me so tight, and I knew in that moment that he wasn’t going anywhere. We sat on the bathroom floor, next to the toilet that was stained with my bile, and cried the happiest tears. Finally he pulled away and his expression became solemn, serious.

“We should get married” he said, with so much conviction.

“What? Harry, we can’t get married. We can’t even-how are we going to have a baby? They’ll know, it’s not allowed, I-”

“We’ll tell them, then. It was going to happen eventually. I know they’ll split us up, but even if we don’t work together, we can be together every day. We can be married, we can have our baby. We can have a real life together, Bunny. You and me, and our baby. I love you so much, I want this. I want you.”

I don’t know how early pregnancy hormones can make you emotional, but I cried more that day than I ever had in my life. The next time I cried that way would be the day Harry died.

The next day we went together to tell AD Kirkbride. We were both shocked that instead of anger, surprise or disgust, he smiled and shook his head, saying “about damn time.” He called over to the VCU right away and secured Harry a spot there, filed the paperwork that officially ended our partnership with the FBI, and said he expected an invitation to our wedding.

Our life was far from perfect. We fought, we struggled to keep up with work and two small children, Harry was injured in the line of duty and I almost lost him. Then I did lose him, forever. I’ve missed him every single day, but I wouldn’t change anything about it. Harry didn’t believe in soulmates, but I do, and I know he was mine. As time marches on my aging body continues to fail me, these memories are still as clear as the day they happened. I let them play like a movie in my mind as I sit on a park bench, enjoying the sunshine on my skin. My daughter Trudy comes by the retirement home I live in now a couple times a week and brings me here to get some fresh air, to people watch. The world has changed so drastically in the years since Harry and I fell in love in an endless series of rental cars and hotel rooms, the young lovers sitting at the café across the street now engrossed in cell phones instead of newspapers, the year 2020 looming only a couple trips around the sun away. I feel content that I’ve squeezed all the joy I could out of this life, and I look forward to seeing Harry again soon, in whatever form the afterlife takes.

It’s here, on this sunny park bench, that I see them again. I wasn’t sure it was really them at first, her red hair a bit less vibrant than it once was, his face a little fuller, marked by age but still devastatingly handsome. They’re finding their way to a table, cups of coffee in hand, his familiar touch on her back present as ever. As she turns to sit, I see the swell of her belly and my heart aches with a familiar happiness. They talk and sip their coffee, sitting closer than is necessary, his hand lovingly stroking her belly before he leans in to place a soft kiss on her forehead as she smiles contentedly. I see the sun catch on his wedding band, the longing way she still gazes at his face, even after all these years. I miss Harry so much in this moment, wish I could feel his eyes on me again, so full of love and want. I watch them for a long time, until they stand and walk away hand in hand, marching on towards the rest of what life has to offer. Closing my eyes, I picture Harry’s face that day I told him that Trudy was growing in my own belly, when we had our whole lives ahead of us. I can feel him, pulling me against his body. I feel him now, calling me home to him, to the next chapter of our forever. My body on Earth grows heavy as I rise to meet him in a new embrace, unfettered by the bounds of physics and gravity, free to move through each other and truly become one being. He welcomes me with the cool practicality that made me fall in love with him in the first place; even in the great beyond he is himself, he is my Harry, my perfect opposite reimagined into a celestial wave of pure light.

“I’ve missed you Bunny” he says, but not with words. I hear him with my heart. He envelops me, bringing me into him, and we are together. Always. Forever.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

15 notes · View notes

cordonian-literature · 3 years

Text

The Aftermath - Ch. 34

Happy Birthday, Ella

Summary: It’s Eleanor’s 18th birthday

Word Count: ~2.6k

A/N: big time jump!

A/N 2: ahhh this is the last chapter!! the one before this was sort of a conclusion but in this one is more like... the aftermath of the aftermath, haha. anyway, this was more than difficult to get out, firstly because i absolutely suck at conclusions so if this is terrible, sorry :( and secondly because this is my first fic and i really can’t believe it’s finished! am i crying? maybe... anywayyy, thank you all so much for reading!! i hope you’ve enjoyed this series as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it!! <3

Warnings: mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s book, “The Goldfinch”)*

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @twinkle-320 @amandablink @texaskitten30 @pens-girl-87 @ladyangel70 @sanchita012 @cordonianprincess @cordonia-gothqueen @queenwalton @yourmajesty09 @alj4890 @choicesbutterfly

- Eleanor -

I sit at the empty desk across from my bed. There is nothing in front of me, but I stare at my neat piles of notebooks and novels: some that Daddyo had recommended to me, others that I had borrowed from his library.

My bedroom door is open. From the hall, I hear the tapping of Roger’s paws and the light thuds of Fabian’s footsteps. The noise of their arrival lightly raises me from my seat and my tired thoughts. I walk out of my room and go after them.

Roger runs away from Fabian with something in his mouth. My little brother giggles as he runs after our dog, struggling to keep up with him. The dog weaves through crowds of servants, making its way towards the front of the palace.

Fabian sighs, frustrated. I put my hand on his shoulder and urge him to continue on with me.

Once we reach the front doors, we see that Roger has stopped running and is having his belly rubbed by Aunt Rowan, while her oldest son, Rowell, races towards my brother.

Rowell and Fabian run off quickly, already in the midst of a game. Lord Maxwell gives me a side hug, holding his and Aunt Rowan’s youngest son to his side.

I hug Aunt Rowan, then give the little babe a kiss on his chubby cheek. I lead them towards the sitting room, where Mama drinks tea with Duchess Hana and Duchess Olivia.

After the adults are all seated, they usher me out of the room. I giggle, saying that there’s nothing they have to hide from me, but I know what they’re planning and agree to leave.

Outside the sitting room, I decide to go look for Gabe and Daddyo, hoping that their meeting with the dignitary was over. I check my watch and see that they should have been done about a half-hour ago, but I know my brother had probably gone on overtime.

He had started taking his duties more seriously as of late, and I know it’s because of the talk Daddyo had with us at Applewood. He had insisted that I come along into town with them and receive the same speech, even though I said I was fine with staying behind.

Gabriel and I had laughed when Daddyo told us that he was the heir and I was the spare. The silly phrase wasn’t the only thing that sent us into a fit of laughter, but it was also a bit of disbelief. My brother and I weren’t naive; we knew what the people of the court had to say about me being a member of the royal family. Daddyo never failed to remind us that their opinions didn’t matter and that I was his daughter no matter what anyone said, but of course, people kept talking.

Sometimes I wanted to argue with him and say that keeping my last name as Blaise — while Gabe’s had been changed to Rys years ago — would keep me from being fully considered his daughter, even though he had officially adopted me when he married my mother.

But I knew such arguments were ones that broke his heart. The smallest change in my behavior made him fear that I no longer considered him my father, which was heartwarming, in a sense, but also depressing. (When I was about twelve, I had thought calling him “Daddyo” was too childish, so like Gabe I called him “Dad.” One morning he pulled me to the side and with the saddest eyes asked me if I was upset with him, or if he had done something to anger me. I laughed it off but went back to calling him “Daddyo” immediately. Though I cringed every time I said it, it was better than upsetting the only man who had ever felt like a true father to me).

And so most of my daily thoughts were now consumed by the anger I had for my biological father — everything he did to my family, and to the nation and people I had come to love — but I was slowly coming to terms with it. Even though I was ashamed of him, I was accepting the fact that he could no longer dictate my life or the lives of those I love.

These past few months marked ten years after the bombing. When my father had died, and Gabe and I had been in the hospital waiting for Mama to get better, I had been childishly angry at him. My last clear memory with my biological father had been reminding him to take pictures of the new exhibit at The Met so I could get a glimpse of what he and my mother would see. He was never able to show me those photos. That is, if he even took any.

But that was a different kind of frustration. One that, if my little brother Fabian expressed, I would sadly laugh at and explain to him the seriousness of the situation.

Theodore’s actions had controlled all of us, even Daddyo, Uncle Drake, Lord Maxwell, and Duchess Hana.

But now we are all in control of our lives again. Uncle Drake and Duchess Olivia had done honorable work with the King’s Guard. Lord Maxwell and Aunt Rowan had married a few months after my parents did, and a year later Duke Rashad married Hana — around the time Fabian was born. Daddyo eventually mended his relationship with Uncle Leo, and every few months his family would come to visit us.

Any person who was a threat, such as Boris — his betrayal was one that broke my childish heart, but not a day passed where I missed him— and Uncle Drake’s ex-fiancée, Jessica, were spending the rest of their lives behind bars.

It had taken our parents a while to tell us everything, and when they finally did, it took even longer for us to come to terms with it all. But Daddyo and Mama never pushed us away when we needed to talk to them.

As I walk up the stairs to Daddyo’s office, I take deep breaths, allowing the concerns to flow out of me. Before I knock on the door, my mind is clear.

I smile to myself as I reach for the handle, memories of our obstacles so far behind us that I feel foolish worrying about them at all.

Inside, Daddyo, Gabe, Fabian, and Rowell are crowded around something on the desk. Everyone turns to face me.

“Is it time for the party?” Rowell asks.

“Shush!” Fabian elbows his friend while Gabe and Daddyo laugh.

Once the boys are done scolding each other, Daddyo asks, “What do you think about eating out for lunch?”

“Same restaurant?” Fabian questions.

“Unless you wish to go someplace else?”

I shake my head, then link my arm through his. “No, I like that place.”

As we walk out the doors of the palace, we spot Uncle Leo, Aunt Katie, Hunter, and Heather with bags in their hands. Once they see us, they lightly toss those bags back into their limo, and they join us in our car to go eat lunch.

We had eaten in this restaurant on my eighth birthday, which had been only a week after Mama and Daddyo had come back from their honeymoon. My family came here often, and Uncle Leo liked joining us.

We enter the restaurant and see that the place is empty. The menus are put in front of us, and we order without looking at it. Fabian and Rowell talk between themselves, and Heather tells me about their flight, while Uncle Leo asks Gabe how he’s feeling.

Gabe shakes his head, an amused look on his face. “You know, I thought this would all be overwhelming. I was scared that the pressure would bring the anxiety back, but it didn’t.”

Uncle Leo pats my brother’s back. “Now tell me about that girl you mentioned in that course you took.”

Gabe’s face goes red, and he gives a little laugh. Aunt Katie raises her eyebrows, while Daddyo urges him to talk.

My brother leans back in his seat, the amusement increasing. “I’m think I’m gonna draft a letter to her.”

“Oh?” Aunt Katie takes a sip of her drink.

“I’m planning on asking her to join the next Social Season. That reminds me.” He cuts off and looks towards our father.

But before he can say anything, Uncle Leo goes, “Gabe, go to your dad when you want to know what not to do. Take my advice instead—”

Hunter interrupts him: “You say that like your advice doesn’t backfire on the regular.”

“Poor soul is speaking from experience,” Heather whispers to me. Daddyo overhears her, and laughs with us.

We leave as soon as we finish our meal, not considering dessert. The ride back to the palace is filled with smooth conversations and laughs. As the limo stops in front of the entrance, everyone tells me to exit the vehicle first.

Tentatively, I crawl out the car and make my way up the stairs. Servants open the doors for me, and the entire room is flooded with balloons, decorations, and sweets.

My mother kisses my cheek, then Daddyo and Gabe wrap me in a hug. Fabian runs off quickly with Rowell.

The rest of my parents’ friends continue giving me birthday wishes, until Fabian finally reemerges with an envelope in his hand. Everyone crowds around me as I open it and take out a thin, rectangular piece of paper.

“It’s a bookmark!” Fabian cries as I examine it. I turn it over in my hands, feeling the soft edges against my skin. On the other side, there’s a drawing of six stick figures. Fabian puts his finger on the bookmark, and I bring it to his eye level.

“That’s you with the books since you like reading,” he tells me. “That’s Daddy and Mom since they have the crowns, and Gabe is the one with the smaller crown, and that’s me and Roger, and that’s our home in the background.” I follow his finger as he points to his little drawings. “I know it’s not very good, but I didn’t know what else to get you!” He giggles as I further examine it.

“No one knew what to get her,” Gabe comments. “Little Miss—” he takes on a high pitched voice— “Oh, you don’t have to get me anything! No, really, I don’t want anything!”

The room of friends laugh and chuckle at the mocking voice.

I go through everyone else’s gifts, which are mostly things that I can use, but don’t need and didn’t ask for; like Fabian said, everyone had wanted to get me something, but I was in need of nothing. I know that Uncle Maxwell was more than frustrated when I told him so, and he must have been even more upset when he couldn’t get any hints out of my parents either. His and Aunt Rowan’s present to me are new pointe shoes.

Duchess Olivia had started giving me more self-defense lessons, so her gift to me is a stiletto knife, along with stiletto shoes.

Duke Rashad and Duchess Hana give me a pearl necklace: when the Duchess had taught me how to paint, we had made portraits of each other and had illustrated pearls on our pictures. The portrait I had made of his wife was the Duke’s favorite.

Uncle Leo and Hunter give me new paint brushes and a steel paint easel. Heather hands me a cup with a picture of her and I on it — I had given her something similar for her birthday — and Aunt Katie gives me a cute bag.

Uncle Drake gifts me a new pair of skis: last winter and during the Social Season, we had raced down a slope and I had lost both times. “So you can practice a bit more next time we head to Lythikos,” he tells me with a pat on my back.

Gabriel hands me a heavy box. My arms burn as I make my way towards a table and put it down. Inside are books that are on my to-read list, candies that we had tried and liked on our last family trip to Italy, a bracelet with charms, and gold earrings shaped like a crescent moon. “You didn’t give me any clues for what you wanted, so I just put all of them in there,” my brother says with a shrug.

Mama and Daddyo’s gift is next. My father wraps me in a large hug, then holds me to his side as servants roll in a new Baroque piano — it was similar to the one I had seen in a museum the last time we visited Applewood. The old one was being wheeled out; I had played it daily in the last few years, both for the entertainment of my family and for important members of the nobility, and even though it was constantly cared for, the strings had started to become dusty. I knew we wouldn’t get rid of it; I was sure that Daddyo had plans to donate it, but again I felt that there was no need for a newer one. We could have just taken more care of the one we had.

But I don’t complain. I could never complain for this group of people who love me so dearly. I accept hugs from everyone in the room, and then the cake is brought out. The frosting looks like a painting, and is sweetly smooth as we eat it, the icing staining the corners of our mouths.

We sit and chat about nothing at all, simply enjoying the blissful companionship that came with family and beloved friends. I had told my parents that I didn’t want a big party, and this was exactly what I had in mind. The room is light and joyful: Uncle Maxwell tells jokes while Uncle Drake rolls his eyes, Mama throws her head back, Daddyo’s arm around her while he tries his best not to laugh, and Uncle Leo, Hunter, and Gabe wipe tears from their eyes.

The rest of the party is spent like that. The irreplaceable friendships that had went from nothing, to everything, to nothing again, then beyond the meaning of intimacy that came with being understood. It fills the rooms of the palace as it has these last ten years.

I think about the gifts I’ve been given today, wondering where I would put them in my room — except for the piano, which I will leave in the ballroom — and how I will use them. I smile when I remember Gabe’s joke about my refusing presents.

I don’t think he understands that I didn’t wish for specific objects because I can’t remember the last time I longed for anything, and if I ever did, there was no request that Daddyo wouldn’t strive to fulfill. My life had never felt lonely or without purpose, and I think that means I’ve found happiness. Like everyone in this room.

Daddyo notices that I’ve zoned out a bit. From the corner of my eye I can see the gentle wrinkles on his face and the graying roots of his hair. He leans towards me and plants a kiss on my forehead. “Happy birthday, Ella dear. I love you.”

I smile at him, then use my fork to steal a bit of icing off his cake. Fabian follows suit, and soon our dad’s cake has no frosting on it.

The three of us laugh, and with a mouth full of sugar I say, “I love you, too, Daddyo.”

#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #choices trr fanfic #choices the royal romance fanfic #choices the royal heir fanfic #trr #trr au fanfic #liam x mc #liam x mc fanfic #maxwell x oc #choices fanfic #trr fanfic #choices trr #the royal romance fanfic

57 notes · View notes

benreys-realm · 3 years

Text

Chapter: 7 Jail Break Gone Wrong

This was far from how Gordon expected to bust Benry out of Black Mesa. Possibly smuggling him out, sure. Something SAFER AND LESS LIFE THREATENING, but definitely not this. Much to Gordon’s utter horror, Tommy and Barney took a literal SNATCH AND DASH tactic, both seeming to just stare at Gordon oddly each time he mentioned what a horrid idea this truly was. But, he sure was learning a lot today.

First thing, neither Tommy nor Barney are even human. Nope, Tommy, oh his yeah he had his suspicions, but BARNEY?! This was not exactly expected. Just seemed to jolly and cheery, and while Gordon was busy clutching Benry close to his chest hiding behind some very large metal storage crates while both Tommy and Barney went full on assault on the guards and military. From what he could hear, not even heavy duty guns could put a dent in Barney.

Tommy, seemed to have some sort of magic or powers that he couldn’t explain keeping him safe. Meanwhile, Benry was busy snoring away in Gordon’s arms with some very heavy duty noise cancelling headphones on. Apparently, Benry sleeps like a baby whenever Gordon holds him, and this was no exception. Literally, napping through a massive ass battle with bombs, gunfire, and all sorts of bullshit happening. Unbelievably, typical. Was he SERIOUSLY the only human within this group?

After things seemed to go quiet, only the sounds of Barney’s heavy breathing and Tommy’s exhausted sigh gave the signal the fight must’ve been over, for now. They’ve been making horribly slow progress, and Gordon was sure he was only slowing them down... Benry would’ve been fine on his own, with them. They would’ve been out by now... A slight jump from Gordon as Barney leans in around the metal crate, looking human again. Except, for the teeth... and the eyes.... those were a bit unnerving.

Very large and sharp jagged canines pokes gently from under his scruffy lips, and 4 new eyes, each set above and below his once gorgeous mixed brown green and some speckles of blue eyes, now fully pitch back with no pupils. Like a spider... Gordon thought nervously. With a slight grunt, Barney’s other eyes vanished and blinking several times, his brown green juman eyes returned. After that he looked faintly dizzy, and leaned against the crate which actually shifted an inch just by him leaning against it.

“Hhhhhgh..... Ugh sorry Gord’n.... ooof. Been in that human form for so damn long I forgot how taxing it is on my old body and joints... sorry we didn’t tell ya sooner, this wasn’t in the plans at all, needing to get Benry out immediately.... we, weren’t sure how you’d react. Figured seein’ how well you took to Benry... you’d be... accepting of us...” Barney stammers a bit, clear hesitation in his voice.

For a moment, Gordon felt taken aback. They truly felt guilty? About not telling him..? That is fully understandable of why THEY shouldn’t be sorry, that’s a huge thing to tell someone, or how they might be treated... was he freaked out? Undeniably so. Was he going to run screaming and cry in a tight little ball? No, not till he got home or something... Worst part was he can’t tell his therapist about this shit, and the fact he just lost all coverage FOR his therapist. Dammit.

With a shaky breath, Gordon locks eyes with Barney and smiles softly. From what he could tell, Barney seemed skeptical, but returned the smile.

“It’s okay, Barney. I understand why, you wouldn’t be comfortable sharing that. It’s just, a bit to take in, the.... fighting is definitely unexpected.... but with Benry and you guys now I should be okay... as long as we all get out alive that’s all that matters, right? For Benry?” Gordon says, that spark of determination glowing brightly in his vibrant green eyes.

That comment completely seemed to shake Barney, who stared, wide eyes and blinked many times. That look on his face was the shock of what looked like a 5 year old who just got their candy taken away from them. After several long stunned moments, a soft weary but genuine smile crept across Barney’s face. With one slow motion, his hand ran through his thick jet black hair, showing some of the greying bits hidden deep within those gorgeous black locks. There was a stiff silence before Barney locked eyes with Gordon with a soft smile and a bright gleam in his eyes.

“I’mma beginnin’ ta see what Benry admires and adores about ya, Gord’n... You’re a very special and unique person, Mr. Freeman....” Barney says, that bright gleam not faiding. The comment caught Gordon off guard, whose face went bright red. The only thing that prevented Barney from letting out a booming hearty laugh was an extremely cute yawn from Benry, who began to knead Gordon’s sleeve with his small paws. The motion got a soft awe out of Barney, while Gordon just smiled and gently used his right hand to run his hand through Benry’s soft black fur. That motion got a lot of purring, and some tail wagging, and Benry proceeded to attempt to bury himself deeper into Gordon’s clothes and chest.

With a soft sigh, Gordon gently readjusts his glasses before looking around. If he was honest, he doesn’t remember how the hell he got where he was... Mostly, he thought the sheer stress of the situaion of breaking out an alien from space from a massive underground government facility and being hunted by the guard, military, and possibly whatever the hell G-Man was was not exactly a peaceful expierence. The thought of that alone made Gordon;s head feel fuzzy, and he felt a firm and warm hand gently set on his shoulder. Barney was right besides him and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Hey, easy Gord’n, Tommy says you’ve been running on sheer adreniline and you’ve been having some sorta blackouts... Just, take it easy alright? Tommy mention’d this might be due to stress, or G-Man... BUT I’mma just keep moving you two from spot to spot till we get out, alright? Won’t let anything happen to ya, promise...” Barney says, with that soft smile. It took a lot of energy to keep his eyes open, which he returned the smile before quickly dozing off, right along with Benry.

With a faint sigh, Barney casts a weary glance at Tommy, whose eyes and hands were glowing faintly, and a soft yellow glow enveloped both Benry and Gordon, before fading softly. With a sigh, Tommy glanced at Barney, who slowly looked away.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal to do to them but, this is better than them seeing what has been going on and seeing us as monsters, not to mention the stress and trauma it would cause both Gordon AND Benry...” Tommy says slowly, his face weary and tired. There was a long stretch of silence, before Barney spoke up.

“Is... This truly necessay, though...?” Barney asks, before glancing hesitantly over his shoulder at the building of Black Mesa, which they were in a small Black Mesa warehouse, which had been promptly removed of all guards and people. After a pause, Tommy nods.

There was a deep and loud sigh from Barney, who gently slips his hands under Gordon’s back and knees, carefully carrying him and Benry who clung tightly to his chest. With a soft grunt, Barney trots behind one of the large metal shipping crates, and waits. Necessary, he says. If that were true, he wasn’t sure. Either this was for all of their safety, Tommy’s revenge, or something along those lines, or all of that, Barney wasn’t sure he’d ever find out.

Curiously, Barney peeks around the corner, keeping Gordon and Benry safely tucked behind the crate as Tommy asked. Tommy knew he was gonna peek, he wanted to see what this kid was capable of. For a brief moment, everything seemed to pause. Barney’s hair stood on edge as he felt a strange charge of energy, all seeming to focus on Tommy. Like before, that same yellow aura seemed to surround Tommy’s body, the brightest glow coming from his hands and eyes. With a loud yell, there was a bright flash that surrounded the facility of Black Mesa, before the entire place seemed to BURST in a massive explosion.

The shockwave of the blast actually damaged the building they were in,and Barney seemed to have lost hearing temporarily in both of his ears... Loud bangs and booms of dangerous and unknown machines and power sources in Black Mesa seemed to react with whatever Tommy had done, and Barney rushed forward to Tommy whose feet had once again returned to the ground.

Without warning, Tommy quickly went limp, but thankfully to Barney’s lightening reflexes, caught him before he could topple onto the concrete floor and hurt himself. In mute horror, Barney just held him in his arms, his shallow breaths all that could be heard. Cleary, he exhausted him self to the breaking point. With a displeased grunt, Barney mumbles to himself and gently sets Tommy down on the floor, and brings Gordon and Benry close by, mosty waiting for Tommy to rest.

This, had been a very rough and long day, so many lives lost, how much blood was now on all their hands... The thought made Barney shiver, as he stares out at the now burning bones of what was once the great facilty of Black Mesa. As Tommy promised, they were the only four surviors. Everyone else, was gone. They had a chance now, to live freely, to be happy.

With a faint sigh, Barney scooped Tommy up in his arms, along with Gordon and Benry in the other, and slowly began trudging forward out of the shattered and demolished bits of Black Mesa, hoping that somehow they’d find a safe haven that they all could call home.

21 notes · View notes

diazevan · 4 years

Photo

No. 14. Is Something Burning? “Fire”

When a night out goes drastically wrong, Pepper realizes that she and Michelle lead a similar life.

AO3 Link

Pepper adored Peter.

She had since the day she met him.

She constantly thanked him, silently, and sometimes, to his face, for being a part of their lives.

Even when he was gone, for those five years, his impact, lived on.

They wouldn’t have Morgan, if Peter hadn’t taught Tony, at the right moment, that he could step out of Howard’s shadow and be a good dad.

Having Peter back, made everything fall together, perfectly, for the first time.

Hand-in-hand, with Peter, came Michelle.

Peter’s everything, his partner in crime, and somebody for him, to effortlessly tease Tony with.

Pepper loved her too, and the influence she had on Peter, she seemed to be helping him overcome hurdles that no one else could.

A double date sounded far fetch, at first, but Michelle proposed it, and Pepper finalized it.

They made quite a team.

An old theater was showing a highlight of Charlie Chaplin’s movies.

All four of them liked old movies, which made for the perfect night out, where superheroing duties took a backbench.

Pepper skipped through the foyer, leaving Tony at the desk, to check in their coats “Hey.” She laid her hands on Peter and Michelle’s shoulders, “If I were you two, I would have asked to sit far far away from us.”

Michelle snorted a laugh, “Why?”

Peter frowned, tilting his head, to his shoulder, “Is this about the Charlie Chaplin look-alike competition?”

Michelle grinned, ear-to-ear, “The what now?”

Pepper waved her hand dismissively, “My husband claims that he won a Charlie Chaplin lookalike competition.”

Tony appeared beside her, “I didn’t claim anything,” He chipped in, “It’s true.”

“Oh, my God,” Peter inclined his head, pressing his hands together, gesturing them towards Tony, “You literally wouldn’t shut up about it last night, it’s why I volunteered to carry Morgan to bed.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, he made an act of raising his hand, to his chest, “I’m offended, kid.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “Also, I looked it up last night, and there were zero results.”

“Nobody knew it was me,” Tony raised his shoulder in half-shrug, “I used a pseudonym.”

Pepper pulled on his arm, “Oh, look, we can sit down now.”

They all started walking into the theater, in an orderly fashion.

Tony leaned forward, “I’m gonna find the photos later.”

Peter turned, keeping his arm linked with Michelle’s, “So, Friday—"

“Friday has nothing,” Tony sang, “Like, I said, nobody knew it was me.”

Pepper shook her head, with a laugh, “We get it.”

“Should we get—” Michelle and Peter spoke in unison, “—Popcorn?”

They acted normal because it happened all the time.

They were the definition of cute, Pepper was sure.

Tony leaned in, whispering in her ear, “How adorable.”

She gently nudged his foot, with hers, “Leave them alone.”

Tony clapped his hands together, “I’ll pick us up some popcorn, you lot can go and find our seats.” He shuffled away, quick on his feet.

Pepper took a seat, on their aisle, leaving the space between her and Peter free, for Tony. She buried her hand in her pocket, to check if May had messaged her with any questions about Morgan.

All she'd been sent was a selfie of the pair watching Finding Nemo.

She sent back a couple of heart emojis.

Peter and Michelle’s gentle chuckles caught Pepper’s attention. The duo were holding hands, muttering among themselves, desperately trying to conceal their laughter; Peter was red in the face, and whatever they were discussing, had brought tears to Michelle’s eyes.

Pepper smiled, they were truly infectious, and she couldn’t get enough of them.

Michelle had become a vital part of their everyday lives, rather fast, but Pepper would have it no other way.

She saw the way they looked at one another, the longing stares, and the soft smiles.

They’d fallen hard.

Something, Pepper once did, twice a day, with Tony.

It took them a while, to make it work, but it did.

Pepper saw herself, in Michelle, which was good, on some days, but heart-breaking on others.

Peter and Tony’s lives weren’t exactly normal or easy.

Pepper kept Michelle as close as possible because she understood the hardship of being hopelessly in love, with someone who laid down their lives, for the greater good, every other month.

They were on the same page.

Tony tiptoed over, holding two buckets of popcorn, “Here we go.”

Peter and Michelle sang, through a laugh, “Thank you.”

When the movies started playing, the audience went silent, but Pepper still caught the pair sharing little anecdotes, trying not to burst into hysterics.

An hour in, Michelle sat up, looking around.

Tony spoke, in a hushed tone, “What’s up?”

She turned, “I’m trying to work out where the toilets are.”

Tony pointed, “By the entrance, on your left.”

“Thanks, Stark,” She kissed Peter’s cheek and hopped up, “I’ll be back.”

Tony leaned over, whispering something in Peter’s ear, the kid’s cheeks turned a new shade of red.

He jokingly slapped Tony’s arm away, “Shut up.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, “Stop messing with him.”

Tony held out his hands, with a shrug, “May said I can.”

Pepper looked past him, to Peter, “Don’t worry, honey. He’s got no leg to stand on.” She chuckled, “I’ve got plenty of embarrassing date night stories.”

Tony sighed, head in his hands, “Pep…”

She winked, “I’ll tell you later.”

Peter laughed quietly, hanging his head.

A few minutes passed, and Pepper allowed herself to be drawn back into the movie.

She didn’t notice something was up until Tony’s tone switched.

“Kiddo, you okay?”

She spun her head, fast.

Peter was sat up straight, his eyes wide, and his leg mindlessly bouncing.

She raised her voice, “Sweetheart?”

Before Peter could answer, the piercing sound of a fire alarm filled the room, and the movie was stopped.

The lights came on, and an usher shouted, “Everybody make your way to the fire exits, as fast as you possibly can. Thank you.”

Everybody shot to their feet.

Tony tapped his watch, “Friday, report?”

“A fire has started, in the attic, and is spreading quickly.”

The usher yelled again, this time, more panicked, “Quickly, please.”

“MJ—” Peter shot up, looking around, “Can you see her?”

“The toilets are right next to the exit, buddy,” Tony reassured him, “She’s probably already outside.”

“I’m not sure—"

Somebody screamed, “Get out now!”

“That escalated—" Tony reached back, grabbing Pepper’s hand while gripping tight onto Peter’s shoulder, he pushed, making sure Peter didn’t freeze.

Pepper knew, for a fact, that Tony made contrasting promises.

It was an issue, with him.

He made one, to Peter, that basically meant that if it ever came down to it, Tony would have to save May, Ned, or Michelle, before Peter.

The other was one he made to Michelle, promising that he’d pull Peter, out of a fight he couldn’t win, even if Michelle’s life was on the line.

Tony could never win.

Peter kept shouting, over the chaos, “MJ!”

A crowd swarmed, at the exit.

Somehow, they were pushed to the front of it.

Peter held up his arms, screaming, at the top of his lungs, “Stop!” He waved his hands, signaling nearby people, “Stop moving!”

The urgency, in his voice, seemed to resonate with everyone.

A support beam, from the ceiling above them, collapsed, crashing to the floor.

Tony pulled on Peter’s shoulder, “Holy shit.”

The crowd moved again, leaping over it, as smoke started to envelop them.

A lady, in her forties, tripped, landing among the stampede.

“Hey,” Peter helped her onto her feet, “You okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She rushed, into the bustle, that was moving outside.

Pepper lost sight of everything while moving from the building to the street.

The sounds of sirens were already echoing, in the distance.

She shouted, squeezing Tony’s hand, “Tony, you got Peter?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, “I’ve got him.”

The crowd began to separate, giving Pepper room to see.

Peter was leaning up, to look across the herd, “MJ?!” He yelled, “MJ?”

Nothing.

Peter turned, eyes filled with tears, “She’s not here.”

Tony’s face fell, “Pete-“

Peter rested a hand on his chest, “I know she’s not..."

“Kid—"

“I gotta—” He pulled his hand free, and before any more words were spoken, he sprinted back, into the burning building.

Tony shrieked, “Peter!” He spun to meet Pepper’s gaze, “What do—”

There was a deafening creak from inside.

Pepper’s lower lip trembled, “Oh, God—"

“Hey!”

Tony snapped his head back, a momentary look of relief, on his face, “Jones—”

Michelle charged, out from the side alley, “Hey, I’m—”

“MJ!” Pepper wrapped an arm around her, “We were so—” It dawned on her, she shot a look to Tony, “If you’re here, then Peter—”

Tony titled his head to his shoulder, a silent apology, as he let go of her hand and charged inside.

Michelle yelped, “Oh—”

Pepper held her tight, muttering under her breath, “Come on, come on—”

Another spine-chilling thud, came from inside, as the building fell apart.

“I—” Michelle cried, “He—”

Pepper whispered, “It’s okay…”

A figure emerged through the entrance.

It was Tony.

His face was covered, in patches of soot, and his hair, full of ash.

Dangled over his shoulder, was Peter.

Pepper’s stomach leaped into her throat, as she tightened her hand around Michelle’s hand.

She breathed a sigh of relief, when Tony smiled, with a nod.

Michelle pulled free, rushing over, “Peter!”

Tony lowered Peter onto his knees, rubbing circles against the teen’s back, “There you go.”

Peter coughed, “I need to find—MJ is—”

Michelle knelt, pressing a hand, to his cheek, “Right here, loser.”

He wheezed a laugh, “MJ—"

She leaned up, kissing his curls, “You’re an idiot.”

No, he’s your idiot.

He smiled, “You’d do it for me.”

“Yeah,” She tugged him into a hug, nestling her head, on his shoulder.

Tony moved over, locking an arm around Pepper, “Hey.”

She pulled him close, “Hey.”

Pepper knew it wasn’t normal, to be so accepting of these situations, but after fighting aliens, it was a walk in the park.

Michelle helped Peter to his feet.

Peter rubbed a hand, over his cheek, “That was fun.”

Michelle barked a laugh, pressing her head against his bicep, “Same time next week?”

Tony inhaled a cackle, “I’m thinking takeaway?”

Pepper nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

Tony motioned aside, “We should get going.” He took out his phone, “Everybody is probably freaking out already.”

Pepper looked up.

Peter was whispering in Michelle’s ear again, and they were giggling to themselves like nothing had changed.

Say what you want about young love, Pepper knew that Peter and Michelle were the real deal.

#whumptober2020 #no.14 #is something burning?#spideychelle #irondad #pepperony #pepper potts #michelle jones #peter parker #tony stark #petermj #peter x michelle #tony x pepper #liberty's writing

35 notes · View notes

when-they-write-stuff · 4 years

Note

I didn’t get all the way through the list, but I already couldn’t choose, so 55. “Sorry doesn’t fix everything.” or 75. “What are you talking about? You’re married!” or 80. “But you promised..”

Written for: “Sorry doesn’t fix everything.”

- -

“Tell me a story about how the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe.”

When Derek first left Beacon Hills, that’s what Ms. Morrell told Stiles to think about. He sat across from her just like he had nearly two years ago and picked at the hem of his shirt instead of his lacrosse stick. He hadn’t played lacrosse in a long time; not since the Nogitsune. Not since the return of Kate 2.0.

When Derek first left Beacon Hills, Stiles was told to look on the positive side of things. He was told that by everyone else, at least. Certain other people remained elusive. Certain other people who made Stiles so mad, he stopped going to counseling for an entire three months until his nightmares started waking him up in screaming fits and night-sweats again.

When Derek first left Beacon Hills, Stiles was told to think about the sun and the moon. And he was so fed up with everything sometimes.

He was so fed up with everything.

Like what they faced after Derek left. So many things. Stiles learned what it was like to be considered untrustworthy. He learned what it was like to be considered a real murder. To have blood on his actual hands.

He did this… thing when no one else was around. He didn’t tell Morrell about it and he didn’t tell his father. He most certainly didn’t tell Scott, but they hadn’t been talking that much lately anyway.

And if Stiles’s dad was to snoop around his bedroom one day, he might find a neat stack of letters. Ones that were never sent out, but always slipped in clean envelopes. Ones that were all addressed to the same initials, but there was never an address. Stiles didn’t think he’d send them even if he got an address; but it was a lot like the instance with Derek Hale’s number currently in his phone. He’d stared at it for hours before, debating making a call. A text. Something.

He never did though. Stiles thought he’d have a lot less control with the texts. So he wrote letters instead.

When Derek Hale first left Beacon Hills, the words; “Tell me a story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe” had circled through Stiles’s mind so often, he thought he was going crazy.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

When Stiles had gone into high school, he’d never expected to come out of it surprised he’d survived. They all made jokes years and years ago, yeah. But Stiles still couldn’t believe sometimes that he’d survived.

When he graduated as a senior, he’d stopped going to the counseling sessions. His dad had tried to bring up actual therapy but Stiles was at the point where he realized how Derek had felt when he first returned to Beacon Hills years ago. Once upon a time, when Stiles had been an idiot sixteen-year-old kid and Derek was nothing but tired and sad.

For the first time, Stiles kind of wished he could go back in time and apologize.

Because hell, Stiles was tired. He was sad. He was tired like when Derek had buried himself in his childhood house and attempted to ignore the world. He was sad in that sometimes, he felt like he’d lived and died a dozen lives, and maybe he was just going through the motions these days.

He might have looked for Derek in the crowd the day they’d graduated. Because if Derek Hale was ever going to return to Beacon Hills, it would be then. When most of the danger had passed, when most of them had survived.

Most of them. Not all.

Stiles attempted to organize a vigil for those who hadn’t made it to graduation. A little ceremony. Something, anything, to remember that they all weren’t so lucky.

No one except for Lydia, Melissa, and Stiles’s dad had shown up.

They’d lit candles, murmured a few quiet words, looked over the graves, and Stiles wondered how much it had hurt Derek to lose so many of his pack. Peter had called it like losing a limb. Stiles sometimes wondered if the pain he’d felt when Derek had left was similar to that.

He hadn’t just felt like he’d lost a limb though. He’d felt like he’d lost so much more.

Stiles liked to believe Derek would have come to the vigil if he would have known. Maybe he would’ve taken a candle and stood by Stiles’s side as they overlooked Boyd and Erica’s graves. Surrounded by wolfsbane, because Stiles didn’t know if that was an actual thing, but he remembered seeing it around Laura Hale’s grave so many years ago.

He’d nearly gotten caught when he snuck out one night months ago to plant it. But there was over a handful of purple flowers growing now. Dancing across each grave. Crawling up the stones. Not in the perfect circle like it had been for Laura but… maybe it was enough.

Though, Stiles didn’t know how that could be enough if he hadn’t been.

He’d told himself he was going to leave Beacon Hills after high school. For good, maybe. Or at least for a few years. And Stiles had managed to stay gone for a solid semester, but then his dad had been shot in the line of duty.

Nothing fatal; a shoulder wound that put him in the hospital for six days and took him out of duty for another three months after that. But Stiles had driven straight back to Beacon Hills and hadn’t looked over his shoulder since.

Two years had passed and Stiles sometimes still wrote the letters.

He kind of thought it was stupid.

Hey, Sourwolf, remember that one time you left Beacon Hills without telling anyone? Yeah, well, I do too. And I’m so fucking pissed at you for it, I would literally kill to say that to your face. Which, funny story, wouldn’t be my first murder. Remember that time you said I’d be alright? That everything would be alright?

Yeah, well, that’s a bunch of bull.

Stupid question, but would you pick the sun or the moon? That doesn’t make sense right now and I know, I’d be getting the ‘Seriously Stiles?” growly brows right now. But I’d really like to know. For… scientific reasons. Shut up, I’m probably not going to send this anyway.

By the way, of the sun and the moon, which one of us is dying here?

You think I would have had enough riddles to last me a lifetime at this point, but Morrell doesn’t seem to think so. Both her and Deaton get under my skin sometimes, you know? Like, is a straight answer really so damn hard?

It sure as hell seems like it.

I’m supposed to be graduating and living my life pretty soon. I still can’t make a proper boiled egg and sometimes, I forget not everyone wants to hurt my friends or family. Funny, right? I’m fucking hilarious.

I swear to god, I love you.

Stiles took this one class that talked about poetry and all the questions of the universe. He wasn’t sure why he took it exactly, but there was one thing that caught his attention from the beginning. One story about the moon and the sun; and the constant chase, the constant sacrifice that they made for each other. Over and over again.

He hated that class for all he was worth. He didn't think that was much anymore.

Stiles went to college for another year with no official degree in mind, but maybe he could be a history major or something? But then he got the call that his dad was planning to retire soon and Stiles found himself taking a few steps back. Turning away from the morning classes, the late-night parties, and all of those normal things, and applying to the police academy instead.

For some reason, he always thought Derek would’ve made a good deputy.

Stiles still looked for him sometimes.

He looked for grey-green.

I think I could track you down if I wanted to. You know, talk some sense into your little werewolf-y brain. I’d probably say something about ‘Having a plan B’. Because there has to be something else. We were always supposed to have a plan B, weren’t we? Maybe yours was leaving. Maybe it was not looking back.

I just wish I could’ve left too.

When Derek Hale first returned back to Beacon Hills, Stiles had friends at the local coffee shop, friends at the Sheriff’s station, and even a few friends from his old Uni days. He had them scattered here and there. He hadn’t written a letter in ages.

When Derek Hale first returned to Beacon Hills, Stiles didn’t actually know it until he ran into the man while grocery shopping. Derek had gone stock-still down the aisle, a basket held loosely in his hand, and Stiles’s milk had gone splattering to the floor.

When Derek Hale first returned to Beacon Hills, Stiles was told it was ‘a second chance’. He thought that sounded painfully familiar. He also thought, for a moment, he was going crazy again.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Sometimes, he thought he could leave it all behind. Scott had long since followed the rest of his pack to New York City and Stiles had lost touch long ago. There was still the occasional supernatural baddie in Beacon Hills; but Stiles had a little bit more than a baseball bat now.

There was this… misfit group. Those that had been left behind. Stiles; when he’d become a Deputy. Lydia; when she returned back to start her own online company from the ground up. The few who had never left. Or never stayed gone.

Then there was Derek.

Stiles hadn’t planned on speaking to him ever again, thank you very much. He’d made a beeline from the grocery store and either Derek hadn’t followed, or he’d been too preoccupied with the newly spilled milk to give chase.

Stiles saw him later at the coffee shop. He turned right back around and suffered the station’s coffee for the rest of the week.

He saw him running in the early mornings when he left for work.

He saw the man in his sleep.

It had been so long since Stiles had woken up with the memory of blazing red eyes, or sharp electric blue underneath the moonlight, or the simple green-grey that gave him the saddest look before turning away.

It had been so long.

Stiles made a bonfire in the preserve one night with a pile of his own kindling; a little stack of papers. But then he never went through with it.

One morning, there was a man in his apartment building.

Stiles had never thought his ‘fight or flight’ instincts would kick in when he was facing Derek Hale. But then the man was standing in front of him in nothing but sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He held a bag of bagels in one hand and his mail in the other and it took Stiles one second too long to realize the bastard was living in his building.

It took Stiles one minute too long to realize he was crying.

See, Stiles had imagined their future meeting over and over again in his mind. When Derek had first left and Stiles was still raw, he imagined he might scream a little bit. Maybe curse the man out.

Or maybe just beg him to stay.

Then as the months had stretched on, Stiles thought maybe he’d just give him a hug. That maybe, maybe if he could prove to Derek Hale that there was something left for him in Beacon Hills, he would consider staying around for a little longer.

Jump to three years later and Stiles was just standing here like an idiot, silent tears spilling down his cheeks. And it took him far too long to realize he was crying.

Derek was only a few feet away by the time Stiles snapped back to reality.

Some part of his mind was tempted to punch the man. Some part was tempted to turn and storm off. Stiles thought he could only be more pathetic if he dropped to his knees along with the tears.

Derek looked utterly torn. Stiles hated how little he hated him for a moment.

“Stiles—”

“Do you remember the day you left?”

Derek’s mouth snapped closed and Stiles’s words were trembling. The man made an abortive move forward as if he was going to reach out, but then he promptly drew back. Stiles’s heart twisted in his chest.

“Huh, Derek? Do you remember the day you left?”

“It was… a long time ago.”

“Yeah, asshole, it was. But I just want to know one thing,” Stiles said, and he hated himself for how pitiful he sounded. Because right now, he was pretty sure he hated himself more than he hated Derek Hale. If he even ever had. “Did you ever look back?”

Derek’s jaw ticked and he didn’t say a word. Stiles felt like his stomach had dropped.

“Did you ever think about returning?”

“I’m sorry, Stiles.”

And that wasn’t the answer Stiles had been looking for, but maybe it was the one he should have expected. Silently, he nodded, turning back away. He wasn’t trembling so hard anymore but he still felt like his world was falling apart at the seams.

“Wait, Stiles.”

Despite himself, he froze. Despite everything, despite knowing better. Derek looked shattered when Stiles glanced back and for the first time, he wondered if the man had possibly missed Stiles and much as he’d missed him.

But then Derek just ducked his head again and Stiles knew he was an idiot. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything.”

Though turning away, eyes burning, Stiles sure as hell wished it did.

I swear to god, I hate you.

Stiles never asked to fall in love, alright? He never asked to look into grey-green eyes and find himself rendered useless. If someone had told his teenage self that one day, he’d been spending his life thinking about a certain leather-jacketed asshole, Stiles would have laughed them off.

If his life was a movie, Stiles thought Derek would have shown up on Stiles’s doorstep. Maybe with flowers, maybe with just an apology.

Stiles would have been careful, cautious. But he would have let Derek in. There would have been soft conversations, possible tears, maybe even a love confession. And then Stiles would have been alright again.

Derek Hale never showed up on his doorstep. Stiles still dreamed of grey-green eyes.

There was this part of him that sometimes still came to the shocking realization that Derek was back in town. When one of the deputies introduced Stiles to his new ‘good friend’ and Stiles had nearly had a panic attack at the sight of Derek’s face. When he went to the farmer’s market for the first time since he was a child and turned the corner to run face-first into a soft henley and firm chest.

Sometimes, Stiles had to stop and take a breath.

And then like the snap of two fingers, suddenly Stiles nearly stopped breathing altogether.

He’d survived his teenage years. He’d survived psychotic werewolves and bloodthirsty alpha packs. He’d survived demon possession and being forgotten by all those he loved. Stiles had survived one thing after another. All of those dozen lives that he’d lived.

He took a bullet to the chest on a Tuesday morning. And Stiles was pretty sure he was finally going to die.

But when he came-to, it was in a hospital room.

Stiles felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his brain. There was the faint sound of a beeping machine and someone was hunched over where he laid. Stiles managed to blink once, twice, a low groan leaving his lips, and then the person was jerking like they’d been shot.

Derek Hale made an abortive move to stand, looking like he’d been caught red-handed doing something illegal. Stiles focused in on his face slowly, confused for a second, and then he was pretty sure his heart stopped.

Slowly, Derek sank back into the chair at his side. “Stiles?”

“You’re not really here.”

The man’s face did something strange and Stiles was almost tempted to reach out and touch it. But he still felt like he was floating outside of his body, ears ringing, and this wasn’t real. Either he really was dead or they’d put him on enough drugs to make him see what Stiles usually tried to pretend was a bad dream.

Derek looked terrified. Which was funny, because usually their roles were reversed.

“Stiles, how are you feeling?”

“You’re not really here,” Stiles said again. God, why did his brain hate him? The man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and Stiles thought that up close, his face looked a little less hardened than it used to. His eyes were a little less sad.

“Stiles, you’re in the hospital. You were shot.”

“I know that,” Stiles said, huffing despite himself. “But you’re not here.”

“I am.”

“No,” he said softly. “No, because this is all a dream. Or a hallucination. Or a nightmare. You’re not here because that’s not allowed. We’re not allowed. Someone told me and I’ve spent three years thinking so.”

Derek flinched. Stiles managed a weak chuckle.

“We’re not allowed, Sourwolf.”

And then Derek Hale took his hand.

Stiles’s brain logged offline for a moment. His heart skipped a beat. Because Derek Hale— dream Derek Hale, hallucination Derek Hale, whatever— had his hand. And Stiles could feel the warmth of his skin. The steady beat of his heart. The callouses that lined his palm.

Derek took his hand, squeezing gently, and for a moment, Stiles just stared.

Then he yanked back like he’d been burned.

“No, Derek. No, Derek, no Derek, no! You’re not here! You can’t be here! Get out. Get your furry ass out right now or I swear to god, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

The words were asked gently. Derek raised a brow, glancing down at Stiles’s chest, and his features tightened a little as he looked back up.

“You’ll what, Stiles? Nearly die again?”

“Fuck you.”

“I…” the man's voice wavered. “I’m sorry, Stiles. But I’m not going anywhere.”

And wouldn’t Stiles have loved to have heard that years ago? Derek would have come back or maybe he would have never left. He wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t supposed to have gone anywhere from the start.

“Why?” Stiles asked. “Why now?”

Derek dropped his gaze, starting to pull his hand back. But Stiles latched on as if it was a lifeline. Grey-green eyes snapped back upward and Derek nodded, gripping his hand tight again. “I… I heard what happened.”

“Yeah, so I nearly died. I’ve nearly died plenty of times before, you know. You never showed up then.”

Stiles was pretty sure he was hitting every single point of pain. Because Derek looked more and more stricken with every word and if Stiles was a better person, he would stop. But suddenly, it was all spilling out of him. Because yeah, he could hate the man silently all he wanted, but that had never done him any good.

“Why did you leave, Derek? Goddammit, why did you leave?”

“I had to.”

“You had to leave Beacon Hills?”

“Stiles—”

“Or what, Derek? You had to leave the pack? You had to leave me? You had to scurry off into the night and never so much as call? I wanted so bad to hate you, dammit! How could you let me try and hate you?”

“Because that’s what you were supposed to do!”

Stiles froze. At some point, Derek had drawn away. He just looked at Stiles now, eyes blurry and jaw clenched. For a moment, Stiles was pretty sure he was going to get up and leave. But then the man just ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“That’s what you were supposed to do, Stiles.”

“Why did you leave me, Derek?”

“Why would you ever want me to stay?”

There was this one letter Stiles had written asking himself the same thing. Why did he want Derek back? Why did he even care whether or not the man decided to suddenly up and leave?

Why Derek Hale? Why would he ever care about Derek Hale?

“Because when you left,” Stiles said shakily. “It felt like losing a limb.”

Derek made a soft noise at the back of his throat, shaking hands clasped together in his lap. His eyes were fixed on the floor and Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen the ex big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills so fragile. But he was pretty sure right now, if he said the wrong thing, Derek would shatter.

“Because you were gone,” Stiles said. “Before you were even mine.”

Some part of him thought Ms. Morrell was wrong. There was no moon or sun. There was no chase, there was no sacrifice. Unless it was on both sides. Because dammit, Derek looked like Stiles had just said everything he’d experienced. The man breathed out shakily and nodded once more glancing up.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything.”

“I know.”

“Are you staying?”

“... Yes.”

“For good?”

For a moment, Derek stared. Then he nodded. Stiles smiled a little and for the first time in a while, felt like he really meant it. He shifted, pulling himself into a sitting position and wincing a little at the stretch of his injury. Derek straightened and Stiles just waved a hand through the air, managing a small laugh.

Slowly, the man relaxed back.

“Then me too,” Stiles said softly. “I'm sorry for trying so hard to hate you.”

Derek huffed, eyes shining. And it had been so long since Stiles had hoped he’d actually ever get to see that. He reached out and Derek took his hand, squeezing tightly. And it was all so real. The pulse point beneath his fingertips. The long fingers intertwined with his own.

It was all so real.

“I’m not leaving again, Stiles.”

And beneath Stiles’s fingertips, the heartbeat of the man stayed steady.

There’s this thing about the sun and the moon, Sourwolf. One can’t survive without the other. And it’s always been about survival between us, right? Sometimes, I’d love for that to all be a lie. I really would. But I need you to survive, remember? I need you to survive, which is why I haven’t let you go.

Which is why I might never let you go.

- -

I should really know better than to write at night bc nothing but angst ever ensues. Thank you so much for the prompt, Matt! I had fun with it <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #prompts #all the angst and hurt/comfort #ice-mage #ficlet

42 notes · View notes

vln-vibes · 4 years

Text

Watchtower Woes

Week 1 Day 4 of Maribat March

Special thanks to @little-kitty-kanny , @ethelphantom and @the-navistar-carol for beta-ing for me

It was a normal day at the Watchtower, well as normal as a space station for superheroes could be. The Watchtower looked down upon their home planet, making it seem so big yet so small amongst the sea of stars surrounding them. Today it was just Wonder Woman, Black Bat and Ladybug on monitor duty.

“Sister.”

Ladybug, otherwise known as Marinette Drake nee Dupain-Cheng (the 23-year old designer behind the Lady Luck designs by MDC company), turned to see Wonder Woman looking at her with concern. She and Diana were rather close as the Amazonian princess had practically taken her as blood sisters when she learned of a new Ladybug; seeing as her mother had once worn the mantle as well. Diana had also been her business partner when her company first began to take off.

“Are you feeling alright? You seem to be under the weather”

“She’s right,” Cassandra Cain-Wayne added in “Your center is off, you seem uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine. It's been a little stressful with the upcoming line with Wayne Enterprises,” Ladybug sighed, finding herself massaging her temple, feeling a headache already developing. “That and the team has been acting strange lately, I’ve been trying to investigate the cause, but the Miracle Book isn’t saying much, and I can’t exactly ask Master Fu anymore”

“How so, Ladybug?” Diana asked, taking a seat next to her while Cass took charge of looking through the security footage for them, still focused on the conversation.

“Well, most of them have gotten dangerously overprotective of me. Just yesterday Roi Singe took a hit for me against Hawkmoth 2.0’s latest creation. I asked him about it afterwards, and he just said that nothing could harm me? It was rather strange, especially seeing as Ryuuko and Abeille got more ruthless afterward. Chat was also hissing at people who approached me,” she explained with a troubled look.

“Even as civilians, Viperion, Monarch, and Paon were coddling me: Mari are you warm enough? Have you eaten today? No, Mari, let me get you a natural juice instead of coffee. It’s been so frustrating having to deal with their constant babying.”

“It’s honorable for your team to care for your well being” Diana commented, heavens knew how the JL got whenever one of their members was ill or was unable to perform their duties. Ladybug’s eyes just seemed to water at the implication, wiping the tears before they even fell.

“B-But that could just mean they don’t trust my abilities… what if they think I’m not worthy of being leader or even worse… of being Ladybug?”

Diana did her best to console the younger woman while Cass looked at her skeptically.

She had seen the sudden change in emotion Ladybug had gone through like whiplash, from tired to content to worried to saddened. As Diana combed through Marinette’s pixie cut, Cass continued to think of the things happening these past few weeks.

Tim had once asked Barbara if there was anything that could help with back pains, stating that Marinette had been experiencing some rather hard period symptoms.

She recalled Adrien purring along with Alfred the Cat when they had gone to Wayne Manor last week along with Tim and Conner. Even Ace and Titus were acting like her personal bodyguards, not too different from normal, though Damian admitted that it was a bit more overkill.

Just last month for the Wayne Charity Gala, during the ladies’ final fitting, she had complained to Steph that her own dress felt a little tighter than she expected... though not unbearably so, so she had just decided to leave her own dress as is.

Had it really been so obvious?

She needed to recheck whether Tim deserved the title of Detective after this. Cass stepped out of the room momentarily to make what was potentially a life changing call.

“Robin and Superboy, do you read?” she knew her baby brother, almost eighteen years old, would be hanging out at the Titans Tower in the east coast with Superboy, now sixteen, but seeing as it was a quiet day and the other Titans: Green Lantern (Milagro Reyes), Nightstar (Mar’i Grayson), Scarlet Flash and Kid Speed (Dawn and Don Allen), and Speedy(Lian Harper) would be on standby.

“Is something the matter Black Bat?” Damian responded almost immediately.

All Bats were rather keen on making sure their comms were on in case of emergencies, even when silenced, they’d have the notifications on to see who was trying to contact them.

“Do you mind coming to the Watchtower with Superboy, there’s something concerning Ladybug𑁋”

“Is she alright?” she almost giggled at how concerned her brother was before keeping her cool and responding.

“I believe she’s alright but perhaps not aware of her condition”

“We’ll be there in a minute”

Not even a full minute after stepping back in with a much calmer Ladybug, did she hear the announcement of Robin and Superboy’s arrival before the two skid into the communications room with the three heroines.

“Robin and Superboy? I wasn’t aware you boys would be passing by today,” Diana asked curiously as Damian just puffed up.

“Black Bat called about checking Ladybug’s condition” he said eyeing the scarlet hero to see if anything was amiss; other than her red rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks he found nothing unusual.

“My condition? Cass what are you talking about?” Ladybug asked confused and a bit protective.

“Superboy,” Jon perked at his name before turning to Cass “Can you hear the heartbeats in this room?”

“Uh sure…” to say he was confused was an understatement. He was rather familiar with their heartbeats, having known them for years at this point. He could hear Diana and Damian’s rather war drum like beat, Cass’ steady and rhythmic beats, Marinette’s calm and slightly faster than usual heart and then there was𑁋

Wait, what?

“That’s weird” he whispered to himself before focusing again. Sure enough it was still there a soft echoe of duhn-duhn… duhn-dun as the fifth heartbeat. But he had never heard it before… and it was coming from…

Oh duh!

“Holy schmoly! Congrats Ladybug.” He flew up to her and gave her a huge hug, conscious of his strength now more than ever. Ladybug seemed confused while Cass smiled at her.

“You’re expecting!”

Suddenly everything made more sense, Marinette thought in that moment of realization, as she felt Diana give her her own congratulations along with Damian, who wished to both brag and inform the rest of the family.

This was really happening.

“Can— can we see Doctor Mid-Nite or Doctor Thompkins, please?” she heard herself whisper. The group looked at each other, Diana contacting the Watchtower’s doctor while Damian called for Tim and the rest of the Bat Family to come as soon as they could; was that overkill? Perhaps, but no one that was even associated with the Bats could be anything less than dramatic. Jon was the one who called Conner who called Adrien to go meet them at the Watchtower as well.

Half an hour passed and Ladybug found herself lying on one of the Med Bay beds with Doctor Thompkins, the woman having to be pulled until they mentioned Marinette requesting her assistance, making the last few configurations to the ultrasound machine.

“Are you ready, dear?” the kind doctor asked.

Ladybug lifted her uniform, which she learned she could do at that moment, nearly squirming at the cold gel spreading at her softening abdomen.

“As ready as I’ll ever be” she laughed nervously before taking a deep breath. She couldn’t help but close her eyes, unsure if she wanted it to be true or not, before hearing the curtain open. Tim looked disheveled, most likely having come out of a W.E business meeting he had mentioned yesterday evening.

“Mari, what’s wrong!?”

Duhn-duhn…. Duhn-duhn… duhn-duhn

Marinette had never heard such a life-altering sound, feeling the tears swell in her eyes as her husband looked dumbfounded.

“Is— is that?” Marinette could only nod before being enveloped in a hug by him. He whispered sweet nothings and reassurances to her as the beautiful sound echoed in their heads.

“God, we’re going to be parents, sunshine”

“So it would seem, moonlight”

“M’Lady what’s—!” Chat Noir had sprinted from the zeta entrance having heard the far too soft heartbeat coming from the monitor, the Bats not far behind him. Suffice to say that the Watchtowers usual quiet was interrupted for the rest of that evening as cheers and congratulations went around the Med-Bay.

They would later learn that she had been nearly three months pregnant by the time they found out, explaining her team’s odd behavior due to the animal characteristics of the Miraculous. However, the worst news was to come a week later on one faithful morning.

“Oh kwami, get that away from me!” Marinette exclaimed as soon as she came out of their room in their studio apartment in Gotham. The scarlet hero having to rely on Pegasus for travel to and from Paris for the time being. Not that her team even wanted her on the field in the first place at the time but she was anything if not stubborn, a necessity for the Wayne family.

That was how the coffee obsessed duo discovered that Marinette and baby were disgusted by the mere smell of coffee. Truly, it was the hardest part of the pregnancy.

Six months later, when Thomas Louis Drake-D.C was born, his aunts and uncle would continuously call him the ‘Second Coming of Christ’ for doing the impossible and getting his parents to cut off their caffeine addiction, much to their annoyance.

For now they were just a family of three, looking at the infinite stars of their baby’s eyes.

My AO3

Ko-Fi

#Maribat #MariBat March #MariBatMarch2020 #timari #timinette #Tim x Marinette #Tim Drake x Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Maribat March day 4 #Day 4 #Watchtower

187 notes · View notes

puttingfingerstokeys · 4 years

Text

heart and fire

I had to fuck with italics on this thing ‘cause holy shit are they important.

Thermodynamic equilibrium (subscorp), uh, post-aftermath on the fucked up timeline. I want nice things so I’m going to give Kuai Liang nice things....... sort of! Gay ninja ahead (and prolly behind, too, lbr they’re ninja)

For @sxvethelastdance, my Heart

Bonus “chapter” here.

Broken Timeline

It has been two months, my Fire, since I returned to Netherrealm to recover your body. We sought to reclaim the fallen from both our clans, with limited success. Your younger counterpart showed me the place where D’vorah stole you from me. I swear vengeance upon her, should she ever have the misfortune of crossing my path.

Frost was among those we were able to locate and she is recovering at Arctika, though she will not speak to anyone. She threatened to throw herself into the Sea of Blood upon discovery, but that fate was not worthy of a Lin Kuei—even a traitor. I should have written sooner, but my duties have taken me from the pen and solitude.

You will be pleased to know that Takeda Takahashi has resigned his post with Special Forces to assume interim leadership of the Shirai-Ryu. The boy is well-trained and wise; he does not fill your boots, but he is humble and willing to learn. No member of the Shirai-Ryu can best him. You have taught him well.

He has married Jacqueline Briggs—it was a quiet ceremony soon after we returned from the assault on Kronika’s keep—and they are now expecting a child. . Takeda came to me recently and asked if I thought it appropriate to call the boy Hanzo, assuming it is a boy. I think it is only right that someone carries your name. I will always carry it in my heart, but it will be good to hear aloud.

I miss you.

“Takeda, thank you for meeting me.” The two ninja stood outside the Fire Gardens, just beyond the gate, Kuai Liang looking in, but making no move to enter.

“It’s always a pleasure, Grandmaster Sub-Zero,” said the younger man, putting a flat, open hand over his fist and bowing. “What brings you here?” He glanced up and down at the Lin Kuei Grandmaster and, noting the envelope in one hand, he gestured toward it, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“This—you’ve seen through me—is for… if you might place it at Grandmaster Hasashi’s resting place, I would be—”

“I will not,” came the quick reply. It wasn’t sharp, but it was firm. “You will.”

“But I am—”

“Welcome in the Fire Gardens, Grandmaster, as are your students; it is a step Grandmaster Hasashi would have taken and I… I am only interim instructor, but I will honor his legacy, no matter what.” He saluted the Lin Kuei once more, this time bowing deeply and gesturing toward the entrance. “I’ll show you where he’s… where we’ve got a marker.”

There was, of course, no body to bury, but that would have been the way of the Shirai-Ryu anyway. It was to Sub-Zero’s shame that he had brought them no corpse, and his own eternal agony that he did not at least have one last chance to… I never told him, not really, not properly. Leaves fell all around them, red and gold, perpetually in motion, making the place resemble its name. It is cold without you.

“It’s in a quiet corner,” Takeda said, trying to fill the pregnant silence between them. His fellow Shirai-Ryu were all around, if unseen. None of them raised a hand or weapon to Grandmaster Kuai Liang, however. They, for the most part, were in favor of uniting once more with their ancestral brethren. Those who were not, kept it to themselves and would rather not have begun a spat with Sub-Zero. “Near a koi pond… I think you’ll like it.”

Sub-Zero made no move to answer as the path twisted once more to the left and opened to a beautiful grotto. There was, indeed, a pond, but Takeda had neglected to mention the green foliage, bright red and orange flowers, and the waterfall, babbling over several layers of stones before emptying into the pond. The fish swam this way and that, utterly unaware of the world around them. Kuai Liang envied them.

To one side was a pillar, an obelisk that looked like it was made of volcanic glass. Atop it was a small brazier and in that, a flame danced this way and that, an ethereal quality to its rhythm. There was an inscription upon the pillar itself, but Sub-Zero’s gaze was lost in the flame almost immediately, arresting every bit of his attention.

“Yeah, I get that too when I come here… Liu Kang—err… Lord Liu Kang lit that sucker and… well, it’s god fire, so it’s not goin’ out.” Takeda was receding from the grotto. “I’ll just… leave you two, yeah?” He did not wait for an answer before melting into the fire-colored foliage of the Gardens.

Kuai Liang clutched the envelope, hard, wrinkling it in his effort to bite back tears and swallow down the choking lump that was rising in his throat. His heart twisted and ached as he dropped to one knee before the pillar. The inscription was simple: Grandmaster Hanzo Hasashi, eternal flame of the Shirai-Ryu; you will never be forgotten. There was so much more about him that Kuai Liang wanted to add, but there was not enough obsidian in the world for that.

He settled himself presently, then, closing his eyes and focusing inward, clearing his mind, breathing softly, deeply. Reaching out, he laid one hand upon the small obelisk, feeling where each word was carved, imagining he could also feel heat coming from it. That was silly, of course, but it comforted him. He stayed that way for a while, before opening his eyes once more and standing, still holding the envelope.

The grandmaster’s sharp gaze fell upon that fire and slowly, reverently, he lifted the envelope and letter to it. The fire licked up and around it, consuming the paper with little effort until there was nothing but ash. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the sentiment behind them which counted for the ears of the dead.

He left silently and with dignity, letting not a single, chilly tear fall until he returned to Arctika and his private quarters.

My fire. It has been one year since my last letter. Forgive my waiting so long. It was difficult to find time and then, to begin. The snow here seems deeper than it ever has and harder to move through; it no longer feels a part of me and I am cold. But you need not suffer the chill with me.

Hanzo Briggs-Takahashi is a robust boy even at one year old. There seems to be some debate over his education, but for now, he lives happily with his mother and father among the Shirai-Ryu. They have determined this to be the best course of action until everything has settled to an acceptable level of disorder.

I neglected to mention in my last letter that Liu Kang has, with the aid of Lord Raiden, ascended to divinity. He is a worthy young man and I feel confident in his abilities to guide the shifting of the sands of time. I wish you had been there to see him lead the armies of Outworld and Earthrealm against Kronika. But maybe those memories are with you now that your past self has been sent back to his proper time.

I will never stop missing you, but writing eases the pain a little.

The letters continued, as frequently as he could manage, for years. It felt like centuries. His favorite time to write was when despair was upon him, because writing to his lost love reminded him that he was not simply living for himself, but for Hanzo’s dream and memory. He did not remember all the words he had written, and no one else would ever read them, but they were not for anyone else, so it did not matter.

You will be pleased, my Fire, to know that the Takahashi family has expanded once more, by one. Their daughter, Sonya, was born yesterday morning, healthy and squalling like a storm. I think her name is appropriate. Johnny and Cassie Cage will be arriving at the Fire Gardens later this week, I am told, to greet the child and spend some time with Jacqueline and Takeda. I will deliver this letter then.

I cannot believe it has been four years since I last laid eyes and lips upon you. I miss your taste, your warmth. My heart aches daily for you, but the ache eases when I write and remember you as you were, vibrant and powerful, the light of my life, and the warmth. Worry not. The warmth has not utterly deserted me. I see in Takeda’s boy much of your spirit, and I visit the Fire Gardens often, with Takeda’s gracious permission.

We are moving forward, slowly, with the integration training. Twice per year, we stay at the other’s residence, with all our students, working together. Frost is still a tough case, but I think her loss to Takeda recently might have tempered her cold fire. Defeat does not settle well upon the shoulders of any Lin Kuei, but taking it with grace is a learned art. She has not learned this; I must educate her.

I love you with all my heart and soul.

This one, he did indeed deliver when he visited the Fire Gardens to see the new baby. Sonya was even prettier than her brother had been and he was delighted to hold her in his great, chilly arms. Dark eyes stared up at him with a depth of understanding he could not have predicted from an infant. Gripping his finger with one tiny hand, she squealed with delight and flailed her limbs as he looked on with aching fondness.

“Isn’t she perfect?” Takeda asked Sub-Zero as he handed the little creature back to her mother. Jacqui was glowing and Kuai Liang was not clear if he meant the child or the mother. Instead, he nodded. He did not stay long, but it was refreshing to his soul to see the people of this ruined timeline picking themselves back up and making the best of their situation.

My Fire, you will scarcely believe the strangeness which has happened here at Arctika. Our hot springs have begun to run far too hot to bathe in, or even to touch! The minerals are beginning to build up on the walls in the grotto and I must send students out, daily, to address this. They are hard at work, “building character”, Frost included. She seems to set about the task with the most vigor, as if the buildup offends her. Perhaps it does. Arctika, this place she fought so hard to be in, has recently been invaded by your Shirai-Ryu and they too have set about the task—of cleaning the grotto, not offending Frost; she does that well enough on her own.

I would like, more than anything, to once more share tea and to bathe with you. That intimacy is long gone from my flesh and I often crave it—not as you did, of course. I find myself almost blushing at the thought. Almost. I miss your eyes, so dark and intense, it was always as if you were looking into me, boring in deep and searching… for what, I cannot guess, but I wish you would do it again.

Yours forever, Grandmaster Hasashi, forever and a day and then forever again.

Even a skilled kryomancer stood no chance against the heat of the springs, and so it, too, became a training ground for the combined forces of the Lin Kuei and Shirai-Ryu. Takeda and Grandmaster Kuai Liang often went out to the springs to breathe in the healing steam and to speak. They talked of much—of history and the future—and deepened their understanding of each other.

“He would have wanted you to take his place,” Sub-Zero said, “once you’d proven yourself, of course.”

Takeda’s eyes flew wide. “Never in a million years, Grandmaster; are you kidding me?” His cheeks were flushed with exhilaration at the weight of the compliment he’d just been paid by the Lin Kuei’s leader. “I don’t… I’m not ready for that.”

“And that is why you are. A good Grandmaster knows his limitations.” Kuai Liang did not look at Takeda, an envelope clutched in his hand.

“Will you be joining us on the journey back to the Fire Gardens tomorrow, Grandmaster?”

“I will, with your permission, Takeda,” replied Sub-Zero, contemplating the boiling water. Of course, Takeda would not refuse, so the question was more of a formality than anything else. There were certain parts of tradition to which Takeda had noticed the Lin Kuei Grandmaster held strictly, and others he had thrown utterly out the window. The first one was, of course, his adoration of Grandmaster Hasashi, which Takeda had long ago suspected was more than academic friendship or alliance. It was a suspicion he would, naturally, never pursue.

The two men stood, side by side, arms folded, considering everything they had done in the past five years, all the progress they had made. The Shirai-Ryu were really and truly restored, standing upon the shoulders of Scorpion’s hard work. The Lin Kuei were even recovering and their number had increased, though they were still a shell of what they had been. Only a few of the cyber assassins had been recoverable at the Sea of Blood and of those, even fewer had retained their sanity after they had been reset—such was their grief at the injustice they had wrought on Frost’s behalf.

Kuai Liang was not sure she would ever show appropriate remorse, but he decided she was not a lost cause. He would keep working on her, like a glacier carves a lake. The movement was slow but inexorable. Eventually, she would see and she would learn. Even one so stubborn as she could be taught, he was certain. His resolve would not be broken by one such as Frost.

“…does it seem hotter, Grandmaster?” Takeda’s voice was muffled, suddenly, by the amount of steam suddenly filling the air of the grotto. Sub-Zero’s eyes narrowed as he peered through the haze, as if doing so could discern the source of the disturbance.

“It is,” he confirmed, “but… why?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” Takeda growled, reaching out toward Sub-Zero. “Go,” he grunted, “grab some of your students—the cyber Lin Kuei should be able to see through this fog!”

Sub-Zero could not deny the logic of this, but he disliked leaving Takeda. There was an ill-omened heaviness in the air all of a sudden he was not entirely sure was the steam or the mineral smells which came with it. There was a loud, violent hiss and a jet of water, then, from the center of the springs and both men would have been pelted with stinging droplets had it not been for Kuai Liang’s hastily built ice wall and the quick thinking to tug Takeda behind it.

Neither kombatant was expecting something wickedly sharp and hot to pierce the center of the wall directly between their heads. The heat of it caused the rest of the structure to begin cracking and both men dived to either side to avoid its collapse. The familiar, discordant song of a retracting chain rang out in the steamy half-gloom, the light of torches now obscured and throwing strange shadows, diffused through the steam.

Quan-Chi.

Both minds settled upon this conclusion simultaneously, though without having spoken it. Takeda jumped to his feat and readied himself. Whatever Neatherrealm incursion this was, it would be met with extreme prejudice. Neither knew precisely where Quan-Chi might have fallen in the scheme of things. He had met his end by Scorpion’s hand, but that did not mean some shift in the mythical sands of time had not restored him—utterly by accident, of course, but it was a mistake which would require swift correction.

Of course, as far as they knew, only Hanzo Hasashi had ever mastered the chain and spear to that extent, so Quan-Chi himself could not possibly have been on the other end of it. Kuai Liang’s mind was racing. Was that why he had not found his lover’s body? Could Quan-Chi have been accidentally restored and had begun his machinations, once more, to hold the throne of Netherrealm for his infernal (decapitated) master?

The very idea of a wraith bearing his Fire’s face settled deep in the pit of Kuai Liang’s guts, twisting into a dragon of rage, ripping at his insides and gripping his heart violently. He was as close to burning with rage as a Lin Kuei could be.

“Takeda,” he snarled, “go. I will deal with this abomination.”

For once, Takeda Takahashi did not argue. He did not resolve to stay gone, however. He raced toward the grotto’s exit, intent on making his way swiftly down the side of the mountain to the Arctika complex and alerting every ninja in its walls that they were under attack. Takeda had almost reached the divide between grotto and open mountain face when the horrific echo of clear words rang out seemingly from everywhere.

“GET OVER HERE!” The chain sang through the air and Takeda whirled, moving to block or to face his demise. Only Sub-Zero’s swift motion stopped it hitting home as the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei caught the barb in an icy grip and crushed it, shaking the remains free from his hand as if it were a mere inconvenience.

“Go,” he repeated and stalked toward the springs. All around him, steam turned to ice and fell to the ground like heavy sleet. As his rage built, the temperature dropped and soon there was an aura of cold surrounding him, combatting the steam. Diamond tears fell from eyes which had hardened to flinty slits as he stepped past the edge of the springs, into—no, onto—the water, which was freezing solid under each step.

“Why don’t you get over here for a change,” snarled Sub-Zero, “and show me that face you’re wearing—the face you have not earned, Revenant!”

“Revenant?” The voice was a raspy bark. Following the word was laughter. Sub-Zero concentrated on solidifying the water particles around him to create a solid barrier that would be just a little more difficult for his assailant to pierce. He had not forgotten that, in later years, Scorpion had begun to carry—and proficiently use—two spear chains. The latter would come soon enough.

“You are a puppet of Quan-Chi, unworthy of the body you inhabit. Come, face me, and see the truth of your fallibility!” Kuai Liang drew himself up and stood tall, continuing. “Yours is the fire of hell, not of his heart, a thing so great you could not begin to comprehend it, much less mimic—but again, I invite you to come and allow me to demonstrate. It will be a pleasure.”

Sub-Zero had anticipated the spear.

He had not counted on Hellport, which Scorpion used with impunity.

Suddenly, the heat behind him was unbearable and there was a piercing agony ripping into his senses, starting at his shoulder, between the joint and the scapula. He could feel it digging deep, feel the lukewarm sensation of his own blood flowing down his back. He had to act.

Kuai Liang whirled on the revenant, ice axe at the ready. He would cleave the beast’s head from its shoulders, no matter how twisted the visage was. Red eyes would meet his a moment, before falling from broad, strong shoulders Sub-Zero knew all to well.

Except that they were not.

They eyes were white. With the turn, Scorpion’s hand and arm had been yanked—refusing to let go, oh, that old tenacity was strong—around Kuai Liang’s back and had, in that motion, drawn his body closer until they were flush, touching, pressed together. Sub-Zero’s arm was falling, axe in hand and, though he would have stopped it, Scorpion’s grip upon his wrist halted the descent entirely.

The fingers upon Sub-Zero’s wrist were burning, as with a fever, and they eyes he met were ablaze with madness and fury. The brow knitted together at the bridge of the man’s nose was familiar, however, the grimace on his blood-soaked, lacerated face not unknown to Kuai Liang, either. Inches apart, this could have been a lover’s embrace, but for the spearhead embedded in his shoulder and the fiery grip locked upon his arm.

Vaporizing with a hiss, Kuai Liang’s faithful ice axe bowed out of the fight and he was left with no weapon—no external weapon, anyway. He leveraged his height advantage against Scorpion and drove him back twisting his arm to reverse the grip and grab him instead, forcing him yet closer. The ice under their feet was slick and filling the frozen dome with steam. Sub-Zero began to feel lightheaded.

He would have to end this quickly, or Scorpion would gut him and the water of the hot springs would run red with the Grandmaster’s blood. That he was not facing a revenant was secondary in his mind to survival. He knew all of Scorpion’s movements, every trick and feint. Unfortunately, Scorpion also knew his, intimately. If they broke apart, the brawl might draw itself out and in this heat, Sub-Zero was already feeling sluggish.

Wrapping both arms tightly around Scorpion’s body, then, forcing the arm he had trapped up behind the shorter mans’ back, he began to squeeze, dropping his temperature with as much rapidity as he could muster. His mind was racing, thoughts flowing as if down the choppy, white waters of a sub-arctic stream just after thaw and just as insubstantial, uncatchable. He had to stop the man’s movement.

Scorpion fought hard against the grip, snapping at Sub-Zero with his teeth. He would have landed a successful headbutt were it not for their difference in height and Kuai Liang tucking his head into the crook of Scorpion’s neck. Scorpion tensed, ceasing his thrashing for the briefest of interludes as Sub-Zero’s chilly, gentle lips pressed downward on scorched flesh. Rather than the bite the enraged wraith had been expecting, he only felt the sensual, gentle touch of the man’s mouth.

“I know what you are,” whispered Kuai Liang against his lover’s flesh, gripping him tight and slowing the descent of the temperature. Scorpion’s thrashing had all but ceased as he was literally cooled down from his agitated state. Beneath them, the water which had been upon the ice solidified as Scorpion finally went limp, succumbing to the cold.

“A wraith once more.” The whisper was barely audible. Only Sub-Zero could hear these words, spoken so softly. He was bent over Scorpion, who had gone nearly boneless in his embrace, barely clinging to consciousness, but doing so with such tenacity it might have, under other circumstances, been frightening.

“No,” said Sub-Zero, standing, straightening, and lifting Scorpion bodily into his arms. The naked wraith leaned against his chest, closing those unsettling, white eyes as the temperature began to stabilize and Kuai Liang stepped gracefully off the ice and onto solid ground. Steam rose once more from the Lin Kuei hot springs, but they did not boil. “You are my Fire, and you have come back to me.”

“Amusing,” grunted Hanzo Hasashi weakly, reaching up to swat the side of Kuai Liang’s bearded face, “that you thought death would free you of me, my Heart.”

Upon the warm water, an envelope floated, forgotten, soaking, ink running.

#cc #cw #mortal kombat #subscorp #thermodynamic equilibrium #Sub-Zero #scorpion #hanzo hasashi #kuai liang

41 notes · View notes