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littlefreya · 4 years

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The Way to Hell - Part 11

Synopsis: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild)

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: Explicit smut, violence, gore, cutting, angst, manhandling, choking, foul language, bondage, breath play, unprotected sex.

A/N: Assuming my usual panic attack positions! Ok, so there are about 2 chapters left and I fear this story is about to conclude... 😰 This chapter put me through an emotional turmoill! Many thanks for my editor and muse @agniavateira, @yespolkadotkitty for the cover art and @dancingwendigo and @wondersofdreaming who’re helping me through my panic attacks and providing tips

Please comment, review and reblog. 💖

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Title: Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me

Pearly tendrils of light shine through the creases of his lids, waking him from a dreamless sleep. A mixture of iron and dream-like mellowness tugs at his nose, like death and fresh roses. It’s so close he can nearly taste it on his parched tongue. Swallowing the scorching dryness in his throat, the fallen man attempts to move but a leaden warmth defies him, hugging softly onto his upper torso and embracing him in the foreign fog of solace.

A delicate heartbeat murmurs against his, so frail it virtually feels as if it melted into his own ribs.

As if she dissolved into him.

Cold sweat layers his forehead. Snapping frantically he shoves the girl off of him, curling against the headboard with a crazed neurotic look on his face as if he was touched by a blaze of blistering fire.

“What the fuck do you want!?” August yells, his voice hoarse and cracked. His glare shoots through her across the small bedroom, his mind rapidly trying to grasp any recollection of the messy chamber. This location is strange to him; the walls feel like they’re closing in, withdrawing the air from his lungs in a place that seems like a warzone. The light-carpeted floor is soiled by a long path of the darkest red, the trail leading back to them.

The porcelain valkyrie is pushed to the edge of the bed, seemingly like a rare mythological creature. Her long hair drapes her face like a dark veil, pierced by two shiny diamonds that glimpse through, imbued with naivety. Still drowsy, she tries to collect her own senses, rubbing her heavy forehead and releasing a soft groan.

“Relax, stop shouting.” she pleads with lids half shut. Her slender arms spread in the air, suggesting a peace treaty.

August scowls, his airflow becoming short and quickened. He lets a hand rave over his chest with panic, finding it bare and sticky with dry blood and sweat. A clean bandage is wrapped around his left pectoral and crossed tightly around one shoulder. While the aching sting still bites into the wounded muscle, his energy has slightly renewed, as well as his sanity.

Or so he believes.

Making another hasty survey of the room, he finds his belt and armed holster scattered on the floor. He makes a dash for it, immediately aiming the gun in Ingvild’s direction, refusing to fall to whatever game this may be.

She stares at him motionless, remaining seated with her knees folded and her feet nestled below her behind. “Feels nice doesn’t it?” she provokes, her lips breaking into a faint grin as if the muscles of her face are still learning the concept of smiling. “To wake up with your tits out.”

Looking back at her unamused, his hand waves the gun. A glower shadows his face, painting deep lines in his forehead. The attempt to greet her with an onslaught of insults results in nothing but a painful wheeze as his throat sears.

“Don’t move,” Ingvild commands lightly and climbs off the bed, completely ignoring the click of the gun and August’s arm that follows her every movement. Her legs nearly float through as she moves gracefully, rushing to the bathroom nearby. She grabs a glass and fills it from the tap before quickly returning to sit on the bed, offering the tall glass to August.

Wary of her peace offering, he hesitates, scanning her for any signs of wickedness and finding none. Something else glints through her big irises instead. The deep lines that dot those beautiful greys seem so brittle, immersed in emotion he can’t define or recognize at all.

It makes him feel attacked.

Snatching the glass violently, he swallows its content in one gulp, feeling a thirst he never sensed in his entire existence. He places the glass on the nightstand, slamming it so harshly it shatters.

Ingvild peers at the light sparkling onto the broken shards and averts her eyes back to August’s profoundly ragged face. He glares with blazes of fury, evidently less than inclined to trust her despite her efforts to make amends, and the fact that she nursed him through a stormy night.

It pricks her heart, more than it ever did when she tried to gain Liam’s affection.

“I could have killed you at least three times in your sleep,” she murmurs and then pauses, attempting to smirk again. “You should really lay off the snacks, I nearly fainted trying to get you to the bed.”

Unphased, he carefully gauges her appearance. Soft, pale light shines through the window, showering her skin with a mellow haze as she sits holding a hand over her forearm, squeezing it nervously. Her glance is filled with rain clouds, the cynicism and the hatred he grew so accustomed to is untraceable.

A piece inside her shifted, deeming her fragile all of the sudden. In his heart of tar and stone, he knows she speaks the truth, yet the spirit of vengeance won’t let go. Bile rises in his throat, fingers twitching as the constant hunger to touch her prickles his skin. The woman is a natural prey to him, making his mouth salivate. It’s enough to see her defenceless to make him want to gnaw fresh cavities in her flesh.

But something else boils in his veins. More than just a primal need.

“Why can’t you just let me be?” he asks sharply, teeth gritted and jaw strained tightly. A slight tremor runs through his bones, his body dominated by anger and despair.

“You came here,” she answers, staring fearlessly between the barrel and his furious gaze. A small frown forms between her eyebrows, the grey clouds inside her lustrous eyes beginning to take wind. “You wanted to retaliate.”

Fragments of the other night begin to slice into the black matter of his brain: her tears, her lips moving slowly, whispering his own words of a vendetta in her angelic voice.

Like a dream, nebulous and virginal, how beautiful she was surrendering her will to his.

‘Fight it! She betrayed you.’

“Oh trust me, princess, I still very much want to see you die.” he retorts, the gun beginning to feel heavy in his hand. He reaches to hold his own wrist, giving a fierce glare. “You should have ended it, darling.”

“Yes, I should’ve killed you,” she agrees, her lower lip slightly quivering as she looks at him with desperation. Her chest begins to heave through the cleavage of her top, the same tarnished one she wore that night. It still smells like his sweat. His musk is so stubborn it lingers.

“I should be a good girl, for Liam, for Icarus. But I have so many thoughts going through my head over and over again, splitting my mind in half. I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to kill for them, I don’t want to kill you. It hurts.”

Shuffling in a swift movement, she crawls toward him, her muscles flexing inward. Her slick manoeuvres remind him of a majestic feline. August’s pupils dilate as the lines of her face sharpen in his sight and the warmth of her body returns to caress him like a pleasant autumn breeze.

Ingvild reaches her slender arm for his wrist fearlessly before he can even muster any protest. Ignoring the gun aimed at her throat, she forces his palm flat onto her chest and inhales sharply. Her heart thunders against his touch, making his own beat accelerate.

“Right here,” she says, gazing deeply into his eyes as if trying to enchant him. “I have killed close to 470 people since I was 14. I don’t remember their faces, but I do know I never felt this before, not for any of them.”

The azure ocean in August’s eyes gushes with alarming gusts. The scarce physical contact ignited a spark inside him, driving him to withdraw his hand aggressively, putting down the flame before it begins to spread again.

“What do you want? What do you think this is?” he asks furiously, boring a frenzied look into her eyes. He feels a certain heat rising in his chest. He reasons with himself that it’s just the gunshot wound festering, burning his lungs to cinders.

“I want you,” she answers, her gaze dropping to his lips, admiring the fine shape. A sharp cupid’s bow hidden beneath the coarse hair of his thick moustache. Her hands dream of stroking his sculptured jaw and feel the bristle of his untamed stubble.

“I want to follow you on your mission.”

‘She is lying. Don’t trust her, remember what happened the last time you’ve placed your faith in a woman?’

August’s nostrils flare, his mind scouring frantically, bargaining for a reason why she would be different. Twice he spared her, his murderous will weakened by her manipulative spells, clawed by whatever it was she had on him. The voice in his head warns him gravely, yet the fact that here he is, still alive by her merciful hand spikes his doubts, meddling with his thoughts the way only she could do.

Ever since she stepped into his life he’s been spiralling into a cataclysm. Something that he always gripped with zeal was no longer in his control.

Leaning closer, he narrows his eyes with spite. The muscle of his jaw contracts, clenching tightly. He grazes the cold barrel of the gun against the supple skin of her cheek. “Why should I trust you?” he spits out, tracing her face further with the hard, crude metal. “You think that because I broke you in, I actually care about you?”

Ingvild studies his face, not showing any sign of fear as she nods to herself. “You need proof.”

The young woman looks around her, searching for something in the room thoughtfully. Her eyes rest on the nightstand beside August and she leans to it, brushing her entire figure against his broad body for a split second as she reaches for the broken glass.

“What do you think you’re doing, princess?” he asks cautiously, his eyes following her every move. He crooks his eyebrow as she sits in front of him with her legs bunched beneath her bottom. Displaying her left arm with her elbow resting on one knee and her palm facing upward, she presses the shard against her wrist.

August frowns in a mixture of confusion and agitation, alarm bells ringing at the back of his head. Yet no rational thought makes it to his mind as he watches the glass tear through her skin.

Silence befalls the room. Abruptly so quiet he can hear the buzz of the electric cords running through the walls. Even her breath pauses as her right hand drops the shard on the bed, her eyes remaining poised, darting onto his. Overcome with disbelief he wonders if she actually did it, scrutinizing her flesh which seems intact.

Suddenly, a spout of blood emerges through her open wrist.

Dark red liquor licks down her arm, sensually dripping onto her worn jeans and pooling onto the blanket. August’s heart stirs with shock, yet he attempts to force his emotions away.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

Keeping her sight on his, Ingvild remains still, not flinching a muscle as the blood pumps out of her severed artery. The pain is excruciating yet the chants in her mind continue to tell her to hold her groans inside.

‘Show no weakness, prove your strength.’

“You want loyalty.”

“Won’t mean a thing if you’re dead,” he answers coldly, waiting for her to stop the blood, to show any fear or regret. The thick liquid continues to flow down her arm, tarnishing her porcelain skin that begins to turn paler as the blood drains from her body. He gathers the torture must be unbearable yet she won’t even make a whimper.

‘What is she waiting for?’

“I’m not going to save you,” August warns.

Ingvild shrugs lightly, trying not to move her arm too much. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll die one way or another, by your hand or Icarus’. At least this gives me a choice.”

The drops staining the bed sound like rain tapping against a window ledge, heavy and dull.

August’s brows knit together, his eyes running back and forth between her arm and her face, watching her lips turning light blue, triggering disturbing memories in his mind. “What on earth does that mean?” Heavy frown lines paint his forehead as he recalls her words before she shot him.

“I have to kill you.”

“You’re a slave?” he reckons, looking at the colour vanishing from her face as she nods. “How very disappointing, Ingvild.”

“A tool, controlled by men whom I’ve never seen to manipulate the world and sustain the old order, as you wrote in your manifesto.” she shuts her eyes for a mere second, trying to push back the throbbing twinge in her vein as her body screams with panic.

“They stole my freedom…” she pauses, finding it suddenly hard to speak. “They stole me... what did they take from you?”

“It’s none of your business,” he snaps, aware of how her voice slows down along with her breath. He swears he can hear her heartbeat getting louder as if begging to be rescued.

“But I am bleeding for you.” she provokes, offering a small weak chuckle. Feeling the euphoria creeping to her mind. “You should tell me your plans like villains do in the movies. I’m dying anyway.”

August snarls. Shaking his head, his eyes hold a rageful ocean, washed with concern. The image of her dying corpse lying beneath him flashes into his memory. A dead angel in the snow, lips frozen in time. He should have left her there in the frozen lake. But for a split second, she was Lacey and then she wasn’t.

As she slowly dives into her own death, he still wonders why he couldn’t let her drown.

‘For fuck’s sake.’

Ingvild closes her eyes accepting the shadows that seduce her to join them, the pain dwindling as her body gives in. But she’s quickly pulled back by August who holds her hand, covering the bleeding slit with his tattered shirt and pressing into it. His voice comes as distant thunder, vibrating gently in her ears before words begin to make sense again.

“Hold it up, like this,” he commands her, folding her arm and fisting her wrist tightly. “Where are the bandages?”

Ingvild tilts her chin, her sleepy eyes gesturing onto her bag on the floor where a pristine white pack of badges lies.

“Keep the pressure on,” he orders her again. His voice is calm as if once again he follows protocols. Yet something stirred, hiding within the silent sea of his eyes which snap at her for a split second.

They’re tainted by fear.

Ingvild watches with hushed admiration as he hurries to grab the bandage and returns to her. A small wrinkle rests between his brow, focusing intently on wrapping her open wound. He makes such a beautiful, neat work dressing her injury, she almost feels sorry for making a mess out of his.

“Have I proved myself?” she taunts, peeking at him through her lashes while he makes work of tying the dressing tightly at her wrist. His elegant hands wrap a piece of medical duct tape around the bandages, twirling the long thick bands ceremonially as if they were silk ribbons.

His stern gaze rests upon her face, noting every flake of her long lashes, watching the different colours shift like thick liquid as daylight breaks onto her glassy irises. Awe plays with the strings in his chest, mesmerized by the innocence in her that refuses to die even after he desecrated her.

The craving in him seethes. Like a thirsty man in the desert who stumbles onto an oasis.

‘You can’t let her go, can’t let her slip between your fingers.’

With her wrist still in his grasp, he allows himself to stroke a thumb over the white cotton of the bandage, brushing the suppleness of her skin.

“This is not the devotion I need from you, princess.”

Ingvild flinches like a scared animal, shivering at the foreign tenderness of his touch. No one ever touched her with kindness. Soft, feather-like caresses embark further up her milky skin, making her moan at the pleasant new sensation. Light and careful, his fingers ascend to her neck and press around her chin.

“Angel,” August murmurs, low and sonorous. His bulky body looms closer, whilst the grip around her jaw becomes tense, drawing her closer until his lips are a mere inch away from hers. “Do you want to be devoted to me?”

“Yes,” she answers, voice still lingering either by blood loss or the passion that begins to cloud her mind.

Consoled by her answer, a small growl builds in the pit of August’s diaphragm, accompanied by a lustful grin that edges his chiselled face.��

“Then show me your devotion.”

“No…” she protests lightly, finally breaking into a true little smile that glints brightly in her eyes. The radiance almost makes him want to take it from her by force. “I’m not a toy.”

August smirk widens at her response, exposing his sharp fangs that beam at the faint hint of rosy hues that circles her cheeks.

“Did I stutter?” Authority paints his voice, his grip putting pressure on her nape and pressing her chin up with the pad of his thumb. The patience in him wears thin, greed weaving in his gut yet he vows to hold back as much as possible, unwilling to tear down her wings.

She must submit freely.

Fallen by his power, she watches the darkness pour into his eyes, his lips pulling apart slightly, anticipating the moment when he can steal the air from her lungs and nibble into the plumpness of her lips. Whatever strength in her wanes, bending to his will. She meekly takes his lips into hers, suckling him above and below, feeling the rough graze of his moustache.

It’s nothing like the violent kiss they shared in the pit, yet something in her quickly awakens: a hunger like no other, turning the kiss more demanding. Like fire spreading, their tongues quickly engulf each other, dancing feverishly. August’s growl vibrates all the way down her sternum, his hands roaming down to grope every patch of skin.

A mewl of protest breaks from her as he leaves her lips, followed by a deep sigh as he begins to kiss down her throat. The scruff of his coarse facial hair makes her blood rush and her heart pumps with exhilaration, nearly halting from the bliss of his touch.

“I want everything.” August blurts out, tugging her shirt over her head and then biting her breasts over her bra. The canvas of her skin is tainted by deep-grey and purple shades. Flicking the clasp of her bra, he wonders briefly which were from their fight and which formed as he fucked her so aggressively. He feels nothing but pride in knowing he will make new ones right now. Brand her as he claims her his own.

Sharp teeth sink into her tender breasts, coaxing yips of pain, marking her with wet little cavities while his fingers fiddle with her jeans, urgently huddling it down her legs along with her underwear. Impassioned, she shifts from her position, kicking away the last remnants of her clothes. The chill air tickles her wet flesh, making her exhale with ghastly need. More wolf than a man, August leans back, his torso layered with sweat that glistens of the dark fur of his torso. The fabric of his trousers is stretched painfully over the massive bulge and mindlessly she reaches out to feel him, kneading the outlines of his erection through his pants.

‘Fuck, her touch...’

Fervent groans tremor through his sinew as she squeezes him harder. She frees him from his trousers, running a hand up and down his shaft, astounded by his vastness and the correlation of smooth velvet skin over rock-hard muscle.

Still sore, the pounding heat of need rocks at the centre of her cunt, possessing her into swaying her perky breasts against his cock. Pearly beads of precum exude from the tip, coating the erected peaks of her nipples.

“Fuck!” August pants and swallows hard, as the battle over his self-control drains him. Patience has always been his virtue in bed, his power over women. Release in control by sodomy that inflicted true pleasure.

But not with her. She strings different tunes, singing seductive hymns to the animal in him.

He wants her. He needs her. He must have all of her.

‘I deserve her.’

Drawing back against the headboard, his hands snap at her hip, lifting her with ease to stand on her knees right above his cock. Ingvild nibbles at her bottom lip, her eyes falling onto his hardened shaft which lies heavily against his abs.

If not for all the injuries she caused him, the large man’s Adonis-like form would have looked like a renaissance statue cut out of marble.

“Come here,” he commands, removing one hand from her to seize the base of his huge cock which towers with glory amidst the dark bundles of curls. “Take me in”

A stream of arousal rushes inside her, making her quiver as she lowers her soaked crease onto his erection ever so gingerly. Cries of overwhelm break from her lips. His girth splits her apart, whilst his wolf-like glares bore into hers with the triumph of conquest.

Every push stretches her wider, forcing her body to succumb and accept him despite the painful effort. August is too big, his vastness tears whatever innocence is left to her, and he is not even fully within.

Shivering, she halts, hearing August’s snarl of protest when realizing she has her nails cleaving crescent-marks on his pumped shoulders.

“All the way in, angel,” he commands, and then bucks his hips into her and snaps her down onto his pulsating shaft, giving no notice to the scream she lets out as he sears her.

He drives himself in until her ass slams onto his thick thighs. She can feel his hot flinching cock buried within the dark pit of her gut while his sack strains against her clenched cavern.

“Good girl.” August praises, pressing her against his chest as they both pant and groan in harmony. Calls of pleasure and cries of pain mingle into a sinful symphony.

But suddenly he stills, and his hand snaps at her neck. Thumb pressing at her artery, he makes a small thrust, causing her to whine as little sparks kindle in her cunt.

“August, please.” she whimpers, trying to ride him to ease the aching despair that boils in her cunt. He fills her to the hilt yet gives no friction but the thundering throb of his thick veins.

“Devotion.” he replies, his free arm fishing for the leather belt perched on the floor. With one determined wring of his wrist,he wraps it around her neck, giving her a nice little collar with a leash made of the thick strap.

His finger brushes up and down the leather erotically, staring at the girl’s hazy grey orbs to see if he can find a drop of protest.

Instead, she presses her hands on his furry torso and desperately begins to mount him with teetering gasps. The noose tightens with the sway of her body yet the tension and the grind within is far too agonizing to stay still; the need to have him sunken in her depth of her soul defies any will to breathe.

August gapes his mouth with awe, groaning loudly as he feels her drenched cunt gripping around. She’s impossibly tight, his fresh little flower, crying out so hopelessly as if it hurts, as if being fucked by his large cock is so pleasurably unbearable yet her life depends on it.

“Poor little tight cunt,” he taunts, urging her to fall faster back on his thighs while bucking his hips into her with deep slams. “you missed this?” he asks with a groan, tying the strap around his fist and pulling her closer to meet his hooded gaze, “You missed me fucking you, angel?”

Unable to make more than strangled sobs, she nods with glassy eyes, feeling the squeeze around her arteries while her cunt convulses and blazes with ecstasy. Flames bloom in the pit of her womb, every assault of his cock inside her pushes the heat further through her nerves. Desperate, she is reduced to nothing but her pursuit of forgotten euphoria.

The fervent flames lick up her spine, darkness whispering in her mind. Yet she leans back, letting the noose devoid the oxygen to her heart and brain as her body falls lost into a delirium.

August feels her pussy tensing around his cock as the belt halts her airflow; through the heated waves of pleasure, an alarm blares. “Careful,” he rasps, reaching his fist to her throat to replace the belt and pulling her until her chest grinds into his own. “Don’t damage what’s mine!”

Her reply is a cracked wheeze, her body jolting as he fucks her into a punishing rhythm. Hot and burning, stoking inside her, balls thudding and battering her hole, the chant of their wet skin colliding in a violent dance accompanies the chaotic symphony of their moans. His angel latches onto him, wrapping tighter and tighter as her body accepts his offering of rage, sucking and milking him dry.

August pulls her face against his, fingers flexing around her jugular, lips grazing her own and then hovering to rob her of her feeble exhales.

“You want to breathe?” he snarls.

Ingvild nods, feeling the storm of fire about to erupt inside her. Her canal gripping him so tightly she can feel every tendon and ridges of him grazing her walls. Tears well in her raincloud eyes, her heart shrinking as she feels him, all of him, consuming her with his existence.

“Then come for me, angel.”

With his words, she arches back, letting the fire implode in her loins and sweep her into a rapture so intense her entire body shakes around him. All she can feel is August, filing her soul, seeping in deeper than her thoughts.

Tears spring down her cheeks, emotions and pleasure whirl at her heart at once.

“August!”

Hearing his name on her lips spikes the savage spirits within. Reduced to a beast, he takes hold of her hips, flipping her over and riding between her thighs. His hands pin her down by the neck and he ravages her through her climax. He can feel the flinch of his cock, swelling larger inside her narrow space. The innocence of her essence devours him. All the hate and pain diminishes and for a brief moment, he is allowed into heaven, feeling nothing but bliss in his chest. His shouts of pleasure echo into the room, his body jerking into her as the hot, white ribbons of his thick seed sprout into her womb.

Falling down to earth is always the hardest part.

Taking a hard swallow, he leans his sweaty forehead against hers, rolling it slowly and listening to the silent hisses from her mouth. Still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, he pulls himself to his elbows fighting the spasm in his muscles and their will to collapse. His brow suddenly crumples at her sight: her eyes shine with a wide spectrum of emotions that glisten sadly down her temples. Shivering sobs escape from quivering lips, trying to find words that never make it to her tongue.

August observes her carefully, removing his grip from her neck gingerly and reaching out a thumb to dry her tears. The crystals in her eyes were broken to dozens of many pieces that reflected the light back in various shades. A look of a lost child that carries an oddly familiar sensation, something that makes him cold and warm, as if Ingvild is inside his blood and he is inside hers.

They had killed each other after all and then brought one another’s hearts to beat again. In his twisted mind, it made for a more profound intimacy than sex.

“Easy, babygirl.” he speaks unusually compassionate, dipping a finger in the wetness beneath her eyes and then slips it into his mouth, tasting the salt onto his tongue. “That was intense for you, wasn’t it?”

She nods silently, the emotional release tingling through her aortae, making her skin prickle with goosebumps. She never felt like this: whole, vulnerable, and belonging. She never felt anything at all, all her life. Her body tries to control the jitters in her muscles yet her body seems suddenly inexplicably cold.

“Sh... it’s okay,” August whispers, capturing her lips into a chaste comforting kiss. “I’ve got you.” he murmurs and allows his lips to trail lower, pressing soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin and bone, descending through the plains of her naked flesh, tasting the mixture of their sweat. His fingers find the large crescent scar in her lower abdomen, tracing the withering stitches in a sick memory of their first night together.

He feels no remorse. Had he changed his action, she wouldn’t have been his right now.

Ingvild finally manages to release a sound, moaning with exhaustion as she eases into his care, her lungs and heart catching up when her body begins to float. With whatever strength left in him, August holds her the way a groom holds his bride, and carries her in his firm arms.

~*~

The bath is filled hot near to the brim. Mountains of foam edge onto the water, looking like fluffy little clouds. This bathroom is not as nearly as luxurious as the one he had in Bergen. It’s painfully plain, like something out of an 80’s film, yet right now it looks like the most outrageous, spoiling delight.

Sitting on the stone, his hand whirls the water, testing the heat before stepping in.

“Come here,” he beckons, reaching toward Ingvild to join him as he sits down, releasing a deep sigh of relief as the hot water soothes the pain. The bath is hardly big enough for a man of his size, his knees buck up, peeking above the water.

Ingvild takes his hand, stepping to sit at the spot between his thighs, making sure not to wet the bandages on her wrists. August’s arms guide her to melt back against his broad chest carefully, avoiding friction with the gunshot wound that begins to ache more and more as the last of the endorphins dwindle. He breaks into a small groan and lands his chin atop her head while glaring into the water with rising concern.

“They will come for us.” Ingvild finally manages to find words, her voice still husky as her jugular strains. “Once they know you’re not dead, they’ll hunt us. We need to move, fast.”

August weighs her words. He muses over the sacrifice she made, and for whom? The man who stabbed her and nearly left her to float in a frozen lake? ‘She chose, you didn’t force her.’

Indeed, it was her free will that brought her to him.

“We should,” he answers, rinsing some water onto her torso and rubbing her forearms clean. “Just relax now, you won’t do me good all broken.”

“You care about me,” she teases, a small smile creeping on her lips.

“We will make for my safe house from here, and then we can take the train to Manchester,” he answers, ignoring her comment.

Ingvild catches some foam in her palm, squeezing the dissolving material between her fingers lightly and then blows it with the weak airflow that comes from her lungs. Little specks of bubbles fly into the bath. August watches them with her silently.

“For the plutonium,” she utters.

“Yes.”

Tilting his head slightly, he looks down to see if there is any disgust or fear shadowing her face, yet finds none. The girl continues forming little abstract shapes in the dwindling white hills, twirling her fingernails on the tiny bubbles. The edge of her spine peeks between the thick strands of her hair, while hues of purple, nearly black, hug her nape. The girl is forbearing, enduring as she was taught; he wonders if it’s to please him, or if it pleases her as well.

Cupping water in his hands, he begins to wash her skin, pouring onto the back of her neck and her shoulders. He brushes his fingers through the brown waves of her hair while she leans her head back and closes her eyes.

It’s as if years of tension peel off from her, uncovering truths she fought to hide. August was right, and so was Liam; no one ever loved her. But now in the arms of a monster, she suddenly senses what she imagines would be care and affection. His touch is no longer clinical and it feels as if vines are growing onto her limbs, twirling around her and pulling her to become one with him.

In her mind, she can’t help but start picking into the not-so-distant past, recalling being his hostage and the conversations they had when they still hated one another. The anguish that resonates in his eyes didn’t speak of hatred individually toward the world, the specks of brown held a fair amount toward himself as well.

“What did Sloane do?” she asks curiously. “In Bergen, you mentioned she did something to you.”

She feels August’s sudden halt, his long digits entangled in her hair, pulling slightly while his chest sinks inward. His inhale takes into a heavy suction and his nostrils flare. He didn’t think of Lacey since he woke in Ingvild’s arms.

“She tricked me.” his eyes focus onto nothing and his fingers resume their course through Ingvild’s wet strands. He becomes slightly agitated, unlacing the small knots that formed at the edge with force. “She suspected me and never liked me- for a reason, of course. She knew someone was distributing secrets and weapons beneath her nose, so she sent a spy. In my case, it was my partner.”

“A woman,” Ingvild continues, the realization hitting her softly. “Lacey.”

Her name on Ingvild’s tongue sends a shiver creeping from the base of his spine.

“Yes,” he answers dryly and clenches his jaw. “We were partners for months. She got close. She... was loyal, she understood me or so I thought, but then I found out, she wasn’t.”

Ingvild hears the shift in his tone again, in their reflection on the water she sees him staring forward with grim shades painting his eyes. The corners of his lips tugged down as he broods.

“It sounds like you loved her.”

August remains silent, giving no answer. It resonates in her right away - betrayal burnt hotter than the wound itself. In their carnal twist, August burned her, but it wasn’t her carnal devotion he sought for.

“Where is she now?”

“Dead.” he answers, releasing a deep sigh of silent rage, not even bothering to shy from the truth this time. Ingvild was bred into a world of monsters; she breathed them, she killed them and he was just another beast for her to slay. Yet she chose to stroke her hand on his snout regardless of what she knew.

“I killed her.”

In his mind Lacey walks away, her blue heels tapping on the floor, echoing before she gives him one last glance. She turns away, her golden curls dulled by the lack of light as she vanishes into a mist of smoke and shadow.

Ingvild feels a slight relief at the thought of Lacey being dead, for some reason she can’t explain to herself. August returns his gaze to her again, removing his hands from her hair. His hand wraps around her jaw, pressing her head to look into his piercing glare. He looks for fear but finds none.

“Try to rest,” he commands and then wraps his arms around her possessively. “Long days are ahead.”

“Will you read me your manifesto?”

August looks down on her face once more, wondering for a moment if this is another hallucination. A terrible thought crosses his mind and his heart flinches; what if in these moments he’s actually bleeding to his death in the pit, his mind playing tricks as he breathes his last breath?

But the softness and warmth of her body feels more vivid than ever. Stronger than the doubt that creeps into his mind.

“There has never been peace without first a great suffering. The greater the suffering, the greater the peace. As mankind is drawn to his self-destruction like a moth to the candle...” he chants, accompanied by Ingvild who also recites his words in her gentle voice.

_________________________________________________

disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible and August Walker

#Henry Cavill #August Walker #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #August Walker Fanfiction #August Walker smut #August Walker x OFC #Henry Cavill Smut #Henry Cavill x OFC #Henry Cavill Fic #August Walker Fic #augustwalker #henrycavill #augustwalkersmut #henrycavillsmut

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missn11 · 4 years

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And we’re back with chapter one of The Devil’s Advocate and this time I’m not going to unnecessary fill up your dash! 😅 This chapter was pretty short compared to the prologue and not too much happen as from catching with Owain in the modern age and glimpsing at the villains of the book, maybe.

Anyway, we cut from 1093, Wales to the present time (assuming 1997) America, Atlanta, to a Kindred named Grimsdale, whose on the run from his former allies to get to Chicago for safety.

The skyscrapers towered on every side, enormous walls to a cell—or coffin—from which Grimsdale might never emerge. He jerked about, the hundredth glance over his shoulder that hour. Nothing. But they had to be close. He could feel their predatory gazes boring through him like a stake. Grimsdale harbored no illusions. If they caught him there would be no trial, no appeal to the archbishop. There! He whirled around at the sound of a deep, raspy cough just down the street. Street person or assassin? No way to know. Keep moving, Grimsdale told The Devil's Advocate 43 himself. He dashed across the intersection and hurried down the sidestreet. Keep moving. He hadn’t come this far to die now. Downtown Atlanta was mostly deserted this time of night—no crowds for cover, but always plenty of shadows to hide killers. Grimsdale’s hearing was sharp, but would that be enough for him to slip out of the city, to get to Chicago? He had avoided New York, Washington, Detroit, but even here they had found him. How much longer could he elude them? How many hours until his luck ran out?

Then we cut to a courier, Nicholas who has been sent to Owain’s estate to deliver a message.

Evans sat easily upon the edge of his desk, savored a sip from the glass he had poured. “You are from eastern Europe…not the Balkans, to the north…” He took another small sip, concentrated. “Minsk?” A smile crept across Nicholas’ features. He had underestimated this elder of the city. “Kiev.” “Kiev.” Evans nodded. “Of course. Accents are tricky things, and yours is quite faint. You’ve not been home for quite some time, I’d wager.” Nicholas snorted good-naturedly. Four words, and the young-looking vampire had guessed his home within a few hundred miles. Nicholas’ predatory instincts were again as alert as they had been in the forest. He wouldn’t let his guard down again, not around this wily Kindred with his disarming manner and sharp mind. Nicholas didn’t know much about Owain Evans other than that he was a prominent but unobtrusive member of Atlanta’s Kindred community. Obviously he was well-off financially, and he would bear close watching while Nicholas was in town

Evans chatted on politely about something. Nicholas inwardly cursed his own weakness. He had completed his task. How much longer would this maddening formality go on? Nicholas did not feel he could risk offending this elder by dashing out of his home. “Well, my talkative friend,” Evans continued, “let me ask you one final question.” Final question. That phrase muscled through Nicholas’ distress and grabbed his attention. “I’m curious.” Evans sat behind his desk once again and gestured toward the bone case. “You did not bring this message all the way from Berlin purely out of good will. What was your payment?” The question was like cold water thrown in Nicholas’ face. Even though Evans must have known the message was coming and where it came from, how did the cursed Ventrue know to ask about the one thing Nicholas couldn’t divulge? “A favor from a friend’s friend,” he mumbled.

He could feel those black eyes watching him, and wasn’t sure if he could meet the probing gaze with- 50 Gherbod Fleming out losing control, without falling into frenzy. Suddenly the urge to shred the expensive drapes, to rake his claws across the perfectly stained hardwood floor was quite strong. The thought of such savagery in this all too proper room was so appealing that Nicholas couldn’t help laughing at the dichotomy. This seemed to catch Evans off guard. For the first time this evening, the Ventrue looked perplexed, and his obvious puzzlement made Nicholas laugh even harder. The violent nature of his thoughts intensified proportionately, which struck him as increasingly hilarious. Soon Evans joined in the laughing, almost nervously at first, then more forcefully, still not comprehending but not caring, for laughter, like hatred, is contagious. “What, exactly,” Evans forced out between mirthful convulsions, “are you laughing at?” “I was thinking…a-hem…of ripping your throat out,” Nicholas explained gleefully. Rather quickly, Evans stopped laughing. Shortly Nicholas, too, had regained his composure, and both men looked about slightly embarrassed, not exactly sure what had just transpired. Nicholas decided prudence called for taking his leave before the room again began to close in on him. “With all due respect, Mr. Evans, I must go.”

After Nicholas, Owain, who had been playing a chess game for years now, rolls open the message to find that he had lost.

Just as he finished, his distracted gaze fell upon the ivory cylinder on his desk, the message nearly forgotten amidst the strangeness of the visit. He picked up the tube and inspected the intact seal of his long-time opponent. A pity almost to open it. Often times the anticipation was more titillating than the actual revelation, especially when, like this time, Owain felt sure he knew what the message contained. He crossed to the small alcove in the study where he kept his Battle of Hastings chess set. It was carved by a wood worker who had seen with his own eyes both Harold Godwin and William the Bastard on the field that black day in 1066. Owain, as always, played the dark Anglo-Saxon defenders so that he might rework history and spare his homeland the indignity and the horror of Norman overlordship. And this time, the Bastard was getting what he deserved!

This particular game had been going on for about three centuries now, moves sent by courier every decade or two. The previous game had bogged down a bit, as Owain had spent most of the Re- 52 Gherbod Fleming naissance in torpor, but not so this time. Owain congratulated himself as he surveyed the board. The end-game was nearly played out, his black forces relentlessly pressing the attack. The white king was backed near a corner along with a woefully misplayed bishop. A lone rook, a sorely pressed knight, and a smattering of ineffectual pawns cluttered the center of the board. Owain’s pieces were in a far superior situation, even lacking both of his knights. Otherwise, one bishop and one rook were the only casualties of any significance. Owain’s queen whisked around the board mercilessly crushing every semblance of resistance from the damnable Normans. Perhaps Harold should have taken his wife into battle, Owain mused. Surely the end was near. This correspondence might just as well contain a final concession as a move. Unlikely. Owain’s opponent, he knew, would probably struggle on to the end. Futile. And not particularly graceful. Owain grinned as he conjured the image of driving the Normans, mauled and bloodied, back into the English Channel. It would be a shame, really, to end the game. It was one of the few diversions that held much interest for Owain any more.

He was fairly ensconced within Kindred society, and his financial empire more or less ran itself. Occasionally a bit of blackmail, corporate espionage, or murder was required, The Devil's Advocate 53 but nothing overly taxing. Generally, one night was like the next was like the next. That very fear, of anticipation giving way to boredom, stayed Owain’s hand, kept him from opening the cylinder. Even the messenger, that odd Gangrel, had proved entertaining. When could Owain again expect such an intriguing break from routine? A blackness gnawed at him from within. Blacker than the pieces on the chess board, blacker than the night outside his window. Perhaps it is the call of torpor I hear once again.

The knock at the study door interrupted Owain’s darkening spiral of thought. “Yes, Randal.” Owain’s most trusted ghoul stepped into the room. “Sir, our…ah…guest, as he were, has departed, and Ms. Jackson has brought the car around.” “The car? For…?” Owain was still concentrating on the chess board. “The art exhibit,” Randal finished his master’s sentence. “Oh, yes. That,” Owain said absently, again examining the ivory case in his hand. “Is that tonight? You’re sure?” “Yes, sir.” “Of course you are. I knew it was tonight. I suppose a man is due a lapse of memory every century or two.” “Indeed, sir.” 54 Gherbod Fleming “And our dear Prince Benison wouldn’t take kindly to being ignored, now would he?” Owain sighed and set the tube on the table by the board.

Now that he was required elsewhere, his curiosity about the message was piqued. “Oh, bloody hell.” He rose in frustration and started across the room. He would need a fresh suit, but first he should shave the stubble that began every night as two day’s growth and never grew longer. Halfway to the door he stopped and turned back to the table. “Wouldn’t do to be unfashionably early, now would it?” It would be a rare day when impatience didn’t win out over duty. Owain settled into the seat by the chess board. “Well, Randal, let’s see what pitiable defense my esteemed adversary has put forward.” A suddenly claw-like fingernail made short work of the seal, and Owain was unrolling the yellowed parchment he slid from the tube.

As always, there was no preamble or greeting; the black script flowed smoothly limning the five essential words: Rook to King’s Knight five and then a sixth: Check Even close to a millenium of undeath had not prepared Owain for that instant. But he recovered quickly; only for a moment did his mouth drop open before he assumed a more directed response. “There must be a mistake.” The words rasped forth The Devil's Advocate 55 from his suddenly parched mouth and throat, but there was no mistake.

Of course Owain doesn’t take this lost very well...

Owain had pinned White’s pesky remaining knight and within two or three moves would most likely have maneuvered the king into checkmate. But now this! Not only did the rook place Owain’s king into check, the piece’s movement revealed a discovered attack from White’s king’s bishop which also produced check. “But…how?” Owain weakly whispered. There was a pawn blocking that diagonal. A white pawn, but I don’t remember it moving….

He lowered his face into his hand. Owain’s opponent had not, in fact, moved that pawn. Harold Godwin’s omnipotent queen had whisked it away to Norman hell. That was several turns back. Probably…1930. The queasiness in Owain’s stomach intensified as he studied the board more closely. Not only was Owain’s king in check from two attackers, he was trapped. He could escape for one turn, but then rook to king’s knight eight, protected by the bishop, every black piece at least two moves away—checkmate. “Ahhhhhh!” Owain’s fangs slipped down and his claws took shape, so incensed was he.

“Sir?” Randal, who had quietly eased forward to look over his master’s shoulder, jumped backwards, nearly knocking a bust of Oliver Cromwell from its marble pedestal. As Randal watched from a rela- 56 Gherbod Fleming tively safe distance, Owain, his hand quivering with rage, moved the white rook from its former position to king’s knight five with a resounding thump that threatened to upend the other pieces. Randal, an accomplished gamer himself, examined the board for a brief moment. “Oh.” Owain restrained his urge to take each chess piece, one at a time, and rend its head from its body, before grinding its disjointed form into bits too minute to be recognized. With a supreme act of will, he calmly rose from his chair and left the room. “I believe I have somewhere to be,” he muttered through clenched teeth. Randal quietly followed behind.

We then cut back to Grimsdale, who is caught by I guess some Sabbat and they start eating him before a Lasombra, Francesca finishs him up.

“Save some for your lover, Dietrich.” Francesca’s words rolled off her tongue, the very sound of her voice enough to drive Dietrich to distraction. He stepped away from his current masterpiece and pushed away Liza as well. The African-American woman hissed, droplets of fresh vitæ spraying from her mouth as Grimsdale collapsed to the ground. “I don’t believe he’ll be going anywhere now,” Francesca observed. Dietrich laughed at her words, unable to contain himself. He began bouncing where he stood. Liza licked her lips and wiped her face with her sleeve, watching begrudgingly as Francesca lifted Grimsdale and drained the rest of his blood. Even Liza had to admit there was a certain style, an innate sensuality, about this Hispanic woman. Watching her lick the mangled body gave Liza The Devil's Advocate 61 goosebumps and set her to fantasizing. “Your shadow it hold him good,” said Dietrich. “Of course it did,” Francesca responded. Dietrich edged closer and guffawed idiotically at her acknowledgement of his complement. Liza had had enough. “I’d love to stay so we could all kiss each others’ asses, but I got places to go.” Francesca nodded in her direction. “Your aid was invaluable. It will not go unnoticed, I assure you.” “Yeah?” It was difficult for Liza to mouth off at this woman. “Okay.” As Liza turned to leave, she noticed Dietrich’s reptillian tongue stretching out and wrapping itself around Francesca’s forearm. Walking away, Liza tried to ignore the maniacal cackling spilling out from behind the building.

#vampire the masquerade #The Trilogy of the Blood Curse #The Devil's Advocate #books #my reading blogging

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victoodles · 5 years

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Cruel World I’m Gone (Chapter 5)

follow the series on AO3 and make sure you read part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

The water’s crisp chill envelops you wholly; it feels good against your bare skin - invigorating. You’re weightless, swimming among the stray bluegills that happen your way. Worldly burdens don't follow you beyond the lake’s edge.

Like water off a duck’s back.

You reemerge to the surface, wet hair clinging to your back and you push the remaining strays off your forehead. The evening air nips at exposed skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

It doesn’t bother you none. It instead acts as a reminder that you’re still capable of feeling such sensations.

And helps to assuage the guilt.

It’s a crushing weight on your chest, one that seems to get heavier the more that time keeps slowly inching forward.

You’re still here.

And others aren’t.

You pray the mountain waters can cleanse you of a stain that has plagued you since the fall of Beaver Hollow.

No.

Even weeks before that. Since Blackwater, starting with a nameless girl on a boat and ending with Hellfire. Fate pushed one domino and the ensuing fall condemned the Van der Linde’s to a pattern of bloodshed, destruction, and death.

So much death.

You’re still here.

Why are you still here?

You shouldn’t be here.

You stifle a cry, biting your lip until it withers and dies in your throat. These types ideations are incessant, rapid thoughts that show you no mercy. And it doesn’t seem like that will change anytime soon. You float on your back and look at the stars above in an attempt to calm them.

The irony is almost as painful as the losses you’ve endured.

You’re a hunter, a survivor: self taught through books, trial and error, and pure tenacity. What once was worn as a badge of honor now casts an ugly scar across your heart.

Jenny, Davey, Sean, Kieran, Hosea, Lenny, Molly, Susan.

You lived.

And they died.

It seemed a higher power has deemed you worthier than other members of your family.

Was it really that simple?

Or could it be broken down to survival of the fittest? A complicated game of statistics and chances that predetermined everyone's worth.

What put you above others on this unknown hierarchy?

Failure.

Useless.

You couldn’t do anything to save them.

Just sit there and look pretty.

Tears silently roll down your cheeks and you ask aloud, why?

The moon has no answer. It just envelops you in its pearly glow as it continues to rock you against the gentle lake waves.

Arthur rouses with a drowsy call of your name, reaching over to find your side of the bed (unfortunately) empty. He calls for you again, a little more urgency in his voice as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

Again he is met with silence and he promptly rises from bed to investigate. There’s no threat or sense of danger but he can’t quell the twenty years of fear that came with his old lifestyle.

His jacket is gone from its usual perch on a chair; he instead spies it from the front window, crumpled on the shore.

Worry fuels him as he hurriedly heads outside, clad in only his union suit. Stray rocks and twigs poke at the bottoms of his bare feet but he can’t bring himself to notice or care.

Arthur’s anxiety bleeds into confusion when he notices your chemise laying just beside his jacket. He finally finds you, laying still and on your back a few meters into the water.

Rationality blows away in the evening breeze and Arthur dashes into the water. He calls out to you as he struggles to cut through the waves as fast as possible. Despite his size and strength, Arthur is no match for the tides.

Arthur garners your attention, and you’re quite calm in contrast to how frantic he feels and looks. Strangely enough it puts him a little more at ease but does nothing to alleviate his concern. You’re standing when he finally reaches you, your nudity barely concealed by the water’s edge.

Despite years of intimacy between you, Arthur still finds himself averting his gaze with a dust of red gracing his cheeks. Your chivalrous cowboy would still never dare to look upon you in any state of undress unless he knew you wanted him to. A fond smile finds its way to your lips as you cup his cheek, turning his face back towards you.

The poor dear is soaked in his union suit, not sparing a second to remove it at the chance you could've been hurt. Distress is still heavily apparent in his eyes and you feel just dreadful for worrying him so.

I’m okay.

It’s a blur between truth and lie; it calms him to know there’s no harm caused. But he is still bewildered, brow furrowed as he continues to look you over.

Yes there’s nothing physically wrong, but he knows you so much better than that. Arthur has learned how to conquer the battles that don’t require punches to be thrown or guns to be shot.

“What’s goin’ on?” It’s poised so simply, but the question runs much deeper. His gaze is intense - he wants to know everything. There's no reasonable explanation for dashing off in the middle of the night for a midnight swim.

“I,” you start but any semblance of an explanation gets stuck painfully in your throat. How do you begin to tell him the surge of emotions that scourge you?

Such ugly things…

Arthur patiently awaits your response. He doesn’t push or pull, demand answers before you’re ready to give them. Tears cascade down your cheek and he’s there to sweep them away with a calloused thumb.

“I,” you try again. “I don’t understand.” You’re shivering but it isn’t from the cold. “I don’t understand, Arthur.”

Arthur cups your cheek with a reserved tenderness. “Understand what, darlin’?” He genuinely wants to comprehend your anguish, if you’ll let him.

“Why I’m here. Why I was deemed more deserving to draw another breath when,” the grief claws its way to the surface. “When others died.”

Say their names.

“Sean, Lenny, H-“ the one that hurts the most is the hardest to speak. “H-Hosea. They’re all gone and I couldn’t do anything to save them.”

Your tears are incessant, falling harder, faster, and Arthur’s hold on you shifts to your shoulders. It’s grounding, and you wish you could thank him for that right now.

“It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have-”

“Couldn’t have known?” You interject. “Of course I could’ve! Dutch was on a downward spiral, it was painfully apparent how flawed his supposed ‘plans’ were!” Tears burn in the corners of your eyes and your breathing becomes labored as your anguish wraps its gnarled hands around your throat.

“If I just spoke up, if I fought him even a little bit-“ Now it’s Arthur’s turn to interrupt as he takes your face carefully in his hands.

“Look at me,” he instructs and you hesitate to comply. He asks again, so sweetly this time it practically hurts to ignore. There’s nothing but adoration in his eyes, not an ounce of blame or scrutiny.

“There was nothing you could’ve done. Dutch,” Arthur’s own pain comes out at the mention of his ex mentor’s name but he is quick to compose himself. “Dutch had us all fooled. Pretty words and speeches that were nothin’ more than hot air.”

“All our losses, all our failures, that’s a burden for his shoulders,” Arthur leans in closer, the tip of his nose brushing against your own. “Not yours.”

You press your forehead to his and revel in the feeling of his fingers against your skin. Sobs transition into sighs when he begins to kiss the tears away from your cheeks reverently.

“I’m here because of you.” It’s a reminder that steals the breath from your lungs. Arthur is alive, here in this world to live another day by your side.

“You say you didn’t fight hard enough? If you had listened to me, I would be dead and rotting on Roanoke Ridge.” The mere thought is more excruciating than any bullet to the chest and you can’t contain the sob that wracks you. Arthur shushes you softly with another well placed kiss.

“You did everything you could, darlin’.” You’ve done so much, and the gratitude Arthur has for your efforts is insurmountable. The crosses you’re bearing aren’t meant to be carried by you.

Give him your pain.

Give him everything.

“What can I do?” Another question that goes beyond mere simplicity. His lips are a whisper away from your own, awaiting your answer. Arthur would likely never shake the habit of willingly following orders. But if you were the one making the demands, he would fall to his knees and obey time and time again.

“Arthur,” his name sounds honeyed sweet as it falls from your lips. He graces you with a small smile while you think. You take his hand in yours, tracing it down your body and stopping just above your breast. Another endearing blush is cast across his face.

“Help me forget,” and you finally close the gap between the two of you, kissing him feverishly. Arthur responds in kind; he will gladly be a vessel for your desires if that’s what you need.

The moon continues to shine above, and it will continue to do so. Many had come and gone but Arthur was still here.

You’re still here.

And that is enough for now.

#vic's fics!#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader

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remitothestars · 4 years

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🍋Lemon Boi🍋

Hi I wrote a fanfiction for the first time in years because I love Bakugo ♥

Warning: Smoking (smoking is bad please don’t do it ♥)

This one is fluffy but there’s possible NSFW later *shrugs*

🍋 Lemon Boi 🍋 : Chapter 1

Now anyone could see that Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t the most well liked guy at UA; but after all he came here to become a hero, not make friends. Katsuki would keep up his behavior and if people didn’t want to be around him? Fuck ‘em. He’d been around people long enough to know that no one sticks around forever. The friends he supposedly had from primary school pretty much bailed as soon as he’d made it into UA. Now Bakugou often found himself in the company of a few of his fellow students from the Hero course. A squad had somehow been formed with he himself as it’s head and it annoyed him to no end.

Denki Kaminari had a useful enough quirk; but no mind power when it came to using it. Supposedly after a large enough shock it would short circuit his brain for a while and he’d end up walking around like a mumbling moron; but in Katsuki’s opinion he always had a few loose wires. The way he disrespected him and then cried when Bakugou put him in his place was pathetic, and the way he treated women was.. Creepy.. Not as bad as Minetta, but bad enough that it irked Bakugou the wrong way. You wouldn’t catch Katsuki white knighting for them though; they were all here because their powers were the best of the best and they all had to fight their way to the top.

Every now and then their group would be joined by Hanta Sero and Kyoka Jiro. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with these two. Sero was almost as stupid as Kaminari was smart on a good day. He came up with passable ideas for the group to do; Bakugou had even participated in a few and had a not so shit time. Jiro mainly just provided palatable music and snarky remarks. He’d even found himself talking with her from time to time about various bands and picked up a few new albums due to her. She was fine.

Mina Ashido was too much feminine energy mixed with shitposter for Bakugou. She was exhausting and annoying to keep up with as she dashed around constantly, on top of that she’d talk him into a headache if he didn’t have an outburst and stop her, then she’d cry and everyone in the squad would get upset with him. The nerve of these people sometimes; was he just supposed to sit there and take it? No.. Not him.. Bakugou didn’t have to deal with anything he didn’t want to. She wasn’t all bad he supposed; even with her wild behavior he did catch himself almost laughing at some of her lame jokes.

Then there was Kirishima; Eijiro Kirishima. A man who’d decided pretty much right away that he’d be Katsuki’s front runner. A sturdy enough number two he supposed, at first he’d tried to repeatedly blow the boy to smithereens for annoying him, but no matter how many punches he pulled the boy made of stone had attached himself to Bakugou… and He wasn’t sure how to feel around that. He supposed out of their other classmates he was fairly tolerable. His determination was admirable, and the way he refused to go down in a fight was manly enough, but some of his actions made Bakugou uncomfortable.

The way he was just so offhandedly calm with Bakugou’s reactions were astounding. He would scream and Kirishima would tell him to chill out, Katsuki would blow up on someone and Kiri would white knight for them, He’d complain and the redhead would be right there to call him on his shit. He hated it, it infuriated him to no end, but... In the end… he felt like he needed it. Kirishima helped level him out; not that Bakugou would ever tell him that. Hell no!

The two of them always seemed to be by the other’s side. They were on the same team in the chariot race because Kirishima said he’d be a strong front horse and Bakugou had believed him, and he’d been right. They often spared together because Kirishima could take quite a few blows from Bakugou before going down; he’d even managed to get a few good hits in as well. Kirishima had been by Bakugou’s side throughout the entirety of their training, at camp, and during the provisional licensing exam.

Most importantly; it had been Kirishima’s hand he’d grabbed in the air when he’d escaped from the League of Villains during the Kamino Ward incident. He’d been there with the other’s. He’d been the one who’d called out. Katsuki had thought he was an idiot at the time; and even though he’d never told him thank you verbally, he’d tried to show his appreciation. He hadn’t been as harsh on him after that. He’d tried not to lash out on the squad as much and that should count for something.

When they’d moved into the dorms it was originally Sero who had been assigned the corner dorm on their floor next to Kirishima’s room; but that hadn’t boded well with Katsuki. Sero had gone to carry his things into the room and Bakugou grabbed the collar of his shirt and threw him back across the floor. When Sero had protested him Bakugou had simply challenged him to a fight for the dorm and that had been the end. He’d set his things up and he and Kirishima had been in neighboring rooms since.

When their first year had ended they were told that they could once more live in their own homes but they couldn’t leave the city. Understandable enough given the year that they’d had but still irritating none the less. Although being in his own bed would be nice; Katsuki had to admit that being away from the Hag at home was even better. He’d be staying in the dorms during the week while he did his work study at the Endeavor agency and that he’d continue to return home on the weekends as a retreat. When Kirishima had chosen to do the same he’d thought nothing of it. The others dropped in from time to time to hang out or pick up things they’d forgotten in their dorms but for the most part it was just the two of them.

“Can I call you Katsuki?” The redhead asked while Bakugou made dinner.

“Hell No.” He’d fired back without a second thought.

“Aww, why not man? I thought we were friends!” He cried out and elbowed him.

“You shouldn’t test someone with a knife in their hand Kirishima; It’s disrespectful.”

“Okay Bakugou, so sorry.” He replied with a hint of exaggeration as he took down some plates from the cupboard. “I’ll set the table.”

“Fine.” Bakugo said as he returned to his chopping. He was preparing curry, he didn’t know if Kirishima actually liked it as Bakugou tended to go heavy with his spices, but if he couldn’t hang he could starve. Moving from the cutting board to the stove he slid the ingredients into the pan and began cultivating everything together. When a pair of hands slid up over the back of his shoulders he felt a shock tingle up his spine. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” He yelled in annoyance,his face turning to a snarl.

“Oh Bakugou you look like such a little housewife when you cook!” Kirishima cooed and then ruffled the blondes hair as he pushed back off him while cackling.

“Shut up shitty hair! Don’t touch me I’ll burn the damn food!” He screamed.

“Calm down man, no harm done, food smells great!” He came down from his laugh to speak in his normal tone. “Gotta have some fun since we live at school.”

“No one asked you to stay.” Bakugo retorted.

“Aww, don’t be like that! You’d be lonely here without me!” He returned to the cupboard for some glasses to set the table.

“Check your brain, I don’t get lonely Shitty Hair.” Katsuki corrected.

“Eijiro.” He leaned on the counter and looked over to the blonde.

Bakugou raised a brow and looked at the other boy. God it’s like he was expecting something from him but he didn’t know what. “Bless you?” he excused him.

“I DIDN’T SNEEZE BAKUGOU THAT’S MY NAME!” The redhead burst into his space.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT IF YOU JUST SAY IT WITH NO FUCKING CONTEXT!” He burst right back.

“WE’VE BEEN FRIENDS FOR ALMOST A YEAR NOW BAKUGOU!” Kirishima lectured.

“WE’RE NOT FRIENDS!” Katsuki yelled ignoring the other’s point.

“OH REEEAALLLY? THEN WHAT ARE WE?!”

“Classmates.” Bakugo shook his head with a squint; was the redhead really asking such a stupid question.

Kirishima was spiraling. “God Damn you're a dense man.” Is all he said before returning to the table to finish setting it and taking his seat.

“Oi! What? Am I wrong?” Katsuki turned to face him one hand still on the handle of the pan. “Answer me!” He demanded.

“No Bakugou, never.” Kirishima looked at him and rolled his eyes. The two of them stared at each other for a moment. “It’s burning Bakugou.” Kirishima finally pointed out.

Katsuki’s nose twitched and he whipped back around to what he was cooking. “Damn it!” He yelled and shook the pan to loosen the overcooked parts as he grabbed his spatula. After a moment he successfully salvaged the pan and set his spatula down to grab the spice jar.

“C..could we not use that one tonight?” He heard Eijiro ask quietly from the table behind him. He turned to him but only part way this time. “What Why? I always cook with this?”

“That’s exactly why Bakugou, I’d like to taste my food.” He grinned. “Let’s just use cumin.”

Inhaling deeply through his nostrils he relinquished the spice jar back onto the shelf and moved his hand over to grab the cumin. “Weak.”

“Don’t be like that man, I eat your dragon food all the time!” Kirishima protested.

“If you don’t like it starve!” Katsuki replied.

The two sat down for their meal. Kirishima was more than happy as he ate the curry without his mouth bleeding and even Bakugou had to admit it was a nice change. The dinner went on as normal Kirishima droning on and Katsuki only half paying attention. “Why make it so spicy?” Bakugou’s ears twitched at the question.

“The fuck you mean?” the blonde replied.

“The food, why make it so spicy? It’s really good, but sometimes it’s so hot I can’t taste it.” The redhead said as he continued eating.

“It’s good for your immune system.” Katsuki said with irritation. “It also makes me sweat, which helps my quirk.” He added as he took a bite.

“Yea but if you’re eating it at night then wouldn’t you stop sweating by morning?” Kiri inquired.

“That’s why everything I eat is spicy dumbass, I’m ready for anything.” He deadpanned.

“Right.” Kirishima chuckled. “So the cumin is bad?”

“The cumin is fine.”

“Good.”

The boys finished their meal and Bakugou gathered the dishes into the sink.

“I can wash those!” Kirishima came over and leaned into the boys space.

“Do I look like I need your charity?!” Bakugou reprimanded him.

“Hey man calm down, it’s not charity, you made dinner so I’ll wash the dishes. It’s an even trade amongst men!” He put his hands on his hips with a chivalrous smile.

“Whatever.” Bakugou dropped the dish he was holding and rung his hands out on the dishrag. He walked out of the kitchenette and into the common area, ignoring when the ginger called out asking where he was going. Dinner was over idiot; what was he supposed to do? Stand there, watch you look pretty? Pathetic. Yet he heard footsteps following after him and turned when the other boys hand fell on his shoulder. “What do you want?!” He asked in exasperation.

“Where are you going buddy? We should hang out and play some games tonight.” Kirishima said with a toothy grin.

“I’m going to bed. It’s late.”

“It’s eight thirty Bakugou…”

“Shut up!” He replied and continued his course.

“Man do you even wanna be my friend?”

Katsuki paused, that voice was sad, he turned back to the redhead. Kirishima stood there, hair down with a headband to keep it out of his face. He was just staring at Bakugou and it unsettled him.

“I’m just trying to be nice man, I just don’t get you sometimes.” He continued.

Still Bakugou didn’t respond; he didn’t know how. What could he say? ‘Of course i wanna be friends Eijiro; call me Katsuki, let’s go watch movies and talk about our feelings.’ No. No way. Bakugou turned away and finished his departure to his room. A little to his surprise Kirishima hadn’t said anything else after that.

Katsuki stood on the other side of the wood door for a moment thinking about the situation. Was Eijiro hurt by his actions? He squinted, no of course not, he was stronger than that. He hadn’t even noticed his fist was clenched so tightly until it burst open from a frustrated little pop. How annoying. He went over the chair in front of his desk and pulled it over to his weights. He’d do some reps and then rest.

However when he got to bed there wasn’t much sleep to be had. “I just don’t get you sometimes.” Katsuki sighed and rubbed his mug. What does that mean? Kirishima always seemed to get him. Had his actions really been so different from before? Or had he actually done something that abrupt… or had his actions always gotten under Red’s skin… and if they had why not just tell him?! He called him out any other time he was rough with people. His brain was so tired from trying to figure it out that now he was actually ready to sleep. He pulled his tank top off and threw it aside then fell into a restless sleep.

In it he dreamt of Kirishima. The boys sat playing video games in his dorm. He wasn’t able to hear what they were saying but Eijiro was pretty happy about whatever it was. The dream was nice; watching the two of them just relax together, but then there was a shift. The dream lost its color and when he looked back at Kirishima the boy had lost his smile. His mouth hung slightly open as he looked at him and.. was he crying?

Bakugou’s eyes opened with a pounding in his chest. Where was he? He laid perfectly still as he gathered the information he needed. Above him he saw a wall and a ceiling, not the ones belonging in his childhood bedroom at home, but the ones of his dorm room at school. This is fine. He washed away the panic he’d felt; knowing he was somewhere safe.

He pushed himself up to sit on the side of his bed and rubbed his face with both hands, pushing them up through his static hair. Looking over at the alarm clock on his desk he read the time, it was almost three in the morning. He groaned knowing he had his work study tomorrow. He’d just have to be tired for it. He stood; sliding on a pair of red men’s slippers and made his way to his desk. Tonight had been too stressful for his taste and even though he didn’t like it, he had a temporary solution.

Pulling the small brown box from the drawer he retrieved the pack of cigarettes he’d stolen from his hag of a mother and a lighter he’d found while walking across campus, red with a black x taped on it. He made his way to his balcony and quietly slid past the sliding door. He leaned on the railing and lit up, stifling a cough from the first drag, and looked out over the campus. It was a short lived moment though as the sound of a sliding door pulled him out of his daze.

“Bakugou? Are you.. smoking?” Kirishima stepped out onto his balcony with a yawn.

He couldn’t deny it, he was fucking standing there with a cig in one hand and the lighter in the other.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Is all he said as he mimicked Bakugou’s lean on his own balcony.

“I try not to.” Katsuki replied and brought the cigarette back to his mouth.

“Something stressing you out?” Kirishima asked.

Everything is stressing me out. Bakugo thought but only grunted “Mm” in response.

“Don’t tell me it was me being over dramatic earlier.” Red said as he leaned over and snagged the cigarette, bringing it over to his own lips and taking a drag.

Bakugo looked at him with a little confusion as his face heated up. “N..no! It’s not that!” But it was, he’d dreamt of upsetting Kirishima and it had bothered him enough to smoke on his high school balcony at three in the morning.

“Mm, okay.” Eijiro bought the denial. If anything Bakugou wasn’t sneaky, but he also didn’t wanna start a screaming match in the middle of the night. He inhaled the smoke and coughed a little when he let it out. “Damn Katsuki, shits harsh, where’d you get these.” He croaked out with another cough and offered it back.

“Oh please, like you know what’s harsh.” The blonde said taking it back from the other boy. When Kirishima just gave him an expectant look he gave in. “I nabbed em off the hag a couple weeks ago.” He finally said, “And I told you not to call me that, shits disrespectful.”

“And stealing from your mother isn’t?” Kirishima laughed and rocked back on his heels, hands balancing him on the bar of the balcony.

“Shut it.” Bakugou replied but couldn’t help the grin from such a clever remark. He brought the stick back to his mouth for another pull.

“Eww now it’s like we’re kissing.” He cackled but was cut off by the thwap of the cigarette carton hitting his chest as he scrambled to catch it.

“Then get your own!” Bakugou yelled as quietly as possible. Irritated and embarrassed by the other boys jest. He looked back over the city as the smoke rolled away from him.

Kirishima laughed and fiddled with the lid of the package before deciding to hand it back over. “I’m good Bakugou thank you.”

He peered over at the other out of the corner of his slitted eyes. Holding out his left hand he retrieved the pack and shoved it back into his sweatpants pocket.

“You can talk to me ya know.” Eijiro stood up on the edge of the balcony and leaned over towards the blonde. “I know you’re not one much for words but if you need to get something off your che-”

“I know!” He cut him off harshly and blew out some smoke. “I know.. Eijiro.” He said a little quieter as he extinguished the cigarette on the outside on the railing. He turned to look at the other boy and rolled his eyes at Kirishima’s expression. The boy's eyes were big and he was making a proud pouty face.

“Katsuki Bro!” Kirishima called out only to receive a hand to his face as he was pushed back onto his own balcony.

“I’m going to bed!” Katsuki yelled as he walked back into his room and closed the sliding door.

“Yea! Me too!” Kirishima said with a big grin that caught the light and waved at Bakugou through the glass window before the blonde pulled his drape shut. “Goodnight Katsuki!” He yelled so that he would be sure to hear him through the glass.

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ohgoddard · 4 years

Text

Fist of Fire.2.17

The hot arid air of the Mojave Desert bore itself in the lungs of two men standing outside Clint’s Bar. It was an average biker joint, looking like a saloon of old stuck on the side of a highway going to a much more desirable place. The two men, some run of the mill looking bikers surveyed the horizon of the cracked and dried rock and piles of sand and saw nothing. The most activity they saw was a tumbleweed roll gently by them, carried by a wind that only brought more heat with it. Although the parking lot outside Clint’s was full, there were no noises coming from within the bar, but to these men that was normal. One of them took out a cigarette and lit it with his hands, coughing as the smoke filled his lungs. He then got a message on his phone, and looked. In almost synchronous nature, both men walked into the doors of Clint’s Bar and locked them in their wake.

All of this was seen and heard by a woman miles away, lying prone. She covered herself in dirt and desert weeds and held in her hands a pair of binoculars. Her blonde hair,colored to match the desert soil, was tied behind her in a practical braid. Her face, a light tan covered in more soil, was tucked under a hat with a shrub placed over it. For all intents and purposes this woman was hidden to any who looked in this direction, or even looked closely. She slowly shimmied herself back from the edge and took cover behind the backside of the hill she was spying over. Her hand reaches for a notepad on her belt, and she scribbles into it. After putting it away, she takes out a device. It has just one button on it, and begins tapping it in a series of dots and dashes. After this, she packs up, and begins hiking into the desert.

In the city of Cincinnati, there was a bank robbery going on. Terrified people ducked under cover as four giants ran down the street, chased by police cars. The crowded city streets were full of chaos, as these four giants were destroying parts of whole buildings and crushing cars. In the hands of each they carried bank vaults, the entire thing. They laughed uncontrollably, as when the police fired from their weapons they did nothing to pierce the skin of the giants. One of them, the presumed leader of the pack, turned towards another and yelled, “We’re gonna get away with this! No one can stop us!” Then, as his head was turned, a firetruck flew into his head. The giant did a full backflip then hit the road like a sack of bricks. The vault falling with a loud thud, and property damage, besides him. The other giants stop and look at their fallen leader with an expression of shock overtaking them, that is until one of horror comes. In front of them, floating several feet in the air to reach their eye level, was a muscular man dressed in blue jeans, a shirt that had a greek letter familiar to all, and a helmet that covered his head in its entirety. The helmet looked like that of a Trojan Warrior, with long accented faceplates and a netting underneath it to hide his facial features. The man had his arms crossed above his chest, and a booming voice came from his mask that was heard for blocks around.

“I don’t know how you thought no one could stop you. Don’t you read the news?”

At that the man moves at sonic speeds and spearheads another giant in the stomach, sending it flying back several blocks and into a large stone building, now unconscious. The other two giants drop their vaults and run, trying to flee, but are stopped when a dash of black and blue wake circles around their legs and they fall. Their heavy bodies hit the ground and, before a heavy punch is delivered to their heads, they see electrical lines had been wrapped around their legs.

Standing victorious over the giants bodies, crowds begin to cheer as they send accolades to the hero. Reporters run up to him, microphones ready and cameras rolling. “How did you know they were going to be here?””Is there anyway you could have caused less destruction?””Do you have any words for the people at home?””Will you attend the Colored Heroes Rights conference in July, as the most famous hero of color?” The man just stood there and said various nothings into the cameras, his voice quieter than when addressing the giants. “Damages are expected, I was just in the neighborhood, and of course I'm showing up to that! I’d be dumb not to.” He steps away from the crowds and picks up the giants by the wires holding them, rising into the air. “And for the people at home,’ he says turning his head towards the camera once more,”Stop committing crimes. I want to go home one day!” With that he became a blur and the giants were gone from the city.

A couple hours later, after the giants were delivered to the Ohio Powered Incarceration Center and the vaults given back to their banks, the man found himself sitting alone under a shady tree in the countryside. After looking around with a vision that extended for miles, he takes off his helmet. A short cut but neatly trimmed black beard and bald head greet the cool air with gratitude as he takes a deep breath. “Another day, another lock up.” He reaches into his back pocket and takes out his phone, and starts to go through his missed emails and whatnot, when he notices a notification from an app he usually never checks. Which meant…

He opens it up and examines the contents. They read: TRACKED-ETEAM-2-NV-STOP. ETEAM-IS-ALIVE-STOP. MORE-INFO-LTR-STOP. HEG.

He lowers his phone and sighs a breath of stress and anger. “You damned cockroach.” He stands up and grabs his helmet, and angrily puts it on. “No one does all this and keeps living.”

He then gets a call on his phone and answers. “Omegaman,” the voice says over the phone,”You’re needed in Detroit, danger rating 78%. Gravity monster.” Omegaman sighs and replies. “On my way.” As he lowers his phone from his head, he looks to the skies.”I’ll get to you later, Emesh.” With that, he soars into the clouds.

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

“Oh my God mom, it's not that big a deal!” Jade sat in her living room while her mom played with her hair and sprayed something here, pinned something there, readjusted this and so on. “It is so! This is your first date in..” Jade’s mom paused, holding a can of hairspray away from her daughter. “Well, ever!” She resumed her pampering ,with Jade spitting as the spray got into her mouth. She was dressed in a white and red dress, and it was a stunning one. It had an open back and the red spiraled up the whole body while the white sparkled in the light.

“It's just a dance, mom. It's nothing big!” As Jade spoke this, Joseph rolled himself in from the spare room he was staying in, a large purse laying across his lap. “Au contraire, Jade. This is the AHA’s summer gala. It happens once a year and you have never gone to one and with your senior year coming up it will be your last one as well! You must go. And, you even got a date so that makes it all the better!” He places the purse at the side of the chair Jade is being forcibly fancied up in and retreats a safe distance from the cloud of product in the air. “Oh come on not you too!” Jade screams in mock pain as eyeliner is drawn over her face. “I don’t like makeup and -ack- Riley and I aren’t, like, official yet or anything so -” the spraying stops. Jade looks around and sees the very confused faces of the two adults. Joseph’s is far more confused that her mother’s, who is more disappointed than anything.

“Really? You guys haven't officially asked each other out yet?” Joseph was the first to speak, and it was filled with incredulous emotion. The fact that he was out and about as he was in the first place is a miracle, as his doctor had prescribed him several more days of bedrest(“I'm always sitting down, that counts, right?”). His voice has improved, and is sounding much like his old one. It was because of this that Jade was the most taken back by his comment. “Why do you care so much? Isn’t shipping your students against the law or something?” Joseph gave a look of fake shock. “How could you! And no, it isn’t.” Jade’s mom speaks to her next, “Why haven’t you asked her yet, sweetheart?” Jade blushed and looked away from her mom, who began to apply more of the makeup she was carrying. “I dunno..just kind of hasn’t come up. There has been a bit that’s been going on.” Joseph coughed. “Oops.” Jade shot him a dirty look and he looked away, pulling at his collar in a joking fashion. “I’ll..I’ll ask her tonight. She said she’d meet me there anyways.” Her mom beamed when she heard this. “You know Jade, not too long ago you were a hot headed troublemaker who always got into the trouble,” Joseph interrupted with a “still is” and suffered a hit from Mrs.Laurens, “but this Riley girl has really done a lot of good for you. The least you can do is properly ask her out.”

Jade took a deep breath, “Yeah, you're right mom. That reminds me, “ she looks towards the clock on her mom’s oven. “It's almost time for me to go. Who’s gonna take me to the school.”

Joseph rolls over to the door, “I will. My car is outside.” Jade begins to get up, grabbing her bags, before stopping. “Wait a second.” Joseph gives great bellowing laughs, holding onto his wheelchair for support. Jade gives a harumph, obviously not happy to be the butt of the joke.

“Oh Jade, don't be like that,” her mom said, stifling a laugh herself,”he will actually be taking you there though.”

Jade looked at her mom, her turn to give an incredulous look. “How?” Joseph smacked his wheelchair. “We’re gonna take the train. Remember, the school has a lien that goes straight to it.”

Joseph opens the door and rolls out, looking back. “Coming?” Jade could not believe this was happening.

A few dozen minutes and a train ride later where everyone looked at Joseph more than her(which brought a great deal of relief, but a twinge of jealousy too) they arrived at the school station. Joseph got off, gave the finger to multiple people who asked about his accident, and Jade soon followed. “The nerve of some people,” she heard him mutter under his breath. He turned to Jade. “Now, go over what we talked about on the train.” Jade rolled her eyes. “Walk up to her, hand on her shoulder, ask her in my ‘manliest voice’ to go out with me. I just don’t think-” Joseph shhsh her. “Don’t think. It only makes things worse.” She gives a laugh, a nervous one, but still a laugh. A small smile appears on her face. “Thank you, Mr.Ellington.” She leans in and gives him a hug. “Now,” Joseph says after the hug is done, “I have to go to the teachers area to get ready for my round of chaperoning. I’ll see you in a bit. After the dance, wait for me here. I don’t want you walking the streets without me.” “I’ve done it tons of times what-” “Just wait for me. You’re a pretty teenage girl walking alone in a shit part of town. Different creatures come out at night.” She rolls her eyes. “Ok, whatever dad.” Joseph smiles and rolls off. “Have a good dance!”

A few seconds after he enters an elevator to take him to the school, Jade realizes what she said.Dad? She would have to think more about that later..some conflicting feelings have been affecting her recently. Thankfully, a good distraction just came off the next train.

“Well, hell-o beautiful.” Jade turned to see Riley step off in a spiff tuxedo, one that hugged her body. It's just about made Jade faint then and there. “Hh-hey! You ready?” Jade nervously stammered out. Riley walked up, took Jade’s hand, and kissed it like a prince. “With you? Always.” Jade’s plans went out the window.

#FoF:og #writing #original #original writing #original story #originalwriting #orignal female character #superhero #superhero story #creative writing #creativewriting #creative

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

Text

Friends in Dark Places [ch 14]

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: kissing, implied making out, non-consentual touching and kissing, abusive ex, toxic relationship, self hate, sex mentions, mentioned threesome, rumors, depression, anxiety, depressive episodes, food mentions, unhealthy coping mechanisms, not eating, isolation, worrying, swearing, anger, yelling, swearing, homophobia, homophobic slurs, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it or if i need to add tags! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

first - previous - next - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

February 18, 2016

Patton stepped over the threshold into Jay’s house. He’d spent a lot of time there, so it wasn’t being in his boyfriend’s house that was making him anxious; it was the fact that it was the first time they would be alone. Jay had begged him to come, so he’d obliged.

He shook the snow off of his coat and dumped it on the floor next to his boots. “Babe, I’m here!” Pat’s voice echoed lightly in the plastered halls. He heard shuffling a few rooms over and made his way towards the sound. The door swung open, and a half-dressed Jason stood in the doorway. He subconsciously noted the girl sitting on the couch, equally undressed and disheveled.

“Patton. Looking gorgeous as ever,” his boyfriend drawled. His lips were swollen and bright pink.

“What the hell is going on, Jason?” Patton’s voice was hard as he gestured to the scene in front of him. The girl inside stood up and walked to the door, wrapping her slender arms around Jason’s waist.

“He really is as beautiful as you’ve said, Jay. Those eyes truly are stunning. And you know how hot I think freckles are. I would have been a fool to refuse your offer.” Her words dripped like honey--uncomfortably slow and thick. Her hand reached out to cup Pat’s cold-tinged cheek, and he flinched back from her touch, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“What offer, sweetheart?” The anger was gone, replaced with a sugary sweet that held no warmth.

Jason gave his signature dashing smile. “I was thinking, right? You’re bisexual; I’m bisexual. And Lauren here has just been dying to try a threesome. It’ll be fun!”

“What?” That was ridiculous! What kind of thought process was that?

“C’mon, babe. I’ve seen your potential; you’d be an amazing partner in bed!” Jay quirked his eyebrow and pulled Patton closer.

“First of all,” Pat stated as he took a step backward. “You know my feelings on this matter. Second, no! I’m not doing that! We’re fifteen, Jason. Not to mention that you set this all up without even consulting me.”

“And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d just loosen up a bit and let me show you something actually pleasurable!”

Patton was about to protest once more when Jason roughly kissed him; his hands fumbled with his belt buckle. On impulse, Pat pushed him back, knocking both Jay and Lauren to the ground in a heap.

“What the hell, Jay?! I said no! What the fuck do you think that means?” The anger was back and more fiery than ever. He was pissed––no, he was furious.

“You fucking moralist! You ruin everything! I went as far as to make this perfect for you, Patton. You’ve done nothing for me, but I’ve done everything for you.” Jason slowly rose from the floor, redness rising in his face.

“I told you exactly what I was comfortable with from the moment you asked me out! I should have listened to Roman and Logan when they said you were nothing but bad news, but I was swept up by your ‘perfection.’” Patton spat back. He’d reached the end of his rope, and he was taking none of it.

“Those two were so much better than you are! At least they were somewhat willing to play to my needs; they were never so self centered as to refuse everything I want. Sure, they didn’t go nearly as far as I’d liked, but they’re better than you. You’re poisonous. You’re a bomb just waiting to go off and ruin all of my hard work! Now, either take your clothes off and join us, or we’re breaking up right here and now.” That stung. And for just a moment, Patton ran over the situation in his head. He was so devastatingly close to caving before he came back to his senses.

“Then I guess we’re done.” Patton swiftly put his shoes back on and wrapped his coat tightly around his body, stepping back out into the cold February air.

---

All discussion ceased as Patton, Logan, and Roman stepped into Westview. Every pair of eyes turned to them. Specifically Patton. A bright blast of chatter erupted once more, and Patton could glean little bits of conversation from them.

“I heard that he slept with three guys this weekend!”

“Yeah? I heard he had a threesome with some chick from South and Jason Keith!”

“Patton Shea is such a slut!”

“Not to mention he’s a fag!”

Patton Shea. Slut. Patton Shea. Whore. Patton Shea. Slept with three guys in one weekend.

Patton spun around and dashed from the school; Logan and Roman followed close behind. He could hear their furious voices behind him as they walked down the sidewalk to the nearest bus stop.

“I’m going to murder Jason! That dick deserves it! How fucking dare he hurt you like that, Patton; especially after what he did on Saturday,” Roman growled.

“For once I agree with your aggressive sentiments. Patton, you are the sweetest person I know. You deserve so much better.” Logan was normally calm—far too calm for most—but this angered him to the core. Pure hatred seeped from his voice.

Patton stopped and spun around. “Do I, though?” The words hung heavily in the air, and Patton’s voice cracked as he said, “Do I?”

“Of course you do,” Logan gently stated. “You are incredibly kind, generous, and genuine. I have never once known you to do something to hurt another person. Jason, on the other hand, is rude, egotistical, incorrigible, and… and… He’s just awful, okay? You deserve the world, and he deserves to rot in the deepest pits of hell.”

You break everything you touch.

“You’re wonderful, Pat.”

Whore!

“We love you.”

Poison!

Patton plastered on a fake smile. “Thanks, guys, really, but you should go to class. I’ll be fine—“

Roman cut him off with one fluid motion. “Yeah, just shut up and let us come with you.”

---

Jason’s words never left Patton, but neither did the rumors. As the months passed, they became less prominent, becoming floating leaves in the back of his memory. It wasn’t until much later that they would rear their head again.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will always hurt me.

---

Present

Virgil paced around his room. He was worried. Patton hadn’t woken up until 11 this morning, which was ages later than he usual. Then, he had refused any visitors to his room, claiming he was doing mass amounts of homework. Virgil brought him some lunch, but he had been instructed to just leave the plate outside the door for him to get in a moment. Patton wouldn’t even let his mother in!

It was, quite frankly, terrifying, and Virgil was glad he’d gotten Logan’s phone number.

Virgil

Read [2:32]

hey lo its virgil

im really worried about pat

he hasn’t come out of his room at all and won’t let any of us come in

Logan

Delivered [2:32]

Ah. It seems he has entered a depressive spiral. As I’m sure you’re familiar with the feelings, I’ll spare you the details. Just know that it is nothing personal.

Excuse me for one moment.

Logan immediately went to his text conversation with Patton and began typing.

Logan

Read [2:34]

Patton. It has come to my concern that Virgil is worried absolutely sick about you. I know that you have been feeling less than subpar today, but I need you to let Virgil in so that you two can work things out. He obviously cares a lot about you, and I know for a fact that you care about him just as much. You are one of my best friends, and it kills me to see you down like this.

As soon as the read symbol popped up, Logan went back to Virgil.

Logan

Delivered [2:34]

Go talk to Patton. If he doesn’t let you in, text me, and I’ll make him.

Virgil let out a light laugh at that. Logan was so caring and willing to help his friends, but he didn’t know how to do it in the most sensitive way. Just seconds later, he stood in front of Patton’s door. He hesitantly reached out and knocked. The door abruptly swung open, and a gloomy Patton motioned him in.

Virgil immediately took a seat on the bed. “I’m really sorry about what happened yesterday. I didn’t mean to upset you like this; I just… I wasn’t thinking properly. I’ve been really worried about you all day, and like… I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the reason,” Patton mumbled, pacing along the blue rug on his floor.

“Then why have you been shutting me out all day?” Virgil’s voice was pained; the sound triggered something inside of Pat.

“Because I was trying to avoid this!” Patton gestured wildly at Virgil’s upset expression. “I didn’t want to hurt you, yet here we are! I’m poisonous, Virge. I do nothing but hurt people. I’m the apple from Snow White--sweet and nice at first, but I’ll end up killing you. You deserve so much better than me! You should have picked Roman or Logan; they’re smarter, nicer, more talented, and so much more. But no! You picked me of all people. I’m clumsy, stupid, reckless, emotional, and just plain pathetic. I have nothing to offer.” He sat down exhaustedly on the bed, flopping back onto the plush comforter.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding, right? Patton, you’re amazing. You talked a stranger that you had never met before out of suicide just because you wanted to. You let that same stranger into your home and then ended up allowing them to live with you. You are so much more than nothing. If anything, I don’t deserve you. Roman and Logan are both wonderful, but you have something special inside of you.” Virgil fell back, too. There were a few beats of silence before Patton spoke again.

“If you keep talking bad about yourself, I’m going to physically fight you...” Virgil could hear the smile in his voice. He was so glad. He couldn’t bear to live another minute without Patton happy.

“Come at me, bro.”

Virgil felt weight leaving the bed, but he’d only registered it a moment before he was hauled up by the wrists and propelled into a sweet kiss by Patton. He lightly smiled. God, it was good to have someone again. It was even better that said someone wasn’t an asshole.

“So, what are we?” Virgil asked a few moments later, when they had ended their kiss.

“I think the proper term is ‘boyfriends,’” Patton smiled.

“You sound just like Logan.”

“Satisfactory.” Patton let out a small laugh at Virgil’s irritated groan.

“Shut up and kiss me, nerd.”

#sanders sides fic #m writes things #moxiety #logince #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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peterparkers7evilexes · 6 years

Text

pt 2 Starker: another mafia au

part one of the crime warlord!Tony/kept boy!Peter

notes: I know I promised this last week I’m sorry I’m horrible and I keep teetering between making Tony an “”ethical”” crime lord vs just straight up dark!Tony and STILL haven’t decided lol anyways this is Too Much Plot and Angst with a dash of Winterspider because I’m a fucking slut :))))

🔫💰🔫💰🔫💰

Peter expects many things from being a prisoner of Tony Stark. He expects torture of every variety, interrogations, humiliation, and almost certainly death.

What he doesn’t expect is to be set up in a comfortable, albeit windowless room furnished with a full-sized bed, a bookshelf filled with scientific journals, an armchair in the corner to curl up in, and a small, adjoined bathroom. He’s not even isolated, not really.

James - or Bucky, apparently - visits him at least three times a day to bring him his meals and try to talk to him.

“Peter, c’mon,” Bucky says, picking up the tray of cold, barely touched food. “You can’t starve yourself like this.”

Peter just wraps himself tighter in the knitted blanket, turning his shoulders away from Bucky.

“Pete,” Bucky tries again. When he gets nothing in response, Bucky sighs and touches his shoulder gently. “I’ll be back later today, okay?”

He ignores him, staying silent and still until he hears the door close and Bucky’s footsteps retreating down the hallway outside. It’s not that he’s ungrateful for being kept alive - but being with Fisk so long taught Peter that no kindness comes without a cost. He has no doubt that if plying him with cozy accommodations doesn’t work, Stark won’t hesitate to move onto the torture anyways, but Peter would rather not give him the satisfaction.

It’s not long before Tony Stark comes and visits him himself, but it’s not to torture him.

The familiar five raps at the door sound, and Bucky enters, followed by Tony Stark. Peter looks sullenly at the door from his armchair, then goes back to picking at his fingernails in disinterest.

“He’s been like this since… since Sunday,” Bucky says with an edge of frustration in his voice.

Peter smirks to himself.

“Mr. Parker. Can I sit here?” Peter looks up reflexively, his eyes sharp and narrowed at Tony who’s gesturing at the bed.

Peter curls his legs into himself, making himself smaller and shrugs.

Tony sits down on the edge of the bed, facing Peter with his hands clasped on his knees. “I understand you’re not happy with your accommodations. Is the food not up to par? Is Accounts of Chemical Research too pedestrian for your tastes? What can I do to make you comfortable here?”

Peter looks at him, anxiety churning in his chest. “What do you want?” He asks, his voice raspy from lack of use.

“Mr. Parker,” Tony says, smiling warmly, “I’m not trying to trick you. Your comfort is my primary concern here.”

“Then let me go.”

Tony gives Peter a pitying look, and annoyance spikes through the fear. “What, and release you back to Fisk’s men? Given the circumstances, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that they’d have your head.”

“No thanks to you,” Peter snaps, balling his hands into fists. “If you hadn’t kidnapped me, no one would think I had anything to do with it!”

“What, you really think Fisk’s men or his business associates would just let his favorite whore wander off into the sunset, unscathed and untouched?” Tony levels him with a flat look. “I think you and I both know you would have been much worse off if we’d left you there.”

Peter balks, glaring down at his fists. He doesn’t have a good argument against that, so he says angrily, “Then you shouldn’t have killed him.”

“Why? Did you love him?” Tony asks suddenly, leaning forward.

Peter blinks, taken aback. No, he thinks vehemently, but he can’t very well say that. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

Tony has a smug grin on his face, and Peter knows he got his answer. “I haven’t been giving you my full attention, and for that, I apologize. I’d like to have dinner with you, Mr. Parker. Give us a chance to just talk, heart-to-heart. No tricks.” He opens his palms to Peter invitingly. “What do you say?”

Peter glares daggers at him. “No.”

Tony laughs lightly, although his inky eyes narrow dangerously. “I’m sorry, Mr. Parker, that was rhetorical. I’ll be seeing you at dinner in…” he checks his glittering wristwatch, “two hours. I’ll send someone to accompany you downstairs.” With that, he stands, straightening his suit jacket, and leaves without another look at Peter.

Once Tony’s footsteps have faded outside, Bucky looks apologetically at him. “Peter--”

“Haven’t you ruined my life enough?” Peter snaps, looking at at him for the first time in days.

Startled, Bucky closes his mouth. He looks genuinely sorry, but Peter doesn’t have much sympathy to spare. He curls himself tighter under the blanket and tucks his head into the back of the armchair until he hears the door close.

That evening, a new henchman Peter hasn’t met yet comes to take him to dinner. The man wordlessly lays out a soft designer tee and slim cut black jeans, all with the tags still attached. A little surprised at the casual wear, Peter puts it on nonetheless and for the first time, gets to step outside of his room.

As the henchman leads Peter down the hallway, he looks around them curiously. The floors are a dark stained wood worn smooth with age, and a mixed curation of modern and Renaissance art hangs along the walls. They descend a narrow spiral staircase to another hallway, more cramped and spartan than the upstairs, like the servants’ quarters in an ancient Victorian house.

Peter can smell dinner cooking - it’s something savory and aromatic, and it reminds him of a Sicilian dish from one of the rare occasions he was invited to accompany Fisk overseas. They reach a kitchen large enough to staff at least ten cooks, which supports Peter’s theory that the whole building must be some old mansion. The whole kitchen’s been renovated with modern appliances and sleek granite, and a modest square table sits in a corner of the massive room, already spread with expensive looking plateware and a vase of deep violet carnations set in the middle.

“Perfect timing!” Tony’s voice comes from one end of the kitchen. He stands from where he’s crouched over an oven, carefully pulling out a steaming gratin dish with mitted hands. It almost looks comical, seeing this dangerous warlord stooped over a pasta bake in a pinstriped apron, but for some reason Peter can only think about the way Tony’s biceps flex under the sleeves of his shirt.

“Those clothes look good on you,” Tony says appreciatively, his eyes flicking over Peter as he pours out two glasses of wine.“That’ll be all,” he nods at his henchman, who leaves silently. As the door swings shut, leaving the two of them alone, Tony pulls out a chair, gesturing to it with his syrupy warm smile.

Peter exhales and takes his seat, containing a shiver as Tony’s hand brushes lightly over the back of his neck. The warlord sits down across from him, looking deceptively harmless in his worn tee-shirt and his hair mussed from cooking.

“I’m sure you’re used to fancier courses, but I thought I’d treat you to one of my favorites.” He fills Peter’s plate with the steaming pasta bake, and having refused his last two meals, Peter’s stomach grumbles and he flushes pink. Tony laughs, not unkindly. “Nothing here is drugged, I can promise that much,” he says, taking a sip of his wine.

He watches Tony swallow with narrowed eyes and when he doesn’t stoop over dead, he cautiously picks up his own glass. They eat in silence for a long while, Peter glancing up at Tony every other second as he waits for the warlord to pull out a gun mid-dinner, but each time he looks up, Tony’s only smiling placidly back at him, a smug look in his eyes.

“You’re nervous,” Tony says at last.

“Yeah, well the last time we ‘had a conversation’, you drugged me, killed two men in cold blood and kidnapped me to God knows where,” Peter says drily.

“And for that, I apologize,” Tony says. “What can I tell you to put your mind at ease?”

“What do you want with me?” Peter asks again, anxiety building uncomfortably in his ribcage. “Information? An easy fuck? Or is this just some sick lead-up to you killing me anyways?”

Tony sighs, setting down his wine glass. “I wasn’t lying, what I said earlier. I have all the intel I could possibly want from Bucky, and I’m not interested in killing you. To be truthful,” he continues, ignoring Peter’s disbelieving scoff, “you interest me.” He steeples his fingers and levels his gaze at Peter, his inky eyes piercing into him. “I think we may be more alike than you’re willing to admit, and I’d like to see how this one plays out.”

Frustration edging into his voice, Peter snaps, “Yeah? Let me skip to the ending for you. I’m nothing like you. You’ll get bored of me and either kill me or let me go. Personally, if I got to vote, I’d prefer the latter.”

A slow smile spreads across Tony’s face. “Mr. Parker, I’ve tried very hard to be accommodating,” he says lightly. “Yet you seem dead set on making your integration here as painful as possible for yourself. Is masochism something Fisk trained into you?”

Peter glares at him. “You talk about him like he was some monster that kept me locked up in a tower, but you didn’t rescue me, Mr. Stark. You and your meatheads are the ones who kidnapped me against my will, and I’ve heard enough about you to know you’re hardly a saint yourself.”

“Oh? What lies has he been feeding you?” Tony says, his dark eyes gleaming dangerously.

“I know your empire is founded on blood,” Peter continues, staring back at Tony in challenge. “I know you didn’t even build it yourself, that you had to inherit all your top clients from your father.”

Tony leans forward over the table, a sharp smile on his face. “You’d be wise to watch your tongue, Mr. Parker,” he says in a soft, silky voice.

It satisfies Peter in a sick, thrilling way to see that look in Tony’s eyes grow darker. For all of Tony Stark’s unpredictability and how put together he seems, this at least feels familiar to Peter - finding an insecurity that he can pinpoint, one guiding motivation that makes him fallible. He smirks, digs a little deeper. “Guess you were right, we might be similar after all,” he says conversationally. “Your daddy took care of you too, huh? Now-- did Howard Stark fuck you too, or was he not that kind of ‘daddy’?”

Lightning quick, Tony is up on his feet kicking the table aside, and he grabs Peter by the throat, slamming him hard into the wall behind him. Peter gasps as he feels a cold blade digging into the skin under his jaw and Tony’s knee forces itself hard between his thighs, pinning him in place. “I’ll admit, it’s kind of sweet watching you spread your wings and getting a little braver,” he says calmly, although his stormy eyes convey anything but calm. “But in case things were ambiguous before,” he rocks his knee against Peter, dragging an involuntary whimper out of him, “I don’t tolerate disrespect in my house. Is that understood, Mr. Parker?” Peter nods, flinching as the knife digs into his skin and blood beads along the edge of the blade. “Use your words, darling.”

“Y- Yes, I understand.”

Tony smiles at him, his grip relaxing just enough that Peter can gulp in air. “Good boy.” It doesn’t surprise him that Peter’s controlled by fear. He has no doubt that’s the way things worked with Fisk and, while he’d rather not rule with terror, it’ll have to do until Peter properly adjusts.

The door bursts open then and Bucky runs in, his eyes wide and panicked. “Tony, what’s going on?”

“We were just chatting,” Tony says easily, folding his knife away. He pats Peter on the cheek, grinning when the boy ducks his head, humiliated and silent. “Show him back up to his room, won’t you Bucky?”

Peter wordlessly follows Bucky back up the narrow stairs. When they get to the safety of his bedroom, Bucky gently puts his fingers to Peter’s chin, raising his head to expose the mark of Tony’s blade. “Jesus, Pete,” he breathes, concern lining his face. “Tell me you didn’t mention Howard Stark.”

Peter looks up at Bucky defiantly. “So what if I did?” He hisses when Bucky thumbs at the shallow cut.

“He’s killed men for less,” Bucky says angrily. “Are you trying to piss him off, Pete?”

Batting his hand away, Peter wills himself to stay composed. “You should’ve let him kill me,” he says thickly. He scrubs at his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Peter…” Bucky starts, his voice small and broken.

He barely stops himself from saying or doing something else incredibly stupid. Turning on his heel, Peter goes to the adjoined bathroom and turns on the shower. He closes the door behind him and slides down to the floor, and for the first time in what feels like years, he lets himself cry.

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #mafia au #tw: knives #tw: incest mention

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rovvboat · 5 years

Text

Paper Planes - Colossus/Piotr Rasputin x Reader

Part 2

word count: 2.5k

Warnings: mostly fluff! implied sexy times ;)

Summary: Piotr returns from his trip back home, greeted by a very enthusiastic reader. The two have dinner together, sharing their stories whilst away - when they both succumb to the needs of being away for so long.

The Professor watches from his wheelchair as you spar with Ororo on the training field. You maneuver yourself swiftly around her, dodging her attacks from the air. She wasn’t using her elemental attacks at the moment – just to keep you on your toes and allow yourself to adapt to aerial attacks.

‘’Alright. You may both begin powered attacks. Y/N, please focus on Ororo’s aerial attacks this time.’’ The Professor instructs aloud. You move into your fight stance and as does Ororo. She throws the first punch, shooting lightning bolts at you. You immediately pull your strongest papers and form a shield around you. You smile as you hear the papers spark, before the burning a bright crimson. You aim your now flaming balls of fire towards Ororo and send them in hot, surrounding her in fire. She raises her arms in response, as a vortex swirls around her – putting out the flames. You send in more papers after her.

You strain to hold your hoards of paper against the forceful vacuum of the vortex, and when it finally dissipates, you let the paper disintegrate into the ground. You charge towards her, and she moves to try to topple the ground beneath you. You quickly gather up the disintegrated paper and harden it around her wrists, pulling it – and her – down to the ground. You hastily encase her in a paper cocoon – clenching them into a higher density that was too heavy to break free from.

‘’Nice work!’’ Logan shouts from beside the Professor, which you took as a signal to conclude.

‘’Sorry about that.’’ You wince as you release Ororo from your paper.

‘’No child, that was an excellent show of your powers! This is cause for celebration!’’ She clasps her hands.

You feel the joys of improvement swell up in you, and can’t help but smile. You think about Piotr, and how proud he would be when he sees how much you’ve refined your skills. You raise your head wistfully to the horizon, thinking about how much longer you would have to wait.

‘’Ya excited, darlin’? It’s been 2 weeks, hasn’t it? He should be back in a few days.’’ Logan says as he walks up next to you.

You nod at him and turn to ask the Professor for details, when a low rumbling noise rises beyond the horizon – catching your ear – roaring louder and louder until you see the unmistakable shape of an X-Jet flying towards the mansion’s hanger. It was the Black Sea Hawk – the one Piotr had taken to see his family.

‘’That’s– It’s Piotr!’’

Your heart wells up with excitement at the thought of finally getting to see him again. He had tried to write to you but, due to his hidden identity, the Professor decided that it would not be ideal for him to be in contact with you in a traceable manner.

You, of course, took matters into your own hands. As you came to master your paper abilities more and more, you realized you had a plethora of uses for them that you had never bothered to think about. If all you needed was to be non-traceable, what better way than to be your own mailing service?

So, for the past 2 weeks, you had sent Piotr letters of your own – or letter rather, since you only had time to send one.

Dear Petey

How’s Russia? I heard it was going to be super duper cold! Hope you’re getting to spend a lot of time with Illyana and the rest of your family. Things here are super boring without you; I’ve even resorted to painting in my spare time – can you believe? I’m still not good at it, but hey at least I can use the canvas for my foldings if I didn’t like what I painted :P Anyway… I’ve gotten pretty good at combat and I can’t wait to show you my moves! Hope to see you soon Petey, though I think that it’s very likely that your return will be postponed another week. Storm says there might be a storm front, and that it would be dangerous for you to return. But that’s for the best yeah? More time back home! I’ll see you soon petey.

Love,

Y/N

P.S this bird will erase the words I’ve written once you’ve read it – but I think it would make a great gift for Illyana! It flies and acts like a real bird! I hope she’ll like it.

Once you finished penning down your days, you fashioned it into a falcon and used your powers to guide the bird to Piotr. It wasn’t an easy task – you researched flight patterns and navigation from Angel and the Professor (though you carefully neglected to tell them what exactly for – ‘for some general knowledge, in case I get lost somewhere’ you would cheekily deflect if they asked.) You made the bird into a sturdy little critter, before allowing it to soar the skies to find its’ recipient. You were not sure whether it found him, but you made sure that the bird would disintegrate in the wrong hands – and that was assurance enough to take the risk.

Your head follows the path of the jet, as it swiftly flies over the training grounds towards the hanger. The excitement makes you restless, and in an instant, you’re dashing across the field – as the disgruntled voice of Logan calls after you – ‘’You’re not done yet, Y/N!’’ – which falls largely on deaf ears.

Once you reach the entrance, you realise that the hanger was too out of ways for you to reach by foot before Piotr gets out of the jet. An idea pops into your head, as you summon all the nearby paper from the rooms on the second floor. They spiral around you, before lifting you up in a wave as you ride the whirling tide, and lift yourself up towards the hanger.

Once you’re directly over the hanger, you hurriedly enter through the roof’s opening before it closed. You were floating close to the ceiling when you spot Piotr walking out of the jet and onto the platform. He looks back to shut the jet door, when he sees a swirling mass of white heading straight for him. His eyes widen– ‘’Bozhe–‘’ as the sound of you squealing his name echoes to the high ceilings, and come crashing into him in full force with your arms wide open.

He topples over from the surprise attack, but the paper gathers under him, and softens his landing as you lay on top of him – both of you in a fit of giggling and laughter.

‘’I missed you so much! How was the trip? How was your family? Was it cold? How’s Illyana? Did you–‘’ You stop when his large arms drape over you tenderly, pulling you into a hug.

‘’I missed you very much too. But just because we first met by colliding, doesn’t mean we need to always have to meet by collision.’’ He jokes.

You look up at him and give a toothy smile, when you hear Ororo’s voice cut through the moment.

‘’My oh my, look what the cat dragged in. It is nice to see you back, Piotr. It seems you had a really warm welcome.’’ Ororo teases – with her arms folded – greeting you both with a suggestive smile. You quickly move to get up, and allow the papers to get Piotr back up on his feet – pushing him up from behind.

Piotr goes to greet Ororo with a hug, as Logan and the Professor arrive at the hanger.

‘’Nice ta’ have ya back, Pete.’’ Logan gives Piotr a firm handshake. ‘’Someone’s missed you an ‘awful lot around her.’’ You bump Logan’s shoulder as he says this, making Piotr laugh.

‘’Professor, I deeply appreciate the opportunity to visit my family.’’ He thanks the Professor.

‘’Don’t thank me, Y/N did most of the heavy lifting for you. You’ve got some things to catch up on, so I suggest you get some rest before resuming your duties tomorrow.’’ The Prof advises.

‘’C’mon, lets get you unpacked this time!’’ You gather your papers and make them lift up the luggage he brought back. You let them take the luggage back to his room, as you walk back with Piotr. You notice his droopy eyes and slouching demeanor as he meanders down the hallway with you.

‘’Must’ve been some trip, huh? You look exhausted.’’

‘’Da. Long flight, and I had to keep watch at night in case of another storm.’’ He says heaving a sigh. ‘’Oh yes, I received your bird back home! Illyana adores the present. And I loved the letter, it was sweet. Illyana made you a gift as well, I will show it to you once we get to my room.’’ He mentions when a light yawn steals his attention, as he faces away from you to cover his mouth.

You chuckle at the scene before you. You’ve never seen such a giant towering man needing an afternoon nap so badly.

‘’Hey, that can wait. You get some rest. I’ll bring dinner up to your room later.’’ You say, reaching for the doorknob of his room. He nods at you sluggishly, before pulling his weight into the room. The last thing you see is his massive frame dropping like a dead man onto the mattress, as you let his bedroom door squeal shut behind him.

You go about your day, getting things ready for when Piotr returns to teaching classes tomorrow – when dinner time rolls around. You grab a tray and stack it up with some tomato pasta, a big colourful salad bowl, some seasoned baby potatoes and 2 plates of nice big juicy steak smack in the middle. You also bring with you two glasses of wine. You put your papers to the task of carrying the tray full of food fit for a king.

You knock on Piotr’s door. ‘’Room service!’’ You voice out.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were about to see when the door opened. A half-naked Piotr stands in the doorway, chest glistening as drops of water trail down to his waist – his head tilted to the side as he rubs his hair dry with a small towel. He only has his sweatpants on low around his waist, and you can’t help but ogle at him – blood rushing up to your face – before mentally slapping yourself back to the present when he speaks.

‘’Ah Y/N. Is it dinner time already? Come, it is warmer inside.’’ He pushes the door wide open, before turning around and walking toward his closet. He picks out a large dark green T-shirt and throws it over his head.

You lustfully gaze at him as you make your way in (not sure if it was the empty stomach, or the long time away from him) – your amorous eyes unwavering as he tugs the shirt smoothly over his head – his hands grabbing the ends and pulling it over his chiseled form – smoothing it down over his stomach, before turning back at you with a bright smile.

You bashfully turn your attention away from him before he could notice, feigning to have been preoccupied with setting out the tray onto the coffee table which sits near the small balcony.

‘’So, uh they made steak today. Looks amazing.’’ You fluster, trying to reel from what just happened.

‘’That sounds very good! I am famished! Let’s eat!’’

You both sit on much-too-small stools against the rails of the balcony, as the cool night breeze tickles your ears. You share with him how the Professor had helped you master your powers in the two weeks that he was gone, and how painting probably isn’t your calling. His awe and wonder – followed by his laughter – at that revelation reminds you of just how much you missed him, his voice now eagerly recounting all the different places he brought Illyana – and how much she had always she insisted on bringing ptichka ‘little birdie’ whenever they went to the market, or a trip into town.

‘’Oh! Before I forget, she wanted me to give something to you. She wouldn’t let me see, but I hope you like it.’’ He rummages through his duffel bag, before hearing the unmistakable crinkling of a folded piece of paper. You raise your brows expectantly – immensely intrigued by what his little snowflake had in store for you – as he holds it out for you take.

You mindfully unravel the folds of the paper, as it grew in size between your fingers. You behold the scene on the drawing size paper – chuckling as you realise what she had drawn. You flip it around so that you could both see it.

It was a carefully drawn picture of Piotr, Illyana and one other person.

their mother?

To the left, there was a tastefully drawn and designed castle – scaling towards the yellow sun with black shades in the corner – made of the furious back and forth scribbling of grey crayons that only a kid can muster. Next to the castle stood who you could only assume was Piotr in a knight’s armour – with his face exposed in a D-shaped smile. He was holding hands with a girl with blonde hair who was dressed in a pretty light blue dress. Of course, that was Illyana, but holding onto her other hand was someone else – taller than her, but shorter than Piotr. She had the same hair colour as you, and was wearing a beautiful pastel green dress. You notice something yellow on the top of her head, and you realise it’s a crown.

‘’Is that…? Is that me? With a crown?’’

‘’I suppose it is. Snowflake loves princesses. And when she saw the polaroid of us, she immediately called you printsessa. She said that you were as beautiful as a princess would be, and I agree.’’ He says, aiming a smile at you – before shyly looking away with bashful huff, almost as if he was internally chiding himself for letting that slip out.

‘’Well, I think I like that. Printsessa. Thank you, Piotr. I love it very much. This–‘’ you point to the drawing– ‘’is going on my wall’’ You say proudly.

As the night draws to a close, you clear the tray and command your papers to bring them down to the sink – they’ve become like little minions to you, and they do make life a whole lot easier. You bid Piotr a goodnight and walk towards the door, when you feel a hand tugging you back – as you come face to face with Piotr.

‘’Perhaps… you could stay the night? Printsessa?’’

You smirk at the request and nickname, as he draws you in closer to him – his gentle hands catching the small of your back, as your hands cup his face.

‘’Perhaps… I will…’’ You breathe, as his face comes closer to yours – noses grazing as they find a space next to each other. His lips brush against yours for just a ticklish moment, teasing you of what’s to come – before tenderly joining yours.

Your bodies slowly waltz towards his bed, as you let yourself be overcome in his kiss, his lips pushing you deeper into it – needy, hungry, wanting. You recline onto the bed – without breaking the kiss – as he hovers over you, hands wandering, mapping the gentle curves of your body. A yelping moan escapes you, head dipping back, as he lowers a kiss onto your neck – and in that moment, you let yourself be whisked away into the unraveling depth of the night.

Taglist!

@emma-frxst @fluffymadamina @whitewitchdown @candle-light-writings

(tagging the last 2 of you for this particular fic bc you guys rq-ed a part 2 :D - send an ask if ya wanna be on the permanent taglist :)

#colossus x reader #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus #piotr rasputin #colossus imagine #piotr rasputin imagine #marvel fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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thedistantstorm · 5 years

Text

Phoenix Protocol 10

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Sunsinger.

Previously

There is a definitive weight to her gaze, when he sees her the following evening.

“Ikora did not have time to speak with me,” She confesses immediately, as if guilty she was unable to fulfill her end of the bargain. Her eyes are downcast. “I tried several times.”

He does not comment, only nodding once.

“She told me to come back another day,” Miyu scoffs, her anger still boiling, threatening to spill over. “How is it that the Vanguard Commander has time for me, but my own Vanguard does not?” When she looks up, she’s drawn to his gaze. She holds up her hands, her eyes widening in a mix of fear and concern, “Forgive me. I should not have said that aloud.”

“It can be frustrating,” He admits. “She seems to find any manner of thing to occupy her time these days.”

Her brows pull together. “Are you agreeing with me?”

The Commander does not comment, looking away as if perhaps he had said nothing at all. Leaving her to infer what she will.

The porcelain skinned Warlock giggles. It is a tiny, understated sound, like wind chimes on a clear morning, airy and light. She flushes, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s staring. “I’m sorry,” She says, looking down and away.

“Your laugh,” He says, suddenly finding himself on unsteady footing. “I do not believe I’ve heard it before.”

Quicksilver eyes blink, and soften. “I don’t know the last time I have,” She muses. “It’s been a while.”

“You should find reasons to do so more,” He replies, and she shifts, her posture demonstrating rapt attention. It means something, what he’s said to her. It’s caught her off guard, he realizes.

Does no one care for this petite Warlock, at all? He ponders it for a moment. The smallest amount of positive attention surprises her, his concern makes her uncomfortable. Not even her Vanguard seems to spare her a moment.

“Miyu, do-” He thinks on it. “Do you like it here?”

She frowns. “Do I… like it here,” Her lips parse the words as if they’re difficult to comprehend. “I don’t dislike it, I suppose. The City is my home.”

He sighs, speaking far more freely. “Others do not treat you well.”

“Most,” She replies. “Those I would consider friends are stationed far away or engrossed in their work without time to spare. We know our duty, though.” The Warlock looks at him, her eyes curious. “What is this about?”

Zavala pauses. What is this about, indeed. Even his Ghost seems to hover on the edge of his consciousness, her own curiosity piqued. “I suppose I... find myself worried that you do not have enough support.”

She looks up at him, her gaze bright and soft in equal measure. “Tamash- Ghost has always looked out for me.”

The Commander tilts his head to the side, as her Ghost appears immediately, looking very alert and confused. His gold-trimmed cones twitch before he circles and hovers carefully over her shoulder.

“And I have you,” She murmurs.

Miyu looks down and away, and whether it’s from embarrassment at her openness or being just plain shy, Zavala is outrageously grateful. His Ghost, takes that moment to prod thoughtfully at their link in his mind with something that’s still almost childlike in tone, but very unapologetic in reminding him that she absolutely told him so. This isn’t just helping. Zavala doesn’t just help. He gets invested, especially when it’s something worthwhile. And helping this wayward Warlock find a way to accept and be accepted by the Light ablaze inside her is exactly that.

His Ghost nudges him lightly, on the outskirts of his mind. It’s okay, you know, Adelaide says, just to him. I think she’s sweet. And I want us to help her, too. He thinks back to her that it isn’t okay, that this is wholly inappropriate. She’s seeking him out for help, not... whatever this is that’s giving him these new feelings.

“I’m sorry,” Miyu apologizes, “If that sounds a bit forward. I just… if you value someone,” She looks at her Ghost, who dips his entire being in the affirmative, as if he’s coaxing courage into her with his watchfulness, “I’ve learned it’s important to tell them so. Battles, wars, there’s a lot out there and... I feel like you might understand.”

The nod he gives her is slight, but his insides burn like they’ve touched fire. Damn it all if he doesn’t know just what she means.

He’s late.

It’s the life of a public servant. His version of on time - if he has his way, is to arrive at least ten minutes early. Rarely does he get his way, though. Most times, he’s double - even triple - booked on meetings. If he has a spare moment, it’s typically stolen by someone or something trivial that spirals right out of control.

The Warlock is stretched in an elegant pose, sword extended straight out in front of her. Her hair is pulled back into a small bun at the base of her neck, and it’s clear by the way she focuses her breathing that she’s been at it for a while. That’s fair. He’s only... forty-five minutes later than their agreed upon time.

“I’m sorry,” He says, by way of greeting. “I-”

“It’s fine.” She tips her head to the side, concealing her blade without so much as a look at the sheath at her side. “I heard the Consensus meeting was a bit, uh,” She looks up at him with those bright eyes of hers and smiles as she approaches him. “Tense?”

He laughs. Well and truly laughs. It’s a deep, almost melodic sound for such a stoic, serious man. “Where did you hear that,” He asks, when he’s almost composed himself.

A shrug of shoulders and a tiny quirk of her lip gives her away. “Shaxx.”

“Shaxx?” His brows draw together, one arching as he regards her. “He does not normally share such sensitive information with those beneath him.”

That quirk of her lips dip into a smirk that’s almost too playful for him to equate to her. “Beneath him,” She tuts, her words dashed with a splash of something amused. “How old do you think I am, Commander?”

His step backward surprises them both. Her, because she believes she’s put him off, and him, because paired with what she’d said about battle days before, makes him truly reassess her.

“Not as old as me,” He finally settles on, giving her a once over that strikes her as proud.

Too proud to admit he has no idea.

“That’s likely true,” She agrees and lets it drop.

Their top priority is making sure that she gets the last of the measurements she requires. Afterward, they discuss the pull of Light, his personal relationship with the Void, from where she stands, under the dome of his protection.

“It held against the Cabal,” He says, when she prods the fading ripple of void as it dissipates. “In the initial assault.”

“I heard,” She agrees. “It’s impressive, you know.”

“So I’ve been told,” He replies. “It did not matter, in the end.”

“It did,” She says, softly. “There were hundreds of Guardians who made it out of the Plaza because of you, who otherwise would have died. I was one of them.”

It’s not that far fetched, he realizes. It would make sense that she had been there. Despite himself, he says, “I do not remember seeing you there.”

“My hair was longer,” She muses, “But I was wearing my helmet. Those ceremonial robes we all had on didn’t help much, either.”

“Were you on one of the shuttles?”

“No. I got out early, went into the streets. When they caged the Traveler,” She sighs. “I was casting Dawnblade. The Cabal nearly killed Tamashii,” Zavala looks at the Ghost who flutters against her cheek in gentle comfort. “I felt like I’d been cut in half,” She finally admits.

“You almost did,” Her Ghost replies to that, “You-” but Miyu shakes her head, as if speaking about it is too much.

Zavala can understand that, feeling the phantom pain of a slug in his side that he’ll never forget, no matter how many times he continues to rise. “We’re here now,” He exhales, looks up at the looming, glowing form in the sky.

“May it be enough,” Miyu replies, rocking back on her heels.

“It is,” He stands before her, blocking out the great white machine, one hand on each of her shoulders. “You are.”

Her eyes flutter shut, and they stand that way for a few moments, until she blinks her silver-white eyes open and asks, “May I try to cast now?”

He nods. “Are you changing any of your variables?”

“Yes.” She inhales deep and exhales as she summons a healing rift beneath their feet. “I’ve been thinking about the sword being heavy. I’m not going to throw it, but you should stand back.”

“Okay,” He agrees. “Let me know if there’s something I can do.”

“Stand with him,” She says to her Ghost. “I don’t want to take any chances.”

When she reaches for the fire that lives within her, it lights easily. Her fingers twitch against the heat, but the sword forms without issue. Holding it out in front of her, she thinks of the vision she’d had on Mars.

Down.

A single candle.

She plunges the sword into the ground. The flames lick her robes, but nothing else seems to happen. She waits, summoning another sword as the rift runs out. The first sword remains the longest, an extra handful of seconds before it too winks to light and ash. She looks down at her hands.

“Ghost,” She calls. The damage to her hands is minimal, but she can smell the burning fabric of her robes. She sighs.

He answers dutifully. “I can heal it, at least,” He says as he sets her hands to rights.

Zavala steps forward. “Try again in a few moments. Give yourself time.”

His patience is impressive, Miyu thinks, watching him watch her out of the corner of her eye. She wonders, for a moment, how he would be as a solar Titan, but shakes her head. She can’t imagine him summoning a flaming hammer.

Eventually the repetition catches up to her. Where she’d been unblemished, small blisters remained when Ghost tried to heal her, and where the solar fire seemed contained, it began to spiral up and up until she herself was consumed. When she wakes following resurrection, it’s with a start as she finds herself nearly nose-to-nose with the Vanguard Commander.

“What was that?” He asks, sounding angry. “I asked you to stop before it got to that point,” He barks at her roughly.

“I just want it to work,” She replies as she sits up, frustrated enough to push herself away, growling, “I have to figure it out, Zavala. I have to. It’s driving me crazy. What am I missing? Why can’t I do this? Why is it not enough?”

“Stop thinking,” He urges her. “You’re thinking too hard. How do you feel?”

“Raw.” Her eyes narrow, and her hand clutches her chest, over her heart. “It hurts.”

“Is that how you felt, casting Dawnblade, before?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell me about it,” He says, sitting cross legged in front of her. “Describe to me how it felt.”

When her eyes close, he watches her compose herself, watches her reflect. There’s no question that she’s capable of wielding the Light, but there’s some barrier preventing her from using it, from untangling it from her soul and calling upon it to utilize at will. Dark lashes beat against alabaster cheeks, and starlight skitters across her skin in fractal patterns. She does not open her eyes when she speaks.

“Vibrant,” She whispers through parted lips. “Powerful. Alive.” After a moment, she opens her eyes, twin tears dropping down pale cheeks. “Warm. It was so warm.”

Her Ghost hovers toward them, but stops at a loaded glance from Zavala.

“I’m so afraid I’ll never feel that way, again,” She confesses. “It - when I lost my Light, it burned so badly I thought I’d died. I thought I’d look down at my throwing arm and it’d be gone. But, there was nothing. It was like it’d never been mine at all, like I’d made it up in my head.” She inhales. “No one believed me. The ones who’d been using their Light when it had been ripped away were rare. Scarred. I have scars,” She says. “Mine are just… different. Like instead of being broken where someone can see, it’s inside of me.”

This time, when Ghost moves forward, he does so even with Zavala holding a hand out to discourage him in an effort to keep her talking.

“Tamashii,” She calls, asking a question that Zavala misses, stuck on the shadows in her gaze.

A small box appears between them with the shimmering glow of transmat.

She turns it toward the man across from her, an arm’s length away. Her eyes dip in time with her chin in a serious nod.

He takes it as permission, and opens the box carefully, reverently.

A cracked ghost shell sits beside a bond that looks like obsidian or lava rock. It’s black and smooth metal. He doesn’t realize that she’s moved, but she kneels in front of him, lifting the bond from the box carefully. A pale yellow light emerges from the side of it, flickering as if it’s short circuited. It’s the ceremonial bond she’d been wearing, the one given to war-decorated Warlocks, he realizes. The combination of triangles that makes the Warlock sigil is gone, and the bond itself is completely smooth. It had burned. It had burned hot.

The Commander catalogs that and eyes the shell. “You said you thought the Cabal had gotten to your Ghost.”

“He used the last of his Light to blind them, to give us time to escape. They took a swipe, but I managed to pull him away from them in time to prevent a direct attack to his core. Neither of us could think straight. I think we were in shock.”

Her ghost flutters down, resting carefully between her legs, on the crease created by their bend while she kneels. Her fingers trace the top fin of his shell deftly.

“You can’t be the only one,” He says.

“Most have made peace with their Light through pilgrimage,” She says. “To the Shard or Io.” At the sharp breath he takes, she continues, “I visited both. Ikora had sent me back again, after a time. It’s no use.”

“There has to be an answer,” Zavala tells her. “I refuse to believe there isn’t.”

“There is,” Adelaide pipes up, from her usual spot over the Commander’s left shoulder. All eyes find the child-like ghost. She shoots a beam of light directly at the Warlock’s chest, over her heart, before scanning the rest of her in a wide sweep. “It’s inside her. Whatever is holding her back, it isn’t the Light.” She eyes the other Ghost, her segments spinning and shifting like she’s thinking on how to phrase her words. “Would you agree?”

#commander zavala #oc: miyu #zavala x oc #destiny fanfiction #now with more feels #destiny ghosts being sweet and supportive #canonical death and resurrection #collection: phoenix protocol

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icharchivist · 6 years

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Okay this start to seriously annoy me (as in angering me, not “making me spiral down out of controle” (edit; okay maybe a little but hi that’s me from the future and i’m doing fine, i’m just annoyed but no breakdown there, not really)) so bear with me, but also, tw: s/uicidal & selfh/arm mention and stuff like that. I’m super annoyed at my mom. (also generally it’s in general for all my #ichapersonal posts but pls d/on’t r/eblog especially not this one bc i’m just. so. damn annoyed.)

Also it’s really just ranting because i really need to let it out this is seriously weighing at this point I just need to rant it out;

(also it’s a long post so if you’re on mobile and the readmore didn’t work and you want to avoid it go quickly blacklist either my tag or #longpostforts, it’ll hide the post for your dash)

My mom has this tendencies to always bitch about “kids who says “I’ve never asked to be born””. She had been bitching about it for as long as I can remember bc if i recall, my elder sister (yknow the one who ended up running away from home, never to be seen again for what, 17 years now (17 years?? holy fuck how time flies)(also i’m starting to really feel like she made the right decision at this point)) actually told her that at some point while they fought.

bc my mom believes children should be grateful of life given, that “life is a gift”.

So regularly she goes on rants about how “kids who says “they never wanted to be born” are so ungrateful, life is a gift, you should be grateful to your parents, to me” (she singles herself out everytime) “for how much time and effort we take to raise you, we give you a chance in this world how can you be ungrateful and say you never wanted it”, and stuff like that.

You’d think that after having me spelling her out that i’ve been s/uicidal since i’m 13 she would change her fucking reasoning but nooooo

This is so unnerving. I’ve heard all my life that kids thinking birth is a curse or w/e are ungrateful toward their parents but is she seriously the fuck hearing herself??? It’s not about the fucking parents, if a child tells you that, be concerned about what it means of their suffering, not about what it means for the parents, you apathic selfish person.

My whole life had been a struggle i would have gladly spared myself with thank you very much.”life is a gift” so were the multiple trials I had to manage as a teenager because both of my parents were unable to manage their fucking divorce? I’m sorry what about my life is a gift to me? As far as I know I’ve been the emotional backbone of this freaking family for years and had been there for all of my mother’s breakdowns, but I’ve never had that back. I was the gift to at least try to soften the blows, but it wasn’t a gift for me that’s for sure. Life sure wasn’t a gift when I first told my mom i was s/uicidal and had s/elf harmed and that the only thing she told me was “look I have more important things to deal with okay” (see, the kind of petty things i still remember and I’ve yet to have a proper apology about because “nooo but Chloé I wasn’t doing okay you can understand” hA. Jokes on you I had YOUR CONCERNS, MY FATHER’s and MY OWN and back then I was getting out of an ab/usive relationship with my ex and the fact i just lost most of my friends at once while i was trying to manage how the fuck I could at least ease the issues between my parents and with my ex’s jealousy & aftermath, also my own mom’s h.omophobia when i was trying to bring up that aspect was sure helpful, also freaking important exams coming, and also remember it was when you completely fucked up your relationship with my other sister that I also had to manage, “i wasn’t doing okay” neither did i but i’ve never shut you down that I know of.)

Or at least it wasn’t for me, since then my mom ran to tell my dad to say “see our daughter is s/uicidal because of you!” (no??? I didn’t say that??? even if it was true I didn’t??) and since then had my dad using it against me on official paper (you never know true love until your dad try to tell a judge that “because of the de/ression given by your mom” you were “untrustworthy” and that therefore he shouldn’t give you any money and that you learn that upon reading the judgement’s request) and making s.uicide jokes in front of me about me to people i don’t know (which!! he did!! right before I cut ties with him! in front of clients of him!! seriously why do i have those fucking parents.) But hey i’m sure it was a good “gift” for my mom to have something to guilttrip my dad with for ONE trial which turned against her considering how he used it. WHAT A GIFT.

GUH this is something I hate, I have a lot of wounds like that that I don’t even care about anymore (or at least don’t think about because no one can change the past and it’s something to live with) and our relationship has evolved past this point, but then she says this kind of things and all that bitterness comes back full blown.

We’ve discussed about it. I told her. I had to hammer it down multiple times (HA. And even there how much of those conversations ended up being “it’s because of your father/your abandon issues about your sister? Because me too you know, this is hard for me too here’s how it affects me and let’s not talk about your self destructive tendencies” wow thanks mom) How can she so carelessly throw this kind of things. We’ve discussed about it more than once for fuck’s sake. And she throws it in front of my step dad, the one person we can’t talk about mental health with because the guy always have a mean comment to make about it and doesn’t believe in d/epression this family is a fucking joke.

“Kids saying “i’ve never asked to be born” are ungrateful, life is a gift that i gave you” fuuuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

I don’t even know why she said that out loud, I was just walking from the living to my room and I have no idea of the context, but I legit just snapped at her telling her to fucking stop with that and she tried to defend myself like “do you know how hurtful it is to hear from a kid that they never asked to be born” you don’t say, do you know how hurtful it is to hear from your own parents that your self destructive tendencies due to how much said parents put you through are “not important”?

Ya know what’s even funnier -because my parents told me about that- Apparently they wanted me so much when I wasn’t born yet that they almost tried to do a fertility boost while i was already a featus and it would have killed the featus to do it and it’s just last minute that they realized “wait there’s already a baby inside” - good for my parents, lost my chance it seems. (also fun fact since I was born strangled by the cordon thingy, it’s like i was too stubborn to die what a moron @ me). AND, WHAT MY PARENTS DECIDED TO TELL ME, freaking beautiful really, is that when they did the echography to see what my birthgender was, my father was so dissappointed over hearing I was a girl (and that therefore i’ll be the 3rd girl of the family) that he left my mom who was pregnant with me at the hospital. He actually took the car and drove back home, home that was 30 mins away from the hospital in car, and he left my mom alone at the hospital. She had to call her best friend to bring her back home. My father blamed my mom because ofc he has the genetic understanding of Henry VIII.

as a result i spent my entiere childhood feeling like i wasn’t wanted by my dad bc he told me all my life he would rather have had a boy and always made it feel like i wasn’t good enough, and my mom always priviligized my sisters (which may be a result of me being the younger one of the family, but then when I was 7 I had my elder sister (who was a/utistic so my mom was always overbearing with her before she left) running away from home and my other sister who right afterward almost died due to medical complication, having my mom overprotecting her especially that close to the departure of my other sister and she kept being overprotective afterward. That may have played a part. And i mean when we come to have convos where my mom ignores me completely unless i mention my sisters? And the fact she willingly admit that she “doesn’t want to force herself to care about things she doesn’t care about” while mentioning that she has more in common with my sister than I? Ya that doesn’t help the feeling. But ya know it’s just ~the youngest sibling feeling~ lmao) - Also my mom who l o ves to remind me that apparently I was an overdynamic child who was a nightmare to take care of because I was hyperactive, so she was always tired and loves to remind that it was hard for her to handle me, that sure didn’t play at all in making me feel unwanted. Especially when she’s unable to say anything about me that doesn’t come from the time i was “an unbearable hyperactive child who completely stopped her from wanting any more children” because of course this is the kind of things you say to a child and you make good care that you only ever talk about that and not anything else about said child even if the latest actual anecdote (that isn’t “actually blowing off because this family is hell” she never mentions those lmao) dates back from when said child was 9.

(also it adds to the whole “with all the time we took to raise you” what i was taught by my parents is that i was unadequate and would never be enough, thanks - all my morals i got them in fictions and online all i’ve learnt from my parents was a caucionary tale of what I should never become. Which is also something that annoys me when, the rare times my mom says she’s proud of me, she always adds “i’m so proud to have educated you this way” and it’s always, always on subject that i’ve learnt online or in fiction and regularly things I got mad at my mom for not knowing so ye fuck that. It’s too easy to just take other’s people achievement as your own and refuse to listen when they tell you to stop.)

lmao did i ever mention too, my previous therapist and i discussed a lot about my d/epression and while i personally pinpoint my 13yo as my breaking undeniable point (because when you are hurting yourself because the physical pain makes you forget the emotional pain, this is time to stop prentending nothing bad is happening), my therapist said i had symptoms already when I was 7yo but i was too young to recognize them and since it’s the year the brain usually have a huge development, i developped all the unhealthy coping mechanism - but she also mentioned that the fact my father went to abandon my mom at the hospital because of me, was probably at least a bad vibe that carried on all my life.

So ya!!! beautiful!!! I spent my whole life from the womb to feel unwanted, to the point i completely shut down and thrived upon people appreciating me, which put me as a target for being b/ullied so much i just ended up not get too emotionally invested in anyone and emotionally distant in general after too much fuck up from my part by trying to be loved, and which was so determined to please all my life that I tried to fix everyone’s miserable lives around me until my mental health gave up completely.

(and like don’t get me wrong - my parents made me feel unwanted all my life, i was b/ullied up until high school, i lost all the friends I had before high school because of the a/busive relationship i ended up winding up into, and it fucked me over. It truly did. But I don’t think i’m “unloveable” I think just that it doesn’t matter to try. My high school friends, who are the people i consider my best friends today, are the most precious thing that happened to me and I will never second guess how they care for me. I have wonderful friends all around the world, I don’t feel “unloveable”. But i do feel like not wanting to try. If people leave, I won’t care because eh that happens. Even if i know my friends are here for me, and that I will always want to be there for them and support them, I can’t bring myself to go to them unprompted when i feel bad - even if i know they don’t consider me a burden I was taught all my life my emotions were such anyway. Things that are hard to unlearn. But there’s no “no one loves me” or ignoring completely my qualities there. I consider it a miracle i’m this kind while i’m this bitter, that I care so much about things even if i know it’s coping mechanism, but that i can still get this enthusiast about things sometimes - and honestly when I look back i recognize that i’m strong, even if i don’t consider myself strong enough considering how everything still goes wrong and I can’t go back on my feet no matter what, so much my own physical health is sending me SOS. But i’m not blind to the point of ignoring that it takes strength to get this far- i’m just so, so tired of having to be strong all the time and knowing if i let weakness in for one moment all hell breaks loose for me.)

“Life is a gift it’s ungrateful to tell a parent you never wanted to be born” hi, i never asked to be born, you never made me feel like i had any reason to want to be alive except for what I could bring you and you only, i’ve never thought i’d live past 18 and was s/uicidal at a young age because i felt unwanted and felt like carrying everyone’s burden. Y’know, things we talked about multiple times.

“ye but your elder sister made it associate to a trauma” well that’s a trauma for me as well thank you very much.

See, this is what actually sickens me with my parents. This sort of thin veiled sentences that somehow hit right in the nest of everything that once went wrong in my fucking life. This sort of little sentences that are even worse to me than actual insults because it disregard again everything we talked about. If i needed more proof (and i didn’t) that my parents never listen to me or care for my feelings outside of what it can bring them, this is a wonderful exemple.

I’m angry, i’m done, this family is a fucking mess, I’m tired. bye.

#sorry i got extremely angry at my family #ignoreignorebye #ichapersonal #longpostforts

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bard-of-worlds · 4 years

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Chapter 10

The undergrowth rustled as a large Arcanine dashed by. It had a rider with a clock covering their body on its back as it dodged purple darts trying to hit the Pokémon and its rider. Out of the darkness seven shapes moved after the Pokémon and its rider, 2 with horns and the rest without. The leader of the seven shapes screeched and more purple darts shot at the duo as from the shapes as the Fire type moved through the plants. The figure riding Arcanine looked backwards and cursed as they saw the darts hit trees and start to eat away at the plants they hit.

“Come on girl, we can make it! We’ve got to get to the edges of the Plateau, the guards will be able to take care of them and we’ll be able to report to the higher ups and get some from for him, but we’ve got to get away from them.” A feminine voice encouraged her partner as she moved her body forward, trying to make herself a smaller target.

“CREEE!” A voice cried from the darkness ahead of them as a shadow shot from darkness at the rider and body slammed her off her Pokémon. Her Arcanine turned and jumped at the form and released a devastating stream of white fire that burned the shadow and sent it to the ground as a burning corpse. Her Arcanine moved next to her and bent down, her trainer grab her back and the Arcanine stood back up, helping her to her feet. Her trainer looked as the Bug Chimera started to circle them and reached into her clock and drew two hand guns.

“Thanks for help girl but this looks like this is as far as we can run. If you see any openings take it and run for it, don’t wait for me.” She whispered as she went back to back with her Fire type. Arcanine merely released wisps of flames from her mouth and shot a blast of fire at the Chimeras around them. The woman fired her guns at the black chitin that moved towards them.

“Aracanine! Aracan!” Her Pokémon cried as it tried to protect her trainer. The woman spared a look at the fire type and snarled and kicked back one of the hornless forms before she snarled.

“Girl you’re as stubborn as I am and that’s saying something! But don’t argue, you have to warn the league, this is serious! If you can get away, then we win no matter what happens!” She said with a snarl as she looked at the encircling forms.

One of the horned forms shot forward abruptly and cut Aracanine’s leg, forcing it to its knees. Before the Chimera could bring its horn down it was shot between its eyes and crumpled to the ground. The girl ran and put her body between her Pokémon and the remaining Chimera. She looked beyond the darkness and saw more Chimeras moved towards them. Aracanine shakily stood back up and growled at the horde before them as flames drifted from its mouth. She hastily reloaded her guns slowly readied herself as she and her Pokémon moved backwards, the horde moving towards them slowly.

“We might fall but by the Types we’ll definitely take most of them with us girl!” The girl said as she aimed at the approaching horde. The last horned form gestured with its horn and gave a cry, causing the woman to curse when she saw a white glow start from many places in the horde before many large white needle to shoot at them.

“Ferrothorn Protect those two!” A voice called from above before what resembled a metallic saucer with three vine-like, long green appendages on its top slammed down before the girl and her Pokemon and formed a large turquoise force field that blocked the white needles.

“Salamance, Flamethrower, make a wall behind them, we’re ending this here and now! Infernape deal with the horde with Close Combat!” Another voice called out moments before a spiral of fire moved behind the horde in a line, creating a large wall of fire that cut off the horde from any escape attempt before a brown primate-like Pokémon jumped into the center of the horde and started to savage them with devastating punches and kicks, cracking chitin with every blow.

“Swanna, high guard and snipe with Air Slash, nothing escapes! Get in there Lucario and use Metal Claw to help!” The first voice called out before a Lucario landed beyond the force field and shot into the horde both its hands glowing white, slicing apart the Chimeras. One of them started to run along the line of the fire when disc-like energy blades sliced into the escaping form. The girl and her Pokémon stared in shock at the rate the Chimeras were being defeated.

“Are you two alright?” she turned her head to come face to face with a man with dark brown hair under a blue hat and wearing a blue coat and black pants standing on a blue Dragon-Type with red wings with a purple Dragon type with three heads hovering above them with a younger trainer on its back with brown gray hair wearing a yellow shirt, orange headband and blue shorts with a white Flying type hovering above.

“Who are you?” She asked silently as she started to realize that she and her partner would survive this night after all. She heard a cry and turned and saw the Infernape and the Lucario finish off the last of the Chimeras and saw the younger looking one jumped down and started to observe the corpse, crouching down next to the body of one of the horned ones. A cough brought her attention back to the man in the blue hat.

“I’m Riley, that’s my student Cameron, its lucky we ran into you while we were heading into Kanto. What happened….” Riley began before he was interrupted by the woman who looked startled.

“Into Kanto?! Isn’t this the path to the Indigo Plateau!?” She exclaimed as she looked around with shock on her face. Riley meanwhile looked at the Aracanine and saw the wound on its leg.

“No, this is the way to the Johto Region; if you were going for the Plateau I’m afraid you took a wrong turn. And given your friends condition, it might be better if you don’t come with us…” Riley started before the woman lunged forward and grabbed him, her hood falling off to reveal a woman with red hair in a braided ponytail down her back, with blue eyes and a fierce scowl on her face.

“No, you listen here. I didn’t fight my way into the Guards and put up with the worst posting in the service and survive those things to go run away like a good little girl you…” She snarled at him when a cry from Cameron caused them to look at him.

“Master, you’re going to want to take a look at this.” The woman heard a growl from her partner and saw the Salamance had a ball of fire in its open mouth looking at her; she slowly let Riley down and turned to look at Cameron crouched down by the one burned corpse her Aracanine had made of the thing that had body slammed her.

“This isn’t over.” She promised him as she stepped away from him.

“You lady you have quite a temper.” Riley said as the two of them walked over to Cameron.

“Give me a break I’ve been fighting those things since dawn, and the name is Rosette.” Rosette said as they reached Cameron.

“The corpses are at split between two different types. This thing is another but it’s the only one of its type here from what I could tell. I got to say, these things truly fits the definition of swarm.” As soon as she heard what Cameron said she turned and grabbed ahold of Riley’s clothing and pulled him towards her with a scowl on her face.

“Swarm?! Wait, you two knew about these things and you didn’t warn anyone?!” Rosette demanded of him.

“We had a warning that was so out there that no one would believe us, we barely made it here as fast as we did because of luck and two no shows on a water plane.” Riley said calmly.as he gestured to the others not to react.

“What, did Arceus himself come down and give you a prophecy?!” Rosette screamed as she thought back to what had happened to the others in the cabin when the Chimera attacked.

“Ancient warning stone an Aura Guardian left incase whatever held them back was destroyed was activated, we were able to trace its location to somewhere in a mountain in Kanto, a report about Viridian got us the rest of the way.” Riley’s words caused her to stare at him before she started to laugh darkly.

“And how did you have something made by one of the legendary Aura Guardians!? What are you two members or something!?” She demanded and jerked away when Riley gained an azure aura around himself. She jerked her head and looked at Cameron who sheepishly held up an open hand and a ball of blue energy was formed from blue lightning that sparked from his fingers.

“We are the last of the Aura Guardians.” Riley words caused her head to whip back to see the somber look on Riley’s face. “It’s a long story and maybe we should talk about it somewhere else if we talk about it at all. If you want to come with us we should do something about your partner.” Riley continued before Rosette shook herself back to her sense.

“Thanks.” Rosette said as she moved towards her Pokémon, her thoughts were years away in the past, back in the stories her mother used to tell her as a child. Aura Guardians? They actually existed, that changes a few things, if they were real then maybe the family stories are real, should I talk to them about it, I might finally get a few answers mom and I have been looking for.

“She knows something about us master, more than most people do.” Cameron said quietly as Riley nodded at his student.

“Yes she does, whatever it is it’s her business just so long as she’s not connected to those people. During the battle did you sense anything beyond the fire wall?” Riley asked as he looked into the darkness of the woods as the fire died down.

“No master did you?” Cameron asked as he looked towards the trees with a look of worry on his face.

“No its nothing, maybe one of those things was stuck on the other side and ran back to its base. If it’s something else then we’ll deal with it when it comes up.” Riley said as he turned towards Rosette and walked over to help her with her Pokémon.

Farther back within the darkness of the forest, just beyond the edges of Riley’s senses on top of a tree far, a humanoid figure watched with its arms crossed and shook its head at what it had witnessed. The youngsters had those two until the Destroyers appeared. How surprising, I thought that we had tricked the Betrayers into destroying their source once and for all. Should I stay and investigate the young, or should I report back at least two of them still walk in this world? And then there was the tactics used, they were pathetic, is that a mark of their sentiency, their experience of is their maker limiting it, or is it their age of all things? If their creator is the cause then it might be necessary to end it before it becomes a threat to our interests even if that unfortunately helps the humans as well, no matter how much the thought disgusts me. But for the Concave to takes its rightful rule, all the strength we can gather is needed and the Prophet said that ‘a great strength would be borne along the Spine of Kanto’. This is the first spark I’ve found in months, if this is it I need to recover it, but is that what is best for my people. But no matter what I’d better follow until I decide on what to do.

As it noticed that the people it was observing had finished treating and recalled the Fire type and soon after that they set off, it nodded. Time to get back to work; it could make a decision later. No sooner had it nodded then two transparent bat like wings opened on its back and it jumped through the air, gliding from tree to tree as it followed the three trainers higher up the mountain, keeping just out of the range of Riley’s senses.

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“So how’s the Pizza? It’s not sushi or noodles but it’s a lot like a traditional food they serve in Fuchsia right?” Happy’s voice caused Gabby to look up from what she had been doing. After Happy had brought into her into her office and sat her down she had dropped a bulging folder of documents that in front of her and said that this was the result of Kotaro’s investigations. Once Happy had let Gabby into her room she had been sat down at a table and was served some pizza and a bunch of documents were set down before her.

“It’s fine but this… I can’t believe that Kotaro has been alive, fighting these people for years, why the hell didn’t that idiot let us know her was alive?” Gabby said as she looked over the documents before her, not seeing the sad smile on Happy’s face. The papers before Gabby linked the group she had been investigating to charities, corporations and celebrities across most of Kanto, Johto and Sinnoh, they were so much bigger than she had thought they were. Kotaro is alive and is working with one of the greatest and youngest hackers in Kanto to investigate the same group I was. And here I thought they were a new criminal gang that had stayed in the shadows better than Team Rocket ever had. If this is right they’ve been around for decades if not centuries, just what did the two of us stumble onto?

“He couldn’t take the chance, he didn’t say much but from what I put together someone betrayed his team during the Siege after they killed the main Chimera, someone form his gym. And about you guys, he kept his eyes on you all and he even had me write a program that recorded every report you made girl.” Happy said with a smirk at the blush Gabby gained before she turned and looked at the papers more closely. She had just started to read one when she stopped and brought it slowly to her face and slowly read what was on it.

“They create Chimeras!? They know how to make them and they were responsible for the Siege?” Gabby stammered in total shock. Chimeras are supposed to be the product of random mutations in Pokémon eggs, if they know how to make them then that means they have a way to induce mutations, or the real cause is something only they know about. What is it? Gabby was brought out of her thoughts when she heard Happy’s snort of derision, looking up and was surprised at the look of disgust on the girl’s face.

“Yeah more like the creature responsible for the Siege got away from them the people who made it. They don’t have a good track record of keeping what they make captive if they want to get away, I was able to escape easily after all.” Gabby just looked at Happy with a look of shock on her face. She winced as she saw the way Happy looked, the she emotions had on her face made her look a lot like a few abused children she had interview before. They made her? That raises so many questions and most of them make me want to hurt them. Wait, she said these documents were the result of Kotaro’s investigation, not hers. How did these two meet? Gabby thought as she looked at the younger girl, really looking at her.

“They made you, what do you mean?” Gabby question softly as she walked over to the young girl, she had a thousand yard stare and didn’t even react to how close Gabby. Gabby didn’t touch the younger girl; she had learned when people had stares like that to let them come out of it on their own if they wanted to share anything.

“They have a few orphanages and schools under different charities here and there, most of the schools are in cities but some of the boarding ones are in the wilderness; they market them as a place to let kids grow up without distractions of the outside world, places to bring out their true potential, and some like the one I was at was both an orphanage and a school all in one. They don’t say that they also indoctrinate their students to their cause or try to mold them to fit a specific purpose. The place I grew up in was in was one they didn’t advertise; it was more a prison than anything else, and research science was the name of the only game they permitted. It was set up so that the better we pleased our masters the better we were treated, the school had an accelerated education program harder and longer than most other schools in Kanto, and they had job fairs with only research companies, so their buyers would get the most out of the products they purchased.. If any of us scored lower than 50% on two tests in a row, then they would be sent to a different school, at least that’s what we were told.” Happy said with a snort and a look of hatred formed on her face.

“They weren’t just sent to another school were they?” Gabby said as she looked at Happy with a patient look on her face. Happy walked towards her computer and soon after pictures appeared on the screen, pictures from tabloids and high society pages about weddings of the sons of…owners of research companies and other families who had old fashion views on the world, families that believed in…arranged marriages. Gabby looked at the pictures and noticed that each of the brides had a symbol on their cloths or around their necks, the symbol of the people she had been investigating.

“Some of them were, if they met certain standards they went to schools which broke them and trained them to be trophy wives if they were lucky or if they were unlucky they were used as human test subjects at worst or broken and remade into fanatics. I found out what they were doing about four years ago, I decided to see where a rival that had failed a test was being sent; the two of us would go at it like Meowths and Growlies for long as we knew each other. I wanted to know where she was being sent so I could taunt her with my success, so I hacked the computers and discovered a criteria list that graded qualities like looks, age and past tests, their genetics were also considered, I didn’t understand it and decided to investigate.” Happy as she looked at the data on the screen and closed all of them and opened a map of the north of Kanto beyond Cerulean City, farther out then anyone but researchers and explorers went as far as Gabby knew.

“That was where the school was, a little place in the wildness so far off the beaten track that few if anyone came near it, must of the news we got was controlled by the school. I learned early on that the vents went everywhere, I had mapped it all out years ago and I think I spent about a month listing in on the teacher’s private areas before I was able to put together a picture that something wasn’t right about the school and the transfers. I decided the next time a girl was to be sent away I’d leave a few presents and escape then, but it didn’t turn out that way I thought it would, she didn’t let it.” Happy said with a small smile on her face as she leaned back.

“Who didn’t let it?” Gabby asked quietly as she took in what she was being told. I have to find a way to get this into the public domain; even the gossip papers might spark an investigation. And the families involved, a few of them might try and take care of the problem so there’s no back blow on them. Gabby’s thoughts died down when Happy started to chuckle with a smile on her face as her Espurr jumped onto her should and rubbed Happy’s check.

“Her name was Tara. She was the chief negotiator of the black market between the other students; she would negotiate any deal as long as someone paid her, she was hard as stone but she had one weakness, and was the girl who was to be sent away. The girl was named Aurelia; she was Tara’s roommate and sister in everything but blood. Aurelia, she always volunteered at the nurses’ station and loved the health sciences, she was someone who loved to help people, she had been told she was going to a prep school for nurses and doctors and she was so happy about it, but I knew from what I had discovered it was a lie, I have a terrible poker face and Tara picked up the signs I gave off. She confronted me and I shared what I had discovered, and when the kid was being taken away the two of us set a few surprises we set up. Tara put a few mega stink bombs into the vents, sent everyone inside running to open a window or get outside, and I created a virus that destroyed the school’s operating system after it inverted the school’s subsonic repellers to lure in all the local Bug Type, including three rival Beedrill hives, of course it was just a surprise when the smell caused all of them to start fighting and the commotion let us grab Aurelia and run for the woods in the commotion to escape the battle.” Happy said as she leaned back and gave a small laugh as she thought of the trouble that had caused and the curses the teachers had giving off when the Beedrill had started that battle.

“Wait was this three years ago at the Prosperity of Knowledge Magnet School? You caused that when you escaped? They had to call in help from Cerulean City to deal with that! But if you did that and got away, how’d you meet Kotaro anyway?” Gabby asked in shock of the damage two girls had done to save a friend.

“It didn’t give us as much time to get away as you would think, and that’s how I meet Kotaro. Anyway, a few minutes after we had started running into the woods, I noticed we were being tracked. Aurelia was still out of it, it turned out they drugged those they take to be really susceptible to orders to let them transport them easier, so I told Tara to run another way and started to make a lot of noise to make them follow me. I lead them to a cliff face and I was ready to at least take a few of them down when Kotaro appeared. He tore through them and we were able to rescue Tara and Aurelia. Last I heard about those two; Aurelia was living off the grid in the wilds of Kanto and Tara had giving herself a major makeover and goes by a handle she’s been using as a negotiator for…….. less than legal jobs, she’s calling herself Green.” Happy said with a small smile as Gabby stared at Happy in shock.

“Green, the Green Lady!? I’ve heard her mentioned here and there from contacts I have here and there, wasn’t she part of that job that salvaged the Saint Ann? There were some documents recovered that caused a few…research companies… to go under.” Gabby said with she stared in shock and looked at the computer screen.

“Yeah, one of those companies was the one whose owner was going to buy Leaf for his son, and didn’t that bastard turn out to be someone who got off beating women?” Happy asked with an innocent smile on her face under mischiefs eyes.

“By someone sending said son’s private emails and videos to a new station financed by his father’s biggest rival.” Gabby said with a small smile as she shook her head.

“Yeah so sad that someone sent it just after the documents were revealed, it caused him to come under investigation too, which lead to a ring of rapists”

“What, you said if they were lucky they were sent to become brides, what if they were unlucky?” Gabby asked as something Happy had said suddenly struck her.

“I still don’t know, I overheard one of the Teacher’s saying Aurelia had been lucky enough to be chosen, and another said it was good that she would have one of those futures. Every time the two of us raid one of those schools I try to find out just what they meant but after the last three times I’m still not sure just what they were talking about…” Happy said before an alarm started to ring, startling the two women as a program came up on the screen causing Happy to curse.

“Fuck, one of my flags just went up!” Happy snarled as she tried to make sense of what was being shown on her computer.

“Flags?” Gabby asked as she looked at the screen.

“Watcher programs I use to monitor places and people of interest. And this one is… one of yours.” Happy said as she started to read what was being shown. Gabby went white when she saw an internal email from her news agency from the head to her regional boss, it was basically a report that her contract had been ‘canceled by command’ and to find a way to have her body discovered in a few days and that the culprits would identified by the ‘Officer’, who would expressed sorrow that they would rather die resisting arrest then stand trial for their crimes, the replay said he was sorry he wasn’t hadn’t been invited to her ‘sendoff’, and he had been planning to have her demoted and turn her into his secretary/mistress within the next few months. Gabby went red when she read his comments on what he wanted to do to her.

“I always thought he was slimy, but he’s one of them!? And they were going to use my death to kill someone!” Gabby said as she looked at what was being shown. Espurr jumped down and rubbed against Gabby’s legs. Happy reached over and put her arm on Gabby’s shoulder and smiled at her when they eyes met.

“I want to say that would be a surprise, but it’s really not. Those bastards are all about using everything to advance their agenda, they’ll like fanatics. I’d bet you anything they’ll find someone to pin it on that is standing in their way for some reason.” Happy’s voice carried a certainty that surprised Gabby.

“They’ve done something like this before then.” Gabby asked flatly. Happy had turned back towards her computer and started to open other programs.

“Nothing so elaborate, but they have taken advantage of deaths from what we’ve seen to date. But you want to keep telling people the truth, don’t you?” Happy asked as Espurr picked up a glowing tablet and brought it to Gabby. She took it with a neutral expression that morphed into shock as she looked at it and saw a database of underground news sites she had been trying to find and looked up at Happy as she started to pay more attention to her screen.

“Those are a few of the more upright news sites I know. If you’ve got research that backs up a story they’ll publish it, and if it takes down part of the League one of them would publish anyway. If you still want to be a reporter they are ways, and if you don’t mind I’m going to find out just who the ‘Officer’ is so Kotaro can question him when he comes back.” Happy said as she started to hack into the Viridian City Police database, trying to find out the identity of the Order’s insider.

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A deer walked through the forest, stopping only to look around before it lowered its head to eat some of the grass next to a tree in a clearing, the last action it would ever take. A figure dropped onto its back and with a swift motion broke its neck, killing it quickly. All around the clearing five figures came out of hiding, each one the same the one that killed the deer, each a four foot tall humanoid with grey skin, three eyes with a line over each above a muzzle with limbs ending with three fingers and toes {[Goblin]}. The Goblin on the deer corpse got up and smiled at its siblings and smiled, the scar on its check {[Protector]} a solid red line across its left check seemed to give it a look of loyalty as the others crowded around and looked at the meat, each hoping it would have enough to eat tonight. For the last few days their sire had been sending them out to hunt, Protector had taken the weakest with him and while its sibling with the dead eye in the center [Deadeye] had taken a few of the dumber ones and had charged after out into the woods and had comeback the first night with a few eggs and fish, the others had brought various small animals, fish or plants but today they would comeback with deer meet. Protector looked around and saw one of them missing and looked until it discovered the sixth member of the hunting group a smaller one then the others, it was only three feet high and more often than not it would seem to look into space but Protector had learned that its center eye could see things differently than its siblings eyes could, {[Gazer]} so Protector walked over and put its hand on its siblings shoulder and followed its gaze to a tree to see a nest on a low hanging branch below a branch full of fruit, causing Protector to look at Gazer and smile and call others over to collect the bounty their sibling had found.

Protector looked at the others as they climbed up the tree and smiled as it watched them help each other to climb up the tree. Its sire might believe in survival of the fittest above all but it had always believed that teamwork was the most important thing for survival. As it watched the others it was happy that its example had borne something with the others. Suddenly Gazer cried out, Protector turned and followed Gazer’s arm to see yellow balls with a brick like pattern come out of nowhere suddenly and shot at the climbers, knocking them off the tree before the balls rolled away from the tree back from where they had come from.

Protector ran with Gazer and they helped their siblings back to their feet and looked to see the balls unfurl into yellow things with snouts and black eyes while a larger one with more pounced claws and spines on its back point at them with looks of anger on its face. Proctor looked at them and remembered that others who had gone on the hunt alone had come back injured, they all had said they were attacked by yellow ball like creatures and here they were. Protector took a step forwards and bared its teeth at the creatures in front of it and snarled. The larger one meet Protector’s snarl with a slash downward with its claws and the things behind it started to join it in snarling and bare their teeth. Protector looked at them and noticed that they outnumbered its group two to one but Protector had seen the punishments their sire had visited upon those who didn’t return with a lesser bounty and it would not let such punishments affect its pack.

“Borwa!” Protector screamed as it took a step forward and the others, even little Gazer joined its cries to their sibling. The creatures before them started to cry and the larger one started to run forward on all four of its limbs the smaller ones following.

“Borwa, Borwa!” Protector screamed as it charged at the creatures in response, as the others followed behind it. He leaped at the large creature and when they meet Protector grabbed its claws and managed to bit its right eye, tearing off a chunk of it, causing a scream of erupt out of the creature it was grappling with. The larger creature’s scream had caused one of the smaller ones to begin to charge at the grappling leaders when Gazer appeared out of nowhere and tackled it towards the clearing.

Gazer had seen the strength of the others and threw itself at the next strongest enemy before it could help its leader by attacking Protector. Gazer and its foe rolled until the creature had Gazer on its back and drew back its right claw for the kill. Gazer reached for anything to hit it with and broke off one of the antler of the deer and plunged it into the creature’s body. The creature spasmed and expired as Gazer lay there panting and pushed the corpse off itself and looked at Protector’s fight and saw it’s sibling in danger. Pulling the horn out of the corpse it ran towards its sibling.

Protector might have bitten off more than it could have handled when it had leaped at the larger creature, but it had managed to keep it away from its fellows, Protector could only hope it could buy more time before the creature killed it. Although its eye had been damaged, the creature had forced Protector onto its back and kept its limbs pinned. The creature grinned downward as its claws began to glow white just before something was jammed into the damaged eye. Protector followed the thing to Gazer holding what Protector realized was one of the deer’s horn. Gaze reached down and offered a hand, which Protector took and let Gazer pull it back to its feet.

Looking around it saw that half the smaller creatures had been slain and the rest were rolling away. One of them looked back at them and roared before it too rolled into a ball and went after its pack mates.

“Borwa!” Protector roared out and raised its fists into the air.

“Borwa! Borwa! Borwa!” The others cried out, Gazer raising the horn and shaking it. Protector turned towards the corpse and the gestured for the others to get ready to return home, and looked at the larger creature’s corpse and smilled at Gazer,

Deadeye smiled to itself as it carrying a flame horse it had killed over its shoulder. It had been luck that it had found the flame horse apart from its pack and with a broken leg too. It had moved over it until it had been able to land on its back and had chocked the life from it, taken delight in the way it had tried to buck Deadeye from its back, had laughed at the creature’s cries. With such a bounty it would earn a blessing, and one day soon it would kill that one who had taken its central eye from it. So what if it had tried to kill that fool who always looked about lost, so what if it had scared that one, the score was not settled no matter what their Sire instigated. Within moments it came toward the cave and pushed aside other Goblins as it marched into the cave. It’s sire lounged at the back and looked at the flame horse over Deadeyes shoulder and stare. Deadeye dropped the corpse of its kill before its Sire and bowed. The all those in the cave went quite as their Sire stood up, when a commotion behind caused them to turn and look. Some of their fellows walked in, each holding a yellow creature corpse that many Goblins hissed at as they saw them when Protector and Gazer walked in, carrying between them the corpse of a larger yellow creature that had to be related to the smaller ones. The group presented their kills before their master and it looked about what they had brought and started to laugh. It clapped its hands and reached down next to its throne and offered two bowls of the black blessing liquid to Protector and gestured at the larger creature. Protector took the bowls bowed before it tor the claws from the corpse, then torr off two of the raised quills and passed the quills and one of the bowls to Gazer. Deadeye could see no more and slipped out of the cave, not noticing two coming up holding muddy plants who looked into the cave and dropped the plants and followed Deadeye.

Deadeye stalked up the mountain as it fumed over what it had just seen, letting its feet carry it as its brain worked over what it had seen, not noticing that the two Goblins who only had plants followed behind it, hoping Deadeye would lead them to something more to bring back to their sire. Deadeye had brought back that fire horse for its sire but that scared fool and the others with it had brought back those yellow creatures that and been raiding them and for that its sire had offered giving that fool its choice how to use two blessings and it had taken those claws and given that weakling who was always staring into space a blessing as well?!

“RAAGAGGAGA!!!” Deadeye screamed as it threw a fist a the mountain side, punching threw the stone and pausing when it felt a void around its fist, pulling it back and looking in the hole it had made. Deadeye started to tear away the stones and after a bit of work it was shown to be a portal to a passage into the mountain slopped upwards. Deadeye stormed into the passage with the two who had followed it behind it as Deadeye thundered down the passage way. As they moved deeper and upwards crystals set into the walls started to glow as they moved by them, causing the two to jump in fright and Deadeye to just follow the lights towards a doorway that he pushed open and passed through. The other two followed him and walked to stand beside him on a terrace with a large staircase leading down to the ground level of a hollow in the top of the mountain. At the center was a ruined castle with a falling tower and a stream running through the ruin to a cave at the opposite side of the hollow. Deadeye only stared at a grove of trees in the ruin, a gnarled looking tree with gold leaves and a single piece of fruit on the top most branches, that was all it seemed to see, and something about it sang to it, something said that this was where its destiny would began. Deadeye turned and saw the stairs and moved towards them, the other two following in its wake as he ran down the stairs.

Deadeye had run down the stairs and had stopped before the ruins main entrance. The marks on the wall and the holes and broken down doors showed that a great battle had happened here. Caustically Deadeye walked into the ruins, all around it was the remains of a great battle, skeletons of both bipeds and creatures, all with a hard outer covering and with some kind of tools all around them showed that something was fought over fiercely here. It led the other two through the courtyard and stopped when it heard a stone fall, turning it saw nothing out of place besides a piece of stone and a few dust trails in the wind, Deadeye looked at it before it moved on, the others following behind it. The other two moved closer to their leader as every so often a

Finally they reached the trees in the far part of the ruins, if Deadeye remembered what it had seen right then the tree it wanted was in the exact center. It was staring into the woods when something screamed at it to move, not questioning it threw itself to the side a second before an arrow hit a tree exactly at level where its head had been. All three of them turned and saw five small grey skinned creatures with three brown ridges on their heads over their red eyes, four of them each holding something that looked sharper then the Goblins claws, the arrow had come from one standing farther back and it drew from another arrow from a bag on its back and the ones in front ran at them while another arrow flew over the chargers heads. Deadeye pulled the other two into the woods as the grey creatures chased them into the trees. After a few seconds it judged that they had lost their pursuers and pushed the other two Goblins to the side and leaped into a tree. The two kept running, not noticing Deadeye had disappeared and when the grey creatures had passed Deadeye jumped down and grabbed the last one around its neck, and leaped back into a tree, holding its captive and slowly squeezing until the creature expired. Looking at the thing the creature had carried it touched it and pulled away and looked at the blood on its hand and smiled.

The two Goblins stopped running when they reached a clearing with the gnarled tree in its center. They turned and saw three of the grey creatures and their confusion caused the creatures to look around for their missing comrade when Deadeye jumped at one of them the sharp thing in its hands and it sank into the head of one of them, sinking into its brain between two of its ridges.

“MACHOP CHOP!” One of the creatures cried and dropped the thing it was holding and lunged at Deadeye, while the other one looked at the corpse of its friend in shock until the other two goblins had it pinned, prompting a look of rage on the Machop’s face and it let use a blast of electricity originating from its hands. The blast shocked the two goblins and the Machop reached down and picked up the dropped swords and held one in each hand, electricity coiling around both as the Machop regarded the two goblins before it charged at them.

Deadeye rolled with the Machop on top of it as they moved through the trees. The rage the Machop was feeling caused Deadeye to smile, rage help someone fight but it also blinded them. As the two fell Deadeye saw a tree coming and angled so that the Machop on it would hit it, which the roll did and when it was stunned by the hit Deadeye grabbed its head and started to pound it into the ground until it was dazed, then Deadeye picked it up and threw the Machop against one of the trees. Deadeye smiled when it saw that the Machop was knocked out and thrust its claws into the Pokemon’s throat and killed it, hearing a cry of pain that sounded like it came from one of the other two that had come with her. There were still two more of the creatures left so it might need them before the day was over, so it had better save them.

The Machop slashed down at one of its opponents legs and kicked at the other one when it tried to intervene. Machop smiled as it saw that both Goblins had cuts all over their bodies and one of them was clutching its arm and both were backing up when Machop spotted one of the Goblins eyes move to star at something behind Machop, who jumped to the side a second before Deadeye pounded the ground where the Machop had been standing with both of its fists. Machop scowled when it saw what had attacked it, its comrades were dead, it and the other were all that was left. It had been able to handle the other two, it watched as Deadeye removed the sword from dead Machop’s head and licked the blood from it, but Machop didn’t react. Among the squad it was the one who had been the best at controlling its emotions, Deadeye would be the best test it ever had, it just clenched its swords and let electricity flow from its arms and up its swords.

Deadeye saw the thunder move up the things the grey creature held in its hands and spared a quick looked at the two Goblins, only the fact that it still might have a use for them had caused it to rescue them, but if they had survived battle with this thing then it deafinitly would find a use for them. Deadeye saw the Machop start to try to circle around it, but Deadeye turned with it, keeping the Machop and in sight and shot at it to stab it, the Machop dodged and started to try to slash Deadeye, causing Deadeye to dodge in turn.

The two Goblins watched in awe as their sibling fought the thunder using creature; both of them could only stare in awe as the two fought. One of the Goblins started to grow worried as it saw that the thunder creature was moving forward, while their sibling was losing ground. Something had to be done; if their sibling died then they were next! As it moved its foot it looked down and saw a stray rock and remembered the thing that had almost hit their sibling. It got the attention of the Goblin next to it and picked up a stone and threw it at a tree before it picked up another stone and pointed at the thunder creature with a smirk.

Deadeye winced as it felt the shock that shock its arms with each block of the thunder creatures blows. Something had to change or Deadeye would die, and the creature it was fighting was stronger than Deadeye had thought, something had to happen or it would die. Suddenly the creature it was fighting staggered and with a quick movement Deadeye drove the thing it was holding straight through the thunder creature’s body. Deadeye dropped the sharp thing and the thunder beast’s corpse dropped to the ground. Looking up as it panted Deadeye saw the other two Goblins with stones in their hands and looked at the thunder creature and saw a stone next to where the corpse had fallen and Deadeye realized the ones who had saved had saved it.

Deadeye smiled turned, only to freeze in shock and looked about the clearing; it was where the tree it was after was. Deadeye looked upwards and saw a single piece of fruit hanging up the gnarled tree and walked over and started to climb up the tree. The other two goblins sat down and looked up at their sibling as it climbed, they didn’t understand what Deadeye was after but they watched as it climbed. Deadeye was finally at the fruit; it had sharp angles, four sides and was a light blue color that seemed to glow. Deadeye pulled it from the tree and ate it in one gulp. As soon as it passed its mouth a savage burn in its head caused it drop from the tree and hit the ground.

Deadeye lay where it had fallen and felt a savage burn within itself and clenched its body as it felt something grow inside itself and it roared. After the burn had stopped it looked at the corpse of the grey thing that had fought with thunder and walked towards it, instincts it suddenly had and when it had reached the corpse and suddenly it regulated a vicious black liquid on the creature’s arms. Deadeye looked at the liquid saw the same color of the blessing liquid and grabbed the arms and tore chunks of flesh out of were the liquid had hit and suddenly it wounded what it wanted from the creature, Deadeye thought off the thunder the creature had used, how it had used it to help it attack the others and suddenly the burning started again. This time Deadeye noticed its hands, feet and stomach were where the burn was concentrated and after a minute it ended and Deadeye flexed its muscles. Feeling something was different about itself it threw a punch at the tree it had dropped from and unleashed what it was feeling just before impact, releasing a blast of electricity that burned the trunk. Deadeye looked with wild eyes at what it had done and realized what the fruit it had eaten had caused to happen, it had gained the power to release the blessing on command that its sire had denied its siblings. Protector now was a weakling compared to its magnificence, now it was the most powerful of its siblings; quite awed chanting caused it to pause in thing.

“Drolo, drolo.” The awed chanting continued and caused it to turn towards the other Goblins that had fought with it and it looked at them, considering what to do. Its sire had kept from them the power to change to control them, if they revealed what it could do now it was sure to end up in its sire’s stomach. Then the only thing to do was to make sure they never passed on what they had witnessed, but how to make sure they never told when they returned and with their skills it couldn’t kill them, they could be of use to it, so what to do with them....

Deadeye went still and looked at the two wounded Goblins took stock of their injuries before Deadeye gained a vicious grin as it started to walk over towards them, electricity flowing up its arms. The two of them looked at Deadeye and started to shake in fear and release pitiful sounds as he came towards them and held each other. But Deadeye only put its hand on their shoulders and smiled at them, its grinning face meet their confused gazes.

Deadeye walked out of the ruin with two of the grey creatures over its shoulders. This would make its sire look at it with respect and if it gave the gift of mutations, not blessings as that old fool told them to it then it would take muscle to make it think it still controlled it. Deadeye stopped at the foot of the staircase and looked back towards the ruins with a smile on its face. After it had helped the other two and fed them it had stalked throughout the ruins looking for the last grey creature but it had escaped. But on its exploration Deadeye had discovered things in it that it felt it could use. The thing it had eaten had changed Deadeye, it could think clearer then it could before and it felt something else was different about it, but it would act like it hadn’t changed. It decided that after it had returned to its sire with the corpse from now on whenever it would go on the hunt it would return here, prepare for dealing with its sire and choose who it would bring back here, the two it left could be seen from the doorway with their hands clenched, giving homage to their new leader. Like the things they had fought, they would learn to wield tools and those two would be the start of the new thing it was making, the three crests on their heads and their improved muscles the signs that they followed it now, even over their creator. It had spoken to them of how they were little better than… slaves. Yes that was the word, slaves to their maker, why should they toil why it lounged around and plot against a single foe that had bested it years before, why should they slave away for it, what benefit did that give to them?!

The two had been unsure of what Deadeye had offered them before it had spit on one of the corpse and feed parts of it to them and then they knew it spoke the truth. They swore to defend the ruin until it returned, the other plants in the ruin and the stream would be a source of substance for them until then, and one day when it was ready it would feast on its sire, take all that it was and then it would kill and destroy that over protective fool and rule. They were both wrong in their approaches, it could see that now, a leader must be strong and ruthless to lead others, not rule by holding them back and fear, not by working together with the weaklings. Those were the ways those who were truly weak did things; to be a true leader one to be strong, clever and ruthless! And now all it had to do was cover up the passage until it was ready to strike against its sire, and then it could strike against all of them. So deep was it in its thoughts as it climbed the staircase of the future before it and the revelation it had had that it never noticed something was watching as it entered the passage, a figure with woman like curves hidden in shadows who smiled before moth like energy wings formed on her back and carried her away.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The front of the cave that Ash had entered yesterday was very different then how it had been before his visit; the tall grass in front of the cave mouth had been burned to the ground by the fire Serena had ordered had exposed the cave’s mouth to the tree line. In front of the opening many young looking Bidoofs were playing under the watchful eyes of their parents. The pack leader was overlooking everything as it walked around the burned areas with two of its lieutenants as it overlooked the damage to its territory, its pack would have to change its habits for a while, keep the young in the caves but eventually things would go back to normal.

“Bib arel biba biba.” One of its lieutenants chide it’s leader as they walked back towards the others. The leader did wince, the trainer yesterday had only taken the smallest piece of crystal as he had said and had acted respectively but it had attacked him and his team because since they had moved into this cave non local Pokémon and humans had been spying on them, trying to drive them out and a few times some of his followers had found metal things near the underwater entrance. To find a trainer coming out of their den after they were shot at, it was just too much for him to stand at that point.

“Rock Tomb, block the cave entrance!” An oily voice roared before rock pillars suddenly exploded out of the ground before the cave, blocking the entrance. At the same time a red bipedal Pokémon with yellow flame designs led two grey skinned humanoid Pokémon that came charging out of the woods across the burned lands, throwing sparking light yellow orbs of energy at the Bidoofs as they ran.

“Bibarel!” The leader called to its followers, trying to rally them but before they could get in formation black balls of energy started to rain from the sky, targeting those who had started to get their wits about them. It looked up to see two blue bat-like Pokémon with purple wing membranes circling downward, both of them firing the black spheres from their mouths at any target that seemed to be trying to rally the others.

The leader{[To be called Chipped from here on]} snarled at the Flying types and opened its mouth to fire a Water Gun at the Goldbats when suddenly glowing green seeds hit the ground around him and exploded. After Chipped shook its head it looked up and saw a bipedal, mushroom-like Pokémon standing on the rocks blocking the cave entrance. It snarled as it saw it fire seeds at is dazed followers and saw vines sport from the seeds as they hit and felt something slam into him and pushed him backwards. Looking up he saw the Magmar leering at him before it raised a flame covered fist and punched him in his face, sending him flying.

“Just stay down ya stupid Bibarel.” A sleazy voice said as a man with black hair in a dark blue suit with a sneer on his square face came walking across the clearing with two men in black suits wearing sunglasses following behind him. He stopped and looked down at Chipped with an evil looking smirk on his face. One of the men held Chipped down while another put a muzzle and then the two men grabbed his arms and legs and lifted him upwards.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side for months now you little fucker, you and your clan. This place was the perfect place to ice somebody and the crystals grew fast enough to harvest for a good side channel, but when you lot moved in it just seemed to be the end of that. Your strength and the way you used the surroundings to hold my boys off, never thought to take that away, might have to give that kid a better payment then I put down, I’ll tell him it’s because you guys moved in without my knowledge, that’ll keep him from asking questions.” The squared face man said as he looked around the clearing. He looked at Chipped and noticed that his eyes had widened at when he mentioned keeping someone from asking questions.

“Yeah, that trainer that bothered you yesterday, I sent him here on a lie. All I had to do was send a sniper to shoot at you and you ran back towards your den, of course I was hoping that you’d kill him, then I’d have been able to sell your pack as rabid, then I would have been able to just kill you all and then I would have gotten a medal, but he got away clean and now I have to pay him for his effort.” The man said with a huff. He looked at Chipped with a smirk on his face and looked around the clearing.

“But maybe this is a blessing in disguise; lots of my associates in other regions would pay a lot of money for cage fighters like your pack. But you, I have the perfect place to put that skull of yours once I remove the flesh.” The man said with an evil snicker. Chipped just snarled through the muzzle and locked eyes with the man, sending all of his hate as he saw his pack, his family being collected. The man just looked at the restrained Pokémon and gave a deep laugh from as he saw the expression on Chipped’s face.

“Awww. Is the little water rat mad at the big bad human? This is the right and proper state of the world, me profiting off of you. Really, you gave me a good run for it, but the outcome was never in doubt. I plan and put this whole in motion, it would take an act of god to stop this.” He started to laugh before a cry caused him to pale in shock and sputter.

“Manectric, Wild Charge at the Machoke at the right!” A feminine voice called out with a savage roar. A blue quadrupled Pokémon with a yellow mane glowing yellow charged at one of the grey Pokémon and body slammed it to the ground, sparks flashing over the Machoke’s body. A woman with green hair in a police woman uniform was running towards them leading other officers and their Pokémon. The two men holding Chipped dropped him and started to back up, both recalling the two grey Pokémon.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” The man demanded as the bats started to fly towards the men wearing sunglasses.

“Our contract says that if the police come we run away, he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.” Was the only replay as the two men started to back up and turn to run. As the bat Pokémon started to angle to grab them another voice cried out.

“Fletchling, Razor Wind on the Golbats, keep them away from their trainers!” A familiar voice called out from behind as two crescent-shaped energy waves flew and knocked the Golbats away from their trainers. Chipped looked up and saw the trainer from yesterday holding his sword as a girl with a spear ran with him, around them were the Pokémon from yesterday and by the girl was a fox like Pokémon.

“I’m guessing you must be the person that gave that TM as a reward for a crystal column, a Mr. Nemo I believe. Quite smart using an ancient Pokélantis word for No One; and with a TM as collateral no one would believe that you would have walked away after you received word that someone had completed your quest.” The trainer said as he held his sword pointed at the named Nemo as a red bird Pokémon hovered over its trainer’s head.

“How the hell did you…” Nemo snarled as the green haired woman and the people with her started to surround the three people as a male teen with blond hair helped a teen girl check over Chipped followers, those still conscious were standing between the teens and the action, ready to defend their fellows.

“Quite simply, this wasn’t the first and it likely won’t be the last time someone tried to use a quest to have a trainer do their dirty work. And it’s only the what, fifth time it’s happened to me.” The teen said with a sigh as he raised his sword as the woman moved closer silently.

“Once I realized that the quest would have a wait for payment, I asked my friend Clemont over there about the local laws for Pokémon habits and when I did a small scan on local rare crafts, I discovered that jewelry the same shade as the crystal used to be sold for quite a sum, and searching missing person reports, it was quite easy to paint a picture for Jenny to come with me.” He continued as Nemo’s face started to go red. Before Jenny could grab him a spiral of fire cut her off from Nemo as both the red Pokémon and the mushroom Pokémon took up positions around him.

“Breloom, Rock Tomb, cut that bitch off from us, Magmar, up and strike!” Nemo screamed as he drew forth a large two handed sword. As the Breloom stomped on the ground, more pillars cut Jenny and the others off from Nemo, Chipped and the two teens facing Nemo and his Pokémon.

“Boss what about us?” One of the suits cried out from the other side of the wall.

“You were running, my contract says I don’t help those who run away from trouble.” Nemo said coldly as he looked at the trainer before him, watching as he moved infront of his female companying.

“Might I have the name of the fool who ruined my plans?” Nemo asked flatly as he spared a glance at the girl behind the boy. That girl, where have I seen her before? I’ll knock her out and take her with me and interrogate at my leisure. And if I can’t make some money off her I can sell her.

“Ash of Kanto, not at your service sir.” Ash said as he raised his sword and shield.

“Ash…” the girl said as she looked at him.

“Take care of that Breloom, I’ll handle him. Froakie, Fletchling try to deal with that Magmar.” Ash said before he dashed at Nemo who block his stab with his sword, pushing Ash backwards and slicing down with his own sword, Ash countered with his shield, blocking it and standing still despite the force Nemo put into it.

When the wall was formed Clemont was shocked for a second before the Magmar jumped onto the rocks and started to throw Flame Throwers at anyone who tried to climb up the rocks before a Water Pulse hit it before Fletchling started to peck at its head. Clemont eyed the two Suits and saw them release their Machokes and saw the Golbats starting to fly back towards their trainers. We have to keep them apart, that’s the only way we’ll be able to capture them, we can’t let them escape.

“Mandibuzz, high flight, do the Hurricane Dash!” Lilly cried out, shocking Clemont back to see Lilly release her Mandibuzz which flew through the two Golbats, a whirlwind around her that knocking both Golbats away from their trainers. I won’t leave her to fight alone! Clemont swore as he threw out Bunnelby’s Pokéball, releasing his Ground type.

“Bunnelby, let’s start with a high Wild Charge at the right Golbat!” Clemont called out to his as he saw the two Golbats angle towards Mandibuzz. Bunnelby jumped at the Golbat as it glowed yellow, strike it target and sending both of them back downwards with Golbat between

“Thanks Clemont! You hand right I’ve got left!” Lilly called out to him as she sent him a smile.

“Thanks Lilly. Don’t let up Bunnelby, Grass Knot to keep it down and Double Slap!” Clemont ordered Bunnelby whose eyes glowed green before large green roots sprouted from the earth around the downed Golbat and tied it down tight, while it struggled to escape Bunnelby's ears started to glow white they started to repeatedly slap it until Golbat went limp.

Lilith smirked as she saw Clemont and his Pokemon handle the Golbat and noticed that her prey was trying flying towards the Magmar. She grinned as she took stock of the current situation as her Mandibuzz flew after their foe. I can use this to help the prince’s Pokemon out, I just need to wait for the right moment…NOW!

“Dark Pulse, rake them!” She called out to her Flying type who opened its mouth and formed a black sphere in her mouth and then shot beam of black and purple circles at the Golbat. It dodged the beams and it hit Magmar, and while it was stunned Froakie shot another Water Pulse and knocked it off the wall and it crashed onto the other side of the wall away from its trainer. Golbat flew towards its trainer when Bunnelby glowing yellow body slammed it to the ground and jumped away from it.

“Finish it Mandibuzz, Air Slash!” Lilith cried out, just before two saw-like energy blades shot from Mandibuzz’s wings and hit Golbat as it tried to get back into the air, knocking it out.

“Come on, we’ve got to get around that wall to help Ash and Serena!” Lilith called to Clemont as she ran towards the wall.

Ash is trusting me to handle that Pokémon, I won’t let him down. Serena thought as she looked at the Breloom and noticed that it was looking at Fenikken with a look of contempt on its face. Serena saw it spit a seed at Fenikken and reacted, slicing it in two with her naginata’s blade.

“Fenikken, get in close use Ember!” Serena said as she kept one eye on Ash’s sword fight.

“Fenn ikk!” Fenikken cried as it ran at the Grass Type and shot an Ember attack. Breloom dodge it until it ran against the rock wall it had made and looked around.

“Get in there and use Scratch!” Serena called out.

Fenikken ran at her opponent as her claws gained a white glow and slashed at its head, scoring hits before it lunged to the right and opened its mouth and formed a yellow red sphere before the rock it was standing in front of started falling towards it and when it hit an explosion from the sphere knocked it out, sending shards of the stone flying. Between the opening Clemont, Lilly and police officers looked at the downed Grass Type in confusion. Serena meet the eyes of Clemont who could only shrugged at what his action had done.

“That was very surprising Serena, wait a minute, where’s Ash?” Clemont asked before he noticed Ash trading blows with Nemo as Ash seemed to be falling backwards towards the river with Nemo’s back to them.

“Never mind, there he is.” Clemont gulped before he drew his axes and started to move towards the duel when Serena put her naginata across his path, stopping him from advancing.

“Wait, Ash and I were originally trained under a Blade Master back in Kanto, Ash won’t forgive us if we interfere with his duel, trust him.” Serena said with a hard look on her face, locking her eyes with Clemont’s so she didn’t notice Lilly start before looking at Ash more closely.

“But he’s!” Clemont exclaimed but Serena just shook her head. Serena eyed the police trying to get by and moved forward with her Pokemon joining her to stare them down.

“We wait for it to finished one way or another before anyone interferes with them. If you are that hungry for battle then come and try me.” Serena said with a forceful tone of voice that caused Lilly to look at her.

Ash smiled as he saw Serena stop Clemont and Lilly from coming to interrupt his battle and stop the officers from interring as well as he dodged the strikes of Nemo’s sword. Guess Serena still remembers Teaches lessons about duels, I should have told her I got rid of those ideals years ago. But this is working out perfectly a few more feet and it’s over.

“Your minions are captured, your Pokémon are down, why not just surrender?” Ash asked as he dodged backwards.

Nemo gritted his teeth and looked around, and winced when he noticed that his Breloom was knocked out and he couldn’t see his Magmar either. Nemo looked behind him and noticed that no one human was coming towards them and turned to his opponent with an arrogant look in his eyes that made Ash smirk on the inside.

“Well then I just have to take you hostage and I can still walk away! After all you’ve been falling back….” Nemo began only to stop when he noticed the look Ash had on his face. Why does that punk look that that, wait…he couldn’t have! Nemo looked around and really took stock of just where he was and what Ash had done since he started slashing at the boy.

“I’ve been falling back, making ground between you, Serena and keeping you away from your Magmar, did you know that their able to Teleport? And your two minions, if they had been on the same side you might have been able to force a retreat together but instead you here, alone and at my mercy.” Ash said as he grinned. With every word Ash caused Nemo to go white before his face went red and he gained a look of rage in his eyes and started to smile sickly. Seeing the deranged look on his opponent’s face Ash decided to ask for help.

“OI!! Serena I got rid of Teach’s moral code years ago, come help!” Ash called out, startling Serena who followed after Clemont as he raced towards Ash and Nemo with Lilly right behind him.

Nemo gritted his teeth and tried to slash Ash who merely met the sword with his shield and when Nemo was over balanced sliced a shallow cut above Nemo’s right eye. Ash smirked when he saw Nemo move pass a boulder and smiled.

“ Once the others get closer you’re done. But I think I’ll finish it here and now. PIKACHU, THUNDER!” Ash barked as he leapt backwards before a massive bolt of electricity hit Nemo from behind the boulder and after being hit fainted and dropped to the ground twitching.

“Pika Pi!” Pikachu said as he sat on top of the boulder as the he watched the results of his actions with a smirk on his face.

“So you can take the girl out of Kanto but you can’t take Kanto out of the girl. Thanks Serena, if I still believed in that I would have appreciated it.” Ash said as the others came around him while the officers collected Nemo. Ash noticed Chipped was shepherding his followers towards the river a bit away from the people and met its eyes and exchanged a short nod before Chipped darted into the water.

“I’m glad we left Bonnie behind, she could have done without that. But really Ash, how did you know?” Lilly asked as she watched Nemo being carried away. Ash gave a small laugh before he pulled his hat down to shield his eyes.

“What put it all together was that the quest had such a short time to complete and the payout was a few days. If you want something right away, you pay for it as soon as possible, that’s just how people act.” Ash said with a smile on his face as he led the others back towards Jenny.

Jenny looked up from direction her officers to take the captives to the van for transport back to the station and booking and smiled when she saw Ash and the others coming over.

“I have to thank you for this. If what we learned from that rant we heard from him before we interpreted him pans out, then a lot of missing person reports are going to be solved very soon.” Jenny said as she smiled at the teens as she led them back towards the road.

“No thanks needed Officer, I was just doing my duty but I have to ask, what is to be done to the TM and the crystal column I retrieved?” Ash asked as they walked.

“The TM I’m said to say is evidence against him until after the trial, the column is yours to keep. I’m sorry if that’s not exactly helpful but we need that to help with the recording we took to put him away. I’m sorry but it’ll probably last a few months at the least.” Jenny said with a small sigh.

“Didn’t you need it to help with the gym battle Ash?” Lilly asked as she looked at him.

“Not really Lilly, I actually discovered a way around part of her tactics during the quest, when next I face her; I think I’ll win that gym battle after all.” Ash said with a smirk on his face.

Lilly just shook her head and went still when she was a gnarled looking tree with black flowers growing near the road. The others had walked on and Clemont stopped when he noticed that Lilly had dropped back. He turned to see her looking at the tree with a look of shock and awe on her face. She scrambled and grabbed her Pokédex and quickly manipulated it before she put it away and looked at the tree.

“What is it Lilly?” Clemont’s question caused the others to turn and look at Lilly.

“I never saw a wild tree with black flowers before, a friend of mine would love to know about this.” Lilly said as she walked back to the others. Clemont looked at the tree and turned to Lilly with a smile on his face.

“That, it’s only a Rainbow tree.” Clemont said with a laugh in his voice.

“Rainbow Tree?” Lilly asked with a tone of shock with her face slack.

“Yeah, there are a lot of them all over. The name comes from the fact that you can find them with different collared leaves, even when their near each other! People think it has to do with the soil they grow in, difference down to the patch of dirty they grew in. You usually find them near or in old ruins all over. I remember a few pictures I saw once where there were three of these tree together in a row, flowers of red, blue and black in that order.” Clemont said with a laugh as the others looked at the tree.

Lilly just looked at him and her mind was going a mile a minute. I can’t believe it, wild Decade Trees all over Kalos, I have to tell Teacher about this, the things that they could be used for alone; she has to know about this. But wait, that weapon Nimue told me about, it might have affected them, if so then they could have turned into normal trees for centuries, then there might be more all over, I once she comes back I’m sending her out nightly to see if she can find any nearby, that could save a life.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Now you’ve taken pictures of the damages right? And the corpse is secured right? And you’ve got your weapon on hand?” Brock questioned Salma as she put the last of her supplies away and prepared to travel back to Viridian City with the samples they had acquired.

“Yes dad, I got everything ready. I took enough pictures that even the most skeptical person would admit something bad happened here, with those, the webs and the corpse we recovered should get the League involved right?” Salma said with a small smile as she put her quiver on her back, causing Yuji to snort, causing her and Brock to look at him leaning against the cabin wall.

“Salma, don’t you remember what they did during the Siege? The League sat on their asses, hiding from the problem until the gyms handed it.” Yuji spat with a scowl on his face.

“A lot of those people aren’t in power anymore. And a threat like this is something the League would defend against.” Agalia said as she and her brother joined the others outside.

“If the League does more then take credit for what the doc did when he set this up I’ll be surprised.” Yuji said with a snort, causing Agalia to scowl at him.

“The League is to coordinate a solid defense then they have to take time to do so. If you’re so sure they won’t, then why don’t you go with her to convince them.” Agalia said with a huff. Salma noticed that Yuji’s eyes had gone hard and looked right at Agalia

“Coordinate a way to steal the credit you mean. And convince the league? Outside of the Conferences I wouldn’t trust them to acknowledge that a Snorlax is rolling at them before it runs over them.” Yuji bit back at Agalia, causing her to go red with anger.

“Why I’d outa….” Agalia began until Brock interrupted him.

“Enough! You two stop fighting now! Salma is to go back to Viridian on her own! We’re heading to our second objective and then make a decision based on what we find there, is that understood people.” Brock barked with a scowl on his face.

“Yeah doc, calm down. I know I talked a lot of trash about the League, but do you really think we should go on with what we found? If we turn back then not matter what we’ve accomplished something, the state of the cabin should make them realize something is happening right?” Yuji said with his hands up, trying to calm Brock down.

“Like you said Yuji, the League sat around when a threat to all of Kanto was underway once before, this time it might just be a threat to a single area of Kanto. We need definite proof that a threat is underway, that’s our mission, to find that irrefutable proof that the Viridian area is under threat, that’s the only way the league will get involved. But you’re mission is just as important Salma, if anything you carry back to the City can help stop this attack then that is the most important thing you can do. Everyone else, mount up! We’re burning daylight and we’re not stopping until we reach our next waypoint.” Brock said with a sigh as he released his Steelix, prompting the others to do the same with their Pokémon.

Salma watched as Yuji got on his Tauros and got on her Onix . Yuji has always been a bit hot headed, but he tried to get a rise out of her why? And last night he never took his eyes off them and always kept a wall behind him and never let either of them get out of his line of sight, what does he know? I’ll talk to him about when I see him again. Salma nodded to herself and nudged her Onix and waved to the others as they moved up the mountains.

“Be careful Yuji!” Salma called out as she and her Pokemon started to move back down the mountain.

“Watch yourself Salma and remember, don’t fight to win, fight to live!” Yuji called back as the party moved out of sight. Neither one of them noticed a black clad figure jump into the shadows cast by the cabin and retrieve his own sample of webbing before he moved towards the mountain side, swiftly climbing up and following after the party.

Shadow smirked as he watched he watched Brock lead the way through the trees on the mountain. Who would of thought that old Flinty’s kid would have his head on right. But I don’t know why I should be surprised, he held the Gym and his younger siblings together on his own for years and dealt with the Siege as a Gym Trainer. And with one of them gone, if those two are with under orders to kill them, I might be able to save Brock and that other one if those two force the issue. Shadow just shook his head and moved upwards, careful not to make a noise to let anyone he was following notice any trace of his movement. As he jumped from tree to tree he noticed that he hadn’t heard a single bird, animal or Pokémon for a few minutes now, a bad sign all things considered.

Brock patted Steelix head as he was carried along the path. He looked around and sighed, this was looking worse than that time in Hoenn with that Chimera. He looked back and noticed that Yuji had fallen behind Agalia and Kunz who, he saw were talking as they rode along, Agalia looking along the trial while Kunz looked straight ahead. Brock frowned as he saw how far apart the party was and caught Yuji’s eyes and motioned for him to move up.

Agalia looked to the side and saw that Yuji was looking at her and her brother as he passed and watched him move, a frown forming on her face.

“Think he knows something about us sister?” Kunz said softly as their Pokémon carried them up the mountain. They watched as Yuji stopped his Tauros next to Brock’s Steelix and start to talk with him.

“Maybe, but I can’t think about what I could of that would of let him know something was up. Or he could just hate the League.” Agalia said with a huff.

“Maybe he does know something. Could have been anything, we know nothing about him behind the info we were able to get from the Gym web site about the trainers there. Could have been anything but he might be a problem before we finish this mission.” Kunz said as he turned to look at her. Agalia just huffed and shook her head at the task they had been giving.

“Really, to take out even a former Gym Leader would cause this situation to much attention; we have to be absolutely sure no matter what if we have to, we’re lucky were close to the boarder, we can escape to Johto easily.” She said as she looked at the two people ahead of them.

“If they discover evidence about the Order then we have to, if anyone of them awakens that power we have to. If they tell people that people can use it who knows what could happen. The Order has put too much effort to keep the larger plan on track, a disruption of that scale would derail it for decades at least, still the incident when we received our orders will let us handle the problem we’ve been having in Viridian.” Kunz said flatly, causing Agalia to chuckle darkly.

“Always nice to have something to pin on someone we need to erase. But thatthat Oak bitch, she’s been planning something for years, why the others don’t purge her section I don’t know.” Agalia said with a snarl. Kunz nodded and went still when he looked forward.

“Wait, what’s that?” Kunz said, causing Agalia to look forward and stare in shock

Brock looked up from his conversation with Yuji and stared in shock at what was coming down the trail. A horde of Mankey with a Primeape leading the way were right before them, the Primeape was holding a large branch in its hands as it stood in front of the other Fighting Types.

“Brock, those Pokémon, their all wounded.” Yuji said softly, Brock looked closer and saw that all the Pokémon had wounds and a few of the Mankey’s were helping others along, and most telling was that some of them had webbing on their bodies.

“Hey, I’m a Doctor; I could help your troop if you let me.” Brock called to the Primeape leading the group. The Primeape seemed to understand what was being said and shot a look towards the Mankeys behind it. Brock tried to think what to do next and decided to try to show that the Fighting types didn’t need to go anywhere with him.

“Yes, if you just wait a bit here I could….” Brock began before the Mankeys started to go white and fidget and seemed to look behind them with fear, causing the Primeape to go still and turn, and with a hard look to its eyes gestured for the party ahead of them to move aside and let them pass by. Brock cursed and gestured to the others to hug the wall; looking back he noticed that both Agalia and Kunz hesitated for a second before they recalled their Pokémon and moved to the side. As the troop passed by Brock noticed Yuji trying to get his attention and signaled that it could wait. After the Pokémon had moved on Yuji walked over to Brock with a frown on his face.

“That Primeape was scared, it was scared for its troop.” Yuji said as the others joined them.

“Yes it was, did you notice how it reacted when I said I could look at them here? Whatever’s happening on this mountain, it wanted to get its troop off as fast as it could, and that is so bad for us.” Brock said as he shook his head.

“That has to have something to do with what’s happening on this mountain. I though the cabin showed that something was wrong but this, this blows it out of the water.” Yuji said as he looked back towards Viridian. Dam it, if whatever these things are so bad this far up then they might just as bad farther down. I hope you make it back home safe Salma, I really, really do.

“You’re probably right about that, but it doesn’t change a thing. We need solid evidence, without that then this whole mission was a waste of time. All it would take is the single chance that we’re wrong and they won’t move at all.” Brock said with a scowl.

“Oh come on! A group of Fighting Types just ran scared! That has to be enough evidence to get the League involved!” Yuji exclaimed with shock as the others looked at Brock.

“I agree with the Gym Trainer, a pack of Pokémon just ran from the mountain and wouldn’t stop to be healed, that has to mean something.” Kunz said flatly, causing Yuji to look at him.

“None of us recorded it; every League official who we tell will just say that we made it up or it was the result of something else, a stronger pack taking over their territory maybe. If they have a single reason to deny help they will, we have to have air tight evidence. So move out! We’re heading up this mountain and we’re not stopping until we reach our destination.” Brock said as he released his Steelix and it moved its body down to let him climb onto its head and moved up the trail. Agalia and Kunz shared a quick look before they released their Pokémon and followed after Brock. Yuji just looked back down the trail and just sighed and climbed onto his Tauros, not reacting anyway what so ever that he had seen a flash reflecting off something black farther down the trail, more sure than ever that something was following them, but were they friend or foe?

Salma sighed as she looked ahead as she rode her Pokémon back towards Viridian. She was worried about the others, but Brock was right, what they had recovered from the cabin was important enough to send back. If the doctors could use what they had found to create a vaccine, then it would have been worth it to leave them alone, but she was still worried. Her Onix gave a simple moan, causing her to look up and smile at her Rock Type.

“I’m fine boy, really. I’m just worried about the others.” Salma said as she rubbed Onix ’s horn and looked ahead. Calm down girl, it’s just nerves, you’re already half way there already, just a few more hours and you’re home. Then you just have to get to the hospital, drop off my cargo and then touch base with the Gym. After that I can grab anyone who would come with me and just charge back the mountain and provide backup to the team. She was so deep in thought she didn’t notice when they passed the clearing the party had stopped at before, she never noticed that the clearing was now thick with webbing going from plant to plant, nor did she or her Pokémon notice when her Onix moved through a webbing line across the path, breaking it as they moved.

Salma smiled as she rode on her Onix , they had finally reached the last hill before the outskirts of Viridian, then once they passed the hill she would be able to connect her Local Gear with the signal tower and contact the hospital and let them know she was coming in, this would be over soon. She stretched and moved her head and went still when she noticed a tree a bit back from the trail had webs all over it.

“Onix, stop! I need the Tower now!” Salma barked as she grabbed Onix’s horn. Obediently her Pokémon stopped and raised its body straight up, allowing Salma to look over the tops of the trees and take in the area. She went pale as she noticed most of the trees out of sight had webbing over them, and that each grouping of webs were connected to at least two others, and most convering was that some of the tree’s leaves were starting to go brown in some places. How long have they been here? This is worse than the cabin, I I have to get back to the gym; we need to send people out here to take care of this. She went still when she noticed five forms move towards her through the woods.

“GO Machamp! Running defensive you two, we are getting back to Viridan!” She screamed as she threw out a Pokéball and Machamp jumped onto Onix’s tail as they moved up the hill, looking back Salma saw the figures break from the tree line and charge up the hill after them. Salma noticed that all three didn’t have hands like the sample she was bringing back two had stingers in place of the hands {[Warrior]} were led by a one with stingers and a horn on its head {[Alpha]}. Looking at the Gear around her wrist she breathed a sigh of relief as they crested the hill and she saw that she was finally in range of a tower and was able to connect and quickly moved to Jenny’s number. looking

“Salma, what are you guys doing back already? What, did…” Jenny began before Salma interrupted her.

“Jenny shut and listen! I’m on Route 22 and I’m being chased by Chimeras! I’m alone, carrying cargo that and I need help!” Salma said as she looked back and saw her Machamp start to fire Focus blasts at the chasers.

“On Route 22?! I’ll be there as soon as I can with my Pokemon, how many are chasing you?”

“I can see three but I saw five when I first saw them coming from the trees, please hurry.” Salma said as she closed her gear and looked ahead, cursing when she saw two lines of webbing shoot at her Onix and felt when the two lines pull Onix to the side. Salma rolled off of her Onix and

“Machamp, try to deal with those three, I’ll free Onix and help you!” Salma said as she drew a knife and ran towards her Pokemon and started to cut away at the strands holding it.

Machamp looked at the three forms running at him, noticing that the Alpha had dropped back to let the Warriors lead the charge. Machamp merely snorted and shot forward at the first warrior and dealt a devastating punch to its face, sending it backwards and behind the other who shot at Machamp with purple glowing stingers. Machamp took the blew and winced when as it felt the poison burn before delivering a sold chop to the skin connecting the stingers to the arm, breaking the chitin in two and then it kicked the Chimera backwards when it didn’t react besides a small stare at its damaged limb. Looking at the damaged limb Machamp saw it the liquid harden and the Chimera give a few throws with its new club before it charged at Machamp again with the first one beside it. Jumping up Machamp fired a Focus Blast at the Warrior with two stingers and hit it on its backside, stunning it and then Machamp tried to find where the Alpha had gotten to; not finding it and the other Warrior with its news club arm was soon taking up Machamp’s attention.

After she cut a strand of webbing Salma jumped when she saw and heard her Onix start to struggle and lunged to the side and rolled into a crouch and saw two living copies of the corpse she was transporting {[Worker]}, with one of them facing her while behind it the other started to web up her Onix. Quickly she drew her bow and as one action shot an arrow at the Worker farthest back and hit its eye, killing it. Grabbing another arrow she fired it at the last remaining Worker, her arrow hit center mass on its head before she felt webbing hit her and she fell to the ground. Rolling she saw the Alpha leer at her with a raised purple glowing stinger and closed her eyes, not wanting to see her end.

“Hyper Beam!” A voice called, Salma opening her eyes as before an orange beam hit the Alpha, forcing it away from her and the beam tor off its left stinger. Salma turned her head towards where the voice had come from and saw Jenny and her Gym’s Leader Giovanni, with her Growlie and his Nidoking standing in front of them.

“Man am I glad to see you two.” Salma said as she looked at them as Jenny walked towards her and knelt down taking out a small knife. Nidoking thundered past them and charged at the Alpha, delivering blows that the Chimera dodged until it was next to the two Warriors

“I didn’t know you were into this kind of stuff Sal, this one of the reasons you always hanging around?” Jenny joked as she cut through the webbing.

As soon as her arms were free she looked around and picked up her bow and aimed an arrow towards the battle when Giovanni put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him and he gestured towards her Onix.

“Get your Pokemon ready for combat my dear. Jenny and I will hold the line.” Gionvani said, but before Salma ran towards her Pokemon she paused and turned.

“Boss its bad, once this is done you two need to see something in the woods.” Salma said as she looked at him.

“I’m afraid that won’t happen, once your Onix is free we’re falling back, and I would hurry I think that reinforcements for the other side are almost here.” Giovanni’s cold voice caused Salma to follow Giovanni’s gaze and saw other Chimeras coming into view at a distance. Salma stared for a second before she ran towards her Onix and started to savage the lines holding it down when it was freed it looked at the advancing forms and fired a Hyper beam over the heads of the near combatants. The beam hit just before the advancing Chimera and threw up a dust cloud that blocked the advancing horde from sight.

“Growlie, Flame Thrower on club arm!” Jenny roared out as Nidoking grabbed the Alpha and threw it towards the cloud. The clubbed armed Warrior was engulfed when the flame spiral hit the Chimera. Nidoking nudge Machamp and started to run back towards its trainer who recalled it.

“Come on Salma, recall your Pokémon and lets go!” Jenny called as she ran down the hill towards her bike.

Salma had gotten on Onix and it was thundering along the path, move as fast as it could with Machamp running next to it. Within seconds Onix had go

“I can’t! We’re carrying bio samples for the doctors! We have to get back to Viridian with them or this would have been pointless!” Salma called back as Onix passed Jenny and Giovani

“Well said my dear, well said! Nidoking, aim a Blizzard at the top of the hill, make it heavy!” Giovanni roared as he got on the bike behind Jenny. Nidoking’s eyes glowed blue before clouds formed and snow storm started at the top of the hill and was it Salma’s imagination or were those lightning bolts striking the ground and hail too?! Salma looked at Giovanni as his Nidoking thundered alongside them; he had definitely earned his gym Leader position. The last thing she saw was a Warrior with ice on its body and stingers stagger out of the storm and stare after them before it turned and walked back towards its home. Salma felt a chill go down her spine as she looked towards the top of the mountain, from the damaged cabin to the Chimera that had attacked her; she hopped that the others would survive the mission and come back alive and in one piece.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

P A treon.com/bardofworlds for special rewards for all patrons

Blade Master: Master of human on human combat, has a code of Honor about duels.

Decade Tree: Tree that takes over ten years to store nutrients and natural aura from the surroundings, it then condenses both into the fruit it bears. The fruit has many uses, it’s able to increase and awaken Aura in humans and the flowers can be used as a component in either poison or medicine depending on the coloring; the fruit can also raise Pokémon abilities and it is rumored to cause mental capabilities to increase. Effects on Chimera unknown. Fruit looks like a blue pyramid, glows from aura

Local Gear; An inexpensive version of the Pokégear that pings off signal towers to allow communication; private security outfits uses variants that have installed handshake protocols to communicate between members

#Beginning in Kalos

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raendown · 7 years

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I don’t even know who to feel more sorry for in this chapter.

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3317 Story summary: Madara used to be a man feared even by those of his own clan. Life's really changed since the village was built. Among those changes is his relationship with one Senju Tobirama - and apparently everyone else knew about this even before he did.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

“You stop that.”

Although Madara had used his firmest tone, one with which he could control entire battlefields, Kagami did not listen. The infant cradled in his arms continued to fuss and cry as though he hadn’t even spoken. Rather rude, in his opinion.

Kagami’s parents had left two days ago, entrusting him to care for their child while they travelled to the other side of Fire Country to visit some relative or other who…who…alright so Madara hadn’t listened too closely to the reason behind their journey. They’d been gone two days and would be gone for several more and that was all he’d paid attention to. Had he not known that the region they were travelling to was currently too dangerous because of clan infighting he would have tried to convince them to take the baby along for the trip. Unfortunately he’d had a spontaneous rash of goodwill and agreed to watch him while they were gone, something he was currently regretting.

He was starting to suspect that Kagami was more aware than any six month old child had any right to be. If there were someone else around he was as calm as one could ever hope for yet each time Madara was left alone with him he began to cry. Did he already hate his clan Head so much? What had Madara even done to him yet that could warrant such dislike?

More worrisome than a possible distaste for his current caretaker, Kagami’s coloring was what was causing Madara concern today. As a true-blooded Uchiha his skin should have been a lovely light shade of ivory, with that translucent glow which romance novels the world over lauded as “creamy” and “milky” and all other sorts of disturbingly food related adjectives. He had indeed been the correct color when they both woke up that morning. Now, however, he was flushed a light pink across his face and his nose had begun to run. Madara had given some thought to plugging his nostrils with tissue so he wouldn’t have to keep wiping up the disgusting mess but worried that it would stop him from breathing.

“You’re the wrong color,” he informed Kagami, trying to sound at least marginally calmer than he really felt. “I don’t like it.”

There were quite a few things he didn’t like about this and, though he’d been trying to deal with the situation on his own for a few hours now, it felt as though things were quickly spiraling out of his ability to control. The screaming he could deal with. He knew how to fix that now: if all else failed, he could just go find another adult and leave Kagami with them for a bit. That usually seemed to work. It was a conspiracy, he would swear. The runny nose he had reluctantly learned to live with by carrying a pocketful of tissues and cringing with each wipe. The diarrhea and occasional vomiting, on the other hand, he wasn’t sure what to do with.

With great reluctance and a lot of loud complaining, Madara had grown used to changing an infant’s diaper. It was disgusting but he could hardly leave little Kagami to stew in his own excrement. This, though…this was an entirely different level. The frequency! The consistency! The smell! His panic levels only rose when the vomiting began.

It took until three hours past lunch for Madara to give in. He needed help. Izuna was away on a mission and it was becoming clear that whatever was wrong with Kagami – and something obviously was wrong – it was not something he knew how to fix. He’d only waited so long for the fear that he would be told this was all somehow his fault. He very much did not want Kagami’s parents to come home only to find out he had broken their child while they’d been gone.

Could a clan Head be impeached for accidental breakage of a child? He’d have to look that up in the annals.

Since the first step to recovery is admitting you need help, Madara figured he had already given in and he might as well leap with both feet. If he wanted someone to help him then he should go to an expert. He should go to someone with childcare experience whom he could be certain would know what they were doing. He should go to Tobirama.

Kagami did nothing but fuss and dribble out a little more snot when Madara balanced him on his lap and raised both hands, forming a few shorts seals before pressing one down on to the couch cushions next to him. A puff of smoke formed under his fingers and when he lifted his hand it was to see a young cat in the same spot he had just touched. The gray tabby stretched, jaws opening in a wide yawn.

“Mrow! Madara-sama called. What could he want? Mrow!”

“Asami,” he greeted his summon. “I need you to go to Tobirama and tell him I need him. Life or death. Very important.”

“What Madara-sama asks, so shall I do. Mrow!” Being a cat, Asami made sure to casually lick her paw a few times before deigning to rise and doing as she’d said she would. She leapt on to the back of the couch and bounded out the open window, heading off in the direction of the Senju compound.

Alone once more, Madara wriggled his arms underneath Kagami and lifted the boy to his chest, trying to imitate the pleasant tune he’d heard Tobirama singing for Kagami when the two of them had first met. He hadn’t attempted to sing so much as a single note since he was a child trying to calm Izuna with a lullaby. Now as an adult he suddenly understood why his little brother had only cried louder: his voice was the exact opposite of calming. When he tried to hum it sounded more like a weasel gasping out its dying breaths in an accusatory manner. It was little wonder when Kagami began to fuss louder.

He had less than five minutes to wait before his front door was thrown open and a familiar figure burst in, expression tight and weapon at the ready. He looked prepared for war until he spotted the two poor figures in the corner of the room. Madara and Tobirama blinked at each with equal amounts of surprise, Kagami’s wails the only thing filling the silence of the house.

“Uhm…” Madara murmured intelligently. Tobirama glared at him.

“Your summon came to fetch me. Said it was ‘life or death’. I see no death happening here, Uchiha.”

With the rising panic still swirling around in his chest, Madara stood from the couch and lifted the crying child in his arms a little higher. “Not yet!” he wailed. “He could be dying, Senju! What did I do? Why is he red? How do I fix him!?”

“Calm down,” Tobirama told him, automatically slipping in to a soothing tone as he sheathed his kunai. “Go back to the start. What’s wrong?” Madara took a breath, trying to calm himself as ordered. It didn’t work.

“He won’t stop crying again. And he’s all red. And his nose runs and his shit runs and his vomit runs. He’s just…runny! From everywhere! Did I do something wrong?” His eyes widened, composure slipping again. “I can’t kill a baby, Tobirama, especially not an Uchiha baby!”

“Alright, it’s okay. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. Let me see him.”

Tobirama’s hands brushed his own as he took the baby from Madara, who could feel a tiny edge of the desired calm settling down around him at the touch. He watched as the younger man inspected little Kagami, pressing the back of one hand against his forehead and looking just a little too closely at his snot for Madara to be comfortable.

“Do you have a thermometer?” he asked eventually.

“Yes!” Madara leapt up from the couch and dashed down the hallway, glad to be of some use at last. He’d spent half the day feeling utterly useless until now. When he returned and handed the thermometer over Tobirama gave it a quick look before nodding in approval.

“Good. Not a rectal thermometer.”

“You want to put what where?”

“A lot of parents get rectal thermometers for children this young, since they can’t stay still long enough to hold it under their tongue and it’s hard to mess up taking an internal temperature. Personally I’m just as glad to use other methods.”

Madara twisted his mouth to one side. What two consenting adults did in their spare time was one thing – one thing he would admit to having partaken in himself. But sticking something up an infant’s ass before they could even understand what was happening struck him as weird. And gross. And weird. Did people really do that when their poor child was sick and miserable already? As Tobirama had said, he too was glad that there were other methods for that sort of thing.

Curiously, he watched his guest place the thermometer under Kagami’s armpit and gently hold one tiny arm down while he waited for a result. Kagami wailed and squirmed, making snot dribbling down one side of his face, so Madara fished a clean tissue out of his pocket to wipe it away with. He frowned defensively when Tobirama gave him an indecipherable look for doing so.

“What?” he demanded.

“Nothing.” Tobirama shrugged one shoulder innocently before finally checking the thermometer reading. “Hm. It’s a little high but nothing to really panic about yet. You said he’s been experiencing vomiting and diarrhea? From what I can tell, it looks like our little man here has the flu.”

Relief flooded through Madara’s system for a brief moment. “Oh. Just the flu. He’s not dying.” Then it drained away just as quickly when Tobirama made as though to hand the child back to him. “What? No! You have to stay and help me! I don’t know what to do with a kid that has the flu!”

“Just keep him hydrated and cool, let him rest if he wants to.”

“Please?”

Tobirama’s brows drew down, not in a true frown but more of a look of contemplation. Madara made a passing attempt at the pathetic puppy eyes Hashirama always seemed to get his way with. He wasn’t sure if he truly succeeded or if the other man simply decided to take pity on him but in the end it didn’t matter. He nearly fell over with gratitude when Tobirama sighed gently.

“Fine. When was the last time he had a bottle?”

“I think about four hours ago.”

“Let’s try and give him another bottle. It’s important for him to stay hydrated. That’s basic sick care, Madara, the same as you would do for yourself.” The younger man gave him a slightly reproving look as though to ask how he didn’t think of that. Madara coughed and looked away.

“Uh-huh. Same as I would do for myself.”

Of course, there was absolutely no way he would admit that he hadn’t even known that. He didn’t get sick very often and when he did he tended to ignore it and try to push through until his body forced him in to bed rest. Usually Izuna watched on with a shaking head and resigned expression, which Madara had never understood until now. Evidently there were actually methods he could have been using to try and help himself feel better. Interesting.

Kagami took his bottle with an enthusiasm that made Madara feel a little guilty. The poor thing actually took a break from crying to clamp his toothless gums around the nipple and suck it back like he’d been dying of thirst. He’d certainly cried enough tears today to work his way towards dehydration, something Madara also hadn’t thought of.

He worried when Tobirama sat him down on the couch and set the baby in his lap.

“You’re not leaving are you?” he asked. His guest shook his head.

“Don’t panic, I’m just running him a bath. It’ll help him cool down a bit and the water should help soothe him.”

Bath time, though it sounded simple as a concept, was a very small disaster. Before he could even be put in the water Kagami vomited. They cleaned him up and threw his soiled onesie in to the laundry with the others after rinsing it off then headed for the bath again. Then as soon as he was set in the water he peed and Madara had to hold him as Tobirama emptied the sink and filled it again. On a normal day Kagami loved bath time, always cooing and trying to hold the water in his teeny fists. Today he thrashed his arms and splashed both of the men trying to care for him, soaking their fronts. He wasn’t quite screaming as he had been but he still fussed and whined where he would otherwise had smiled, obviously uncomfortable in his own body.

Although Madara usually let him play in the water for a while, to keep him quiet if nothing else, they ended bath time as soon as he was reasonably clean. Tobirama drained the sink and put away everything they had used for the bath while Madara wrapped Kagami up in a fresh diaper. He was just reaching for some clean jammies when Tobirama peeked over his shoulder.

“I know today must have been frustrating for you but you shouldn’t really take it out on the kid, you know?”

“What are you talking about?” Madara scowled at the face hovering over his shoulder. “I didn’t do anything!”

“You’ve swaddled him so tight it’s a miracle he can still move.”

“Well you do it then!”

He stumbled a bit when Tobirama hip-checked him out of the way, grumbling and shuffling closer again so he could watch how the other man did it. There was nothing wrong with how he put on a diaper. Nothing! They were supposed to be tight or else they’d fall off! Even Izuna had agreed with him on that point.

Watching Tobirama was like watching something entirely different. The man’s fingers were quick and deft, flicking through each movement with ease and confidence as though he did this every day. Madara huffed and turned away to go find himself a dry shirt to wear. It wasn’t that impressive. Of course it wasn’t. Why should he care about the way he could tell even just from watching how gentle Tobirama’s touch had been? He shouldn’t. He didn’t.

Annoyed with himself, Madara made sure to offer Tobirama a dry shirt as well by throwing it at his head. Oddly, his attempt at violence didn’t garner more reaction than a poorly hidden smirk and a quiet ‘thank you’. He huffed again and didn’t reply.

Dinner, when the time came, consisted of simple sandwiches that Madara threw together while Tobirama rocked the baby and dealt with another bout of diarrhea. They both ate in the living room, taking turns cooing for little Kagami and trying to distract him even a little bit from the discomfort that his body barely understood how to deal with. While he did stop screaming his head off endlessly, he continued to fuss and squirm and have frequent bouts of piteous wailing.

The rest of the evening passed in a similar way. The two men shared the task of holding Kagami in their arms and doing what they could to soothe him or keep his nose and diaper clean. Each time Tobirama left the room Kagami wailed and Madara despaired that this child would ever accept him as a capable, likable human being.

When Tobirama finally had a moment to change his clothing and don the shirt he had so graciously been given, Madara nearly had a heart attack at the sight of him. He reasoned that it would be a shock to anyone in his position, seeing someone else wear his clothing for the first time. It was just strange, that was all. The weirdly breathless feeling in his chest must mean that he was also coming down with whatever sickness Kagami had picked up. Luckily for him, Tobirama didn’t seem to notice the effect he had on his host. The younger man sat down by his side and took the baby from him without a single word about the strangely rapturous expression on his face. Madara used the silence to take a few deep breaths and try to calm his wildly racing heart.

Night fell quickly but still Kagami was wide awake. His temperature hadn’t fallen, though it also hadn’t risen yet. Madara had changed his shirt again when the little fiend vomited down his front only moments before he’d tried to offer him a bottle. Tobirama had laughed, the traitor.

They took turns staying up over the next few hours. Kagami slept in short bouts, only to wake up crying and thrashing after less than half an hour each time. By the time he finally fell in to a restful sleep and stayed asleep it was five in the morning and both of his caretakers were absolutely exhausted. Madara stood in the doorway and stared at the crib in wonder after forty-five minutes had gone by without the child waking up. He gave some thought to checking for hallucinations but, in his tiredness, decided he didn’t care. If he was hallucinating then he might as well enjoy the quiet and the chance to rest.

After making sure that Kagami was tucked in just the way Tobirama had shown him, Madara shuffled slowly across to his own bedroom. He was at the edge of his bed with one hand reaching out for the covers when he stopped with a frown. Tobirama was spread out across the top of the covers, evidently too tired to even find his way underneath the blanket. He lay face down as if he had collapsed there, head buried in one of the pillows and both arms spread out in either direction.

“Hey,” Madara grumbled tiredly. When he got no response he tried again. “Oi, Senju.”

He poked at the hand closest to him. It twitched and Tobirama groaned but gave no other answer.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Obviously. Hush.”

“You can’t – that’s my bed.” Madara’s petulant frown went unseen as Tobirama couldn’t even be bothered to shrug apologetically.

“Shhh. Sleeping. Tired.”

“Well where am I supposed to sleep?” If he had one ounce less of self-control, Madara would have stamped his foot. “I want to sleep in my bed.”

Tobirama grunted and slowly retracted one arm. At first Madara thought he meant to get up and could hardly believe that it had been so easy. Then he watched with disbelief as the younger man simply tucked his arm under the pillow he was face-down in, snuffling quietly as he resettled himself. When he went still again Madara understood what had been offered.

He was too tired to even process it.

The bedsprings bounced as he flopped down on to the mattress with little grace, curling on to one side. He didn’t have the energy to care whether or not his head was on the pillow or to check that he wasn’t crowding the other man. He didn’t even have the mental faculties to care that there was another man sharing his bed; it barely even registered. All he cared about was the sweet bliss of closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift in to a well-earned slumber.

Dawn crept up on them mere hours later, although no one in the house stirred quite yet. Had there been anyone there to bear witness they would have seen the first light of day passing across matching smiles worn by both Madara and Tobirama as they dreamed sweet dreams that were suspiciously similar.

#the more we get together #rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #kagami #fanfiction #naruto shippuden

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laurlovescookies · 7 years

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Kadam Week Prompt Six: The Boy in the Well, Part 1 of 2

- Kurt meets Adam’s ex-boyfriend and realizes that he may not have cornered the market on bad relationships.

Soooo, I noticed that there are no horror genre Kadam fics. (Which is ironic, because I’m terrified of even the corniest of scary movies.) So I thought I’d give it a go. This is a fic wherein Kurt and Adam meet while Kurt’s still in high school, shortly before A Very Glee Christmas.

This fic features a morally-ambiguous Adam (to put it mildly.) I know that seems anathema to the Kadam fandom (because Adam is so sweet and easygoing) but I wanted to try it just the same. And also to challenge myself to write outside my comfort zone. ^_^

Adam’s jerk boyfriend is mentioned in this story, but he doesn’t actually make an appearance, for reasons you’ll soon understand if you decide to keep reading.

Warning: Dark fic. Um, Not really any graphic stuff (and no sexual content), but there are some un-jolly shenanigans just the same. Adam is by no means a threat to Kurt, but the same is certainly not guaranteed for some other parties.

*whispers* Run like hell while you can.

-O-

The slithery-dee,

He came out of the sea,

He ate all the others

But he didn’t eat me.

The slithery-dee,

He came out of the sea,

He ate all the others

And he only spared me. –Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, Adapted

-O-

He staggered through the brush, wading through knee-high, frozen snow. But however far Kurt got the man’s screaming still rang in his ears, and there was still the sound of dry leaves and branches being crushed not far away as the black silhouette ploughed after him. It sang, mocking and singsong, although taut around the edges with obvious fury:

“OLLY-OLLY-OXEN-FREE!”

By now the snow was glittering under the stars like a threat. It was scarcely light enough besides to see his own hand inches away from his face, and he kept smacking into trees and getting tangled in branches, liberally scratching him. Again he felt for his phone in his pockets, and again scrabbled at empty space. He’d dropped it. His one lifeline and he’d dropped it.

His ragged breathing appeared in the frosty air in puffs that swam over his face as he hurried downhill, slipping more than once and soaking himself. He forced himself up and running again, heart beating so painfully in his throat and blood pounding so prominently in his ears he wondered that they hadn’t given him away yet. The moon and stars watched through the trees as he swallowed the cries for help that he knew would only kill him in the end.

“DON’T MAKE ME DRAG YOU OUT, YOU DIRTY LITTLE FAGGOT, DON’T MAKE ME COME FIND YOU!”

However deep he went, Dave’s voice was not getting any further away, and he was clearly following the evidence Kurt could not erase in the snow drifts. He stopped cold and looked round, clutching at a searing stitch in his side. He knew immediately it was no good throwing Dave off track with a false trail—it would only slow him down.

Chest heaving, the young man went deeper, mind blank with futility and hot with terror. He choked on dry sobs, his clawing hands angry-red, aching and burning fiercely.

“I’LL KILL YOU! GONNA RIP THIS KNIFE THROUGH YOUR ASS AND FUCKING CUT YOU!”

Better to give up now—it was the only left to do, besides hanging himself with his coat—he had his pick of trees, none of which he could scrabble into, however—but his treacherous feet kept moving automatically as he crashed through several bare branches. No good, no good, no good, was the mantra his slipping feet kept crushing through the snow.

Kurt tripped over a tree root, and his vision briefly turned white as he fell for the third time, this time feeling an awful pop in his ankle. There was a brief, horrible split second before the pain fully registered that he understood that he’d been hurt badly before he hit the ground. Pain lanced its way up his ankle, throbbing madly. Voice catching in the lump in his throat, he lay crumpled and winded, wet hair falling messily over his face. Any moment now there would be Dave and his knife and he would tear out his throat and it might be a relief, compared to what else the man might like to do. Especially because he’d shown a proclivity towards assault before.

He screwed up his face and moaned.

It also meant leaving his father alone, harming the only friends he’d ever had, possibly even the boy he crushed on, regardless of how he treated Kurt in the end. Strange how evident that was on the cusp of dying. He pressed his bitterly-cold hands against his mouth to restrain the primal shriek of despair that rattled inside his ribcage like a pinball.

After some time—he couldn’t tell for how long—he rose again, dripping, glowing with cold and hurt, and hobbled forward. There was a retaliatory stab of pain in his ankle with each step, as if he were the mermaid in the original Hans Christen Anderson story.

Gritting his teeth, a fine sheet of sweat on his brow despite the extreme chill, he managed ten steps before he was forced to clutch a tree for support, every inch of him crying for release as he shakily limped away again, spotting a fallen branch. He quickly broke it into an adequate staff, limping with the birch over his shoulder as he came into a small clearing.

Dave’s shouts and intermittent curses had faded somewhat, but he couldn’t have got away so easily. Perhaps the darkness protected Kurt somewhat, but it wasn’t yet late enough.

Kurt came to a stop before a yew tree, sagging against his support, face deathly-white. Gasping, he looked up to find a small well. The weathered, cracked stone and splintery wood looked positively ancient, but maybe it meant there were buildings somewhere not far away. And inhabitants.

Tasting his heart in his throat, Kurt staggered forward, plunging deeper into the heart of the forest. By now the branches had grown so thick and so clustered overhead he couldn’t see the moon or stars anymore; he was running near-blind.

Kurt’s path narrowed into a thicket-tunnel, and he forced himself to crawl through it, previously throbbing hands rapidly losing feeling in them as they slapped forward against the snow. Dave was still yelling what sounded like lewd promises in the distance, but they sounded more distant now.

Not as distant as Kurt would’ve preferred, however. Maybe this pass would be too big for Dave to lumber through.

The inky tunnel eventually began expanding around him, and soon Kurt was able to shakily rise, wincing as he put some pressure on his injured ankle. Chest heaving, he hurried on, falling and rising upon a gently-sloping hill, nearly rolling down upon it twice as he hauled himself up.

It was then he came upon a house. His breath hitched.

It was an enormous, Victorian beauty, pillared and with pale green shingles lacquered so distinctly even in the night Kurt could see they looked like scales. The roof and dilapidated window panels were a dark slate, and upon the roof and ground floor there were iron fences. Somehow they managed to look both delicate and threatening, the intricate, spindly spirals in the metal belying the sharp arrowheads atop the fence. Kurt squinted at it, struggling to breathe.

Had the light been improved, Kurt would’ve been able to fully recognize the weathered loveliness and hideousness of the house. Clearly it had been elaborately designed, with two small towers constructed into its frame.

But with the panels scattered on the snow about it like missing teeth, the faded paint, the splintered wood and the fact that the distinctly-unwelcoming looking place seemed sunken into the snow, it had a foreboding feel of neglect. Had Kurt not been so frightened, he might’ve sensed how the whole place had a stale taste to the air.

But as it was, not even Kurt cared to appreciate aesthetics as he rushed towards the house, rushing past the old gate, which stiffly opened, creaking in his wake.

Kurt ran faster than he ever had in his life, the pain nearly unrecognizable in the face of overwhelming adrenaline. He slipped twice along the way—the stony pass was icy beneath the snow.

He had to drag himself to the door, pounding furiously. “Hello? Hello, is there anyone here? Help! Help me! It’s an emergency!”

Somewhere Dave bellowed his name. Tears dashing down his face, Kurt frantically hammered the door with both fists.

“Please, please, please open up, he’s going to kill me,” he cried, hot tears splashing on the door. “He’s come to murder me and I’ve got nowhere else to go, no phone, so please—“

The dark windows suddenly lit up like jack-o-lantern eyes, painting the outside yellow. A second later Kurt yelped as the door he’d been leaning against disappeared and he crash-landed on a thick plush carpet. Two hands immediately touched his shoulders and he instinctively recoiled, looking up with terrified eyes.

A young blond man was stooping beside him, visibly concerned. The door was shut—the stranger must’ve opened and closed it in a hurry. He withdrew his hands slightly, pale blue eyes wide.

“What happened?” He asked urgently, trying to heave Kurt to his feet. The boy hissed with pain through his teeth and the young man nearly dropped him in his haste. “Oh, oh, you’re hurt—“ He stared incredulously at Kurt’s face, and Kurt wondered wildly if he looked as bad as he felt. “—you really are hurt, you look like you got into a fight with a bear—“

“Please,” Kurt whispered again, tears continuing to fall despite his shock. He couldn’t stop babbling, everything that he’d kept silent for months slipping out from his crumbled defenses: “All I wanted—all I wanted was for him to leave me alone, he kept torturing me every chance I got because he assaulted me, and I left and I just wanted it to be over, but he—he found me—“

“Shhh. Shhhh.” The young man tentatively looped one of Kurt’s arms around his shoulder. This time the latter tolerated the contact, and Adam’s eyes closed for a brief moment.

“The door is locked.” He pointed toward the door with his foot. “And I have a gun.” Kurt flinched, partially out of the insinuation and from guilt over the shuddery wave of relief that passed over him at the words. He normally objected gun ownership. “No one is coming to hurt you, I promise.

“It will be alright,” The young man soothed as he and Kurt stiffly went forward, Kurt dazedly allowing himself to be led. “My name is Adam. Adam Crawford.” He turned to look at Kurt. “You can explain once we get you down—easy, easy now, you look dead on your feet—“ And while Kurt barely took in anything of his surroundings, he felt himself gently lowered on a sofa that sank beneath him. Adam tentatively let him go, muttering beneath his breath as he hurried away, “Water, hot water, bandages, and ice—“

Kurt’s head sagged back against the sofa, and he took in the background with a mite of curiosity. There was a small brass chandelier with glass bulb-frames that looked as if it’d recovered in an antique shop. There were two small chintz armchairs sitting near a beautiful mantle, beneath which was a fireplace. It was surrounded by two enormous shelves filled with leather-bound books with beautiful, peeling good lettering on their spines.

There were delicate tables scattered around the room, and velvet curtains with tassels hung heavily before the windows; he was grateful the drapes were drawn. The wallpaper was a discolored, intricate floral pattern that looked vintage. There was a cabinet filled with delicate-looking teacups, and on the heavy-looking coffee table before him was a glass decanter and two cups. His brow furrowed as he took in the grandfather clock ticking dutifully in the corner and its swinging pendulum. There were some embroideries hanging on the wall beneath glass. Kurt vaguely remembered his grandmother’s home before she passed away.

His eyes fluttered shut and open as he heard Adam’s footsteps approach, and the young man approached him with a tentative smile, bearing a small tray and steaming bowl. “I like your home,” he couldn’t help but say quietly as Adam set the tray on the table and knelt beside him. “Very 1950’s chic.”

“That’s what mother was going for,” Adam said, sounding amused as if enjoying a private joke. He dipped a small hand towel into the hot water and wrung it out. “She always liked to keep it just so. It was my Grandad’s before he died. Sorry—this might hurt a bit.”

Adam prized Kurt’s boot and sock off the swollen ankle, and the pale boy dug his fingertips into the sofa arm and suppressed a whimper. Adam gave him an apologetic smile as he examined Kurt’s puffy, bruising ankle.

“I’m not a doctor, but if you can still flex it—can you flex it? Oh, good. Then it’s likely a bad sprain.” He wrapped the hot towel around the wound and Kurt watched him with eyes filling up again, so grateful he couldn’t speak.

“Thank you,” he managed at last. Adam looked at him, brow furrowing.

“You’re soaked. Can you take off your coat?” Kurt would’ve blushed, but no color rushed into his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get your furniture wet—“

“Nonsense. I just don’t want you to catch your death.” Kurt shed his soaking coat in an instant, and Adam took it away.

The sound of a snap made him jump, and he turned to look at a roaring fire which had certainly not been there before.

“Oh, you have an electric fire,” he said as Adam returned. Kurt thought the fireplace looked like wood-burning one, but you could make anything look like anything for the right amount of money.

Adam looked startled, and then chuckled as he stooped beside Kurt again. “That’s a relatively new addition. This house is historical, so the city of Lima can’t raze it. Not that anyone would care to, anyway—this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

“The middle of nowhere in the middle of nowhere,” Kurt murmured, and was pleased when Adam laughed. Adam had a nice laugh, and for the first time he noticed the taller man had an English accent. A little color did return to his face as Adam poured what smelled strongly of anti-septic into another cloth, and leaned forward to dab it on his face. It stung fiercely; he must be raked raw. “Sorry, sorry. Have to clean these.”

“Does it look bad?”

“What are you apologizing for? And yes, it really does, love. I’m sorry.”

“I can do it if you want.”

“No, pay no mind.” Adam applied a bandage to his cheek, cupping the other to hold Kurt’s face steady. He prayed the latter didn’t feel it burn.

Adam slowly withdrew, reaching for a glass on the table which was filled with something dark and pushed it into Kurt’s hands. Kurt took it at once, too distracted to remember that it had been empty seconds before.

“Now, drink this. It’ll warm you up.” He sat beside Kurt and looked at him expectantly. “Drink this and start from the beginning.

“Whom are you?” Kurt’s eyelashes brushed his cheekbones. He took a sip of the maroon contents a little and coughed at the dry tang of wine, which he’d seldom tasted.

“What’s happening? Who’s chasing you and why?”

“Kurt Hummel.”

Mind racing, Kurt hesitated out of sheer habit, and began.

“I came back from school to spend winter break at my home.” He said sadly, thinking of how worried his father must be at this point. He’d certainly broken curfew by now, and if Dave wouldn’t kill him, Burt would.

If Kurt could stand to tell him the truth. Burt might have another coronary then and there.

“It was snowing outside and so beautiful…it’s been a few years since I had a white Christmas, so I thought I’d go out for a walk on the nature trail a few miles away.” Several miles away by now. He would’ve frozen to death had Dave not got him, had Adam not saved him. Another rush of gratitude. “It got darker faster than I expected.” He closed his eyes, remembering the scene vividly as he’d headed towards his car. “I needed my phone to light my way back to the parking lot.” His fingers tightened in the sofa again. “But there was no one else there, no one but s-someone waiting for me.”

Kurt had to take a few deep breaths, and Adam put a consoling hand on his arm. Smiling wanly at him, Kurt went on:

“His name is Dave Karofsky.” The name felt like something acidic. “It’s because of him I had to change schools, he was—he—“Kurt fumbled. “In the parking lot, he asked me if I’d told anyone that he’d—“ He couldn’t say it. “And I said no. He said ‘Good,’ and then he drew a k-knife from his pocket. He said he was going to cut my tongue out for in-insurance. I ran because he was blocking my way to my car.”

Adam leaned close and Kurt felt like something contaminated. But Adam slipped a finger under his chin and made him look up. “Why was he hurting you?” He said, so gently it made Kurt want to cry again. “If you don’t mind my asking?”

This was dangerous, because Adam might throw him from the house any second, but he owed Adam the truth.

“Because I’m gay.” Kurt bit the inside of his mouth as Adam stared at him. “And I was out at school, and he wouldn’t let up on the bullying, until I confronted him.” He shook his head, so weary he could scarcely hold it up. “I confronted him, and he wound up k-kissing me.” He shrank from the memory, but it followed him. “I didn’t want it, I pushed him away, but he said he’d kill me if I told anyone.” A tear slipped down his face, and Adam thumbed it away, still watching him acutely.

“I didn’t. And I didn’t tell my dad…all of the truth, I couldn’t, he has a bad heart, but he tried to get Karofsky expelled. And failed. The school board took his side. So I just changed schools. Like I said, I came home for the holiday.” A lump rose to his throat again, threatening to burst. “And—“

Adam pulled him into a hug, a tight one, and Kurt squeezed back just as hard, burying his face against the other’s boy shoulder as Adam whispered to him. Kurt was too far away to understand much of it, other than that it was kind, comforting, and beautiful.

Adam pulled back, eyes overbright and with a tremulous smile of his own.

“You know,” He turned to look at the flames, expression inscrutable. “I’ve never met someone whom just…came out and said that before.” He gazed at Kurt again, expression wistful. “Certainly it’s not something I’ve managed yet.”

Kurt frowned, confused. “Come out and—“ His eyes widened. “You…”

Adam nodded, exhaled in a short puff. “Yes. Though I’ve never told my parents. It—“ Now it was Adam’s turn to struggle. “You already know, I’m certain, how hard it is.”

“…you can’t tell them? At all?”

“I never could. Not if I wanted to stay in this house.”

Kurt’s heart broke not for the first time tonight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Adam hesitated, and then slowly took Kurt’s cold hand in his own, squeezing it. Kurt squeezed back, feeling the tips of his ears burning. “Do you know for sure?” he couldn’t help but ask anxiously. Adam looked down at his lap. “That they wouldn’t…accept…”

“One hundred and ten percent,” Adam said offhandedly, though there was a slight tremor at the end. “My parents have made it perfectly clear to me what they think of homosexuals.”

“What’s that?”

“That they should be gassed.”

Profoundly disturbed, Kurt allowed his head to fall against Adam’s arm—under any other circumstance he would not be so forthwith coming, but he was so vulnerable at the moment he couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry again.”

“You really don’t need to apologize so much, dear.”

“Are they…are they here tonight?”

Adam looked at the flames writhing again, back at Kurt’s head pressed against his arm. “No. For better or for worse, it’s just you and I. They’re away…quite often.” He snorted near-inaudibly. “And I’m afraid they took the car with them.”

“When will they be back?” Kurt asked hesitantly. “And do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Something in Adam’s eyes flickered. “No siblings. My parents are actually out of the country right now.” Adam grinned weakly. “They’re on their own winter holiday, and I’m on mine. It’s peaceful enough here and I can do all the reading I like, but it’s felt like a very, very, very long holiday, mind you.”

“…I’m…”

Adam poked Kurt playfully on the nose. “I’m going to start charging you money every time you say that. I have enough food to last us through a nuclear holocaust and life in a post-apocalyptic society.”

That wasn’t very reassuring to Kurt. The sentiment must’ve registered on his face, because Adam added, “Even if they were on their way home as we speak, they certainly couldn’t get very far with all this snow. You were right; I’ve not seen so much in years.”

Suddenly Kurt remembered his own situation, and felt remarkably stupid for having briefly forgotten it. But he’d been so excited to meet another (sane) queer person, and had felt genuine pain for Adam’s situation. “Do you have a phone? I need…”

He was faced with the awful truth; Karofsky couldn’t be allowed to threaten anyone else. “I need to call the police. Or at the very least my dad, and let him know I’m okay.”

Adam’s face fell a little at that.

“I’m afraid…we do not. Have a telephone, I mean.”

Kurt’s mind wiped itself clean with a blinding-white panic.

“How do you…” he began, and the concept was so utterly alien to him he didn’t know what to say. “Your parents left you here alone without a phone? Not even a cell phone?”

“…I don’t have a cell phone. We did have a phone once, but it was disconnected. And no one ever really bothered to replace it.”

“But you have wii-fi,” Kurt heard himself say feebly. “And I can still send a message to the authorities via email—“

“I’m afraid not. I don’t have any of these things.”

This was so utterly unbelievable and ghastly Kurt didn’t want to believe him, but as Adam steadily held his gaze and looked so genuinely apologetic, he understood with no small amount of dread that Adam was telling the truth. He inhaled a sharp breath, which didn’t seem to reach his lungs…

“Kurt? Kurt, breathe.”

Adam put a steadying hand on Kurt’s back as the smaller boy’s chest started rapidly heaving up and down, spots looming in front of his vision. “Look at me.”

Horrified, he just barely managed to obey, and Adam shushed him. “Hold your breath. Hold—I know, I know, it’s hard, but it will be alright, hold, that’s good, hold, and slowly release. Very good. Another. And again. Remember, slowly. And a bit deeper than that, from your diaphragm. That’s good. You’ve done a fantastic job tonight, Kurt. Call it intuition, but I suspect anyone else in your situation would be dead by now. There we go. Have a bit more wine.”

Shakily Kurt obeyed again, profoundly relieved that someone else was more or less in charge for a change because he was on the verge of falling to pieces. Breathing unevenly, he took a small sip of wine, and then another, savoring the warm bloom in the pit of his stomach. “There really isn’t…you really don’t have wi-fi at all?”

Adam hesitated again, and then drew a wet strand of Kurt’s hair back. “No.”

“…any neighbors nearby whom do?”

“I’m afraid not, Kurt. This house was built by my granddad to be a summer home far, far away from his business partners at the logging firm he owned in Lima. Otherwise they were forever calling him for help and advice even when he was on holiday…I think that’s why my gran disconnected the phone to begin with. No one else has bothered building out here, and believe you me, I’ve searched.”

He got up and went to look out the window. Kurt wobbled as he stood again in alarm.

“What are you doing? Close them! He might see you!”

“Not in this snow, he won’t,” retorted Adam as he pulled back the curtain a bit more so that Kurt could see. The younger gawked, and wondered faintly if what he saw now was proof of the existence of a all-powerful, omniscient deity. Although whether or not said deity loved or hated him tonight remained yet to be seen.

Enormous, fat snowflakes, the kind that looked like they belonged in a snow globe, were tumbling from the heavens in torrents so quickly it looked like a white, sparkling blur at times. The wind was rising, whistling, and while Kurt’s spirits lifted slightly with the knowledge that an incoming blizzard might deter Karofsky from pursuing him, it would also strand Kurt here.

For whom knew how long.

He swayed. He was in the middle of the wilderness, with no phone, no internet, no neighbors, his car miles away and concealed near a forest no one was likely to visit anytime soon. Not in this weather. Only Adam’s soothing admonitions that he remember to breathe kept him from another full-scale panic attack. How many could he have in one night?

He closed his eyes, the full implications washing over him. He hadn’t told anyone where he had gone this evening. Karofsky certainly wouldn’t divulge that Kurt was missing because he’d tried to slash him open. His mind raced with panic; Burt’s heart would give out. And what would Finn and Carol do, if their brother and stepson never came home? Finn would call the Glee cavalry, that was certain, but again, Kurt had told no one he was, and certainly no one knew he was a tremendous distance away now. Even he didn’t know where he was.

And his swans…they’d been at the mall together just a few hours ago, laughing and catching up in the food court, tossing fries and blowing straw wrappers at each other. All they’d know was that he’d vanished off the face of the earth. Possibly for days, if what the morning’s forecast said was true.

It was a selfish thought, Kurt knew, but would Blaine even care that he was gone? He didn’t want to answer that one.

“Where’s my coat? I should go, while I have the chance.” he said faintly, opening his eyes again. “I…I have to make my way back, before it gets too bad…follow the tracks I left before they disappear tonight”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Adam said at once, letting the curtain fall again. “And sit back down, Kurt, you can barely stand.”

“I managed before.”

“Barely! It’s a wonder you escaped at all from that menace!”

“…do you have a snowblower? I’d accept a dog sled team at this point.”

Adam’s eyes told him before he’d finished speaking that it was hopeless. “It’s already looking terrible out, and I’m not about to let you go into a storm, hurt and with a maniac out for your blood.” Adam gave him a pitying look, but shook his head in a firm no. “I’m sorry, Kurt.”

Kurt knew Adam was right, but that didn’t stop him from nearly toppling to his ground like some stupid Victorian woman with the vapors and why did he feel so effing fragile tonight when he’d made it a point for so long to be strong? Even when he’d been physically sick in the mornings with fear over going to school, he’d hid it. Now he couldn’t stop feeling as weak as if there’d never be anything again.

The back of his knees hit the couch and he fell back upon it, burying his face in his hands. It didn’t seem like such a bad trade-off for not being killed, but snowbound. He was snowbound, for goodness knew how long. Christmas was in three days, and this was the first one he would spend with a brother. Would’ve. His mind swiftly attacked the thought.

It was very possible that he wouldn’t survive in any case. Not if Dave found them…

A second later Adam was standing in front of him again, thumbing away the fresh wave of tears. “Whatever it might mean from someone you’ve never met—I won’t allow him in, and I certainly won’t let him harm you.”

Adam pulled him into an embrace and allowed Kurt to cry heartily into his shoulder.

#kadam week 2017 #kadam fanfic #kadam #kurt hummel #adam crawford

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writerly-blonde · 7 years

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Care to Dance?

Summary: A Cinderella (ish) au. After meeting a man known as Chat Noir and who only knows Marinette as Ladybug at Gabriel Agreste's fashion masquerade, a strange friendship is formed. Against all odds, they decide to meet each other the night after. With their secret identities and extremely different lives, they make a strange pair atop of the roofs of Paris.

Side note: This is inspired heavily by the artwork done by @eicinic! Here XXX Please give it some love :)

Link to AO3

This is going to be a multi chapter fic. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Like A Dream

The night air trails its fingers down Marinette’s bare arm. She gasps at the sudden cold. For a moment, she’s briefly tempted to go back into her bedroom and crawl back under the covers. In the same second, she pushes the thought away. She’ll be late if she doesn’t leave soon.

“Are you ready Mari?” Tikki asks from beside. They stare out at the city together. At the endless rooftops dancing with lights.

Marinette takes one look at Tikki’s kind eyes and nods. “As ready as ever. Do I look okay?”? Do I look tacky? is what she really wanted to ask. She runs a hand over the dotted red sash at her hip, pausing at the small compact at her hip. A clock and a constant reminder to be back home before anyone notices that she’s gone.

“Of course you do.” Tikki studies her. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you? I spent so long getting your accessories right!”

Marinette shakes her head, sparing a moment to wrap Tikki into a hug. “No. No, I love it. I’m just worried.”

Tikki hugs her back, but only for a second. When she pulls away, she smiles in that sisterly motherly fashion that only she can pull off. “Don’t be. You’ll be fan-oh!”

One second, Marinette is smiling at a wide eyed Tikki and the next, she’s looking at empty air. Tikki bolts across the room. Nearly leaping over the bed, she reaches the closet and throws open the door. The light thud it makes as it hits the wall has Marinette glancing at the door.

“Tikki!” She whispers. “You’ll wake them up!”

She can barely see Tikki’s shoulders rise and fall in a careless shrug as she whisper calls back, “When do they ever wake up?”

Marinette shakes her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be the good one here?”

Tikki ignores her. With a slight gasp, she straightens up and rushes back. She nearly knocks Marinette off the balcony in her haste. “Here! You can’t forget this!”

She shoves a small mask into Marinette’s hands. The soft fabric rubs against Marinette’s fingers, like a smooth caress. Even though it had only been last night that she donned it, it feels like a lifetime ago. Something that happened to someone else entirely. She pushes it up onto her face, feeling it hug her features. One of Tikki’s small miracles; the mask fits perfectly. Tikki hadn’t told her where she’d gotten it.

“Marinette, go. You’ll be late.” Tikki lays a hand on Marinette’s shoulder, leaning her cheek on her knuckles. “Your young man will be waiting.”

Marinette flushed a deep red. “He’s not my young man.”

Tikki raises an eyebrow before shrugging, all at once dismissing the conversation and promising to bring it back up later. Marinette can’t bring herself to be annoyed. Tikki and Alya can be so alike at times. Instead, she pulls Tikki into one last hug.

“You’ll get home safe?”

Tikki chuckles in her ear. “I’ll probably stay out a bit longer but yes.”

Marinette grins. The rooftops are Tikki’s favorite place to be; it’s difficult to imagine her anywhere else. It’s one of the first things that brought them together; that love for the wind atop the buildings, the lights spiraling into the night, the freedom coating your skin. For Marinette, it’s a wonderful release. For Tikki, it’s embedded in who she is.

“You and your city,” Marinette says as she pulls away.

“You and your Chat Noir.” Tikki winks. Before Marinette can sputter a reply, Tikki gives her a light shove towards the railing. “Now go. Quickly.”

Marinette shoots her a bright grin. Tikki returns it before she jumps the railing and leaps onto the roof across from them, moving from one to another until she’s merely a dark silhouette blending into the night sky.

Marinette takes a breath and jumps the railing, heading in the other direction. Her heart hammers in her chest as she imagines what waits for her by the Eiffel Tower. Even the wind in her hair can’t calm her jittery nerves. The fact that she’s not comforted by the run tells her entirely too much.

She shakes her head. I’ll be fine. It’s just Chat Noir. Her lips quirk at the name, its novelty still fresh. As she runs, she can’t help but let her thoughts wander. Is he waiting for her? Does he think that she won’t come? Or will she be early and watch as he just appears, like he had last night?

The dance is still fresh in her memory; pulling at her thoughts like an insistent, out-of-reach dream. And as she dashes across the roofs, she wonders how long she’ll be chasing it.

Marinette had pulled at the sleeves of her dress. Stared wide eyed at the festive Agreste mansion, a sight she never thought she would see. Her heart thundered in her neck. Thrumming until she felt it everywhere. There was no way she was going to get in.

“Miss? Can I see an invitation?”

No. Marinette paled. Reached up to adjust her mask as if it could hide her panic. She had known this was coming. She was ready. She straightened her shoulders, and hid her shaking hands behind her back. “Do you not know who I am?”

The greeter merely blinked at her. Dear god, what was she doing? What if someone recognized her? Even with the mask and the ridiculous costume and the stupid dance theme and the masquerade and damn Mr. Agreste for even putting this together, she had no place here.

Her thoughts continued to spiral until the greeter cleared his throat. “Erm, I am sorry miss, but I still need to see an invitation.”

Marinette’s nail dug into her handbag. “I must’ve left it ins-”

“There you are!” A new voice called from the doorway. They both looked up to see a lean man jogging through the doorway. His hair caught the light behind him, lighting it up like a tilted halo.

Marinette paled for an entirely different reason as he stepped close enough to make out his features. Then, just as quickly, she flushed. Black cat ears jostled on top of his head, pairing perfectly with his clean cut suit and simple black mask. Much more elegant than her tacky polka dotted dress and mask. What was she thinking?

The man, a teenager really, looped his arm through hers, and whatever excuse she was about to make died on her tongue. He was much too warm and that warmth was spreading up her arm to the rest of her body, fighting off the chilly night air.

“Thought you got lost out here.” He grinned at her, and winked. Play along. So, she forced herself to relax as he turned back to the greeter. “Thank you for your dutiful service, but you wouldn’t mind if we went back in, do you?”

The greeter, for some odd reason, turned white. Seemingly unable to form words, he nodded, eyes pinned on the man. Before Marinette could fully comprehend that the strange boy had saved her, she was whisked into the hall. Straight into the heart of the fashion dynasty masquerade. The teen pushed them through the crowd, sending polite grins at anyone and everyone who glanced at them. Marinette allowed herself to be pulled along, her gaze roving each and every face she had ever idolized.

The masquerade had been a who’s who of the fashion world. And in it, a challenge. A tacky theme, an overdone theme, of mirroring animalistic characteristics, and actually making it work in elegant pieces of fashion.

Everyone who had showed up had done such a good job that Marinette’s jaw dropped. She wanted nothing more than to inspect the seemingly invisible stitches, and take a peek into their designs and compare them with the finished product. Before her outstretched fingers could actually snag a passing dress however, the teen pulled her away.

He rushed them in a separate balcony, a ways away from the main ballroom. A curtain hung, tethered, by the wall, offering a chance of privacy. The teen took it and with a single flick of his wrist, he had closed them in. The music from inside thumped, now muffled by the thick fabric.

As soon as they were alone, he stepped away from Marinette in one smooth movement. Clasped his hands behind his back in a picture of perfect politeness. Marinette finally snapped her jaw shut. She should have a thousand questions. So many that she shouldn’t even be able to think straight. Instead, all she thought was, I was just saved by a boy wearing cat ears. And she burst into laughter. The teen blinked. Once. Twice. Before a giggle crept up his own throat. Soon, the two of them were laughing as if in an improv club, and only one was privy to the joke.

Perhaps it was the relief that they had been close to being caught, perhaps it was the teens' relief that it had worked, or perhaps it was just because the two of them had no idea who the other was and they could be as weird as they want, joke told aloud or not. Regardless, it took them several minutes to calm down. By the time Marinette had regained her breath, she flashed a merry grin at the teen. Pleasant surprise flashed in his eyes as he flashed one back. The two of them leaned against the railing.

“So," the teen began, "..can I ask your name?”

Her joy flickered. She wasn’t supposed to be here. What if someone found out? Oh God, what if Gabriel Agreste found out!? She struggled to keep her calm. “Maybe it would best to keep that to myself, considering I don’t have an invitation.”

“Pretty bold move, I have to admit.”

She darted a grin in his direction, full of playfulness. “Thankfully someone was there to give me a way out.”

He glanced at her sidelong, eyes dancing. “I’d consider it a way in.”

Marinette lifted her shoulders. Same difference. They glanced back out at the garden and before it could awkward, the teen spoke again.

“Call me Chat Noir.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. Her gaze snagged on his cat ears. Perhaps that isn’t such a bad idea. She gestured down at her dress. “Ladybug.”

The teen, Chat Noir, grinned, wild and roguish and full of mischief. He held out his hand and shook hers.

“It’s nice to meet you Ladybug.”

Now, Marinette hops the last building. She can still feel his arm through hers, his hand in hers, the sound of his laugh in her ear. She shakes herself off and glances around the city. Last night is miles and miles away, in the past. Perhaps it should stay there. Perhaps it would be best if Marinette goes home, hides the mask, and just keeps the memories close to her heart. Perhaps that would be better, safer. But her feet carry her farther forward, until she’s climbing the last wall before where they’re supposed to meet.

Her heart clenches in her chest as she pushes herself up over it and glances down at the roof. Empty. Her arms shake beneath her, threatening to let her fall. In a simple movement, she pulls herself up so that she’s perched atop the wall. Looking down at a barren roof. He’s late. Or he’s not coming. Marinette shakes her head, refusing to believe that. No. If there’s one thing she learned last night, it’s that he’s as curious as she is. If she couldn’t pass up this opportunity, he couldn’t either. She forces herself to breathe. Why she’s so nervous is beyond her.

Actually, it’s not. She wrings her fingers in her lap. She knows exactly why she’s nervous. Last night doesn’t feel real. Fantasy meeting reality is hardly a thing that ends well. Only one thing is certain. She can’t stay up here on the wall forever. Marinette sucks in a deep breath. Tightens the red ribbons at her hair and jumps off the wall. She half skids, half runs onto the roof and leaps onto the building. Unlike the sloping or flat roofs of most houses, this one settles in. Like the top of a warehouse building. A small wall lies a couple feet in front of her, separating the two businesses. Around her lie scattered boxes. Products someone forgot to bring in for the night.

Marinette fiddles with the clock at her hip. 12:13 AM. Well, it looks like they were both late. A smile tugs at Marinette’s lips as a faint breeze lifts a few strands of her hair away from her face.

“My Lady?”

Marinette whips around so fast that she nearly trips over her own feet. On the other side of the wall, Chat Noir steps out of the shadows. His lips curled up in a wide, laughing smile, his eyes wide in surprised delight. He’s no longer in his suit, but Marinette possibly likes him even more in the simple jeans, button up shirt, and suspenders. The cat ears and mask stayed, as per their agreement.

A sigh breaks past her lips. "Chat Noir."

Despite that everything dictates that they should be awkward, they should be uncomfortable, nervous, they instead grin at each other, delighted. And for one ridiculous moment, they both think the same thing:

You’re real.

#miraculous ladybug #my work #my writing #marinette dupain cheng #ladynoir #adrinette #adrien agreste #chat noir #tikki #plagg #human! tikki #human! plagg #cinderella au

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theunholygrails · 7 years

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Brace for Impact

If the BAU team is busy catching bad guys, who is flying the plane? And how does this pilot fit into the dynamic? Reid seems to want to fit her a little closer to his heart. Oneshot with just some fluff and feelings. No warnings! Unless his beautiful eyes physically pain you like they do with me.

Inspired by this wonderful post!

Masterlist

With a groan that bled into a curse, Dai rolled from her bed to answer the call of nature. The trail of unseemly words came when she registered another call, two in fact, both from Aaron Hotchner.

She hit redial while she danced around the room to find a clean jumpsuit for use. The one she eventually located under her pile of CD’s had an oil stain on the shoulder, so she settled for tying the sleeves around her waist and letting that server as a belt to the baggy bottoms. The BAU team would have to deal with her disheveled state, though the messy haired boy she had her eye on often appeared looking like he had rolled right out his adorable goddamn bed.

“Enjoy your sleep?” Agent Hotchner answered.

“Sorry sir. What’s the departure time? I can be out the door in five if I skip breakfast and transforming my face into something resembling a human.”

“That was all in the messages I left for you.”

Dai scowled at her phone while she stuffed her feet into bulky boots and combed her fingers through her manageable pixie cut. “Sorry sir.” She located her badge.

He sighed and in the break she heard the voices of other members of his team: Morgan complaining about his hair, none of which he head, and Prentiss informing him of such. The team she carted around on a weekly basis to wherever their cases needed them were childish on good days, but entertainment for the long flights at least. No sign of Reid, which she counted as a blessing since she could only resist his slow sweet smile for so long.

“Put on your emergency lights. Get here in ten minutes.”

With keys in hand and her phone in the other, Dai was dashing for the front door of her apartment in the dark.

Her apartment was a good thirty minutes from the private runway with traffic. Luckily, at 0300 and with her flashers warning other cars to stay away, she made it there before her superior’s deadline passed by. She threw the car in park and jogged over to the waiting plane. The back of her white tank was soaked through with sweat from the sticky summer heat and her haste.

Three people waited in the light emitted from the open stairs to the plane. Hotchner greeted her with only a frown and a nod. Morgan, who always waited until the last minute to enter the confined space offered a wink at least. At least they both looked as dead as she felt.

Then there was Platt, her copilot, a woman who seemed to run purely on the cowering of those around her. Her brow was set in low this morning and her red curls spiraled out in a halo of fire. With her khaki jumpsuit zipped up to her wrinkled and hairy chin, she looked ready to storm whatever beach was asked of her.

“And here I was hoping for a decent trip,” the woman clipped with a pointed look at Dai.

Dai coaxed a diplomatic smile onto her lips. “Got everything ready for me?” Simple, nonaggressive, authoritative. She mentally congratulated herself on handling the situation like a true professional, just like her instructors taught.

Platt hesitated, very unlike her usual cutting repartee. “And waiting,” she finally said.

“Great. Everyone get loaded up. Let’s take off.”

She took the steps onto the plane two at a time and ducked to enter the passenger room. Rossi sat at the table passing papers back and forth with JJ as they prepared for their next case. Prentiss was on the phone with someone who made her pencil threaten to snap between her fingers. Reid stretched out on the couch, blowing the steam off a coffee mug and tapping his fingers against his eyeglasses. His long legs were clad in sweats and a knitted sweater covered his torso.

“Sexy pajamas, kid.” Morgan sat on his feet with a flop. “That like the nerdy version of lingerie?”

Reid ignored him and spun to face the pilot with his hands offering up the freshly brewed coffee as if it were the holy grail itself. For Dai it might as well have been. She raised it to her lips, nursing the burning liquid with vigor to hide the fact that her heart was performing a full on ballet in her chest.

“Have I told you, you’re my favorite lately?”

“Not since last week when I stayed to help you make repairs. Can I talk to you?”

“When we level out. Hotch is ready to skin my ass. Thanks though, bud.” She added the last bit for her own benefit.

She walked towards the front, weaving around the sprawl of feet and luggage in the aisle. This crew did not understand the meaning of tripping hazards.

“Right. Bud.” Reid clapped his hands and rubbed them together, falling back into the spot he’d vacated. He watched as Dai keyed into the cockpit like he might study a textbook. She threw a casual wave back at him before entering the well-lit room with so many colored buttons it often reminded her of Christmas lightings.

Felicity Platt wandered in to occupy the spare seat and set to methodically throwing them down the runway. Fast, just like Dai liked it. The hum of the engines beneath her was enough to convince her that the sky was all she needed, not the doctor, definitely not the doctor. With the clouds whizzing past them, she was wide awake. Combined with the coffee from a certain special agent, damn, there was no escaping the man.

Platt was quiet at least, Dai could appreciate that about the woman. It was a good hour into their flight before the wind stopped pitching a fit and Dai could let herself relax as the cruising altitude took over. She had just sat back in her chair when an emergency light flickered to life along with a screaming complaint from the control panel.

“You got this,” Platt said. “It’s a simple electrical shortage.”

“You could always volunteer to crawl down there,” Dai grumbled, but got to her feet anyway.

“I did my time when I was young. Now I’ve got bad knees and an excuse to fly solo.”

“Oh, come on. I wasn’t even bothering you.” Dai strapped her tool belt on along with sliding her headset around her neck. “Want me to keep you company over the channel?” she offered with a sweet smile.

“Only if you’re bleeding out.”

The younger woman blew her co a kiss and sauntered out of into the little kitchen area between the passenger section and the cockpit. The grey curtain was drawn and swung in time with the gentle lulls of the plane. She dropped to a knee, digging up the handle hidden in the carpet that led down to the series of wires and gears that connected the control panel to the rest of the hunk of machine they flew around. She slid into the narrow space, groaning when the air condition did not reach below floor level to chase the heat of the electronics.

She was just reaching for a section of fraying wire when a voice nearly made her crack her head against the wall.

“Something broken?” Spencer Reid spoke from behind her.

She whirled, brandishing her screwdriver like a weapon. He held his hands up, palms facing her. “Did you know that only 1 in almost 30 million people will die in plane related accidents? That’s significantly less than car wrecks. You have a greater chance of being struck by lightning.”

“Well, I’m trying to keep us from adding to your stats,” she said, turning back to her work. “It’s just a shortage to the panel. Have to be able to hear my girl talking to me in order to land her.” She clipped the frayed portion of wire free and began to twist the two ends back together.

“Virtually no accidents exist because of faulty wiring unlike popular belief. Planes are regularly inspected and its pilots are trained in knowing them more intimately than even…”

Dai tore a piece of tape with her teeth, cutting him off with a slice upwards of her dark eyes. She nodded at him to join her and the heat from the tight space danced into his cheeks, settling with an endearing red color.

“I don’t actually know enough to help you,” he stammered.

“Just need you to hold the wire while I wrap this tape to hold it steady until we can get an actual mechanic to replace it when we land.”

“What would you normally do, if I weren’t here?” he stalled.

“Call Platt. Believe it or not I have spent enough quality time with her today. Come on you big baby. It’ll only take a second and the lives of everyone on board are counting on it.”

He sighed and began to ease himself down. She put a hand on his hip to stabilize him and grinned when he stood all but painted on to her front. “Hey there. Not so bad, hu? I’m gonna turn around. There’s not really room width-wise, so you just stay there and reach around me to hold the wire tight, ok?”

“I can do that,” he mumbled. His long hair cast shadows onto his face so she could not read the expression to match his unusually tight voice.

She twisted her way back around, but could not quite seem to get every portion of her attention on the task. Her hands stabilized the plane, but her mind wandered to just how close Reid was.

His lean frame pressed against her back leaving no nook a mystery. His breath fanned over her neck in unsteady bursts and hers began to mimic the erratic pattern. His arms encased her like a safe cocoon--just doing the job she asked of him, she reminded herself. Her breath flew away as she finished her work. She knew planes, not people, but she still chided herself for being so ignorant. He was not her friend; this was something more.

“You wanted to talk to me?” she whispered.

His nose brushed against her cheek sending trills down her spine. “I’m having trouble remembering what I planned to say, to be completely honest. Did you know that the human heart actually relays a quickened blood flow to the brain and releases chemicals that interact with that of the people around you?”

“I think that’s called a mutual attraction,” Dai spun in his grasp, resting her hands on his chest.

He swallowed thickly, hands settling like ghosts against her lower back. There was a moment where he had no words. Where his eyes spoke more than he ever could. Then, he licked his lips slowly and said, “Is that what’s happening here?”

“That’s a hell of a way to ask if I like you.” She laughed lightly in an attempt to diffuse the tension building between them. Only one thing could do that, however, and Reid knew just the way to do it.

His hands were in her hair, his heartbeat thundering away along with her own. “Do you?” his voice was so small, his actions so timid. This was the hard bit; her answer was easy.

She leaned up to press her mouth against his. He returned it with a relieved laugh on his lips. She let those lips work over hers, molding together like they may never part again. Her hands roamed his body, untucking his shirt to get at the skin simmering beneath. It was not enough. She was breathless and wanting and trembling from the delicate way the profiler cupped her face. She was prepared to request more, to demand it of him and those generous lips that offered her kiss after devastating kiss.

A scratch of static from her headset gave little warning before the voice of Platt jarred them apart, causing her to ram her elbow against a particularly nasty corner of metal. “Readings are coming through.” Dai heard something about Reid and coming as she cradled her sore elbow.

Reid glanced at his watch, wiped a hand down his slack face. “I suppose it’s best. We should be arriving shortly. She’s gonna need you.”

He climbed out, leaving her to chase her lost breath in the little room. Finally, she heaved herself out, joining Reid in his position sitting with his legs dangling down into the hole. He was even more flushed than when they began and his disheveled clothing would be a dead giveaway should anyone choose now to interrupt.

“Spencer,” she said. He didn’t glance up from his knotted hands. “I…”

Platt busted out of the cockpit, nearly taking off Reid’s kneecaps she swung the door with such force. “Why are you covered in grease, doctor? She send you down there to do her dirty work? I told you not to take advantage of the little ones, Wu. You gonna make him land this damn plane too?”

Dai rolled her eyes around, pushing her still tingling legs beneath her. Dirty work, indeed. As she reluctantly returned to her seat, Platt closed and locked the door. The younger woman began turning dials and punching buttons to initiate their descent. It was smooth and almost boring with their panel once again functioning adequately. The team was hovering at the door almost before the wheels ground to a halt.

When the engine finally quieted, Dai was prying off her headset and hurrying down the steps to catch Reid before he disappeared inside the investigation. Instead she nearly tackled Hotch who waited for her at the last stair with two sets of keys in his hands.

“Somewhere more important to be, captain?” he asked.

“Just…um, no sir. Those the hotel keys?”

“One hotel key. One rental car key. Turns out there’s some parade in town this weekend, which not only makes finding this bastard kidnapping little boys harder, but also puts us at half the number of rooms we need.”

“So we’re bunking up?”

Platt thunked down to join the chat. “I’m not rooming with this night owl again? She kept the lights on until the unholy hour of 2200 last time. Then was moving before the sun got its lazy ass up. You got a partner, agent Hotchner?” She ran her eyes up and down his sturdy frame, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully.

Hotch faltered for a moment before reeling his composure back in. “Unfortunately, Felicity, agent Rossi has already requested me since we likely spend the night doing research. I know JJ and Prentiss are together, but I do believe Morgan requested, ‘Anyone but Reid.’ Maybe try him.”

Platt was marching off to claim the tight-assed man, leaving Dai alone with a still recovering Hotch. “You okay with the kid?” he asked, placing both sets of keys into her gloved hand. She smiled to herself and for him. “Of course, sir.”

***

The waiting was the worst part on a normal day. Hotels were stock full of amenities, but she always worried the team would come back one member short. Today, even the burn of the treadmill could not seem to distract her from the memory of burning lips pressed against hers. Platt grunted away on the bench under the weight of what looked like at least three times Dai’s weight. The dark haired woman jumped down and grabbed one of the towels provided for the exercise room, wiping it down her face.

“Your room is right next to mine,” Platt called as Dai ducked over the water fountain.

“You gonna miss me or something?”

“I just don’t want to be woken up by any sounds through the wall.”

“Why would…” Platt raised her bushy eyebrows and Dai grinned at her. “No promises.”

She went to her room to shower and change and collapse in the bed closest to the door while the clock ticked closer and closer to the next day. She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, Reid was on the parallel bed hunched over a laptop and smelling of the fruity hotel soap. She rolled to her side, blinking in the lamp light, studying the way his sweatpants and t shirt hung off his frame. Her heart seemed to be taking up acrobatics in her chest with the way he tucked his long brown curls behind his ears.

“Give me a minute and I’ll cut the lights out,” he murmured.

“You catch him?” she asked through a yawn that she tried to suffocate against the mountain of pillows.

“Yeah. Saved the kid too.”

“Then what the hell are you researching?”

“This hive of bees in South Africa, which are the only known species other than humans to kill for fun. Did you know that they also…”

She was on her feet, closing his laptop. “Bees, hu?” She took the place of the laptop on his sprawled legs, letting her eyelashes flutter just so. “No birds?”

“Very funny. I was not watching porn. Reading relaxes me before bed. Admittedly I’m tenser than I should be after a solved case.”

She hummed in agreement, carving her fingers through his still damp hair so that her eyes could trace along the sharp angles of his face. “I do like you Spencer,” she said.

“I gathered,” he murmured. “And now we’re alone in a hotel room together and you’re sitting on me and I would really like to kiss you again, but if you don’t want me to that’s fine.”

Her fingers collected under his chin as she dipped down to capture those parted, waiting lips. He exhaled against her, gathering her up like she was his next thousand breaths.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmured tracing beneath her eyes.

“Who needs sleep when I’ve got you? Or I could just sleep in your bed?”

“Most humans, actually. 7-9 hours is the normal range to continue functioning adequately.Oh, you’re offering to sleep together, or side by side, rather. Are you sure? I tend to move a lot in my sleep.”

Her sigh was pressed against his forehead in a tender kiss. “Get under the sheets,” she murmured.

He did so and she followed, cutting the light so they could be alone in the dark. His knee bumped her shin as he adjusted. He blurted out a hasty apology before rolling onto his back and stretching his arms up under his head. That lasted all of five minutes before he turned over again, facing away from her in frustration. “Sorry,” he said again.

Dai shifted closer, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her face into his shoulder. “You’re all good.”

His steady breathing against her chest sent her spiraling towards dream world within moments. While she her skin was flushed, his was cool where she touched it. She found herself in a state of utter tranquility. The happy place where a psychologist would tell you to go before therapy; this was it. Half asleep, she was vaguely aware of him turning in her grasp yet again. Now she was faced with his chest and an apology muttered into her hair. She shushed him, draping her leg over his hip to drag him down into the depths of serenity with her.

Her heart was fluttering its wings with contentment; this was a flight she was more than willing to let run its own course.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid preference #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds preference #criminal minds headcanon #spencer reid imagine

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