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bruhlsbees · 3 years

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paradox burning ; 1/5 || ernst schmidt x fem!reader

summary: after the fight between volkov and schmidt, you comfort schmidt in his quarters

pairing: ernst schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: over the clothes touching

word count: 4,666

taglist: @itsametaphorbriansblog

a/n: if you haven't read the preview i would suggest reading that first to understand the vibe of their relationship better!! chapter two will be up tonight!! just wanted to get this out as i've been lacking content these past few days since i've been celebrating my birthday. hope you enjoy and as always if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

“TAD throttle control, 8636. Line secure.”

Mother Mary be with us...be with Mama and Papa and sissy and Joe.

“Accelerator system status?”

Father give us the strength today, for we have dove into the depths of space to restore humanity as we know it.

“It’s holding for pre-ignition.”

Look after everyone down below on Earth - for times are dark and the sun does not appear to be rising anymore.

“Shepard team, you are go for countdown.”

I pray that you forgive all of our sins, Father, as we have learned our lessons and strive to move forward in honoring thy.

“We’ve all got our fingers crossed here at Mission Control. Let’s make this first one count.”

And help guide us through these troubling times and help everyone remember why we are up here.

“Status boosters?”

Is this Hell, Father?

“Go.”

Have you damned us all to Hell?

“The GNC?”

To pay for our sins?

“Go.”

Tell me, Father...

“Power up.”

Are we damned?

“Commander, Shepard team standing by for your go.”

Perhaps we are and this is where are days will end.

“On my count…”

Among strangers and empty.

“Three…”

Away from family...

“Two…”

Away from friends…

“One…”

Alone in our own thoughts.

“Mark.”

God, help us all.

TWO YEARS LATER

You awoke with a start. Gasping for air as you tugged at your tank top, as if the thin material was suffocating you. Not giving yourself time to process what had happened, you threw your legs out from under the warm covers and let the cool air hit your bare legs, your elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands, catching your breath.

This was the second week in a row now that you’ve woken up from a nightmare. Drenched in sweat and tears spilling from your eyes. It was always a reimagine of the previous one. If you dreamt of your father dying one night, the next it would be your mother. This night, it was your own life that you dreamt slipping away. Your finger pads swiped away the tears that fell down your cheeks before sliding onto the cool flooring, clasping your hands together to begin and pray.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…” You began, crossing yourself as you settled on your knees, eyes closed and hands squeezed together tight. “Heavenly Father I ask that you watch over Mama and Papa...sissy and Joesph, and all those back home,” You cleared your throat, choking down the tears as you continued on once more. “We have been onboard for over two years and I miss everyone dearly. I hope to speak with them soon as Joesph is teaching Mama and Papa how to use video call.”

Even with all the photos that you had around your room, all the videos that you had programmed in to watch whenever you pleased, you were beginning to forget simple things - like how they smelled, the warmth of their hugs, and how they always tried to pawn your younger siblings onto you. You were always so mad babysitting them, losing out on time with your friends, but now...now you wished that you had the chance to babysit them, to be with them once again.

“Father, I ask that you forgive me for my sins, guide us through this mission, and take us home. All of us. Let this mission go well, and we can save Earth. Amen.”

You crossed yourself a final time, bringing your cross necklace from your chest where it sat and to your lips, kissing the gold piece of jewelry before standing up from the floor.

This was an everyday routine for you. Waking up, saying your morning prayer, taking a shower, and being down for breakfast by 08:00. It was early, you knew that, but you enjoyed having the calmer moments before everyone else woke up.

When you entered the bathroom, you went straight to the shower, turning the handle to let the warm water spute out. You were tired, swaying gently in your stance as your eyes grew heavy. The sudden spitting of water struggling to get out woke up, making you jump as you watched the water pressure went from weak to strong.

You pushed down your shorts from that night, pulling your tank top above you, and stepped out of your shorts, dropping the tank top on the floor before stepping into the shower. You were pleasantly greeted by the hot water, sighing as it hit your back and began easing the tension in your muscles.

Morning showers for you were always dangerous - either it could go very well and you’d be out in minutes, or it could go bad and you’d end up falling asleep leaning against the wall. On this particular morning, after dreaming of your own death, you did not wish to fall asleep again, scared of what could come from your slumber. You quickly washed yourself off, massaging your scalp as you washed your hair before taking the toothbrush you kept in the shower, opening up the tube of toothpaste, and began brushing your teeth.

It was such a mundane routine - almost finding it boring the longer you were onboard. Perhaps it was your schedule that was down to the second of when you did things. You never were one to be so particular about your schedule, having one so precise, but after a year of pure chaos on board, a mundane routine is what kept your little sanity still hanging.

When you were finally ready for the day and changed into your suit, you slid on your shoes and pulled your hair back into a low bun, tucking some of the loose pieces of hair behind your ear before heading out of your room and down the hall, going towards the common room to join the others for breakfast.

By the time you made it down to the common room, you were only the third to arrive - Mundy and Acosta beating you to it.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up!”

From your spot at the bagel machine, you looked over into the game room where Mundy and Acosta stood playing foosball, Mundy looking all too proud - indicating that he perhaps was winning. On the other hand, Acosta looked tired, almost too tired to be playing a game of foosball so early with Mundy.

Letting out a laugh, you shook your head and turned your attention back to the bagel, sighing once it finished before pulling it out from the machine and placing it on your plate. You truly didn’t understand how half the stuff you consumed was edible, but you supposed it beat other things you’ve seen those in space eat.

Taking a seat in your spot at the table, your back facing Mundy and Acosta, you brought the bagel to your mouth and took a bite, maybe a little bigger than what was more polite, but you didn’t care, you were starving.

It was the Commander who came in next, greeting everyone with a morning as he got his own breakfast before sitting across from you at the other end of the table. When the two of you locked eyes, you nodded, continuing to chew your bagel before looking down, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that you had a shit night.

You were pleased when Commander didn’t seem to notice, glancing occasionally into the lounge room where Mundy and Acosta continued to play foosball, Acosta finally gaining the upper hand on Mundy for once.

One by one the rest of the crew began to show: Volkov, Tam, Schmidt, before eventually Hamilton joined as well. When Schmidt came in, walking beside Tam speaking in Mandarian about what you assumed to be something related to the Shepard power accelerator. As the two sat down with their breakfast, Schmidt looked over your way, his mouth twitching into a smile before his attention fell back to the screen pad in front of him that Tam was holding.

You listened in on their conversation, picking out what you could understand through the technical language the two spoke on. As a medical crewman, you weren’t familiar with all of the technology onboard, only the ones related to the medbay that you primarily worked in. You went to school for medicine, exceeding expectations in your classes, and found yourself working for military hospitals since. It came as a surprise to you when they asked if you’d like to be a part of the Cloverfield station. What business did you have going up in space?

When you told your family about the news, they were proud, no doubt, that their eldest child would be going into space to directly help with the ongoing energy crisis. It was evident how proud they were of you, but also how worried with you going into space. You lived with your parents and younger siblings your entire life, leading up until your departure for the Cloverfield station. Separating from your family was hard, and having them not understand how to work even something as simple as a video call hurt more.

Your sister, Mila, would be sixteen now - learning how to drive and preparing for her final days in school before going into higher education, if that’s what she wanted. Your brother, Joseph, would be twenty-three now, doing who knows what with his young man mind. You hoped he wasn’t getting into trouble, or knocking some girl up...although the idea of having a little niece or nephew to come home to didn’t sound all that bad.

But your parents, how were they doing? They were older, growing slower as the days went on. Were they still making it through all of this? You assumed Papa was still running the family shop downstairs, selling candies to the little children of Lapovo - whatever children were left in Lapovo that is.

Mama though, how was she doing? You couldn’t imagine how worried she was, probably baking her troubles away in the kitchen. You missed waking up to her cooking, smelling the sweetness of baklava and sarma. She always wrote you letters while you were away either at school or on the military base that was outside of Lapovo where you worked. Now that you were in space though, sending letters just didn’t happen.

Perhaps tonight you’d try and see if Joseph was online and able to chat.

Everything had been going peaceful that morning, which you enjoyed after the sleep you poorly had. That is until Volkov finally spoke up.

“Six hundred and ninety-four.”

Looking up from your bagel and to your left where he was at, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as Volkov screwed the water bottle back closed, making his way over to the table to join the rest of you.

“Six hundred and ninety-four days I’ve kept our O2, CO2, N2, hydrogen, water vapor and methane at optimal levels.”

Congrats, what did he want, a fucking cookie?

You watched as Volkov stood on the other side of the table in front of Schmidt, almost directly talking to him. There was always something going on between the two of them, and quite frankly it annoyed the living shit out of you. You felt like a mother some days, scolding Schmidt for clearly egging Volkov on - him and his damn anger issues.

It was no different today, as Volkov began his tangent on whatever it was he was about to lay into you all, Schmidt was sitting across from him, a smirk on his face.

“You know how many pressure leaks we’ve had? Not one. No microbe overgrowth, nothing. You know why?”

“This is a long speech, Volkov.” Schmidt quipped, reacting in you rolling your eyes and pushing your plate forward, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest, wondering where this would be leading to next.

“Because I disinfect the decks every seventy-two hours.” It was Acosta to interrupt Volkov this time, stating that he was actually the ones to disinfect the decks. He was right, you couldn’t remember how many days you spent helping him, on your knees scrubbing at the decks.

It seemed finally everyone was growing annoyed with whatever Volkov was getting at, Commander Kiel finally stepping in and stating that if he had a point he wanted to make, he should make it now.

“There’s one part of this station. One part that is not working. This is interesting, do you know what part that is? The Sheppard Accelerator.” Volkov continued, not seeming to be in any rush to get out what he wanted to say.

In Mandarian, Tam finally intervened, claiming that eight billion were counting on us and asked what his point was. You could agree, what was this all about?

It was then that Volkov stated that he didn’t have a problem with Tam, but with Schmidt - ‘her German boyfriend’. You couldn’t help but snicker at the comment, clearing your throat just as quick, hoping nobody heard. But someone did, and it was Schmidt, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re not gonna find that as funny later’.

Everything began to really go downhill from there, nobody seemed to be able to get to Volkov and stop him before he said even more that he would regret. Hamilton directed him to go back to his quarters only for him to snap back that she wasn’t his mother. Commander and Mundy even jumped in, trying to calm him down, but nothing worked.

“Two years on this ship, and this man has delivered nothing,” Volkov pushed on. You hadn’t noticed it until then, but Schmidt had moved from the table and was now standing only feet away from Volkov. You felt your heart begin to pound as you watched the two men. Two men with strong anger issues at only breakfast time, something more than just a disagreement on the way to erupt.

“Volkov, enough!” Schmidt snapped, glaring forward at him. “You need to think very carefully about what you’re saying.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you thought maybe, just maybe Volkov actually shut up for once. But that brief moment of silence was just that, and he was back to speaking, this time more quiet than before.

“We’ve both heard the reports,” Making his way closer to Schmidt, “Germany is preparing for war, Serbia taking alliances with Germany, and everyday that goes by more and more Russians are starving.” The comment made your heart stop for a moment. That was just a rumor, in all of your messages with Joseph, not once had he mentioned going to war alongside Germany to be true.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to cry, but you did. Bringing your fingers to your mouth, you began to bite down at the skin around your nails, chewing away at the flesh until you tasted the iron of your blood. Nobody outwardly spoke badly to you, besides the occasional poorly landed joke from Volkov, but you couldn’t help but feel like an outcast, wondering if people really thought you were what Volkov said you to be.

By now Volkov was in Schmidt’s face, the two men radiating their own heated anger off one another, tension filling the room, making you feel like you did in your nightmare, suffocating. You pulled at the collar of your suit, taking the zipper and unzipping the front enough to get yourself feeling less trapped.

“Maybe you’re not in a hurry to get the Shepard working. Is that it? Are you stalling us to help Germany get the upper hand? What about you? What are you doing in the med bay alone, mixing something up for us to take? To slowly kill us?”

He laughed, he actually laughed when he looked at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. When Volkov turned back towards Schmidt, it was only half a second before Schmidt’s hand wrapped around Volkov’s throat, pushing him back before sending a punch across his face. Volkov was quick to regain his posture, grabbing at Schmidt’s own throat and shoved him back towards the corner, both men trying to pin one another against the wall.

When the scene unfolded, you stood up in shock, mouth gaped and you took a step to the side to try and do whatever you could to help, but felt someone grab your wrist. Turning, you looked down to see Tam’s hand before looking up at her, watching her shake her head ‘no’ and to just wait. And you did, it took everything in you to stick by her side, but you did wait.

Commander was the one to grab Schmidt, pinning him onto the table with his face squished onto the glass. Mundy, on the other hand, held Volkov in a choke hold, keeping him restrained while the Commander lectured the two men - one of which was still trying to get the last word in.

“Keep your mouth shut, Volkov!” The Commander finally boomed, causing the room to come to a standstill. “We have a job to do.”

The room finally fell silent, both men seeming to be relaxed enough for the Commander to think they were free to be broken from their restraints.

“Now, can you two get along for just one day without us having to pull you off of one another?” Moving back, you watched as Schmidt laid on the table for a moment, almost debating on if he wanted to go at it with Volkov again. He decided against it and finally stood up, fixing his shirt before shooting a glare towards Volkov, knocking past him and out of the common room.

You gave it a moment, smiling over at Tam when you felt her squeeze your hand. You nodded her way, squeezing her hand back before you quietly slipped away, moving down the hall quick to go and find Schmidt.

It took a while for Schmidt to really calm down, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if the Commander didn’t rush the test that you were all supposed to conduct that day. It was bad enough everyone was stressed, but having someone be stressed and pissed off just wouldn’t work. You could almost bet that the reason the outburst that morning even happened in the first place was because of the high tensions on board, especially leading up to the next test.

If this test failed, they only would have enough for three more tests. After that... well, they could kiss humanity goodbye.

It didn’t take long for you to find Schmidt, in his quarters struggling to get his suit on as the zipper seemed to be stuck. He was mumbling something in German and you couldn’t piece together what he was saying other than the occasional ‘fuck him’.

When you stepped inside his quarters, the door shutting behind you, he paused his moments, his hands on his zipper, not wanting to look at you. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to be on the other hand of his outburst, before stopping once you were only a foot away from him.

“If you’re here to tell me that I was an idiot, don’t bo-”

“I’m not here to call you anything, Ernst,” His cheeks grew red at the sound of his first name, his gaze glancing up at you, watching as you stared back - only instead of something angry, like he expected, your gaze was more somber, worried even, “I just came to make sure you were okay. Here, let me.”

You gently moved his hands away from the zipper of his suit, taking another step forward to pinch at his suit, tugging the fabric down to help the zipper not get bunched in the fabric. You could feel his ragged breath hit your forehead, his chest heaving as the zipper moved higher until your hand stopped above his heart.

His mouth twitched into a smile, feeling your head fall forward to rest against his chest. You felt his arms wrap around you as he pulled you in tighter for a hug, as if you could get any closer to him. His lips sat on your hairline above your temple, kissing you sweetly.

“You trust me, right?” Schmidt suddenly asked. He could feel you tense up in his arms and he pulled back, his hands resting on your arms, squeezing them, “I just, don’t want you to be wrapped up in the middle of whatever feud Volkov has with me. Tam already gets it enough and I just don’t want you to have that on yo-”

You stopped him with a kiss, smiling into it before pulling away, seeing his own smile on his face.

“I can handle myself, Schmidt...I’m not worried with what Volkov has to say,” You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling him wrap his arms around your waist, “Volkov likes to get a rise out of anyone who gives him the time of day. It’s how he keeps himself busy on board.”

The joke seemed to land well with Schmidt, earning a laugh before you felt him begin to rock you both side to side. “But what’s this about Tam being your girlfriend?” You teased.

You grinned at the sight of him rolling his eyes at you, “You don’t have to be jealous about Tam, you know that she’s-”

“Who said I was jealous?” You asked, a smirk toying on your mouth. The two of you often were fond of teasing one another, poking at one another until the other grew red - then you’d smother the other in kisses to make up for the relentless teasing. “Do I need to be jealous of her? Is that why it takes you so long to come to my room at night, are you seeing her before you see me?”

You had pulled away from him midway, now seated on his cot. He was red in the face and gaping as he tried to intervene, but you kept talking.

“I mean, wow, Tam? I didn’t realize you were the type that liked to be dominated-”

It was your turn to be cut off, giggling when he moved across the room, pinning you down against his bed. You felt your heart begin to race, your own cheeks turning red as his face sat merely inches away from you, his large hand squeezing your wrist down beside your head onto his bed.

“You really like to get under my skin, don’t you?” He asked, squeezing your waist. Behind his glasses, you noticed his pupils were blown, his eyes dark. “Do you like seeing me mad, liebling? Does it get you hot and bothered when you see me wrapping my hand around Volkov’s throat? Do you wish that was you?” You felt his hand moving up your side, groping at you until his hand wrapped lightly around your throat.

His thick German accent, mixed with the sultry tone that was dripping from his tongue, made your stomach flip, the heat between your thighs pulsating. Biting down on your lip, your free hand moved up to grip at the collar of his suit, panting slightly.

“Maybe it does.”

Your simple quip seemed to do it for him. Feeling his body shift slightly, Schmidt hummed in though, his hand moving from your neck and down, pressing into your lower stomach, pawing almost at your body before squeezing his way down to your thighs, pulling one up so he laid in between your legs.

By now you were hot and bothered. Feeling him grab at you, call you the sweet German pet name adored to call you. You felt his breath against your neck, shivering slightly before letting out a sweet moan when his lips pressed against the side of your neck, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive spot he knew of.

But you knew now wasn’t the time. Right now you two needed to be with the other crew members to initiate the next jump. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and catch you and Schmidt doing, well - that.

“Schmidt...моја љубав...my love, we need to get back.” You withered your hand from his wrist and to his chest, pushing him back until he was staring down at you, a disappointed frown on his face. You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at how childish he was acting.

“Oh, Ernst - come now, I’ll make it up to you later.” You leaned forward and pecked the corner of his mouth, rolling out from under him before standing up, smoothing down your suit as you walked to the mirror by his closet, looking at yourself in the mirror as you began fixing your appearance.

It wasn’t that you two were embarrassed of each other, no you two were smitten for one another and it was truly sick. You just knew that given the dire of your work, what everyone expected out of the two of you, flaunting your attraction could be seen as distracting.

But that was just it, you two weren’t even dating. You weren’t sure how it all started, but one day the constant pinning became more - and now a year later you were where you were now. Sneaking off at night to see each other, to lay in bed and hold one another. Once this was all over, you knew that you’d return home, would Schmidt go with you?

By now Schmidt was standing behind you, obviously aware of your state of mind, deep in whatever thoughts you were having. When you caught glances with him through the mirror, you blushed and looked away. At that point, you heard him laugh and move forward to help you fix your hair, smoothing the parts that stuck up and tucking the longer pieces behind your ear.

“You look beautiful as always,” He pecked your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace, “Do you want to go out first, or me?” He asked against your ear, letting the silence sink in between you two.

You wanted to suggest why not the both of you just leave together, but you knew now wasn’t the time to let a potential argument break out, especially given how sour his mood already was - and it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Why not you?” You finally said, reaching your hands up to squeeze his, “After all, you need to be down there more than me. Acosta and I are just there for moral support.”

Turning in his embrace, you looked up at him and smiled, leaning into his touch when he held your face, “Yes, well, I’d like to think of you as my good luck charm.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his comment, “If that were true, we’d be off this ship by now.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Schmidt leaned forward and kissed your temple, “Maybe,” He mumbled against you, kissing you once more before pulling back, beginning to make his way towards the door, “Maybe you’re my good luck charm in the sense of keeping me from really doing something stupid.”

Your mouth twitched at the comment, not into a smile, nor a frown, almost like you winced. Besides Tam, you were probably one of the only people on board that completely trusted Schmidt. His temper left him to be rather difficult to be around at times, but perhaps he was right - maybe you were his soft spot, his good luck charm as he liked to say, because never has his temper ever gotten to you.

But there was still that sinking feeling in your stomach, as he headed out of his room and down the hall to meet with the others, leaving you standing alone in his quarters.

If this test were to fail - would Schmidt truly snap? Would you finally feel his wrath?

#daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #the cloverfield paradox #ernst schmidt #ernst schmidt imagine #ernst schmidt smut #ernst schmidt x reader #ernst schmidt x you #minors dni #paradox burning

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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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the countdown

— A reflection on what New Years mean and a New Years kiss.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, 2020 year rant kinda idk man

word count: 1,679

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, but I don’t know how to shut the fuck up at all. I made It as short as I possibly could, took 5 rewrites. so, take this huzzah. check out the rest of the collab here!

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New Year’s Eve.

It’s a day of endings, a time of reflection, recollection, and remembering.

Time is a finicky thing, convoluted and twisted in ways that people often spend a lifetime trying to understand but can only come to the conclusion that time is memories.

New Year’s Eve is the time to think about what you did in these past three hundred sixty-six days.

Did you have any New Years’ resolutions this year?

Most people are basic, routine, repetitive. It makes sense that the thing most people wish for every year is to make more money, to lose their hated weight, to become more confident, sexier, and to travel the world. Everyone wants some form of weird self-love because we are humans, and humans are so desperately craving to find happiness in life, taking it day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.

Happiness is weird too.

Happiness is a mixture of chemicals in your brain that controls whether you feel normal or not.

Serotonin, dopamine, endorphins.

A terrific trio that the world always sought to have.

It’s not so easy to have all three; humans are made so weirdly after all. Too many chemical imbalances, receptors, and creators not perfect, and sometimes it’s not even that. It can just be the way the sun shines just too brightly through the cloudy skies, and suddenly that trio is gone.

So, humans consume.

We consume and consume and consume.

This year more than most.

Social interactions are needed to be human, many of us found out this year. You may love four people with all your heart, but going a near entire year with just four people when you’re used to so much more can be challenging, strenuous, exhausting.

But we remember the good things that made us happy this year.

We remember the way that the cold air whipped across our bare faces and the way that huddling up with your friends makes you both warm and cold. Reminisce in the way that the sun shines in deep rich purples and pinks as it breaks through the horizon, a simple, powerful portrait for your eyes only because art will never be seen the same by people who look.

We remember the terrible things this year too. The days were you were an asshole, a jerk, a bitch. How you whined and groaned about nothing. How you were mean for nothing. How you lied and cheated and stole. Admitting to it is one thing, but being able to look back on it is another thing.

You’re human; you have to remind yourself, part of being human is making mistakes. We humans are full of errors from our basic biology, so when you make them, recognize them, and make an effort to be better.

Perfection is not what you should seek, but the betterment of yourself and to others.

We remember the sad, too. Bowed heads as we count the ones we lost this year, tears streaming down your face because they died and because you didn’t get that promotion that you worked tirelessly on. Failure is something we all know of; we all experience it, in the many different shapes it comes in, and yet we are still so easily embarrassed by it.

Failure is okay. You can’t be better or grow to be better without failing once, twice, how many times it takes.

But it is New Year’s Eve, so we try not to think about the latter two; we celebrate the future of a new beginning, not the meaning of the past year.

We celebrate because we humans are selfish, loud, demanding.

We scream to the heavens on this day because fuck the world, we made it to another year, and for that, we demand a celebration.

You know this; you always have.

New Year’s Eve is yet another disgusting, selfish holiday, but you don’t mind it.

You want to be selfish.

You want to see your friends and family on the last day of the year and into the new one and groan loudly when someone exclaims that: ‘wow, y/n, I haven’t seen you in a whole year! Don’t hug me; I haven’t showered since last year!’

It’s stupid to be selfish in this way, but it weirdly comforts you. A weird promise that you might not be doing all too bad in this world, in your life.

But right now, you’re exhausted, so terribly exhausted, you can’t even fight to keep your eyes open.

It’s dark outside. The moon is shining brightly in the vast wide sky, stars barely visible with the city pollution and the great light of the rock in the sky. It’s not a white New Years’ Eve, not this year in Japan at least (a kid with some stupid crazy quirk had actually managed to ban snow for six weeks). In the woods is a house that is large, bright, and warm. There isn’t much going on in the house from the distance, but the closer you near it, the louder the voices become, the more abundant it becomes that there are over twenty loud, near annoying adults who are playing a million drinking games.

Aoyama is hanging on the ceiling, demonstrating how he can get his laser beam to swirl around him like glass art as he spins.

Mina breaks dances on the pool table because someone told her to “break it,” and she might be a bit too drunk to realize what she was doing was not what was asked. Kirishima and Kaminari are stumbling against each other, laughing as they cheer her on, their eyes crossing as they watch the pink girl send ball after ball unintentionally into the holes.

Tsuyu is not surprisingly winning a game of beer pong against Iida. They’re only allowed to use their quirks for this game, and her tongue is better suited for this than Iida’s pipes.

Uraraka is still doing a kegstand, her early proclamations of how her zero-gravity training has made her the keg stand champion seem to be entirely accurate.

Ojiro is currently trying to find a word that rhymes with tail for the Kings Cup game he is playing with Shoji, Tokoyami, Dark Shadow, and Mineta. They’re undoubtedly the drunkest of them all, this is the seventh round of the binge drinking game, and all five of them have yet to tap out.

Kouda is begging Midoriya and Bakugou to stop taking shots as they both pulled the ‘take seven shots’ Jenga piece on the Drunk Jenga set for the third time. They’ve played as a team after being assigned as ‘mates’ in Kings Cup two hours ago. Poor Kouda is not set out to handle these assholes and having a drunk, instigating Sero as his own teammate is not helping in the slightest.

There’s a boom in the kitchen that rattles the windows. Still, no one even flinches as Sato, Hagakure, and Jirou stumble out of the kitchen, their blushes basically radiating light onto the walls as cake mix drench their bodies. Hagakure screams out for their uncaring old class to hear that sonic waves do not cook cake mix.

Momo, who is sitting in a rocking chair, sips her drink smoothly. It’s her eleventh bottle, and the creation quirk holder is barely tipsy; her metabolism was untouched.

And Shouto?

Well, that was easy.

He’s sitting on one of the lover’s seat, his body as upright as he could be, your body flushed to his side as you sleep. Shouto is drinking his own mixed drink that was prepared for him by you, still cool in his right hand. He’s warm, content, and at peace even with the chaos going on behind him. It was normal.

Shouto shifts his gaze over to your sleeping face, his chest warming pleasantly at the sight of your squished cheek and small puffing breathes. How you got so exhausted today was beyond him, he did warn you that daring everyone to start drinking the instant everyone woke up today was going to backfire, and it seems he was correct.

His hand reached for your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek softly, the warmth of your flesh nipping as his colder fingers. You sighed contently in your sleep.

Chuckling, Shouto rested his head against yours, his heart speeding up quickly when you buried your face even further into his neck. Small smacks of your lips raising goosebumps as you spoke of your content even in your sleep.

By god, did he love you.

“Alright, everyone, please make your way over to the living room! We have one minute till the New Year!” Momo yells above the group's noise, and somehow everyone hears her and makes their way over.

“Aw! Look at y/n-chan! Knocked out like a baby!” Mina coos delightfully, her lips in a pout and her eyes shining brightly as she stumbles onto the armrest by you.

Shouto debates whether he should tell Mina to back off or to agree with her, but it’s far too late for him to decide when numbers begin flashing on the screen.

“FIVE!”

Shouto feels you stirring, your head lifting off his shoulder and your bleary eyes gazing into his. You look tired, sleepy, drunk, and oh so confused.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” you slur to Shouto, voice thick and husky.

“FOUR!”

“Looks like you woke up just in time,” Shouto comments, his fingers swiping at your face, fixing up the slightly ruined makeup. “It’s the countdown.”

“THREE!”

“Oh, good,” you sigh, your arms softly wrapping around Shouto as if he was made of clouds. Shouto laughs at the delirium still trapped in your eyes. “I made it.”

“TWO!”

“Thank you for making this year wonderful,” Shouto sincerely states, his hand setting down his drink and wrapping around your waist, pulling you toward him.

“ONE!”

“Thank you for loving me,” you cheekily sigh, and with the one still painted on the wall, Shouto pushed forward, kissing your chapped, sticky lips as the year ended and the new one began.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

“I’ll always love you.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 4 years

Text

BatMom- Jason Todd

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2[Here]

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Jason Todd, Her Toughest Bird.

Marinette paced the Batcave anger clear on her face as she waited for Batman to get back with his newest Robin. She couldn’t believe Batman would go this far, he knew damn well that wasn’t his name to give away. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Batmobile skidding into the cave and parking. Batman and the young boy getting out, the new Robin took one look at her before sizing her up with a glare.

“Who's the angry lady B?” He said looking ready for a fight, which amused Marinette slightly. But her gaze focused on Batman as she upped her glare.

“Hello B, we need to talk.” She said stiffly before looking down at the boy with a stern look. “Alone.” She said firmly gesturing to the changing rooms. Jason huffed, pulling off his mask walking passed her indignantly. Marinette wasted no time tearing into Bruce the moment the door was closed.

An hour later Marinette walked through the halls of the manor a frown still on her face. She stopped outside an opened door looking in on the newly adopted Jason Todd-Wayne. “Kid,” She called out catching his attention. “want to go out for ice cream?” Jason scoffed, closing his book giving her a deadpan look.

“Ya great idea let me go out with a woman that obviously doesn’t like me.” He said sarcastically waving his hand at her in a go away gesture. “Why would I even want to go with you in the first place?” Marinette smirked leaning against the door.

“First off I don’t know you enough to not like you, my anger at B will not be dragged over to you. “Second off we are going to Pico’s Ice Cream Gotham’s world renown Ice Cream Parlor, over two hundred flavors, I intend for us to eat so much Alfred has to pick us up. Finally B is paying and after your stunt with his tires, something tells me you’d be more than happy to waste his money.” She held up her hand showing Bruce’s Amex Black card held between her index and middle fingers. “So are you in or not kid?” Jason smirked, placing his book down and jumping out of his chair.

“Oh I am so down! Let's go get sick to our stomachs with Bruce paying!”

An hour later Alfred had arrived at Pico’s giving both of them a disappointed glare as they climbed into the shortened limo he had brought. Marinette and Jason laid on the floor facing each other, curled in on themselves.

“Was it worth it Miss Marinette, Master Jason.”

“Definitely.”

“Hell yes.”

The two groaned out their response together shortly followed by a yelp from Jason after she had flicked his nose.

“Watch your language.” She said causing him to grumble while Alfred simply sighed, closing the door. A few moments later they felt the limo begin to move. Marinette closed her eyes trying to calm her churning stomach, well aware of Jason’s eyes on her.

“Why were you so mad at Bruce?” He asked softly, wanting to know yet not at the same time. Marinette was silent for a moment before opening her eyes, meeting his own.

“B gave away something that wasn’t his to give away. Dick hadn’t let go over the title just yet, and Bruce in his anger ripped it away from him and gave it to you instead. He really hurt Dickie, that’s why I was so angry at him. Not at you, you’re innocent in this Jason.” She said softly groaning when Alfred took a sharp turn, showing his displeasure with his two current charges. “My anger is all towards B right now.” Jason nodded thinking over what she had said before he had another question.

“Why do you call him B, why not just say Bruce?” Marinette was silent before looking away with a slight blush.

“B stands for bitch and he knows it.” She said causing Jason to grin at her.

“Language.”

“Shut it little birdie.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, The Night Joker took him.

She sat at the door curled up crying begging for forgiveness, and Jason-Jason couldn’t find it in himself to give it. This woman, this woman had caused this, Sheila Haywood was no saint. No she was far from it, and unfortunately she was his mother. She was the one that gave birth to him, and now she’d be the one to help kill him. A dark part of him was happy she’d go with him but he’d never admit that out loud. His thoughts strayed from his so called mother as he watched the timer slowly countdown. Instead he thought of the one woman in his life that always tried. That was always there for him, that always stood up for him, and helped him build a relationship with his predecessor. He thought of the terrible fight they had, though he knew that it was mostly on his part. He had gotten too hard headed and Marinette was always stubborn and unwilling to bend with things she believed in. His Marinette wanted to help him meet his mother, she did even though it hurt her slightly and he had known it. She had helped him unlike Bruce who refused after the fight they had had, she helped even though it hurt. Yet he persisted and pushed and pushed until they finally found the women. Jason had insisted that he left for Ethiopia right away, planning to go alone. Ever protective Marinette had refused, told him he would not go alone and that they would go together. She said she’d have everything ready at the end of the month, but that was not soon enough for him. He snapped at her demanding that she stayed out of it. He declared it was a family matter, and ignored the hurt in her eyes. She had told him not to be hard headed and that she was coming along. Only to be silenced and told that she was not going, he was being so stupid, he let his temper get the best of him. He told her she wasn’t family, that she was nothing but the woman that chased after his adoptive Father. Trying to find any excuse to have his attention, he regretted it so much when he watched her close in on herself. Her blue eyes dulled so much they looked gray, her ever perfect posture faltered but he hadn’t cared. He turned and left her there all alone. Just like he was now, all alone wishing that his mom was there. Wishing that his Marinette, his Mom was hugging him and running her fingers through his red hair.

“Jay-bird.”

That was it, that's mom’s voice.

“Jay-bird, I don’t know if you can hear me, Gods I hope you do.”

He could hear the shake in her voice as his eyes landed on what he thought was his broken communicator.

She’s crying, she should never cry.

“Bruce is on his way my little Fire-Cracker.”

She said choking back a sob, Jason twitched in his bond moving closer towards the communicator. His body protested every move as he made his way.

“Dickie isn’t on Earth right now but I told Clark he better get his ass off planet and to him as soon as possible.”

Jason let out a pain chuckle at her swearing, she rarely did it and it always surprised him to hear. Foul language was his thing; it should’ve never fallen from his mom’s mouth. Especially for the fact that she disliked crude language.

“Jay?”

She heard him, she can hear him.

“I’m here.”

He said his voice horse as he shed a few tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I snapped at you, after everything you did, I hurt you so much. I’m so sorry Mom. I should’ve stayed, I should’ve listened, I’m so sorry. I just want to be with you. I want to be with you so bad mommy.”

He said desperate for the women to know, desperate for forgiveness from his mother.

“Jay, my sweet baby bird, it's okay. Oh baby, I love you so much my beautiful boy. You wanted to find your birth mother and I will never hold that against you. You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?”

Nine Seconds.

Jason’s eyes remain on the timer.

“Mommy, I love you. Thank you for everything.”

Eight Seconds.

“Don’t-”

Marinette’s voice cracked as she cried into her hands.

Seven Seconds.

“Please tell Dickie I love him and he was an amazing brother.”

Six Seconds.

“Don’t-Don’t say goodbye, this is goodbye Jason! You hear me! this isn’t goodbye.”

She finished her voice in a pained whisper.

Five Seconds.

“Tell Bruce he’s an asshole, but I loved him.”

Four Seconds.

“Tell Alfred I love him too.”

Jason was crying uncontrollably as he spoke.

Three Seconds.

“Mom?”

Two Seconds.

“Yes baby boy?”

One Second.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

Marinette stared at the casket, unable to console herself and stop the tears. Her baby boy was in there, her tough little bird. He was gone and she wasn’t there, she failed him. A mother is meant to protect, and she didn’t protect. She should’ve followed him to Ethiopia, she shouldn’t have let her feeling of hurt get the best of her. A sob fell from her lips as her shoulders shooking, her posture breaking as she curled in on herself. Her baby bird will never fly again, he will never read her poetry or discuss his favorite books with her again. No, now she’d have to visit him here, for the rest of her life. Now she’d have to talk to a gravestone every time she saw her baby bird.

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Red Hood Finds her.

He watched her for weeks ever since he had officially come back to Gotham. Watching her as Ladybug, Lady Noir, and Marinette, watching the woman he had called mother. The mother that had seemingly moved on from him, along with his so called Father and brother. He saw her spend countless nights with his replacement, she had never gone on patrol with him as much as she did with the new one. She, of course, didn’t realize she was being watched. Old age he supposed his once mother looked much older since the last time he saw her, before he died. Black hair now greying and everything so perhaps he could not fault her for not noticing.

This night was special though, for weeks she had been fighting him with the so-called Batfamily. Tonight, exactly three days after he shot the replacement, she would find out that he was her ‘Baby-bird’.

He watched as she picked up the phone, no doubt Bruce or Alfred, his amusement faded when tears began to fall. He always hated when she cried, she was always so happy and collected. She rarely cried and when she did it was so heart wrenching, because Marinette cried with her entire body. He watched as she dropped the phone and rushed to the balcony, he saw the small red and black Gods following her. Heard her voice crying out as she threw the doors open.

“Plagg, Claws out!”

She transformed and was traveling across the rooftops in minutes. She was making her way towards Bludhaven only to be met halfway by Nightwing. Immediately breaking down into her eldests arms.

“It's him, it's him, it's him. It's my babybird! It’s my baby! It's my baby!”

Her cries caused Red Hood to flinch as he turned his gaze away from the mourning mother. He took one last glance before turning away returning to his current safe house.

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Saving him from Himself.

“Don’t do this.” Her voice called out, it was calm as always yet filled with pain. She limped toward him holding her side tenderly in an attempt to stop the bleeding from her wound. “Don’t do this Baby boy.” Red Hood growled leveling the gun on her as he turned away from the downed third Robin. He froze the moment he saw Marinette, not Lady Noir, not Ladybug, but Marinette, his Marinette. Beaten, Bloody, and Bruised, all caused by him and his men. She didn’t even flinch at the gun pointed at her even though it was clear that her injury was a bullet wound.

“Shut up you fucking liar.” He growled out red tinting his vision once again as he thought of her protecting his replacement. Thought of all the videos of her with little Tim Drake, the newest Robin, all the pictures of her at school events. The actual adoption of not just him, but of her perfect first son. That one had hurt him the most, she had adopted them but not him.

“I am a liar.” She admitted softly continuing towards her son. Looking up at the young man, but always her babybird. “I am. I promised you that I’d always be with you, that I’d protect you. I failed you and I have blamed myself every day. I should’ve followed you, I should’ve found you, I should’ve protected you. But I failed you instead.” She stopped with the gun barely an inch away from her forehead, and for a second she marveled at how tall her baby was now compared to her. She wished she could see his face, see how handsome her beautiful boy had turned out. While Dick had grown into a beautiful young man, she knew her tough little bird would grow into a very handsome man. “You have every right to be angry with me, but not him. He looked up to you, still does, he pulled Bruce, Dick, and me out of the dark place we were in after your death. Not once did he wish to replace you, not once did he shy away from mentioning you. If you want to take your anger out on somebody, make it me.” She closed her blue bell eyes picturing her little red headed bird with his mischievous smile, and love for literature. Marinette leaned her head forehead allowing the barrel of his gun to press against her head. Her free hand shook as she reached out, caressing the red helmet with her knuckles. She opened her eyes again, tears staining to fall from the now dulled grayish blue. “Just remember I love you my little Fire-Cracker, though you’re not exactly little anymore are you.” She choked out holding back a sob as she let her hand drop her legs shaking from exhaustion. “If you’re going to kill us then take me first. Please I don’t think I can bear to watch another one of my birds die.” She barely finished before exhaustion caught up to her and she began to collapse. She didn’t hit the ground though, no she was pulled into strong arms. Arms that held her tightly cradling her and providing safety. Red Hood stared down at the woman in his arms, the red having long faded as tears fell hidden by the helmet. Jason Todd-Wayne held his hurt mother in his arms as he let himself cry.

“Stupid woman, Stupid Mom.” He whispered before moving her so that she laid beside her newest bird. “Don’t say a word you fucking replacment.” He growled out as said bird looked up at him in surprise. “You better fucking protect her or else I will kill you.” He growled glaring at the small shy smirk on the bird’s face.

“Watch your language, you know her thoughts on cussing.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Bruce’s Death.

Jason Todd-Wayne sat atop Wayne Enterprises staring down at the city he was born into. Bruce was gone, he was gone and Jason didn’t know what to think of it. Dick was taking up the cowl, making Bruce’s actual son his new Robin. Tim had taken over Wayne Enterprises, the youngest CEO in the world. Meanwhile here was Jason still legally dead, and estranged from the family. With no idea what to do with his life, he had slowly waned from killing doing the same with her men. They very rarely killed, only those that truly deserved it, but ever since that night since he cradled his mother’s broken form. He hasn’t seen the family, he only knew of Bruce’s death from the video he had sent to the family. He tensed as a body sat down beside him, curling into her jacket.

“Hello Handsome Birdie.” She said softly reaching up and caressing his cheek. “I’ve missed you.” Jason grabbed her hand holding it gently and rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I’ve missed you too Mom.” He admitted softly both turning to look out at the city in silence together. “Is he really gone?” He asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Marinette leaned against her son allowing her eyes to drift to their held hands.

“Tim-Tim says he might not be and is trying to find him. Dick, my poor bird is hurting so much he is scared to hope that Bruce isn’t dead. Then there is Damian, oh he is going to be a tough Birdie to crack.” Jason smiled softly squeezing her hand.

“Well you managed to raise me, you'll have no problem with him.” He said jokingly, causing Marinette to laugh shaking her head.

“You didn't call me ‘Father’s newest whore’ and then immediately attempt to kill me.”

“He did want?!”

Jason asked with a protective glare on his face as he turned to his mom.

“Oh hush Fire-Cracker, I’ll get through to him.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, The Outlaws.

Red Hood could feel her eyes on him and his two companions. The fact that they didn’t notice was both irritating yet caused a bit of pride to fill his chest for only his mom could hide so easily.

“Kori, Roy,” He called out, pulling his helmet off his mask soon following revealing Jason Todd-Wayne to the night sky. “We have a visitor.” He said, turning to look at the shadows where Lady Noir resided.

“Getting better every day aren’t you Jay-bird?” She finally announced her presence to her son’s friends. She knew the both of them Roy better than Kori, it had been Dick that introduced them. Before the split in their friendships, she hated having to comfort her bird of the loss of his older brother. Lady Noir wouldn’t let her hold it against him though, or hold it against Kori.

“Hello mom” Jason said affectionately as he walked over to Lady Noir. She smiled, dropping her transformation and allowing her son to pull her into a tight hug. Marinette reached up rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Come to make sure, I’m not getting into too much trouble?” He asked, teasingly causing her to roll her eyes.

“No, I simply wanted to see how my son’s new team worked together. “ She combed his hair to the side gently with her fingers before grabbing his gloved hand in hers. “My birds rarely team up with others outside the family.” Jason glanced away a little nervous squeezing her hand gently.

“Well, what do you think? Of my small team here?” Marinette smiled softly glancing back at the two that had joined her son, before looking back to her son.

“I think you have found some very good friends Fire-Craker. They will care for you as you care for them.” She leaned up on her tiptoes, huffing slightly when Jason still had to lean down for her, and kissed her son’s cheek. “Be good to them and you shall have a strong team.” keep them safe. They will do the same for you, now run along my tough little bird.”

“I’m not little anymore.”

“Hush.”

“Yes Mom.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Returning to the Family.

Jason stuck his hand firmly in his pockets as he stared up at the manor. Marinette and Dick had both told him he should come for the holidays. If it had been just Duck he would have blown it off, but he’d hurt his mom too much in the past to do it to her. He didn’t want to go in, his relationship with Bruce was still incredibly rocky, and he really didn’t like the Demon brat. Though somehow his mom and older brother had both become rather fond of the brat. He shook his head and squared his shoulders walking towards the door, only to turn around and take the steps back down the stairs.

“I can’t do this.” He growled out kicking the snow glaring at it frustrated. “How can this be so hard! Just walk through the damn door, say hello to Alfred hand over your coat and then immediately find mom. Give her the stupid gift, then sneak out when the others distract her.” He said to himself, but he didn’t turn around he just continued to glare at the ground, his hands shaking slightly in his jacket pockets.

“Or, just putting this out there, you could turn around, walk through the door with me and spend Christmas with your family. A family which has been nervous to see if you’ll actually come tonight.” Marinette called out from her place on the steps behind him. Her cardigan wrapped tightly around her to chase away the cold. Jason turned slightly looking at her sheepishly until he realized she didn’t have a jacket on. “Personally I prefer my idea, way better than you sneaking away from us.” Jason glared slightly walking up to her as he unzipped his jacket.

“What are you doing out here with only a cardigan? I seem to remember you always complaining that I’d get sick if I didn’t wear a jacket!” He pulled his off wrapping it around Marinette holding back a snort over it reaching her knees. Marinette glared slightly as if knowing his thought process and turned up her nose indignantly huffing. “You’ll catch your death out here without a jacket Jason! Jason don’t forget your hat! Jason gloves are not uncool they make sure your fingers don’t get frostbite!” Jason said repeating all the phrases she had used on him when he was just twelve. Marinette reached out pinching his ear slightly causing him to wince, and pout at her, though he’d never admit it.

“I am your mother, young man. I have every right to make sure you wear proper attire for winter. And apparently I should have said it more as it appears, the only thing you were wearing is your jacket.” Jason rubbed his ear after she let go grumbling to himself about annoying mothers.

“Why did you come out here? How did you know I was here?” He finally asked before wrapping his arm around her shoulders walking her towards the door. He knew his mother never did good in the cold, a side effect of being the Champion of a Ladybug Goddess. Marinette huffed, shaking her head, giving him a pointed look.

“Timmy and I sat watching you stand outside for five minutes before he suggested I came and got you.” She smiled as Alfred opened the door for them. “That and Alfred had been standing at the door for a good ten minutes and I decided that ten minutes was enough.” Jason smiled apologetically at Alfred, hugging the elderly butler.

“Hi Alfred, I missed you.” He said softly, smiling brighter when the man hugged him back.

“And I you Master Jason, now come join the family. I shall take your coat from Mistress Marinette.”

Jason raised an eyebrow looking over at his mom who shook her head fondly.

“He insists that Bruce is going to marry me one day. It’s the only bit of denial I’ve seen him in, I shan’t mention it to him however.” She said with a mischievous smile, winging at her son. “Besides Bruce’s face when he brings it up is hilarious. Now come the boys are eager to see you.” She corrected herself after Jason’s pointed look. “Fine Tim and Dick are excited to see you. Damian doesn’t want to share me and Bruce can’t emotion so he hasn’t said it but he is thinking it.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Alive Again.

Jason paced his room in the manor mumbling to himself while Kori and Roy sat on his bed watching him. Today was the day, he had agreed to announce that he had survived the explosion all those years ago. They had even come up with a rather ingenious cover story on where he had been. Though that was most his replacement, the kid was wicked smart.

“I can’t do this.” He said turning to Kori and Roy with a pleading look, as he gripped his hair with his hands. “Kori, get me out of here, please.” He said softly though they could both hear the panic in his tone. Kori chuckled standing up and walking over to him. She gently pried his hands from his hair gesturing for Roy to grab the hair brush.

“X’Hal, Jason, you are overthinking this, and panicking. You can do this, I know it for you are not weak. You know you want to do this, doing this means spending more time with them.Yes, yes that’s not why you are doing this.” She said rolling her eyes when he opened his mouth to argue. She took the hair brush Roy held out with a bright smile. “Jason, this is a most joyess occasion! After today you can spend more time with your K’norfka, and Roy and I know you want to go places with her more than anything.” Jason huffed letting her brush out his hair hold his face as she tilted his head side to side.

“She is not my nanny Kori, she’s my mother.” Kori pinned him with a look as she squeezed his cheeks gently leaning forward.

“On my planet K’norfka, also means guardian. Of which she is, correct?” Jason huffed before nodding his head.

“Yes, yes, you are correct.” Kori smirked triumphantly before kissing him briefly and releasing his face. “Roy and I will be here waiting for you when you are done. Isn’t that right?” Roy nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist, smirking at his boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Oh we will be here, but I don’t know. From the look on Miss Marinette’s face we won’t see you for a while.” Roy said nodding to the door, where Marinette stood watching them. She slowly made her way over to the trio.

“Mom! I can, I can explain. Roy, Star, and I-were-uh-were really good friends-well no we are actually-well.” He was silenced by Marinette’s hand on his cheek, causing him to finally meet her eyes. Understanding and love shining brightly in her eyes, as she rubbed his cheek with her thumb, marveling at her tough little bird all grown up.

“You couldn’t have picked anyone better Jay-bird. They have proved themselves remarkably well, and have shown their love for you my sweet bird. And that’s all that a mother can ask for in life, that their baby is happy and loved.” Jason teared up as he leaned down wrapping his mom into a tight hug hiding his face in her shoulder, causing the women to giggle. Marinette softly stroked his hair resting her cheek against his head. She looked over to the two her son had chosen her smile not wavering but Roy and Kori could read her eyes. Happiness, acceptance, and a little bit of love shining in them as she silently thanked her son’s precious people.

“Now, let’s go. It’s time for Jason Todd-Wayne to enter the world again. This time though I’ll finally get to adopt you.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, A Prince Consort?

Jason stared at himself in the mirror tugging on the traditional Tamaranean clothing. He still couldn’t believe this was happening, Kori wasn’t even the Queen anymore. Yet her, Roy, and him had all been carted away to her home planet by her brother. News had spread far of her proposal to the two, and her home planet wanted to witness the marriage. Only two months after they became engaged they were getting married, and his family wasn’t even there.

“Lost in thought, Birdie.”

“Just thinking about how my mom is going to kill me-Mom?!” He turned quickly looking at his mother, dressed in a lavender purple dress, obviously of her own design, that held elements of the Tamaranean attire.

“Surprise.” She said softly with a twinkle in her eye as she walked over. “Oh look at you, my tough little bird is getting married.” She smoothed out his clothing, a tearful smile on her face. “Koriand’r had a feeling her brother would insist on this. So she made sure that the family would also be picked up, she also gave me a few different items of Tamaranean clothing, so that I could make my own clothing.” Jason smiled at the mention of his soon to be wife.

“She is amazing, her and Roy.” He whispered softly, a smile taking over his face. Marinette watched him as a single happy year fell from her face.

“Gosh, first Dickie and now you. Now I just need to have Timmy and Dami find someone that loves them unconditionally. Then I could die happily knowing my sons are loved.”

“Don’t joke about that mom, you won’t be dying for a very long time.” Jason said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “Besides demon brat find someone, please.”

“Jason.” Marinette said with a warning note in her tone causing Jason to grin at her. Tikki coughed, finally gaining their attention.

“Oh not again. Tikki stop out shining me will you!”

Marinette said smiling playfully at her dear friend. Tikki smiled a twinkle in her eye as she shook her head.

“No I don’t think I will Mari!” She flew up kissing Jason on the forehead just like she had done a year ago for her bug’s first bird. “I grant you and your mates Good luck and Fortune in your future together. Cherish each other always, I am proud of you, even if you’re a troublesome bird.” Marinette smiled softly looking up at her second son, her tough bird, her Fire-Craker.

“I am proud of you too Jason. You’ve grown into such a handsome young man, and have found yourself the loves of your life. That’s all a mother can ask for in life.”

“How much are my brothers going to tease me over being a Prince Consort.”

“Oh so much, that we’re thinking of jokes on the way here. A little scary watching Timmy and Dami work together, but you know Dickie, he can bring anyone together.”

Jason snorted rolling his eyes, Plagg chose this moment to show himself grinning at Jason.

“So, you’re gonna be a Trophy Husband now kid?”

“Plagg!”

“Ow! Oh come on Sugar-cube! Ow!-It was a joke!”

@mythogaychic

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #batmom #batman #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fandom #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #jason todd

334 notes · View notes

alonely-dreamer · 3 years

Text

The Valuable Sun | Chapter 23 (Part 3)

Summary: Brooke and Eric have work to do.

Pairing: Eric x OC

Warnings: 18+

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there.

Words: 2688

Masterlist

Tags: @parabatai-winchester

To say that Brooke and Sookie were having a hard time was an understatement. Sookie, after killing Debbie and having Pam turn Tara into a vampire, was judged and hated by all, and she had come back from work a wreck, and had dove into the cabinet were gran had always kept the alcohol. She turned on the stereo, and the loud music woke Brooklynne up.

She had spent the entire day in bed, and even though she kept waking up and kept having the worst lucid dreams, she stayed under the covers until way after sunset.

Not only the music was loud, but Brooke could hear her sister’s devastating thoughts. She had cast Bill away from her mind, she had enough humans judging her for her to worry about the traitorous bastard her vampire ex-boyfriend had turned out to be. She was so drunk she couldn’t hear Brooke think really, really, loudly that she wished she’d turn down the music a bit. Perhaps Sookie didn’t even know her sister was in her bedroom upstairs. She rarely were anymore.

Lafayette called. He had found Sookie’s car destroyed against a tree, and wanted to check on her. She was fine, apparently, she had jumped out of the car at the right time, and had even found it funny. She must be really drunk, Brooke thought.

She heard another train of thoughts approach the house, but his smell told her who he was before she could even hear anything. Sookie was waiting for another well deserved scolding from the werewolf but was surprised to hear Alcide had told Debbie’s parents some lie about how the Alpha from their pack had slept with her then killed her. Good. Because if Alcide had told the truth and Sookie had been sent to jail, not much would have been left of the werewolf after that night.

She tried to tune out the party that was going on downstairs, but it was either listening to Alcide and Sookie’s drunk thoughts about each other or thinking about her own issues. And she really didn’t want to think about Eric at the moment.

When Sookie and Alcide started to make out on their grandmother’s couch, she thought about leaving the house, not only to give them some privacy but also because she really didn’t want to hear any of it.

But then she heard his voice. Or rather, his thoughts. Bill was standing right there, outside of their house, watching the werewolf and the fairy take each other’s clothes off. A creep until the end. Brooklynne felt like fighting, and he had just given her a reason to beat his ass.

She sped out of her house, wearing nothing but a tight shirt and silk shorts and went straight to Bill whom she pushed away with supernatural strength. The King of Louisiana landed in the cemetery near the house.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as if he were still standing right in front of her.

It took a couple of seconds for him to get back on his feet and return to his spot.

“You know, I am still your King.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Bill sighed. “I get that you’re mad, but…”

“But nothing. Leave my sister alone.”

“I didn’t come here for Sookie.”

“What then?”

“I told him to meet us here,” Eric said as he appeared beside his King. “Granted, he could’ve picked a better spot.”

“Weren’t we supposed to go with Alcide?” she asked, remembering the plan. “He’s drunk now.”

“Clearly,” Eric mumbled.

“Let’s sober him up,” Bill said, and Brooke had no doubt he was more than happy to put a stop to the party.

***

Alcide took them to Doug, the employee that had found the hole in the parking lot. The werewolf had been smart not to ask about the obvious tension between the vampires while they drove in his van to the site.

Doug was a chubby man almost as tall as Alcide. His hair was longer, and so was his beard. He seemed shy and squeamish, and didn’t feel comfortable with whatever was happening. They had taken them to Russell’s former resting place where fresh cement had been poured to cover the hole. Brooklynne asked Doug to hold her hand and close his eyes and focus on that night, on what he saw. He had been glamoured by the vampire who had dug up Russell and it was harder for her to get any useful images from his mind.

“It’s a woman,” Brooke said. “She’s digging up Russell with her hands.”

Russell appeared like a bloody overgrown baby with no skin and the memory made Doug start to shake in fear.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks as if he were living it for the first time.

“Wait,” Brooke squeezed his hand harder as he tried to step away. “It’s Nora,” she breathed out.

“That’s not possible,” Eric said, trying to ignore Bill’s ‘I told you so’ look.

“She has the same necklace.”

“It could be any member of the Authority, then. Do you see Nora’s face?”

“No, just the necklace.”

“So we don’t know for certain it’s her,” Eric insisted. “It’s not Nora, it can’t be. She thought Russell was dead. She risked her life to free us.”

“Can I go now?” Doug asked.

But they were far from done.

The woman, whom according to Eric was not Nora, had Doug scoop Russell up like a baby and take him into an abandoned facility at the other end of town. That was their next destination.

In the van, Eric and Bill kept arguing about Nora while Brooklynne, helped by Doug’s blurry memory, led Alcide to Russell’s location.

“She’s a traitor and a liar, just like her brother,” Bill spat at the sheriff who showed fangs at the insult. Bill followed suit.

“Take that back,” Eric growled.

But the fight was cut short as Bill’s phone started ringing. Brooke couldn’t help but listen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, guys. It’s Molly. Remember me? Giving you a shout-out to let you know your countdown has started.”

“Our countdown?”

“Yeah, your iStakes are set to activate at dawn. Bummer, right?”

“There must be some kind of mistake.”

“No, I’m launching a test. Is your iStake glowing?”

Brooke took a look at the two vampires at the back of the van. Eric opened his jacket and a red light was coming from under his shirt, right where his heart was. iStake. It sounded stupid, but scary. That was what she had felt the previous night when he had held her against his chest. And that stupid but scary thing would kill Eric if they didn’t find Russell before the end of the night. She looked up at her maker with a heart and eyes full of worry. They wouldn’t have time after all. She wouldn’t have time to forgive him. And as he stared back at her, she saw in his eyes that it was okay. That he knew.

“Yeah, they’re glowing…”

“Cool. Means we’re good to go. Good luck. And if you don’t make it, it’s been rad serving you. Peace out.”

Brooklynne wanted to tear that Molly apart for the total indifference she showed at her maker’s True Death. But she had bigger problems. They all did.

Doug was reluctant to enter the building, but all Alcide wanted was for it to be over, so he dragged him in and started looking.

“Wolves have been here,” he sniffed.

“They come with Russell,” Bill said with a sigh, wondering which would kill him first, the iStake or a werewolf.

The building was an abandoned asylum. Brooklynne would find it ironic that Russell would hide here but she was too anxious to find it even remotely funny.

They dragged Doug, or rather Doug led them, through Brooke, down to the morgue, walking pass freshly severed hands and other dead bodies being eaten by rats.

“Well, at least we’re in the right place,” Eric said.

“The morgue,” Bill thought aloud as they walked pass the indications on the wall. “How convenient.”

Helped by a flashlight, Doug and Alcide followed the vampires into the darkness of the basement. Hearing, or perhaps sensing something Doug couldn’t, the vampires revealed their fangs as Alcide said:

“We’re being watched.”

Doug had reached his limits and let go of Brooklynne before he ran away. Knowing it was a bad idea to leave the human alone in this abandoned asylum where a three thousand year old psychopath was hiding, Alcide went after him. It was only when Doug started screaming that the three vampires followed him.

They found what seemed to be Russell’s pantry, where over a dozen humans were hanging from hooks like pigs in a butchery. A man started begging for his life, begging for them to take someone else, anyone else but him.

“Where do they take the prisoners?” Bill asked him.

“Down the hallway. There’s screaming and then there’s not!”

“What do we do with them?” Brooke asked.

“We’ll come back for them after we’re done with Russell,” Eric said before turning around and exiting the room, followed by the rest of his suicide squad.

Stakes in hands, they made their way to the end of the hallway where they found Russell lying on a hospital bed. He looked pale and sick, even coughed a few times. He looked almost human. Almost.

“Ah, miss Stackhouse. I see you’ve joined us,” he said with an eerie smile.

“We came here to finish what we started,” Eric told him as he approached.

“Well… give it your best shot.”

Russell’s smile grew bigger before Alcide, who was still standing in the hallway, behind Brooke, got jumped by a wolf.

“Eric!” Brooke shouted as a wolf launched itself at her maker.

She went to help him but was stopped by Russell who positioned himself between her and the Viking.

“Mmh, you’re just what the doctor ordered,” he smirked. “I’m sure becoming one of us just made your fairy blood even stronger.”

He trapped her against a wall and as he aimed for her throat she used her light to push him away. His back hit the wall at the other end of the hallway and he collapsed on the floor painfully.

“Yeah,” he cackled like a maniac as he sat up and leaned against the wall, “there is that aspect of you which I loathe.”

Eric killed the wolf that was after him then sped towards Russell. He crouched to get to his level then seized his face and made him look away from Brooklynne and directly at him.

“Look at me. I want to be the last thing you ever see,” he growled as he directed his stake towards his heart.

But before he had the chance to make a big mistake, Bill had his own stake aimed at Eric’s heart.

“He dies, we die. Most certainly. But if we take him back alive, maybe we don’t have to die.”

“Unlikely.”

“But not impossible.”

“Eric! Please,” Brooke begged. “He’s right!”

Eric snarled but eventually let go of his stake and put his fangs away. Russell used this short moment of weakness to pick up the disregarded weapon and attack the Viking. In less than a second, Eric was on his back, Russell on top of him, the sharp tip of the stake on his heart. Brooke moved fast and once again used her light to push Russell away from the man she loved.

It all happened really fast, and Brooke barely had time to register what was happening, as a group of heavily armed soldiers came in. Half of them had their guns pointed at Russell and the other half at her own heart.

“Freeze!”

Russell surrendered without protest, the red lights now aiming at his chest. One move and he’d be a pool of blood.

A tall, black man all dressed in black, from his shoes to his cap, joined them and stared at Brooklynne like she was the worst thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Eric quickly positioned himself between her and the man who was obviously the one giving orders here.

“What is this?” he asked with a strong accent.

“She’s mine,” Eric growled.

“Yours?”

“My progeny.”

There was no hiding anymore, no lying anymore. They had seen it. The light, the speed. It was useless to deny it, they were damned either way, and if they had to die tonight, they were at least going to be honest about it.

“What is she?”

… Well, half a truth was better than a complete lie…

“She’s a vampire.”

Russell chuckled.

“Lie,” the commander hissed.

“I turned her myself.”

“I suppose we will see what Guardian has to say about… this,” he said, looking around at the room where two dead werewolves were lying naked next to Bill. “Wolf and human are here,” he continued as Alcide appeared behind him, buttoning his jeans. “Why?”

“Doug led us here,” Bill started to explain. “Nothing that a little glamouring won’t take care of.”

“Do it,” the commander agreed before he exited the room.

After thoroughly glamouring Alcide, Eric made sure he got out safely and wasn’t stopped by any of the soldiers that the Chancellor had brought with him.

“He’s fine, he got in his van and is driving home,” Eric told Brooklynne as he saw the worried look in her eyes, though she didn’t worry about Alcide, she knew the werewolf would be okay.

Eric sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he cupped her cheeks with his hands. “This is what I wanted to keep you safe from.”

He placed a kiss on her forehead before bringing her to his chest. He rested his chin on her head as she hugged him back. Still, no word came out of her mouth.

***

Chancellor Akinjide seemed impressed, and though he wouldn’t let Brooklynne go, he had stopped looking at her with disgust but rather with curiosity.

“No one thought you two would actually be able to deliver Russell Edgington,” he told them as he led them out of the building and into a van. “Guardian will be extremely pleased.”

“Pleased enough to not execute us?” Eric asked as he sat next to Brooklynne.

“Only Lilith knows that.”

“As only she knows all,” Bill replied with a smirk.

The chancellor didn’t reply as he closed the doors of the van, trapping them inside the vehicle.

“Who’s Lilith?”

“Enough with this religious bullshit already,” Eric sighed. “Lilith can fucking blow me.”

“No, she certainly cannot!”

Bill chuckled.

“Lilith is like the God of vampires,” he explained.

“And why are you suddenly so into it?” Eric asked his King.

“I’m just covering my ass.”

“Are you telling me the Authority is a religious government?”

“It could be worse,” Eric said. “They could take the word of the Vampire Bible literally.”

“The what? The what?!”

“At least the sanguanista aren’t in charge…”

“Who…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eric told her as he took her hand in his. “I’ll explain on the way to New-Orleans.”

“New-O…” she stopped. “Are we… are they… Are we going to die tonight?”

She caught his eyes and saw. They were most probably going to be executed tonight, and she would be questioned and experimented on and maybe they’ll use her blood to give the sun to all vampires… And everything he had done to keep her safe was crumbling down on him, breaking him apart as this voice inside of his head screamed at him that it was his fault and that he should have known better.

He wiped a tear off her cheek and took her chin between his fingers. He tried to give her his most sincere smile as he said: “I love you.” And he didn’t wait for her to say it back because hearing those words coming out of her mouth would kill him before dawn. So he kissed her forehead and rested his cheek on her head, hoping, praying to whatever God there was that he hadn’t just sentenced the woman he loved to death.

#true blood #Eric northman #oc #reader #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #Eric x oc #eric x reader #Sookie stackhouse #alcide #sookie #bill #Sookie x bill #alcide x sookie #Eric northman x oc #Eric northman x reader

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babysubinnie · 3 years

Text

asahi’s countdown // park jeongwoo

💎 pairing:: park jeongwoo x reader 💎 genre:: fluff, emotional, idol!jeongwoo 💎 words:: 2.2k (i got carried away help) 💎 summary:: after training for so long, you got let go from the company, how the hell were you supposed to tell treasure (most importantly jeongwoo) that this would ruin all the plans to debut together?

a/n: also do you see this mf man he’s so goddamn gorgeous ——————————————————————————

"i'm sorry y/n, but i think we're going to have to let you go. you're an amazing dancer, and if i could, i would debut you just as a dancer. but unfortunately i can't." our ceo had said to me and I looked down trying not to let my tears fall down my face.

"okay." i nodded looking up until i knew that my tears weren't going to fall because i knew that if i let my tears fall, i was going to lose my position at the company forever. i probably won’t be able to come back if i cried about this.

"i'm sorry." he put his hand on my knee pretending that he cared about me, but in my head, i was screaming at him. i deserved to debut after going through hell and back. i worked so hard to get where i was, and especially to be a famous dancer. i wanted to debut, but i mean who wouldn’t want to after working so hard.

"it's okay. i totally understand." i didn't understand why he did it but i got up and walked to the practice room where all of the boys were. how was i supposed to tell treasure that i was leaving after years of training with them?

"what did he want?" the entire maknae line ran up to me and i looked down trying not to cry again but it obviously didn’t work. if i was really upset, nothing i did, or the boys did, would make me happier.

"it's not important." i shook my head trying to push it off because i didn’t want to even think about it. they hugged me out of habit not knowing that i seriously needed this more than anything in the world. i looked up after hugging junghwan to see that jeongwoo was biting his lip as he stared at me.

"of course it is. tell us what he said." jeongwoo smiled walking over to me before i slowly dropped my head to look down at the floor. i couldn't tell jeongwoo of all people. i could tell anyone, including jihoon and hyunsuk but i couldn’t tell jeongwoo. i just froze when he asked me. i wanted to give him any answer but seriously i couldn’t. i really didn't want to embarrass myself in front of him. he grabbed my wrist pulling me towards him, but i only pulled my wrist back.

"don't worry about it." i ran out of the building covering my mouth with tears falling out of my eyes. i heard my name get called multiple times but i completely ignored them. they tried chasing me but before they could catch up to me, i got into my car, and drove as fast as i could. of course i was upset about this. looking up to his eyes made me feel even worse. i felt like i was letting him down. no of course i was letting him down. the two of us were supposed to debut together. we were supposed to go on stage together. everything we do together as an idol was gone.

that was the very last thing i said to the boys. for the next few months, they called me constantly, and texted me constantly. they kept trying to meet up with me, but i blocked every single one of them. i hadn't seen them or talked to them for at least three years now. they went through yg treasure box, and of course i watched each episode and voted too. i started just dancing in workshops, but specifically the ones that taught contemporary. i wasn’t sure why but i always felt an urge to do contemporary when i was upset.

*beep*

"yo y/n, there's a private workshop happening at yg entertainment, singing workshop with jeongwoo and yedam. a dance one with mashiho and doyoung. lastly, a rap one with hyunsuk and haruto. i signed us up, and sent our video in. we got it. it's today, so i'm coming to pick you up in 5. be ready soon." my bestfriend had texted me the minute i finished practicing. she didn't know that i was an ex-trainee at yg. if that was the reason we got into the class, then i wouldn't know how to explain it to her. i really hope this wasn’t the reason for us being accepted.

i replied to her text and quickly found a crop top, my black cargo pants, and boots. i tied my hair up in a bun before running downstairs only to see her already waiting for me. i giggled when she was gawking at her phone background of hyunsuk. she was head over heels for this guy.

"let's go." she smiled giggling at me before we got into the car and headed to yg. i was nervous, because after all, it has been three years since i last saw all 12 of them. hopefully i didn't have to see all 12 of them. they would definitely ask me what had happened, and why i cut off all contact with them.

"i'm so excited. i can't believe i’m finally gonna meet the love of my life." she squealed as we walked through the doors. nothing's changed. i thought to myself smiling while looking down at the ground. we walked up to the desk slowly and as i looked up, it was the same lady that saw me walk out those doors, bawling my eyes out.

"y/n? i’m so happy to see you! i haven’t seen you in a long time." the lady at the desk greeted us, then made a face at me. i shook my head and looked down trying to tell her not to say anything, but it was too late. she already told her.

"yes. i haven’t seen you in a long time too!" i nodded and decided that if i was going to go along with it, or just ignore it. but in the end, i decided that i should go with it.

"how does she know you?" my best friend whispered in my ear when i was still at the desk before moving my eyes down to look at the ground. when i looked up, she smiled sweetly at me before telling me that the boys were in the practice room that they always loved practicing in. i knew who debuted, and it just so happened that i was close with every single one. especially park jeongwoo. when we walked into the practice room, i didn’t think that all of treasure was going to be there, and they were. every goddamn one.

“it doesn’t matter.” i pushed her into the practice room taking a deep breath before walking in, and there they were smiling at me. well of course until i actually made eye contact with them. they were happy. they didn’t need me and i was happy they were happy. they’ve gone through too much. he was standing with haruto and jaehyuk, with his arms on both of their shoulders, laughing. i smiled at him in awe because i was so happy that he still smiled like that. he shot his head up when hyunsuk said my name.

"holy fuck. y/n?" hyunsuk started tearing up and the rest of the boys didn’t take very long to do the same. when jeongwoo looked away from jaehyuk and made eye contact with me, he ran to me as fast as possible. he put both of his arms around my waist swinging me around in circles. i’m going to be honest when i say this is the biggest hug we’ve ever had. i missed him more than anything in the world.

“hi y/n.” jeongwoo smiled with tears filling his eyes, while the rest of the boys were looking at the two of us. you can’t forget my best friend who was in absolute shock.

“j-jeongwoo.” i stuttered with my voice stuck in my throat. i forgot how to speak. when i looked into his eyes, i felt the whole world stop. i always thought i could speak to jeongwoo without stuttering, but seriously i was wrong. after all these years, he still makes me nervous as hell.

“i missed you so fucking much. i’m so happy you’re back.” jeongwoo smiled at me with tears now falling down his cheeks. i’m saying that like i wasn’t crying myself. when i decided to do this workshop, i wasn’t expecting to come back to yg. i honestly wasn’t but after seeing all 12 of my boys, i wanted to come back. of course i wanted to. these boys were my life, it just took me three years to realize it.

“jeongw-”

“please tell me you’re coming back to us love. i don’t think we could ever let you go again. three years is too long.” hyunsuk walked over to me sticking out his hand for me to take. i smiled taking his hand before he pulled me out of jeongwoo’s arms and into his arms. hyunsuk was the only one that could convince me right now. he was the only one that could convince me. ever.

“suk...” i looked down at my feet because i swear if i looked up at him, i would 100% give into him. i always thought that hyunsuk was the mom of the group, and this just proved my point. i totally forgot the reason for coming here, until i looked into the mirror to see my partner in crime staring at all of us with eyes that could kill.

“can someone please explain what the hell is going on here?” she threw her arms out into the air glaring straight at me before crossing her arms in front of her. she scoffed at me then turned to look at junkyu. her second bias stood there giggling when she smiled at him.

“i can give you the summary!” asahi stepped up smiling at her then winked at me. he walked over to me pulling me into a hug whispering that he missed me more than anything in the world. i giggled when he flipped me around so that i was now in a back hug with him.

“basically, a few years ago, y/n was a trainee at yg with us. we were supposed to debut at similar times, but something happened, which we still need an explanation for. but regardless, she left the company and stopped talking to us for three years, five months and 2 days.” i laughed when asahi mentioned that he had been counting how many days it’s been since i talked to them. i smiled at him then looked back at her to see her reaction. still shocked.

“when we realized after the fifth month that she wouldn’t get back to us, we gave up on her. it was painful for every single one of us but the point is, she’s back.” he continued talking with his robot voice, which made me think hard about what he actually said. i didn’t realize how much i hurt them until i did.

“you forgot something sahi.” jeongwoo widened his eyes putting his hands out to the sides. i laughed whispering to asahi that i would talk about jeongwoo. he was the best part of the story no?

“jeongwoo and i, were the bestest of friends when i left, and the fact is that i always had a really big crush on him but of course, we all knew that he liked some other girl so i never did anything about it. i wanted to, but it was never the right time. when i left, junghwan did it for me but i never gave jeongwoo a chance to anwser me because i left before i even had the chance to talk to him. i always thought that i would be able to debut on the same day as treasure and that would be the day i told jeongwoo but i never got the chance. jeongwoo, i guess i'm confessing to you now.” i smiled over in jeongwoo's direction and asahi let go of me, to which i walked over to jeongwoo. i've been waiting for this moment my entire life so help me god if i mess this up. he smiled nervously at me while i thought of all the ways that i could do this. of course i was nervous.

“jeongwoo, i’ve liked you ever since that day the two of us did that dance, i never thought i could love someone more than i love you. i know this is something that i should have said earlier but i-”

“let me talk. i love you so goddamn much that it hurt when you left. i seriously thought that i would never see you again, and when i saw you dancing in all those workshop videos, it made me happy that you were still dancing. i don’t think you really realize how amazing your dancing is. i’m so happy you’re back. i missed you so much my love.” he pulled me close to him before pressing his lips to mine.

“about time.” junkyu rolled his eyes scoffing while glaring at us. we pulled away from each other to smile then changed out look to glare at junkyu. he shrugged laughing giving us a ‘am i wrong’ look. jihoon pushed him then scoffed at him,

“kim junkyu, did you really have to ruin the moment?”

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mageicalwishes · 4 years

Text

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: General Audience

Summary: "I can’t sleep. I can never sleep these days, not how I want to anyway - It's always either that I’m knocked out for 15 hours, waking up disoriented and heavy, or that I can barely catch a moment's rest. But today is different. My body is tired, and my mind is too. If I let myself, I’d be gone. But I won’t. I can’t. Tonight is my last night with Baz, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it."

Carry On Countdown, Day 5 - Sleepless @carryon-countdown

Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Feelings, Pre-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 5

Words: 688

Simon

I can’t sleep. I can never sleep these days, not how I want to anyway - It's always either that I’m knocked out for 15 hours, waking up disoriented and heavy, or that I can barely catch a moment's rest. But today is different. My body is tired, and my mind is too. If I let myself, I’d be gone. But I won’t. I can’t. Tonight is my last night with Baz, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it.

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them.” That’s what I’m going to tell him when I break up with him. I’ve got it all planned out; have for months now. It was supposed to be today. I was supposed to just get it done. But I fucked it up again. When I sat him down to talk he looked so panicked that I lost my nerve. I was too much of a coward to go through with it (Too much of a mess). But … it’s for his own good. I know it is. I have to do it. So ... tomorrow. It has to be tomorrow.

He seemed suspicious when I suggested that we both sleep in the bed (Normally I just sleep on the sofa, even when he isn’t here), but he didn’t say anything - Didn’t object. He just lifted the duvet and shuffled himself over to make room for me. I let him press a quick kiss to my cheek when he asked, and then he was asleep.

He’s sleeping differently than he did the last time that we were together like this (3 months ago? 4?). He’s got both his hands held beneath his stomach, restrained from reaching out and holding me during the night. It doesn’t look very comfortable, and I know that it’s my fault. All my fault. Always my fault. It’s pathetic that I even need that from him, and yet I do. We’ve gotten to the point where he’s so scared to do something that sets me off, that he can’t even relax in his sleep. (Like I said … For his own good).

He used to watch me sleep at Watford. I didn’t realise it at the time, but after we got together he told me about it - How he used to count the rises of my chest, how he ached to reach out and help me when I had my nightmares. And now … I’m watching him, desperately trying to etch the details of his face into my stupid, broken brain. The crook of his too-high nose, the arch of his brow, the point of his ears, the wave of his hair. He was always too good for me, I’ve always known it. Just now … he must know it too. He needs better than what I can give him. He deserves someone every bit as smart, and handsome, and put together as he is. Someone who is flourishing. Someone who is going places. Not me. I’m not that. I’m just holding him back.

Reaching out, I grab a hold of his left wrist and tug his arm towards me, resting it against my waist and pushing myself back against him - His skin chilled against mine.

“Simon?” he mumbles, eyes fluttering open in the dark. “Is everything alright, Love?”

I feel my throat tighten at the word - Love. Even now. Even like this. Where me holding him makes him think that something must be wrong. And rightfully so. After everything that has happened, that seems to be the only time that I can manage it - When we’re in danger. When we’re hurting.

“Yeah. I just … wanted. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to apologise, I was just making sure. Can - Can you not sleep?”

“No, I can. I mean, I was. So … we can just go back to sleep now. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Alright, love,” he smiles, snuggling back down into his pillow. “Sleep well, okay?”

“Yeah,” I choke. “You too.”

Right now, I can sleep in his arms. Right now, he can hold me. Right now, he is mine. Even if it’s only for tonight.

#carry on #carry on countdown #coc 2020 #my writing #my fics #co/ws #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz

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dorizardthewizard · 3 years

Text

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 6

Prologue / Chapter 5 / Chapter 7

6. THE BREATH!

In the old Arena Stadium, the tests follow one another. The volunteers put on the biotronic suit one after the other and follow each other in the holo-trainer, from where they come out later, generally exhausted, sometimes happy to have passed the tests that Clamp had programmed on his console, most often annoyed at having failed, certain that they would not be considered during the final selection.

Then comes Thran's turn, who Clamp is happy to get rid of, because Thran has stuck with him almost from the beginning, amazed by his console ("It's a Micronics, right? - No, kid, I made it myself. - But you took a Micronics as a base, I'm sure of it!”), constantly asking questions about what appears on the screen (“It's virtual reality, OK, but how does the ball materialize? How can you feel it under your feet?”)… until Clamp, exasperated, asks Aarch:

- Let’s get through this one. If he's not good, send him home!

So Thran dons the yellow and purple combination, which takes a bit of time as he tries to pinpoint the location and function of each sensor, then enters the white cube. Aarch warns him that he will be tested in defense. He is therefore up against bald and blue sims who must take the ball before they reach the penalty area. He does not fare badly, blocking his opponents tenaciously, who however do not tire, and do not run out of steam. None of them cross the white line. Thran even manages to snatch the ball away and lead an attack on his own, finishing off with a shot at a target that happily flashes green, after which he collapses on the virtual field, breathless. On his monitor, Clamp notices this and notes a certain deficit in endurance, compensated by a remarkable tenacity and concentration. An excellent defender in short... Clamp guesses he won't be rid of him any time soon.

Then comes Ahito, whom D’jok must wake up again.

- This one, we are going to test him as a goalkeeper. - proposes Aarch.

He indeed remembers the masterful stop the sleepy man made the other day in the Cafeteria, unexpectedly preventing the ball from smashing the glasses and bottles behind the counter.

Ahito lives up to his reputation: lying in front of a huge goal, he seems to doze off as if he were on a park lawn and not defending goals. A ball flies towards him. His arm goes up in a flash, his fist hits it and sends it back. Then a second: this time it's his foot that stops it, seemingly without him waking up! Now the shots are more vicious: arched, aimed at the top bar, brushing against the posts or bouncing off them. Each time Ahito springs up, stops the ball or sends it back, with hand, foot, head, chest; leaping, tumbling, plunging to the ground, alive as a fire, the exact opposite of the sleepy dormouse that he gave the impression of being. Clamp needs to throw ten balls at once for Ahito to let two pass… for lack of arms and legs. Aarch nods, impressed: definitely, this boy has a lot of hidden skills!

- Next! - he calls.

It's Mei's turn. The jumpsuit fits her like a bag and right off the bat she points out:

- This thing’s for boys! Plus, it stinks of sweat! Don't you have anything more fitting?

- Sorry, miss, you'll have to make do, - Aarch replies. - We don't have a factory to mass-produce them, you see. If you don't like it, you know the way out!

- Well as her mother, I am offended! My Mei deserves better than that! Well, if you must... go on, my daughter, show them your skills!

Mei is impressed by the virtual dimensions of the pitch, but tries hard not to let it show. She knows that she is being watched, as if she were on a catwalk for a fashion show. She is immediately jostled by eight blue sims, who rush towards the goals she is supposed to defend.

- Hey! - she protests. - I will not play in defense! I need an attack test for me!

Her voice echoes through the micro-speakers built into Clamp's console, near which Mei's mother stands, watching the scientist as if she understands something about his instruments and his manipulations.

- Did you hear that? - she demands. - Change your program!

- Ma'am, - retorts Aarch coldly, - We are in charge here. Are you a candidate? No? Then you have no business here!

- Fifteen seconds. - announces Clamp, which starts the countdown.

This is displayed in the holo-trainer. Mei understands she has fifteen seconds to prove her worth, or she will be permanently ousted. She rushes towards the virtual attackers, throws herself at the feet of the one with the ball and mows it down just before he shoots at the goal. A new ball appears at the feet of another sim, and she takes it in a masterful tackle. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth... Mei leaps, dives, slides, kicks and heads, each time managing to recover the ball. Seven out of eight balls strike the opponent in fifteen seconds - and Mei isn't even out of breath.

152 points out of 160, displays the console in front of a dumbfounded Aarch and Clamp. No player tested in defense had exceeded 100 points, except Thran who scored 120. Both exchange a knowing smile: this is the defender they need... but without her fussy mother!

- What a spectacle, dear holo-viewers! - comments Callie Mystic, who is following the trials live for Arcadia News. - And it's not over yet, candidates are flocking to try their luck! Who would have thought there are such great players on Akillian? We can already thank Aarch for revealing them to us!

- And me? - Clamp protested. - Without my machines...

- And Professor Clamp too, of course. I'm willing to bet that his holo-trainer is going to be a big hit in Galactik Football clubs!

Tested as a passer, Sinedd does very honorably: his ball hits thirteen out of fifteen moving targets, represented by concentric red circles. The more powerful the shots, the farther the circles move apart. Right foot, left foot, on the fly, returned… even one from the head. He scores 145 points, which is not far from perfect.

- Here, try to do better... if you can! - he challenges D’jok, handing him the jumpsuit.

- With pleasure, my friend...

D’jok is also tested as a passer, but this time marked by an opponent: not only does he need to shoot at the targets, but also to prevent the blue sim from stealing the ball from him. It quickly turns into a hellish chase, in which D’jok nonetheless manages to crash any targets he spots - he quickly loses count. The sim eventually gives up and fades away, as if discouraged. The bell announcing the end of the test rings out at the right time: D’jok is at the end of his rope.

Standing behind Clamp, Sinedd watches the progress of the score bar, confident that D’jok will not hit 100. His smirk fades when the score hits 120… and the bar keeps rising. D’jok joins him as he passes 140... Sinedd grits his teeth. Finally, the bar stabilizes: the screen displays 150 points.

- How do you like that? – jibes D’jok.

Sinedd grunts, but finds nothing to complain about - he can't even accuse Clamp's machines of cheating!

- We're still live from Arena Stadium, where Aarch's recruiting tests are coming to an end, - says Callie Mystic, followed step by step by her trusty flying holo-cam. - There are hardly any candidates left... but I see latecomers still getting out of the elevator! We can say that these two have arrived at the last minute to try to join Aarch’s team!...

Heeding the voice of its mistress, the holo-cam focuses on the two latecomers in question… this is how Norata discovers them, who has installed a TV screen in his greenhouses, just to have a little company when he transplants or cuts his plants. His son, in close-up! In the company of a little brat with white hair! His arms drop, the flower box he was holding too. Roaring in anger, he rushes to the garage and throws himself into his pick-up slider.

***

- Okay, well… I think I'd better leave you. - Rocket says to Tia, when the two of them reach the holo-trainer.

- Out of the question! You brought me here, you can’t go back now (Tia softens her somewhat bossy tone with a smile). At least stay to see me play!

- Okay…

Rocket mingles with the crowd, glaring at the monitor, which shows the audience what is going on inside the holo-trainer. Leaning over Clamp's console, his uncle hasn't seen him yet. Besides, Rocket doesn't want Aarch to find out.

Tia stands in front of the entrance to the cube, from which comes out an exhausted and crestfallen candidate: apparently it hasn't been a success for him… he changes, and gives the suit to Tia without a word. Aarch turns to her:

- It’s your turn, young lady. Are you the last one?

- Uh… not really…

She looks around for Rocket, but he has melted into the crowd.

She is shown the locker room, she goes to put on the outfit, and in turn enters the holo-trainer. The virtual terrain and the artificial sky elicit a little cry of enchantment from her. Then the ball materializes at her feet. Just when she notices it, she is violently pushed by a blue sim suddenly appearing at her side. She stands up, stunned - the ball is still there.

Four avatars rush at Tia from the other end of the field. She understands that she is in a defensive position, in front of the penalty area, and that she has to prevent these four from reaching the empty net behind her. Tia concentrates... burning energy, incredible power sweeps over her, even beginning to flow over her in bluish strands. She gets the impression that time is stretching, that the four virtual players are galloping in slow motion. She can see very clearly what she needs to do to prevent them taking the ball from her. It’s almost impossible - but she feels she can do it. She starts running too - towards the attackers! As she runs, this fabulous energy carries her, fills her with inordinate force, flows from her in electric blue waves. She reaches a terrific speed, the sims move like snails next to her: all their gestures are broken down, she can guess - and counter - their every move. Having reached a meter in front of them, she shoots up the ball. She takes off in turn in a column of light and joins the ball, which seems suspended in mid-air. Everything is slowing down around Tia - or rather, she's the one that has accelerated at a phenomenal rate! She screams without even realizing it. Her foot rises in a powerful swing and hits the ball, which shoots towards the opposing goals, pulverizing the virtual goal, sinking into the net like a meteor.

Then Tia descends, spinning down her column of energy, which diminishes and leaves her as she approaches the ground... she lands gently on the ground, stunned but not really out of breath, her nerves just a little tense, as if she had received a small electric shock. She doesn't know what exactly happened, but she feels like it was pretty good...

In front of the console, Aarch and Clamp watch the event live. They stand, absolutely flabbergasted.

- The Breath! - whispers Aarch, who realizes it first.

When Tia comes out of the holo-trainer, everyone's eyes are fixed on her - dazzled, stunned eyes. Rocket even more so, who forgets to hide. Tia heads straight for him, takes off her outfit and hands it to him:

- Your turn now.

In her underwear and bra, she runs to get dressed in the locker room, followed by thirty pairs of eyes who do not yet believe what they have seen.

Aarch suddenly discovers his nephew standing in the middle of the crowd, dumbfounded, clothes in hand.

- Rocket? Does your dad know you're here?

- Yes, and I won’t allow it! - a gruff voice breaks out.

Norata slices through the audience, hobbling as fast as he can manage on his artificial leg. He snatches the suit from Rocket's hands, throws it to the ground, and holds out a peremptory finger at his son.

- You come with me! We're going home.

Head down, hands in his pockets, Rocket shuffles behind his father to the elevator. Before entering, he turns around, and sees Tia at the locker room door, staring at him sadly...

It's even worse: not only will he get a big yelling at, but he will also regret not getting to know this strange, little Obiane a bit better.

***

Everyone has been waiting for the test results for almost an hour. Standing or seated, alone or in small groups, candidates lose patience. Some have already left, confident that their more or less disastrous performance has placed them at the bottom of the scale. The others hope to have shown some talent, enough to justify their selection at least as substitutes ...

In their corner, leaning over their screens, Aarch and Clamp debate, point their fingers at such an area or that column, scribble on pocket screens, talk, argue, and seem to have trouble coming to an agreement.

Mei's mother swears to her gods that she will make a big scene if her champion daughter is not selected. Sinedd paces around like a caged lion. Tia stays away, brushing off anyone who tries to approach her. D’jok, Micro-Ice, Thran and Ahito are sitting in a circle on the floor; Ahito is dozing, Micro-Ice is fidgeting impatiently and D’jok is worried:

- They'll take me, right? - he asks Thran for the umpteenth time.

- Are you kidding or what? If they don't take you, we can all go home, I say!

- Yeah, I'm sick of this! - Micro-Ice explodes, and gets up abruptly. - We've been hanging around for an hour, I can't take it anymore! I don't care about this team, I’m leaving. - he walks away with a determined step towards the elevator.

- Your attention please! - Aarch's deep, strong voice echoes, and everyone stands up. - Clamp and I have finally picked seven of you. As for the rest of you, don't be disappointed if you weren't selected. I will keep your names because I will surely need substitutes. And don't forget, there’s more to life than football…

- That’s the first sane thing I’ve heard all day! - says Micro-Ice, who suddenly turns around.

- Clamp?

He taps on a holographic console, which projects six faces into the air above the audience...

D’jok. Thran. Ahito. Sinedd. Mei. And Tia.

Cries of joy from those concerned. D’jok, Thran and Ahito hug each other. Mei's mother, radiant, hugs her daughter against her. Sinedd has a superior air, as if to say, “I knew all along”. Tia, moved, holds back a tear. Micro-Ice stands still.

- And the seventh, Clamp? - asks Aarch.

- Wait, I’m having a little transmission problem... here it is!

A seventh face swirls in the air, positioning itself next to the other six: Micro-Ice.

- Whoa! I'm in! – Micro-Ice jumps and runs towards his friends with his arms raised. - You see, I'm part of the team! With you guys! For real, I’m so happy! Well, of course, it’s expected: you can’t do it without me, right?

***

Far away from Akillian, around a large blue star, orbits a beautiful planet that resembles an agate rock with its long bands of multicolored clouds. Surrounded by a belt of asteroids, which risk falling towards the planet. Incidentally, they are also weapons of defense... but no one - except the Humans, once - would dare to wage war against the wise and powerful Lightnings. This gem-like planet is theirs: Xzion.

Within the crown of satellites there is one that is not a weapon, but a meeting place. It is a vast sphere, connected with alveoli which contain many micro-environments and micro-climates, allowing to welcome the most varied forms of life.

It is the meeting place of the Flux Society.

In the center of the sphere slowly rotates a miniature replica of the Galaxy in which flash, like tiny fireflies, all the worlds that have a delegated member of the Flux Society. One of them sparkles stronger than the others: it is Akillian.

The alveoli are for the moment deserted, but they can be occupied very quickly, by physical beings or their virtual representations, as soon as the Flux Society is summoned.

This is what will happen in any moment, as a disembodied voice rings out, rolling its echoes across the vast sphere:

- Members of the Flux Society must assemble immediately: the Breath of Akillian has manifested!

#galactik football #the revival of akillian #thran bugging clamp lool #tia's use of the breath is awesome in written form too

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multifandom-girlie · 4 years

Text

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Imagine requested by @theshyprincess : You take his virginity

Pairing: MG x Vampire!Reader

Warnings: smut

Disclaimer: I am not supporting minor and adult relationships but for the purpose of readers backstory, we are allowing it. Especially considering that is basically what all the shows are about if you think about it. Also I have nothing against MG but I just thought it would be a surprise to not have them dating. Also I thought the idea of the boy being the Virgin is a little more unique considering all stories I've read for this particular request are all girls having their virginity taken, so I thought I'd be different. Also the age of reader isn't completely known to me but I wanted her dating Kol when she was 16 and since they dates for 3 years she must be 19 but I'm not sure if you can stay longer at the Salvatore school unlike normal school. Hope you enjoy !

Since I started the school, Milton's always had a little crush on me but of course me growing up and developing into a women only intensified that crush and here we are. He's not a bad person but I haven't ever seen him in the way he wants me to. But of course he asked me to the back to school dance Lizzie thought would be a good idea to through and of course I couldn't say no. See a few weeks ago, he wouldn't have even dates asking me considering my ex boyfriend is not only and older more intimidating man, not just a vampire but a Mikaelson. Yup, you did hear that right. It wasn't supposed to happen but it did.

See Hope was going home to New Orleans to visit all her family at Christmas around 3 years ago and since I didn't have anywhere to go she invited me. So I went with her met her family and everyone was really nice, but her uncle Kol was particularly nice to me. We were only meant to be staying until the 28th of December and then going back home but Hope was convinced to stay till New Years by her Uncle...Kol. So there we were New Years in New Orleans, drinking champagne. The countdown began, Kol and I were stood in the back and three bottles of champagne had been shared between us both alone. It didn't take long for him to make his move that night, 5 minutes after midnight we were both intoxicated, horny, hot and naked. The amount of times it happened that night, without us giving a care in the world. That was what most of our relationship was like, but I'm afraid it got to careless and he cheated on me with a girl called Davina. He tried apologising but I wasn't hearing any of it, three years down the drain because of lack of loyalty and a bottle of white.

So here we are present day, 20 minutes before the dance and crying into my pillow. Just because I wouldn't hear Kol out doesn't mean the thought of him isn’t heart-wrenching. I pulled away from the pillow, praising myself for using waterproof mascara accidently. I walked to the mirror ran my fingers through my hair, wiped the fresh tears off my face and straightened out my dress. I walked out the door and locked it behind me, walked down the hall and down the stairs to the big hall, where the dance was. I pushed the mahusive brown door away from me and walked into the hall, MG greeted me at the bottom and led me to the middle of the floor.

He grabbed ahold of my waist and hand and started swaying us to the music.

“Look y/n I know that your probably heart-wrenching about breaking up with Kol, so this is the only time I'll mention it but I am sorry. Even if it worked in my favour.”

I looked at him, tears pooling in my eyes. I don’t want to tell him I can't see him that way but I have too eventually, so it might aswell be now.

“MG look. You are the sweetest man I've ever met and your funny and incredibly handsome and any girl would be lucky to have you, but I don't see you like that. I think your amazing but it's going to take me a while for this Kol thing to blow over and I can't give you hope for something to happen when it's more than likely it won't. I appreciate you asking me to the dance and always being there for me but we aren't ever going to date MG, I am sorry.”

He looked down at the ground a gripped me tighter. He looked back into my eyes.

“Eh it was a long shot anyway. It just sucks that you don't feel that way about you, I don't think you quite realise how much I do really like you.”

I smiled slightly and looked him the eyes, I giggled slightly before I spoke.

“What you mean, when you spend hours getting Josie to teach you how to bake everytime I'm upset so you can bring me some food? when you sprain your wrist getting Lizzie to teach you how to dance to impress me? when you sit in your room crying to yourself when you think about me with someone else? when you blackmailed Kaleb into teaching you how to fight property so you could protect me ? I do see all of this Milton and I've tried so hard to feel the same way, it makes me the only girl who wouldn't fall for it. But at the end of the day, would you not rather have me as a really good friend and never lose me or date me, something goes wrong and then we never speak again.”

He had tears in his eyes and he decided to twirle me.

“You saw all that ? I guess I would rather never lose you.”

We looked deeply into each other's eyes and grinned.

“Okay so we can either continue dancing and be boring or go steal Ric's bourbon and Emma's red ?”

He laughed and dragged me out the hall. We snuck into Alaric's office and grabbed the drinks we then took ourselves to Emma's office and stole her brand new, very tasty, expensive bottle of red.

Around 1 hour later, we were waltzing around the halls together with empty bottles in our hands and stumbling into everything around us. We then heard Alaric calling us from round the corner so we opened a cupboard and slotted ourselves in. It was the janitors closet, so I watched through the grates in the door so find Alaric. He was looking around completely clueless and I was silently laughing until I realised how close in proximity me and Milton were. The fact that we were intoxicated probably didn't help. His member swiftly brushed against my behind and turned me on more than I realised. His hands travelled down my waist and his mouth did the same but to my neck. His warm breath fanned on my neck.

“We might be safer in here, away from innocent minds and prying eyes.”

His big soft lips brushed against my neck and my eyes rolled back. I suddenly sobered a little but he wasn't completely with it. I turned around so we were facing eachother and his member was definetely an important factor in the conversation now.

“Milton, honey... have you ever done this before ?”

He shook his head and still continued his movements. Points to the guy for confidence, seriously. I mean what's the worst that could happen, I can't get pregnant because I'm a vampire and he's drunk anyway so he wont't remember that it even happened. I'm still not entirely sure I will yet.

I lifted my dress up and kissed him roughly.

OUTFIT

He pulled away from the kiss.

“Wait stop. Just before we do this... you looked really beautiful tonight.”

I smiled at him in awe and kissed him again.

“Thankyou Milton.”

I ripped the buttons of his shirt and kissed down his chest down to the waistband. He started breathing really heavily.

“Milton, calm down.”

He nodded and slowed his breathing. I smiled and undid his belt and slipped his trousers down. His buldge prominent through his black boxers. I used my hand to stroke his clothed member whilst placing little kisses around his man region. His eyes started to close with pleasure so I ripped his boxers off and flicked my tounge out to collect the pre cum dripping from his tip. His breathing started to quicken as I took his whole cock into my and swirled my tounge around it as I did. His tip collided with the back of my throat and already his dick was already throbbing. I jumped back up before he came and I kissed him passionately. He grabbed my throat and pinned me against the wall.

“I’m okay with teasing but that was too far. Let's see how you like it.”

He lifted me up and ripped my panties off. He held me on the wall and thrusted his cock into me with no warning. It was a very surprising gift. He kept doing it until I was just about to cum, he pulled out and kissed me. We made out for a couple of minutes and he then lifted me higher and stuck his face in between my legs and stuck his tounge straight into my entrance. I was nearly at my peak again when he pulled away.

“Okay Milton, I've learned my lesson. Just please let me come.”

He lowered me into his dick once again and my orgasm was fast approaching. As soon as he's finished his fourth thrust, I released all over his cock. Squirting into his stomach and my legs. He started to rub my clit and I squirted even more. I couldn't handle the pleasure. It was overstimulation at it's finest.

I jumped down with a grin on my face and pulled my dress back over my head. Milton was putting his suit back on before he spoke up.

“The no panties thing was lucky wasn’t it. It's like you knew it was going to happen.”

I laughed and shook my head, I opened the door.

“Don’t get to cocky Milton. It wasn't for you Kol was meant to be coming tonight and whether I forgave him or not, I've been super horny all day. I needed some release and I knew he would give it to me.”

He laughed with me and he walked me back to my room, where there was a surprise waiting for me.

“Kol?!”

He looked at me in horror and walked into my room slamming the door behind him.

“Milton thank you for tonight, it was great. But I need to make sure he doesn't go rouge.”

He smiled and I left him alone. I walked into my room and I'm telling you, i'm dead meat.

Tags: @akshi8278 @theshyprincess

MASTERLIST

#milton greasley #Kol mikaelson #hope mikaelson #mikaelsons #NewOrleans #alaric saltzman #lizzie saltzman #josie saltzman #kaleb #the vampire diaries #the originals #legacies imagine #Legacies #imagines

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 4 years

Text

15 Minutes - P. Parker

So I’ve been stuck in a writing funk for so long, and I got inspired and I’ve been writing this for days until I got it just right and it made me sad and I hope y’all like it and I’ll defs get onto my requests more efficiently now!

TW: Death of loved one, torture, degrading language, abuse, sad Peter, grief, all round angst.

Original story by sarcastically-defensive-17

It was routine. Every day, three times a day. 6AM, 12PM and 5PM. He barely had the chance to recover. Psychologically. Emotionally. Physically.

The machine was cold. The dull grey of the sides reminded him of how alone he was. Deserted. Left for dead, he supposed. No word of contact from any outside source, no hope for a rescue mission. He lost count at 3 months in captivity.

Every single day he had to see her. Had to relive it all. He never once thought that he would physically be transmitted through time and space. The worst part, he knew the woman holding him hostage. One of the most intelligent people on the planet. An expert in Thermodynamics and - so he now discovered - a ruthless person fueled by grief.

A bell chimed followed by an alarm and blinding green light. The glass door swung across the machine, trapping him inside as he stood upright with no way out.

“5, 4, 3, 2...” the countdown rang out, and the green light intensified. His stomach spun, eyes clenched shut at the feeling he will never get used to.

He was back in his apartment. Clothes he hadn’t seen in a long time on his person, his hair a few inches shorter and his reflection almost a stranger to him as is stared back at him in the mirror of their bedroom.

The ringing of his phone was foreign, yet expected. Same schedule.

He lifted the device, holding it to his ear in the same way he had at least 100 times before. Including the day it first happened.

“Y/N,” he breathed. The only thing he enjoyed about the event was the chance to hear her voice again. The breath sigh through the receiver as she strolled through the bustling streets of New York, on his way to her.

“Hey, I cant wait to see you!” Her voice held excitement, the same he had heard over and over. It became his own self indulgent nightmare. He longed for her, he had never held her in this, but he could hear her and feel her near. He could see her laid out on the pavement...

“Me too,” he answered, feigning the joy he felt that day at the idea of her return. She had been in England for the past month and a half, working to quell a growing drug import/export ring. How little she knew that the same work she focused on would be her demise.

After all, she was an ex-cop turned badass avenger. She was known for fearing nobody.

“Im about 15 minutes away from home. I can’t wait to see you!” Peter couldn’t stop the tears from falling from his eyes as he rushed to get his shoes on.

In exactly 26 seconds, his signal would ring.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing,” a voice snarled in the background of the call, followed by a clattering sound and a muffled shriek.

Peter pushed out a breath, putting his phone on loudspeaker and jumping out of his window.

He had no webs, no mask, no care. He had been over this scenario many times and wasting time with the spidey gear left less time to save her. When he tried it, he was met with her body slumped on the ground, blood flowing from her neck as she choked on the crimson liquid. He didn’t even have time to do the same to her attackers before he was pulled back to the present.

The actions must be damaging to the space time continuum, but the doctor had a lethal artifact in her possession, and she was prepared to do anything in her power to change events.

His ankles painlessly cracked as his feet hit the pavement below the window and he was off. He needed a new detour. He had tried many over the months, but a new one was running through his mind.

He cut down a side alley that would lead him around buildings and directly across from the alley she was pulled into. It was broad daylight in Queens yet nobody cared to see a young woman dragged away by three men.

Peter was just thankful that Y/N didn’t have to suffer in the original telling of the story.

He cut corners by vaulting from the walls of the alley way. He jumped over fences, dodged trash cans and even ignored an elderly lady who had dropped her groceries - a mistake he made by helping her in his first run through of attempting the detours.

He reached his destination in the form of a alley way decorated by versions items of graffiti. The bright colors stood out from the grey brick in the shape of various symbols. He and Y/N had often gone to that alley to observe the work of local street artists. She adored it.

As soon as the rubber toes of his shoes hit the mouth of the painted backstreet, a gunshot rang out and Y/N’s body slumped down on the other side of the busy road.

His heart broke once again at the sight.

He barely had time to step onto the road to get to her before the green light erupted in his vision again. His head reconnected with the thin cushioned pillow in the machine as a roar tore from his throat.

“Failure, once again.” The feminine voice snapped. “Always failing!”

Peters throat was sore. He had spent far too long screaming. His head was pounding, evidence of underfeeding and the sheer transference of his body through time.

He never expected to time travel. He knew how damaging it could be to change history, but here he was. Held against his will to save a woman that he loved so desperately. Forced to watch her death over, and over, and over. To hear her voice and feel the construction of his heart with the knowledge that he most likely wouldn’t be able to save her.

The physical pain of being returned to the day it happened and the image of her dead in various way seared into his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her.

The machine slid open, and a boney hand grabbed his face. He was far too weak to fight back, even with his powers.

The eyes of the doctor glared into him, bloodshot and poisoned by grief and ferocity, “Why are you such a failure? We have been doing this for 5 months! There has been no improvement. No chance of saving her, all because you are pathetic!”

“I’m trying,” he mumbled.

The hand left his face, leaving a biting cold in its wake. They always kept him in cold rooms. Part of the torture to encourage him to do better. After all, Peter believed just as the doctor did. He deserved the pain after what happened to Y/N. He should have protected her.

A loud bang echoed through the white room. The fury in the eyes of the Doctor made him almost shrink. He already felt miniature under her gaze, but somehow, he felt worse whenever he came back empty handed.

A hiss left her lips as she cradled the bony hand, Peter assumed she had hit something. “This happened because of you, Parker. You were the one she trusted the most. You were the one who she put her life on the line for countless times on your pathetic missions. You are the reason she is dead.”

“No,” he choked. It was a wet noise, his throat constricting as the mind games took hold again. His hands wove into his hair, tugging harshly. The action had quickly became a coping mechanism of his. He would do anything to distract himself from her words. “No, no, no, no. It wasn’t me. It was them. The gang. Not me.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” She hissed, the eyes staring down at him incredibly similar to the same glassy ones he saw every time he went back. “You were never good enough for her. You were always four steps behind her. Y/N deserved better than you.” The doctor stood up again, the expression on her face void of any emotion as she kept her steely gaze locked on his brown eyes. Her lips turned up at the corners slightly as she watched the tears fall down his face. Her back was straight, regaining the posture she often adopted when addressing those working for her, “Send him back again. Maybe if he does it right, I won’t need to be stuck looking at him in 15 minutes.”

“Ma’am, he needs time to rest. His body can’t handle such a short recovery time between jumps,” a random man in a lab coat told her. He - like Peter - cowered under her gaze.

“Send him back.” She growled with every word, pushing the door shut across the machine and walking back towards the other room.

The green light erupted again and he soon found himself in the same scene from before, although this time he emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor of their house.

His phone rang like clockwork, and he answered, placing it on loudspeaker and reciting the script he wrote for himself on the original date.

He slipped his web shooters onto his wrists before he left, following the same route as his last trip. Everything was the same, down to the exact way he dropped from his windows and bounded through the alley, although this time, he sent a web across the street, pulling himself forward into the alley way.

He collided into one of the men that had Y/N cornered, sending him crashing into the brick wall of the alley.

“Peter?” Y/N shrieked, doing her best to fight the other men off in the same way he had seen her do so in the past. Or, other pasts.

Two of the other men launched at him, both with blunt weapon and scuffed faces. As one swung high, the other swung low. His mind was centered on Y/N and his reflexes were working in overdrive, burning him out faster than anticipated.

It all came to a halt when the two men were on the ground and the sound of a blade slicing through flesh filled his ears. Y/N gurgled on her blood, eyes full of anguish as she stared at Peter with fear on her face.

He only had time to catch her body as she fell before the light overtook him once again.

The overly sterile room greeted him, sobs wracking his body. The door slid open once again and heels clicked against the tiled floor.

The malicious eyes watched him again.

“Please, no more,” he begged, knowing he would be on his knees if not for his fear of moving out of turn. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s torture.”

The hand returned to his face, a soft touch that lifted his wet face to look at the furious glare fixed on his being.

The doctor tutted, patronizing him. “Oh, honey. You think this is torture? You should see what I’m prepared to do to you if I need to spend another month doing this.” Her smile was pure evil, but her eyes held the depth of a woman mourning. The circles under her eyes and the deepening wrinkles fold of her grief, and despite the recurring pain, he felt for the woman. He wanted to apologize to her, had she not disregarded every apology that fell from his chapped lips.

“Please...” he whispered under his breath, feeling the hand leave his face and close the door once again.

“Send him back,” she announced to the other room before turning her attention back to him. “Save my daughter, Peter. Or you’ll wish it was you that died that day.”

The green light flooded his senses once again.

Tag List: @starshonerose @mantlereid @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @another-lonely-heart

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #marvel #tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker angst #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #mcu #Spiderman mcu

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renaroo · 4 years

Text

That Time Ted Kord and Barbara Gordon Invented Sexting in the DCU

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #25]

There’s a lot of things I would like to end the decade on, and I’ve got a Cassandra Cain post I want to get up, but I am called to talk about one of the most important, most obscure parts of the DC Universe that happened 20 years ago. Also I’m shameless and encouraged by @secretlystephaniebrown and @shobogan so here we go.

DC, and most comics really, have this bad habit of minimizing or erasing past relationships of characters in order to “simplify” romantic narratives with an endgame pair.

In some ways, I suppose I get it. There is a certain joy I can take from the notions of pure love and meant to be, and with these two characters in particular -- Ted Kord (Blue Beetle II) and Barbara Gordon (Batgirl I/Oracle) -- I have very passionate feelings toward other pairings with them.

But my god. What is lost in the world and in your perspective on both of these characters if you do not know their history together. No, seriously! It’s great!

Ted and Babs are both well established nerds in the DCU even before the 90s. On every team Ted’s a part of he is one-half prankster and one-half tech support, to his continued chagrin. And Babs’ technical skills and eidetic memory are among her most famous traits, even when she was the Batgirl of the Bronze Age.

By the 90s both of them had also been through a lot -- Ted had gained and lost a dozen teams it felt like by that point, Barbara had survived her attack by the Joker but had only begun to establish herself more widely in the superhero community as Oracle, and the Birds of Prey were literally just starting out.

Babs had Dinah, but was still not revealing her identity to Dinah, she needed a friend. And, online in a techie forum, she made one:

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #2]

This friendship blossoms for a while as purely digital space across quite a few issues -- a lot of good issues of the early Chuck Dixon run which is an under-read treat these days, I feel. It still has its... Dixon on it, but the characters are great and this relationship is just one example of them.

Ted helps Babs out quite a bit and finally, they’re ready to meet in person.

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #15]

They’re honestly adorable, and pretty much instantly know each other’s identities. For one, Babs knows all the identities on the Justice League roster. For two, Ted can put together pretty quickly what tech-related superhero would have access to that kind of information.

For three, they went to a meet up in color coordination with their hero identities. Which of course is protocol in comics but still.

Point stands.

Ted stays in the picture for a long time after this, he’s a good friend and confidante to Babs and they’re genuinely interested in each other’s company. Platonically or romantically? It doesn’t seem to really matter until it’s finally the end of a long and tough arc, and Ted is forced back into wearing his Beetle suit again.

And they have a serious conversation about their relationship that ends like most interactions with Ted do: a good laugh.

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #25]

Ted and Babs actually relied on each other a lot as friends after that. Ted was Beetle on and off again, but Babs could tell that something was up and was firm in pushing Ted to go to a doctor to get himself looked at.

If she hadn’t, Ted could’ve gone without treatment for a severe heart condition that had already cost him 3 heart attacks without him realizing it.

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #40]

And, the first person he tells, is Babs.

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #41]

Unfortunately, about this time is where comics get. Weird and difficult because as writers move books or even just as storylines naturally shift for bigger parts of the stories, things get dropped unless it’s picked up elsewhere.

A few comics like Formerly Known as the Justice League (2003-2004) would call back to their relationship and it would be in the pseudoromantic and fun banter that had had for the 90s and early 2000s, but it never picked up as a focus again.

[Formerly Known as. Justice League (2003-2004) #5]

By 2006, Ted was dead, murdered by Max Lord after he got on the right trail for what was happening with Checkmate and the OMAC Project that Bruce had on the back burner. And he was alone, after almost all of the superhero community ignored or downplayed the importance of what he was finding (except for Booster).

Unfortunately, that included Barbara.

She’s not outright dismissive and she’s not cruel or condescending to him in the ways other heroes are at the final hour, but her attention is elsewhere. They grew apart from where they were, Ted’s reputation was at an all time low to other heroes while Babs’ and the Birds of Prey were at their height.

So she gave him the final clues that would lead to the discovery of OMAC. And would send Ted to his death.

[Countdown to Infinite Crisis (2005) #1]

One thing I do appreciate, though, is that unlike a lot of comic character deaths, Ted’s did actually have impact, and it had it for years. Especially for those closest to him.

I could (and probably should) do an entire history lesson on Booster Gold and the impact their relationship has had over the years, but we’ll stick with Babs here, because Babs was allowed to grieve and honor her friend, too.

Something that wouldn’t happen in the future with other characters important to Babs’ life.

Ted was special, though, and Birds of Prey knew that and had an issue that spent a lot of very good time honoring that and his history with Babs and the rest of the team.

Which is where we get our confirmation that Babs and Ted were Cyber-Doing it before it was ever popular in one of my favorite exchanges of all time

[Birds of Prey (1999-2006) #96]

Now, am I going to wax poetically about the tragedy of Babs and Ted’s forgotten fling to force the diehards into multishipping admittance with my undeniable canon fact?

Yes.

I mean no! Not really -- I’m a diehard Boostle shipper who doesn’t budge for much and my shipping opinions for Babs are pretty firm as well.

What I’m attempting to get at here is that they have a good history, that their characters and understanding their relationships with others, make them more interesting and complex characters with fun and joy to be explored in multiple angles, even when you have your penned, perfect ending for them.

And I think erasing that in favor of perpetuating this idea that people come out of the womb with this set romantic path that any deterrence there from has to be either meaningless or actively horrible is at best less fun you can be having in these expansive universes, and at worst actively hurtful to people’s world views and expectations.

But also.

Babs and Ted were actively sexting in 1999 and that is an important - neigh, historically significant -- event in the wider DCU so.

Booster Gold has to have a storyline someday where he has to save this moment from never happening. And I will co-write it with you, Dan Jurgens, please.

#Barbara Gordon #Ted Kord #Oracle #Blue Beetle #Batgirl #DC comics #meta #long post #Rants of Unusual Size #opinions opinions opinions #Birds of Prey (1999 2009)#Formerly Known as the Justice League (2003 2004)#Countdown to Infinite Crisis (2005)#hilarious #character death tw #sex tw #kinda #They Cyber Did It

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writingwitheli · 4 years

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GrandMech

Most mechs were hard to function, even with experienced pilots.

They didn't move like people do, the mechanics don't really allow for that. You have to know the engineering intimately to clearly envision how the thing was going to react to your direction. Most pilots spend months learning their piece before going into the field. There were simulators, and for a while the board argued for mechs to be built in a uniform manner for faster learning.

But technology went a bit too fast for that. And the things were way too expensive to mass produce.

Grandma Katersfield knew this well. It was her life's work.

I mean she wasn't my grandma. But she kinda was. She was everyone's grandma, in a way. Most mechs these days still have her work in them, even if there were scraps rebuild around it. Some people called it practical. Pilots called it good luck. The engineers called it "Finally someone who knows what they're fucking doing."

When she passed away, in her garage (had she ever existed anywhere else?), the military held a funeral. Most of the planets held a funeral. The board, somewhere in their core-planet bunkers, held a meeting.

The war wasn't over, and we weren't winning. And we'd just lost our best engineer. It was a big fucking hit for morale. There were losses everywhere.

Presumably after sending a swarm of government drones through the property, the board very quickly touted "Katersfield's Final Work", and "The culmination of everything she's ever done". Some people pointed out the public images that showed how the thing was half-done. But enough people wanted hope that everyone gradually bought into the idea.

The board appointed Katersfield's daughter to lead the finalization of the thing. Ann wasn't exactly an engineer, but they knew how the public would read it. They gave her a team of their best to work with.

When construction was nearly done, the board officially announced that Katersfield's son-in-law would be piloting it. Everyone expected it; he was the only striped pilot in the family. But it hit the top of everyone's news anyways.

The public test run was expected to be simple, and broadcasted live as far as the outer-space colonies.

It… didn't go so well.

Okay, it went very badly.

I mean.

Bad.

What followed was a lot of media confusion. The board hastily tried to put the blame on over-eagerness. People were fired. We lost four moons while our squadrons re-evaluated their lives.

Mark and his husband, Will Katersfield, had a very public divorce. Some people argue it was the media pressure. Some people suspect that the board forced them apart. I think it was a long time coming.

For a while the board pushed forward other candidates. They ran competitions for new mech designers and engineers and electricians. Offered an absurd amount of money and resources. A lot of cool stuff came out of it, but nothing really compares to Katersfield's work.

It was three years after that when media went into a frenzy over a low-grade video of the mech doing cartwheels over the family farm. Fucking cartwheels, man. I can't even do those in my own body most days.

Every news ship went down there as quick as they could. A bunch of civilians, too. Granny says a board member actually showed up in person.

Everyone was immediately on Ann about it. She was the only one that really stayed on the farm. She knew the machinery well enough. And maybe she'd inherited the pilot skills of one of Katersfield's late spouses.

To the dismay of the board, Ann insisted that the pilot was Thoma, one of Will's children. The media went ballistic. Kids weren't even supposed to be piloting mechs in the first place.

Thoma gave an interview to their school teacher and described the sensation of piloting upside down as "even better than going all the way around the bar on a swing and then having Grandma's cookies with two scoops of ice cream!" Their wide grin with missing teeth was eventually made into metal-cards for soldiers to attach under their breast plates and remind them of home.

At some point, Ann made the mistake of admitting that she'd taken it out for a test-run while she was tuning up some joints (she hadn't been an engineer when this started. But things change).

The board came down hard. They publicly announced that Ann was the cartwheeling pilot, and further that she'd accepted a high raking military title with absurd honors and enough pay to buy a moon. They posted a date with a public countdown clock for her departure to the front lines.

Now the way Granny tells it; Ann didn't know about any of this until her neighbor came by with the milk and a congratulations. Granny would probably piss on the board if she still could. Don't let her try it.

Ann did go. She didn't have many options, really. Her bio-logs phrase the situation as "the board made a decision. I complied."

We pushed back the front by two whole planets. Ann wasn't much of a pilot; she spent too much time thinking, but the war pushed around her. Most of the time it only took a three second clip of her unnaturally smooth landing and quick gravity adjustment to a new planet. My old mech would take two minutes to land and readjust. A lot can happen in two minutes.

The official report says Ann died on Mitas 9. The board will probably censor this whole damn thing if I try to explain what happened, but just remember that official reports are. Well. Official.

The mech was commandeered immediately. They cleaned it up, threw on a new coat of paint, and put their highest ranking pilot in the hotseat.

Everyone was in a hurry to get back to it and have a plan ready before Ann's death was publicly announced. Yeru knew the schematics by heart and spent one month living with the mech every hour of every day to make up for lost time. The board went as far as making them legally exempt from standard reports. Yeru's bios were never made public, but you can pull them from the military archives in Section B. They clearly knew their way around a mech, and honestly seemed to be a good person as far as I can tell.

The board had seemingly learned from prior incidents. The Generals hosted a secluded military showing of the first test-run. Those archives are probably deleted, but all you really need to know is that Yeru never made it off the ground.

For a few months, the military looked into sabotage. Yeru's bio-post about the joints being "just plain creaky no matter how much I oil the thing" convinced a bunch of higher-ups that the mech had been swapped out or something.

I know. Creating a whole fake mech to replace it with? Somehow managing to swap the thing out with as much board, military, and media surveillance as it has? Absurd.

Also I'm sure you're well aware that plenty of good mechs have creaky joints. I hear you ran Sacrifice 2 for a while there. Lt. Jen complained about how loud that thing was for months after he shared a hangar with it near Osylus. Not sure if that was your time or not. I'm going to tell him it was, so he'll have something to complain to you about. When he does, ask him about the wardrobe cloning incident. I'm sure he'll know what you're talking about.

Anyways.

The news about Ann went public, and the board pushed it down the feeds with reports about a new Stealth Carrier that would move faster than a pilot-ship. It did. Everyone loved it. I'm sure it's shit compared to the last carrier you were on.

Thoma, meanwhile, had grown up and gotten their way through military school. It might seem strange to you now, but Thoma actually didn't touch a mech the first decade of their service. They had a few friends and plenty worshipers, but still hadn't officially earned enough stripes to be a pilot. The Generals wanted to make sure Thoma was knocked down enough to keep from getting big-headed about it. But Thoma didn't really care.

Thoma fought hard and studied harder. They proved themselves again and again. You can look up the public records of their medal-acceptance speeches. Every damn time they would say "This is a great honor. Can I trade it in for a mech?"

Pissed a lot of people off, but it was fucking hilarious if you ask me.

Eventually Thoma led a fairly large squadron and took a half a continent in a week. When I asked them about it, they said they had sent a text message to the Generals saying "I could've gotten all of it, if I had my own mech :,(". I know them well enough to know they probably actually sent a frowny-face emoji to the Generals. Don't do that. It's hilarious. But, Don't.

Probably.

For now, anyways.

The board reluctantly let Thoma break the mech out of some museum somewhere as a reward for their service. They weren't intending for Thoma to actually run as a pilot since Thoma had already gotten to be in charge of things. It would be a media mess, at best, a military loss at worst.

Thoma did a fucking backflip over live media.

Anyways the board and the Generals argued about it for a week, but eventually did the only thing they could do. They made Thoma a pilot. There were lots of assurances that Thoma would still be holding their responsibilities as Planetary Sergeant. No one cared. Thoma had done a fucking backflip; the Katersfields were at it again.

I'm told that week of debate consisted of at least fifteen other pilots trying the mech out and reporting up failures of various kinds. Don't worry about that, you'll do fine.

I'm sure you know most of the story from there. Thoma took Belet 5 through Belet 11, and some other smaller planets along the way. Majestic. War hero. Idol. Etc etc.

The board immediately pushed Thoma’s son, Madene, into the military and straight into pilot's school. They make a lot of dumb decisions, but even the board could see the pattern here.

You might not have read this about me, but I used to be an electrician. I worked on Thoma's team for a while. The Generals gave Madene special permission to visit us sometimes so he could learn the mech hands-on. He'd always wanted to be an artist or a planetary refurbisher. That was clear from the first day we met.

I'll tell you this now, it's not part of public record: Madene ran the mech just fine when it was just us around. Thoma would give some long drawn-out speech about minding your manners and being careful with her. It was their Grandmother's soul in that machine, after all. Madene didn't really listen, but the mech ran just fine anyways.

When Madene was nearing graduation, the Generals sent their scouts around to see how things were going. The mech ran straight into their drones and fell convulsing onto the ground.

It was a hard time for a while, Thoma was upset with Madene and Madene was embarrassed. There were lots of arguments, and the Generals tried to pretend Madene just didn't have enough experience as a pilot. The idea that Madene did it on purpose didn't get recorded, but it's what a lot of people assumed. I don't think that's what happened, anyways.

Madene tried really hard after that. He pushed himself in school, and as a result they let him try out a bunch of other mechs. He proved he could handle it just as well as some of our better pilots. He took Entrapment marching around the school-system planet four times.

Thoma tore their knee in a pretty brutal fight, and since they were nearing retirement anyways the board arranged for a public hand-off of the mech.

I used to talk to her when I worked. My old pilot - the one I worked electricity for before Thoma - had always been superstitious about this sort've thing. She used to spend a good half-hour reassuring it before she's let me do any work on it. I guess I'd picked up the habit. You might want to pick it up, too, if you haven't already.

I'd asked her to help Madene out. He'd worked so hard and I could tell Thoma was slowing down.

You might have seen the media of that. Afterward Madene was particularly… verbal. Even if you didn't see that, I'm sure you heard about what happened to him after. Don't be too harsh on him, it's really not his fault. We were all too hard on him.

All the media says the Generals did a lot of research and realized I was better suited as a pilot and they shifted me over. How that actually happened was… well. A little boring.

One of their scouts had caught me helping her move over so I could get a better angle at the spinal wiring.

Blah blah blah. I'm sure you know the highlights from there.

So here's where we get to the advice that was the whole point of this message:

I admit the public eye is a little difficult to get used to. Honestly I recommend you just ignore it. They'll say shit no matter what you do.

Don't call her by the name the board gave her. I know that's what you learned in school and in training. Don't do it.

Don't piss her off.

Be patient - her memory isn't what it used to be.

Don't tell her what to do. I read your file, you have a lot of experience. I know this will be the hard part.

If the mediacom switches to one of those awful family gameshows. Just. Let it happen. No, they do not get less annoying to listen to. Yes, she knows they're all the same.

The internal heating will be On when you're on any below-regulation temperature planet. I know you're from the outer colonies. I know that will be too warm for you. Get over it and try not to dress down too much; she's easier to maneuver when you're in layers.

The one exception to the above is her tune-ups and maintenance. She doesn't like it. She never does. We have four crews to make it easier and I still do it myself sometimes to help her get over it. You're going to have to get good at negotiating.

If you leave a battle with a sudden craving in your neurons for hot and hearty soup, go get some hot and hearty soup. She'll get stubborn with you next time if you don't.

Granny will take care of you from there.

-Captain Layfar

#writing #scifi #mecha

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bazzybelle · 5 years

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Carry On Countdown - Day Thirteen

Notes: So... This came about when reading about Baz’s sadness in regards to his father, and I just want someone to yell at Malcolm for being so stubborn and ughhhh. Title and quote at the beginning were inspired by the Pink’s song “F***ng Perfect” (a song that honestly means the world to me. God, I love her). This takes place right after Carry On.

Disclaimer: So, I tried my very best to be as sensitive as possible in this story. I’ve shared this story already with people I respect and love and they’ve given me positive feedback on what I was trying to accomplish. I do understand everyone’s experiences and perceptions are different. With that being said, there are parts during the story that may be triggering to some. I’ve mentioned before that my stories focus on healing and understanding, and I hope I was able to convey that. If my story fell short, I sincerely apologize.

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz and @fight-surrender for the never ending love and support as I was writing this story. Also thank you to @giishu and @f-ing-ruthless-baz for the encouragement and positive feedback.

TW: I’m gonna put a trigger warning for implied homophobia. Also another one for difficult family.

Day 13 Prompt: Parental Figures

Title: You’re F***in’ Perfect to Me

________________________________________________________________

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever ever feel like you're less than f*ckin' perfect. Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're f*ckin' perfect to me!

DAPHNE

I am not his mother.

I have to remember that.

There have been many times where I just wanted to hold him and brush the hair away from his face, especially after a bad quarrel with his father. But, I have to remember.

I am not his mother.

It’s been 13 years since I joined the Grimm-Pitch household as Malcolm’s wife. If I had to be honest, it was not a role I would have asked for, but one that I accepted. I was the only daughter left to be married from a branch of the Waters family. Malcolm and I had been friends during our time at Watford. He was good friends with my fiance, Declan. Declan and I were supposed to be married right after graduating from Watford, but he was killed in a skirmish between some magicians. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, because the Declan I knew would never risk his life for a stupid squabble between boys.

I died the same day he did. Declan died and I had lost any other fight to be happy. Nothing mattered in my life anymore because he was gone from it.

So when Malcolm showed up on my doorstep, a year after losing the love of his life, and asked that I become his second wife, well my parents all but jumped at the opportunity to marry their daughter to a Grimm.

I refused. I wanted nothing to do with Malcolm Grimm and with being the replacement to the great Natasha Pitch.

Then I met Basilton.

There was something about the sad, lonely little boy that broke the walls I had put up around my heart. I would never replace his mother, I knew that. But this child needed someone to give him comfort, a sense of stability. This child needed a motherly presence. So I accepted and I married Malcolm.

Marriage to Malcolm was not what I expected. We were never truly intimate, only really engaging in intercourse to provide more children to the household. We did find comfort in each other, and a shared sense of mourning for the loves we had lost. It hasn’t been an unhappy marriage, but Malcolm and I were more like best friends rather than lovers. My children (all 5 of them), brought me a happiness that I never thought I would feel again after losing Declan.

I had tried to be a calming presence in Basilton’s torrential life. I offered him support and as much love as I could. I took him to his violin lessons when he was younger, I taught him how to drive. I watched him grow up into an amazing young man.

I raised him.

I raised him and I loved him.

I still love him.

The six weeks where we lost him, were the worst six weeks of my life. I could not eat; I could not sleep. Malcolm had to cast sleeping spells on me just to get me to rest. I was running on reserve energy, walking in a day dream. When we got him back, it took everything in me to let him leave for school. I did not want to send him back to that hostile place, where there were people who wanted to do him harm.

Malcolm often told me that I risk overstepping my boundaries when it came to Basilton. He accuses me of being somewhat overbearing. Of course I overstep my boundaries! The poor child’s life has not been easy. Losing a mother at such a young age, at the same time becoming afflicted with a condition that would almost certainly mean death if the Coven knew about it. Someone had to worry about him, and to care about him.

But… we don’t talk about Basilton’s condition.

We don’t talk about Basilton’s condition, nor do we talk about Natasha.

And we certainly don’t talk about Basilton’s homosexuality.

When Malcolm and I first learned that Basilton was dating Simon Snow, it was a shock to me. More so because, as far as I knew, Mr. Snow hated Basilton. I remember gently touching Basilton’s arm and asking him if he was sure about this, and if he was happy about it. When he nodded, it was all I needed to know. Malcolm did not take the news well. He waved it off as a phase, and refused to bring up the topic again. I had tried to get him to understand his son, but he refused to listen to me and would often shoot me down.

My foot came down tonight, at dinner. I was tired of not talking anymore. I was tired of seeing the look of anxiety on Basilton’s face every time he had to come home to visit. I was tired of Malcolm not listening.

Malcolm had started to pressure him. Going on about expectations and what his future plans were. Basilton kept giving one-word answers, but I could see his eyes becoming more and more narrow, his fists clutching tightly at the table cloth. I focused my attention on the other children, but kept glancing between the two.

Malcolm didn’t notice (and if he did, I don’t think he would have acknowledged it). He started talking about having Basilton come to more Coven meetings and start learning how the Coven worked so that, when the time came, he would be ready to take his place. Basilton grumbled that he did not want to spend his life arguing at Coven meetings. There were other interests he wanted to pursue.

Then Malcolm threw a bomb.

He asked if those interests included Simon Snow. I glared at him when those words left him. I stated that his comment was uncalled for, but Malcolm ignored me. I could see Basilton becoming more and more agitated, as he asked his father to understand that Simon Snow was more than just a silly interest. I listened as he asked his father to understand that Simon was a very important part of his life. I listened, and Malcolm avoided and ignored. It all came to a head when he demanded that Basilton start really thinking about his future and that the expectations that came with his name could not include Simon Snow.

I think I may have exploded at that point. I was not proud of losing my temper, but at that point, I had enough.

I slammed my napkin on the table loud enough to startle the twins and cause the baby to begin crying. Vera had to come in and take her away. I turned to Malcolm and hissed that it was enough. Basilton had taken the distraction to angrily leave the table. With dinner sufficiently ruined, I gathered the rest of the children and ushered them upstairs.

After putting the children to bed, I had wanted to speak to Basilton, but figured it was best to give him some space in order to process everything before going to talk to him. Besides, he was most likely hunting on the grounds. So, I went into the master bedroom and started to think about what would come from the evening. I was not worried about the stability of my marriage. Malcolm would not dare bring about the scandal of divorce into this household. It was one of the few instances where I could use Malcolm’s insistence on propriety to my benefit. Tonight, I would finally speak up. Tonight, I would fight for his son.

Overstepping my boundaries be damned.

I am brushing my hair at my vanity, when Malcolm walks into the bedroom. I can feel his foreboding presence behind me, even before I notice his reflection in the mirror. He looks rather cross with me. I take a deep breath and place my brush on the counter. I stand up from the chair and face my husband.

“You made quite a spectacle of yourself at dinner.” He states in an icy tone.

“I cannot stay silent anymore Malcolm.” I stare at his dark eyes and defiantly place my hands on my hips.

Malcolm stands inches to my face and points his finger at me. “Watch yourself, Daphne.” He speaks in a quiet, yet threatening voice. I scoff at him. Let him threaten me. I push his finger away from my face and point towards Basilton’s room.

“He is your son! He is your brilliant, strong, incredibly kind-hearted son, who is only asking you to accept him for who he is!” I do not realize that my voice has risen so high that I am practically shouting. I hope the children will not hear our argument.

Malcolm rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head. “He’s a child, Daphne! He doesn’t know who he is!” I look at him incredulously. I cannot believe that this was the same man who wept when Basilton was brought home, after those horrid six weeks.

“Bollocks Malcolm! He is more sure of himself than anyone I have ever known!” I raise my hands over my head. I must be making quite a show of myself right now. Merlin help me, I do not care. These are feelings that should have been expressed months ago.

“He is a PITCH! There are expectations that go with that name.” Malcolm is still so calm, but the way that he says his late wife’s name. As if nothing could possibly hold more weight. I continue to shake my head, and angrily pace around the bedroom.

“I cannot believe you are forcing that upon him! Malcolm, we have BOTH lost the people we love the most in this world. Yet, here you are, trying to do the same thing to your own son!” My eyes begin to well with tears when I think back to Declan, and Natasha. Basilton does not deserve the same fate that befell myself and his father. He has found a little piece of happiness in his life and deserves to keep it. I point a finger up above me: “Do you think she-”

“Do not bring her up Daphne!” Malcolm thunders. I flinch involuntarily, I was not expecting him to shout like that. It is good to know that the man is capable of such emotion. I straighten myself out and address him calmly, as his friend.

“I will bring her up Malcolm. Now I know that I am not his mother, you’ve reminded me of that fact plenty of times. But I have watched him grow up into a fine young man, and I do love him as if he were one of my own.” I reach out for his hand, imploring him to listen to me, for once in his life, to listen to someone instead of his own stubborn thoughts. I continue to speak gently to him. “I look at our children, and all I want is for them to be happy. I know that Natasha would want the same for Basilton.” Malcolm pulls away from me and walks to the fireplace

“He can be perfectly happy with the path set in front of him.” He speaks softly into the flames. I walk up beside him and grab his arm. I try to turn him towards me, and I need him to look at me as I address him.

“That is not who he is. And he does not need to be anything more than the person he is right now. He’s bloody perfect, Malcolm. I wish you could see that.” Malcolm pulls away from me and back to the fire. He runs his hand through his white hair.

“It isn’t about that. I refuse to let the Pitch name-”

“Rubbish Malcolm! Your son’s happiness is more important than his name.” I interrupt him now. I am frankly tired of hearing about the Pitch name. Basilton is more than the name attached to him.

“I will not let Natasha’s memory, her legacy die!” Malcolm slams his fist on the mantle of the fireplace. I jump back. I turn my head away from him. A part of me understands the severity of Malcolm’s words. A miniscule part of me, understands. It isn’t enough to convince me that he is right. I collect my thoughts and offer up one last plea, from my heart.

“And it won’t! It’ll live on in the lasting influence she had, in the spells she created. It’ll live on in Basilton himself, in whatever path he chooses to follow.” I force his eyes to meet mine, for he has, up until this point, refused to look at me. “But Malcolm, if you reject him, if you refuse to acknowledge who he is and deny him who he loves, you will lose him. And you will only have yourself to blame!”

Malcolm responds by walking away from me. I hope that he simply needs some time to think about what I’ve said. So I grab my dressing gown and head towards the doors.

“Where are you going?” Malcolm asks me.

“I need some time away from you right now I shall be in the sitting room.” I figure I have been honest with him so far, may as well continue.

I step out of the room and rush down the stairs. I pray that none of the children have awoken after that argument. I can’t let them see me barely holding myself together. I feel my heart racing, and my hands are shaking. I need a drink. My drink of choice is typically a deep red, a Merlot. But, tonight, after that fight, I decide to go for something stronger.

Shaky hands pull out my favourite gin: Edinburgh Seaside Gin. We have better quality gins in our collection, but this is my absolute favourite. I pour my glass and take a seat on the couch. It is after I take a few sips of the gin, where I begin to weep.

“Did you mean it?” I leap onto my feet and whip around to see Basilton standing in the sitting room’s entrance. His cheeks are flushed, which indicates to me that he has recently fed himself. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and he is looking away from me.

“Basilton! Merlin, you gave me a fright!” I grasp at my chest. I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes and place the glass of gin on a small table. Basilton turns his head to me. His eyes are bloodshot, and I know that isn’t due to the feeding.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks me again. I walk up to him and gently caress his face. I smile at him and looked at him in his eyes.

“Every word.”

Basilton pulls away from me. “I should apologize. I do not want to be a reason for you and father to get into an argument.” I gently lead him to the sofa and we sit down. I hold his hands in mine as I speak softly to him.

“Do not apologize Basilton. I just wish I had done it sooner.” He looks up at me and gives me sad smile.

“Thank you, mother.” He whispers.

“Always”, I tuck some of his hair behind his ear and smile at him. He nods as he gets up from the sofa. I say one last thing to him; “I understand that you may not want to come back here, and I cannot blame you. But if it’s alright with you and Simon, I would still like to be apart of your lives. I’m sure the younger children do as well. Wherever you feel most comfortable, we would like to still see you.”

Basilton smiles at me and gives me a simple nod before walking out of the room. I take a deep breath and sip some more of the gin. I look to my left and a grand portrait of Natasha Pitch looks down at me. I salute her and pray that I have done good enough for her son.

I am not his mother. I will never truly be his mother. He has a mother.

Natasha, you have left impossible shoes for me to fill. Shoes I never wanted to fill. But I did, out of a sense of duty. Because my friend needed a wife, and his son needed a mother.

I could never replace you Natasha. You will always be Basilton’s mother. He will always be your son.

But, in my heart, I will always see Basilton as my son.

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever ever feel like you're less than f*ckin' perfect. Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're f*ckin' perfect to me!

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