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bluestar22x · 1 year ago

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Christmas In Jackson

Summary: Joel and Ellie join Tommy and Maria to celebrate Christmas (follows canon unless Season 2 contradicts it - probably will)

Characters: Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Tommy Miller, Maria Miller

Rating: 13+

Warnings: Lots of fluff, some angst, and fowl language

Word Count: 2,250 (ish)

Author’s Note: This is technically a sequel of sorts to The Tree, but can be read alone since it doesn't make any references to it. Also note baby Miller being born in the late spring matches the show's timeline since Maria found out she was pregnant in September sometime (it's why Tommy stopped contacting Joel).

xxx

Celebrating Christmas on the twenty-fourth of December had always been the tradition in the Miller household as far as Joel could remember and Tommy and Maria had apparently upheld it in Jackson. They'd upheld a lot of the Miller family Christmas traditions, while intertwining it with some of Maria's family's too. One of those traditions she'd brought with her was gift exchanging.

"What's the point of giving someone a gift if you know you're going to get something back?" Ellie asked Joel one day at the beginning of December 2024, after Tommy had informed them of the gift exchange they were going to participate in. They were walking back home from the stables after a long day of school for her and patrol for him. "Isn't that just trading?"

"It is, sure," he conceded. "A gift exchange assures everyone gets a present. The point of it is that everyone gets something either meaningful or useful. It's about the thought put into the gift."

"So what are you going to get Maria?" she inquired curiously.

Joel had randomly gotten Maria to exchange gifts with and Ellie had gotten Tommy.

"No damn idea," he grunted.

He and Maria had slowly gotten on better terms over the course of the year as he'd proven himself reliable and trustworthy, only violent when necessary out on patrol. They couldn't be called close, but they got along. That didn't mean he talked to her enough to be sure of what she'd want for Christmas though. He'd have to ask Tommy.

"What should I get Tommy?" she questioned.

"Why don't you draw him something?" Joel suggested. Ellie had taken to drawing like a fish to water since they'd officially moved to Jackson, and she had the kind of raw talent that hadn't needed much tuning, just a little practice. "What about drawing William?"

William was Tommy and Maria's son who had been born in late spring, not long after their return to Jackson.

"You think he'd like that?" she frowned. "I'm not that good yet."

"Who told you that?" Joel growled, ready to share some choice words with whoever had made her doubt her abilities.

"Nobody," she replied quickly, "I just don't know if anything I make is gift worthy."

"It is," he promised her. He didn't think he was too biased.

"Okay," she said, though she still didn't sound convinced.

"You'll do fine," he assured her. "And if you're really not satisfied with what you draw, we'll think of something else, alright?"

She nodded, shoulders sagging with relief over not being stuck if she didn't like how it turned out.

"You've got nothing to worry about," he told her.

"If you say so."

Christmas Eve arrived faster than any Joel could recall, or so it felt, but he'd managed to find something to give Maria in that time and Ellie had made Tommy the drawing, and all that was left was to join them for supper at their house and swap the gifts after.

It felt odd celebrating Christmas like that after over twenty years, and there was a sting to it, because Sarah wasn't there to celebrate alongside them, especially after his eyes glanced her name on the memorial chalkboard above Tommy and Maria's fireplace, but Joel kept himself together for Ellie. It was the first Christmas she'd ever celebrated and he didn't want to kill the excitement she genuinely had for taking part in a holiday that was rarely ever noted outside Jackson.

They ate at the kitchen table, opposite of Tommy, Maria, and William, a whole fat chicken at the center of the table alongside mashed potatoes and green beans, followed by apple pie for desert. It was more basic than the meals Joel and Tommy's mother used to make when they were growing up, but it was the best meal Joel had had in ages. Both he and Ellie ate far more than they should've but neither could find it in themselves to regret it, as stuffed as they were. Joel made sure to thank Maria for it after and that Ellie did the same, knowing his sister-in-law had cooked all the food by herself before they'd arrived.

After supper William was put to bed and they all sat down in the living room (Joel and Ellie on the couch, Maria and Tommy in chairs) to watch Elf (which had Ellie in stitches) and to talk. Tommy, Maria, and Ellie did most of the conversating (mainly about their friends, work/school, and the animals), while Joel sat back and listened, when he wasn't distracted by memories of Christmas past and the roaring fire in the fireplace that threatened to lull him to sleep.

It was nearly ten o' clock when they finally opened presents. Ellie handed Tommy his gift as soon as she could, too anxious to wait any longer.

When he pulled it out of the box she'd closed it up it, he was clearly amazed by it. "You did this, Ellie? Without any help?"

He showed off the drawing. There was William in great penciled detail, giggling while being held in Maria's arms. She was beaming down at him lovingly.

"I did," Ellie said nervously.

"You've got some talent kid," he told her in awe. "Thank you."

"We're going to have to find a frame to put it in," Maria said, also clearly impressed. "Would look nice hung up in here."

"In the living room?" Ellie quizzed, surprised.

They both nodded.

"Oh, wow, I'm glad you like it that much," she rambled, looking like she was ready to blush.

"Told ya he'd love it," Joel said, grinning. He was so proud of her. He'd had no doubts she'd outdo herself, and she had by adding Maria in the drawing.

She smiled broadly back at him and the light in her eyes warmed his heart. They'd been through hell together, but to see her so happy was worth it all. At least for him. He only hoped she felt the same.

"Your turn," Tommy declared, handing Ellie a gift wrapped in old newspaper. "It goes quite well with the present you gave me."

She thanked him and tore into it, paper flying. She beamed at him when a drawing kit was revealed. It had one hundred drawing papers and a dozen sketching pencils. A mechanical pencil sharpener was also included. "Where did you find this?"

"An art store in a town about a twenty minute ride from 'ere," Tommy answered. "Joel was with me when we found it. There's more where that came from when you need it. Art stores are probably one of the few old businesses that are actually still fairly well stocked."

"Holy shit, this is awesome."

"Ellie," Joel warned habitually.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Language. We're civilized now."

Tommy chuckled, always amused by those kinds of interactions between them. It reminded him of how his brother and Sarah had been around each other. Though Ellie was quite different from Sarah, she had helped fill the gaping hole she'd left behind, and he was grateful to the girl for being herself, for helping his brother heal, and for helping him heal too. He hadn't realized how much he truly was missing not just Sarah, but also just being an uncle in general. Over the last several months he thought he and Ellie were getting there, especially since she no longer felt threatened by him, now that she was sure Joel wouldn't abandon her just because he found his blood family again.

Maria passed a gift over to Joel next. "I hope you liked desert as much as you said you did."

He blinked up at her curiously before unwrapping it to see a whole apple pie in his grasp.

"Tommy told me it's one of your favorites," she said. "Now you can have one to yourself."

Ellie smirked. "Yeah, sure."

Joel knew for certain then that she'd end up bumming a slice off of it; not that he'd mind.

"I was telling the truth," he swore to Maria. "This pie will be lucky to survive until tomorrow night."

She gave him a nod. "Good." Maria had no doubt about him being honest. He'd not given her any reason to since he'd settled in Jackson with Ellie. Joel had a dark history, but over time she'd realized that he wasn't at all the violent man she'd imagined. Yes, he'd very much been violent at times, and at times he still could be when needed, but there was always reason behind it, and he seemed to much prefer to avoid it, at least since Ellie came into his life. He'd fit into Jackson quite nicely, and though he wasn't the most chatty character in town, everyone she'd talked to liked him. He was as southern gentleman as anyone could get and he had gotten to know many of them through the work he did repairing things around town. Most importantly though, he was a good parent to Ellie and uncle to William, softer with them than she could've ever imagined. She knew she could trust him with their lives, and Tommy's, whenever the two brothers teamed up on a patrol.

Joel handed her the gift he'd found for her. "Your turn."

She nodded and dug into the old holiday bag he'd put it in. She pulled out a small stereo. A CD player.

"Tommy told me yours broke," Joel explained. "Found that one in a electronics store on the same trip to the art one. I was shocked it still works, but it does. Just needed some serious dusting off first."

"Thank you, Joel," Maria said, smiling genuinely at him. "I was missing playing my CDs."

He gave her a curt nod, still awkward about any praise coming from her, as if he felt he didn't deserve it. As far as she was concerned he did, at the very least for the thoughtful gift.

"You're welcome." He shifted to reach for another present that was on the couch cushion beside him. "This is for William."

She opened that one as well. It was three hand carved wooden blocks with painted numbers on them. She sucked in a breath. "Did you make these yourself?"

Joel nodded.

"I'm not the only one with a hidden ability apparently," Ellie piped up. "Not only can he play guitar, he can also carve. Who'd have thunk?"

Maria was certainly surprised. The details on the blocks, the perfectly straight lines - it must have taken Joel hours to make them. Her heart thawed even more for her brother-in-law. "William will love these. I'll show them to him in the morning."

"If you don't mind," he started, "I'd like to be here when you do."

She smiled again. "Sure. Stop by when you're up. But not before eight or I shoot you."

He laughed hard enough for the crinkles around his eyes to be prominent. "Sure thing."

"What's that last gift beside you for?" Ellie inquired, pointing out the remaining one by his hip.

"That one's yours," Joel revealed, shoving it into her hands.

She hesitated to take it from him. "But I didn't get you anything. You didn't tell me we were exchanging gifts too."

"We aren't," Joel replied. "I just felt like getting this for ya, since it's your first real Christmas. Go on. Open it up."

She did, and she gasped at what was inside. "No Pun Intended Volume One!"

The dark blue colored book had silly drawings of puns on it like the purple one Ellie had been carrying around until it was lost in Utah.

"I know it can't replace the one you lost," Joel began, "But now you have new puns to share with your friends."

He was sure he'd be the victim of most of them but he was willing to endure it.

She grinned at him devilishly. Oh, he definitely would get the brunt of them.

"Thanks, Joel. I'm going to think of something to get you."

"You don't have to."

"I will."

Joel sighed. It wasn't worth arguing with her. If she wanted to get him something she would. It was that simple.

The exchange finally done, the four of them soon hugged and said their goodbyes for the night, all more than ready to get some sleep. All except Ellie.

As soon as she and Joel were home and he'd headed for bed, she got to work on his present, determined to have it done by morning, even if she went without any shut eye.

Luckily she was finished making it by four am, and she slipped into her bed to catch a few hours of sleep before Joel stirred to make breakfast.

He found it on their kitchen table as he was sitting down to sip a mug of shitty old coffee Tommy had found for him during the summer. He'd been drinking it only on special occasions.

Finding Ellie's present to him happened to be one of those, more so than the day being a holiday.

It was another drawing. This time of him standing next to his favorite horse in the Jackson stable, a young bay stallion named Caliber. He was stroking his neck with a gloved hand and smiling fondly at him. Ellie had put so much detail into it. The spike of too short hair in Cal's forelock, his intelligent eyes, the patches in Joel's beard, and every single scar on his face were all accounted for.

The fact that Ellie could draw him like that by memory, in just one night, stunned Joel. It was the greatest gift she could've ever been able to give him. Her love for him drawn out on paper.

He'd treasure it for the rest of his life.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed, @morallyinept

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Main Masterlist

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#The Last Of Us #The Last Of Us (HBO)#Joel Miller #Ellie Williams #TLOU Fanfic #Joel Miller Fanfic #Ellie Willams Fanfic #Tommy Miller Fanfic #Maria Miller Fanfic #TLOU Fanfic (Mine)#Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic #Fanfiction #Mine #Christmas Fic

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trauma-aquarium · 4 years ago

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Okay brace yourselves, folks, this is the story of how I discovered owls living in my stove exhaust thingy on the upper floor and how I saved them from death by the hands (claws) of crows, and they became my guardians.

It all started when I was in my backyard and by chance, saw an owl peeking at me from the exhaust outlet on the upper floor.

Sorry for the low quality I had to zoom a lot from my sorry excuse of a phone.

Anyways, this is mommy owl and she had given birth to a lot of noisy kids which we could hear and smell (fowl smell) from the kitchen, and it was really hard to go to the upper floor without wanting to throw up. My father insisted we call someone and get the owls out and leave them in a yard or something.

What my father didn’t know was that me and my elder brother are softies when it comes to birds (he’s a softie for birds, i’m a softie for all animal-kind). So this man comes and after much struggle and a screeching mother (and a possible father), we manage to take out the owls.

And as you can see, they were very angry. These are the kids, mind you.

Anyways, me, the only one in the family with actual empathy for animals (and less empathy for humans bc why) and a brain that works when it comes to their care, I took these little owls to the balcony, quite close to the exhaust outlet you just saw, hoping their parents would come and maybe take them or whatever. Only then I realized that the parents themselves were smol, and couldn’t quite possibly take them anywhere. So here they are, in my balcony, defenseless, especially during the day.

And they were FIVE OWL BABIES. I was suddenly a single mother at the age of 20.

Anyways, I pet them, they try to bite me and I’m okay with that, my softie brother also gets scared easily so he just watches me do my thing- that being making them feel comfortable and safe, providing food which they didn’t quite eat bc babies.

But then I had to be on guard duty because of the damned crows who came in groups (freaking murder of crows) and tried to attack/literally murder or eat alive the poor babies. And I was having none of that.

In the hot month of May, I was on day duty scaring off crows and praying the mother would return at night. Oh, and she did. Probably cursed at me for wrecking her home (sorry but it was inevitable) and shouted at me to leave, and I did, fearing what tomorrow held.

But tomorrow was the same.

So the mother and the possible dad disappeared during the days, but the babies were active (somewhat) probably because of all the noise me and the crows made. I did my thing- petted them, gave them water, played with them if they felt like it. They gave me rashes but I was okay.

Days passed, and the owls were entering pre-teens (judging by how they started rebelling and fighting with each other) and finally came out of the little tub on their own. I felt so proud. Now they had the whole balcony all to themselves (and me, of course). And they were scared of me no more. I would help them in and out of the tub if they wanted.

They would sleep near the stairs and I’d caress their heads and they’d give me a smile (no i didn’t imagine that). And the crows would come and they would get scared for a second and look like this:

Yellow eyes. So cute.

Anyways, the mother owl and I had an understanding now too. Where she previously used to scare me when sunset approached and screech at me, she would now simply come and sit at one of the wires in front of my house and watch me pet her children and say NOTHING. And then I would wave at her and go inside and she would come and feed her children. She wasn’t all that bad. And the possible father would guard or something- I could see them from downstairs if I walked in front of my house.

This whole ordeal lasted for two months before the kids were finally old enough to fly, and I may have cried happy tears. I thought it was over now- they would move away and we’d never see each other again. But then-

I saw this from my window, my room being downstairs (don’t mind the wires, it was to keep robbers out bc robbers suddenly decided our housing society was a good place to collect money from). So everyday sunset, I’d draw my curtains apart and they would come and sit right outside my window (look at how grown they are!) and we’d screech at each other which was our love language.

So whenever I went out for a walk, there would be 5 kids and sometimes, their mommy, my guardians now. They would walk with me (fly with me, actually.) They would jump from wire to wire and occasionally, when they didn’t feel shy, they would scoop really low, circle around me and go back.

Yes. I was their Disney Princess, and I fucking felt like it too.

I called them ‘my owl friends’. I’d go out at night, look around and say ‘my owl friends, where y’all at?’ and they would come, making weird owl noises, circle around me and walk with me.

It was truly magical, and though I’m a huge cat person, I wouldn’t mind living with owls (even though they’re extremely smelly sometimes and want to eat me sometimes bc meat).

Here’s a last cute picture of my owl besties

I love them so much. I moved houses (only like three streets away but the owls couldn’t have known... could they?) and had to leave them behind, but here’s where a plot twist happens.

I think they might have put in a good word about me in the owl community, because the owls- different ones- occasionally come by. And they only come to ME.

Like this one time I was in the front yard of my house and two owls paid a visit.

Or this one time I was walking in the park in front of my house and two owls circled around me, ignoring my mom and little brother, and sat on a tree, watching me the whole time.

Either I’m a Disney Princess or these owls are planning some weird shit. Whatever it is, I’m in for it.

#owl #owls #owls of tumblr #baby owls #baby animals #animals #birds #baby birds #wholesome #my disney princess moment #cute #cute animals #wildlife #aww

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skyfallslayer · 2 years ago

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The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil - Story 6

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: A Series of stories revolving around the MCU timeline of Matt Murdock and his Daughter, Kaila. Being the child of a vigilante can be hard and scary at times, but it doesn’t mean she ain’t going to enjoy the most of it.

(Can be read as Y/N if you’d like)

Story Summary: Crashing under the weight of her Father and Foggy’s dilemma, Kaila heads to Karen’s house for a break but it takes a turn for the worse; and unfortunately it will test the young girl’s strength and sanity. (Set During 1x11, 1x12 & 1x13. “The Path of The Righteous”, "The One's We Leave Behind", & "Daredevil." ).

Date: 11/14/22

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 7031

Warning: Karedevil (My OTP); Possible OOC (?); Lots of Blood; Traumatic Moments; Non Consensual Touching; Talks of Manipulation; Talks of (Underage) Grooming; Talks of Lying and Betrayal; Allusions To Rape/Non Con (Extremely Brief); Lots of Angst; Talks About Murdering; Murder; Strangling; Kidnapping; Fowl Language; Non Consensual Drug Use; Broken Bones; Unhealthy Coping References. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

A/N: So, so sorry this took forever (Again)! Been having some writer's block again (And some personal problems). I'll try to get the short story out quicker! Thank you for your patience.

This story is mostly Kaila focused, and really doesn't link that much with the last few episodes of Season 1. I rewatched them and I couldn't really find the right place to put her since Matt, Foggy, and Karen were doing their own separate investigations. So hopefully this turned out alright :)

Karen pauses her movement upon hearing her phone ring.

She comes out of her bathroom, towel draped around her neck, water droplets still falling off her skin. She swipes her phone off her bedroom side table, surprised by the collar ID. She taps the button and puts it on the speaker.

"Hey, Matt. Is everything okay? You're calling pretty late." She asked, grabbing her towel to continue drying her hair.

'Is Kaila there with you?'

Karen pinches her brows together, confused. "Kaila? No. Why?"

'She told me she needed some space, so she was going to your house. She said she'll text me when she gets there. Karen… That was two hours ago.'

"Two…?" Karen mentally gasps when a certain someone crosses her mind.

Wilson Fisk.

"Oh no…"

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dull lights appear on the surface of her eyelids. The shadows turned into a light orange, she felt all her senses coming back. Kaila takes in a long, shaky, gasp of breath for air. Her burning lungs were craving it; To wash out the drugs in her system. She takes another gasp, hearing it bounce off the walls around her. She still felt a bit of numbness in her bones, the ache in her body, but she still managed to push her head off the table; Her whole form slouching in a wooden chair.

The chair… she didn’t recognized at all.

She chokes again, groggy eyes trying their best to look around.

W-Where… where am I? She wonders, her heavy feeling head resting against her shoulder.

But as she continues to try to move, she nearly has a heart attack upon hearing someone behind her. Someone shuffling around. Someone messing with the buttons on their coat.

Someone who sighs.

“I thought… you weren’t coming out of it.” A man said, someone she didn’t recognize; Someone who has the calmest yet nerve racking voice.

“That would have been a shame.” He continues, and with her heart in her throat, Kaila tries to bolt for it, but her body sunk down like it was made of lead.

She felt his large hands on her shoulders, making tsk-ing sounds as he sat her back down.

“You might wanna take a moment, Miss Murdock.” He said, smiling down at her. “In the meantime…” He brushes a few strains of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I thought we could chat.”

Kaila watches closely as he sits down with another sigh. He was sharply dressed, slick back hair and glasses. His presence told her something sinister was a foot.

She licks her dry lips and croaks, “Who are you?”

His smile widens. "I'm James Wesley. I'm my employer's–” He shakes his head apologetically. “Sorry, old habits. I'm Wilson Fisk's right hand man."

Her already shrunken pupils grew smaller. "Oh…" Kaila muttered, her mind fearing the worst.

Fisk’s right hand. Does that mean… She felt herself grow paler.

Does that mean Fisk knows who my dad is?

Wesley seemed to laugh at her expression while resting his clasped hands on the table. “Sorry about this, really. I hardly ever bring children into my… business, frankly I hate doing that but…” He frowns. “You weren't the one I was going after."

Her eyes cast to the ground, thinking.

He’s not talking about my father. He’s–

Her lips parted in a silent gasp. "K-Karen?"

Wesley nods, eagerly. "Yes. I met her once when I went to her place of work during the John Healy case. Very nice woman. Very sharp I might add. Which is the reason she was my target in the first place.”

Kaila tries tilting her head, skeptical. "And… what exactly did you want from her?"

“Well, Miss Murdock, you know it's a funny story, after the Union Allied article Miss Page wrote, I… inquired as to whether she needed further attention. The feeling was she’d already done whatever damage she could, so it wasn’t necessary.” He explains with a glimmer of hate in his eyes.

“You see she was a… nobody, a very small cog in the machine.” He continues, sitting up straighter, and looking right into the teenager’s eyes to make sure she was listening. “So, an offer was made to her through a third party. A legal agreement, one she signed in exchange for an amount of money reasonable to her. I mean, She was supposed to go away–”

Kaila gut clenched at his words and intense gaze. A gaze she couldn’t look away because of the drug in her system. A gaze that scraps across her whole body.

“-Fade back into… wherever people like her fade. But she made a choice. And that choice has brought her here. Well–” He smiles again. “It brought you here. So perhaps that’s the way it's gonna be. Perhaps me and you were destined to follow a path none of us can see, only… vaguely sense, as it takes our hand, guiding us towards the inevitable.”

Kaila swallows, and tries to return the glare. “So…” She begins, keeping the shakiness out of her voice. “All this talk about the balls Karen has is supposed to… what? Scare me?”

“No, no…” He said, shaking his head with a bit of amusement. “Uh-” His hand reaches for his back pocket. “This is.”

A shiny barrel was pointed her way, and the girl’s eyes shrunken again, air trapped in her throat. Wesley seemed to expect that reaction, not surprised at all as he gently lays the gun on to the table; A dangerous taunt that could still go wrong.

Somehow, she manages to regain her cool, and looks away from the weapon back to him.

"Nice piece." She replies, starting to feel the numbness in her fingers going away.

He tightens his jaw, clearly irritated by the comment. "You sure are quite a sassy thing, aren't you?"

"Noooo.” She sings, humbled. “What gave that away?"

He sighs, and rests his hands on the table again. "Do you love this city?”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question. Do you love this city?”

Another blink.

What the fuck is this guy talking about now? She wonders, confused.

“I…" Kaila sighs, pondering. "I-I haven't really been anywhere else so…” She tries to shrug. “I guess."

“Huh.” Wesley said, back to being a state of quietude (seriously what’s this guy’s deal?). “I find a few days, a week at most, is ample time to form an emotional response. I mean, you've been here since… August 10th, 2001? 14 years, almost 15, in the making. Thought you would have had some reasonable answer to my question. I’ll be perfectly honest, the situation calls for it, I do not love this city.”

He tenses in bitterness. “The crush of the unwashed garbage stacked on the sidewalk, the air that seems to adhere to your skin, the layer of filth you can never completely wash away.”

Kaila smacks her lips, trying to ignore the fact this man knew her birthday (and possibly knew so much more). “Maybe you should move.”

Wesley chuckles. “I’m not here because I want to be. I’m here because I’m needed.”

“Ah. By Fisk?”

“He loves this city. In a way you and I never could. I don’t expect you to understand that. There are moments when even I struggled to, but he does… very deeply. Almost, I suspect, as much as he loves his mother."

She raises an eyebrow. "His mother?"

"Oh, yes. Apparently Miss Page found out she was alive and figured out where she was hidden away. Frankly, I was surprised she remembered her. Recent memories for his mother are fleeting gossamer… often plucked from grasp by the slightest breeze. But Miss Page left quite an impression.”

His face was back to amusement, shocked even by Karen’s actions. “The ‘Nice blonde lady with the big blue eyes’, she says. And the man she was with, Mr. Urich, I’m guessing.” He sighs heavily. “Mr. Fisk, as I said, loves his mother. He would be extremely… disturbed if he knew Miss Page found her. Even more so that she has been to see her.”

Kaila perks up at this news.

So he doesn’t–

“Sounds like… Fisk doesn’t know this?” She asked, curiously.

“He’s preoccupied with more important matters, so I’ve taken it upon myself to address the situation.” Wesley replies, truthfully. “Although, like I stated earlier, I wasn't supposed to take you. You just happened to arrive before Miss Page did, and I thought… maybe I could work with this too."

“Wow. Lucky me.” Kaila said, dryly. “If I'm not even the one you wanted then–” She shrugs her shoulders. “Why not just kill me already?”

And for yet another time tonight he laughs. Full on laughter like it was the funniest reply he’s ever heard.

“Well, I can’t really kill you, Miss Murdock. No, that would cause some… trouble, actually.” He said, flashing his pearly whites before explaining. “Your Father and his friend are lawyers, not big ones but they’re still lawyers; Lawyers who are friends with a cop that’s not under Mr. Fisk’s thumb.

“I’m sure officer Mahoney would be on your case the moment you’re missing. Miss Page would likely snoop on why you never made it to her home, and the media? Well…” He laughs again. “They sure love a missing persons case that involves children. They’ll eat your ‘disappearance’ up, so… I’m here to offer you a job instead.”

Wait… What?

Kaila just stares in confusion. “Hang on a second.” She scoffs lightly. “So, after all of this, I’m supposed to– what? Be your errand boy or some shit like that?”

“The position I have in mind is a little more… involved. You’re a child, and children have proven they can wrap pretty much every listening adult around their finger. Just like Miss Page, and Mr. Urich, and Mr. Mahoney.” He holds one finger up. “And might I add that even Miss Marianna told Mr. Fisk she adored you at the gallery. You’ve proven yourself that you have a commendable ability to convince others to like you, to even follow you if so, to be pursued despite the obvious repercussions such actions may incur.”

“Sorry… I’m not exactly a walking dictionary.” She laughs weakly at this absurd job advertisement. “All I really heard is I'm going to be your… puppet? Correct?”

“Ha… simply stated… you’re going to convince your father, and everyone else around, that everything is fine.” Wesley said, creepily whispering the last word to get under her skin. “Convince them that they’re wrong, that Wilson Fisk is a good man. A man this city needs. And then you’re going to convince Miss Page to spread the gospel to everyone she’s infected with her negative point of view.”

“Huh.” Kaila shakes her head in disbelief. “For someone who basically claimed that he’s been watching us, you really don’t know shit about Karen. Or my Father. Or Foggy. They rather die before they lie to the whole world. I’d rather die first before I help a man like Wilson Fisk.”

He cocks his head, laying another trap. “But you won’t be the first to die, Miss Murdock, no. No, I think your dear old father would have that honor first.” He replies with a ghost of a smile. “Then we’ll go to the office, see to Mr. Nelson, Miss Page, Your ally Mr. Urich. After that will hit everyone else you’ve ever cared about. And when you have no tears left to shed, then…”

He sends another glare that sends a shiver down her spine. “Then we’ll come for you, Miss Murdock.”

She swallows, and then–

His cell phone rings like a chilling warning.

She honestly doesn’t know what possessed her at that moment.

Maybe…

It was just a fight for survival.

Maybe…

She just wants to look tough and scare him away.

But…

She snatched the gun like it was her last life.

She gasps at own actions, pointing the barrel at Wesley who remains unfazed. She swallows, trying to act tough again, as her shaky hands tighten around the handle.

He hums and sends her a mocking look. “Do you really think I would put a loaded gun on the table where you could reach it?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t exactly live in the safest part of town, so I do know what one looks like.” Kaila cocks the gun, pulling back the safety. She swallows again. “Now… I’m leaving.”

He chuckles, fixing his glasses as he slowly starts to get up. “Miss Murdock–”

“Sit your fucking ass down!!” She yells, bolting up to her feet, finger firmly on the trigger. “SIT DOWN, SO I CAN FUCKING LEAVE!!”

Her own heart started to pound in her ears as Wesley batted his eyes. He too was even surprised by her outburst she didn’t know she had inside. She kept her mocha eyes trained on him, flaring her nostrils as he slowly sat back down in his seat. Kaila waited for a few seconds before removing one hand from the gun, slowly squatting down to pick up her duffle bag off the floor without breaking any eye contact. However, instead of sliding the straps up to her shoulder, she kept them in her open hand…

A mistake she wished she never made.

She washes down the bile in her throat again, eyes starting to sting when thinking about her next move. “Now, I’m leaving this place. And… I don’t have to tell anyone about what happened tonight. We both don’t want any trouble, right?”

He shakes his head. “No. Of course not.”

“Good.” She clenches her jaw. “But, if you come after anybody I care about, I will tell everyone about this night. Because you’re right. People will believe me.”

Kaila makes one small step away from the table.

And another.

She slowly walks a few steps away from the table, noticing he’s not moving, just watching. When the coast was clear enough for her to walk passed him, she–

You would never see a man lunge as fast as Fisk’s right hand.

His force was so strong she dropped everything. Her body splattered across the concrete floor with a loud thud, and crack in her hand. She winces at the pain and the contact she made with her head.

“You arrogant, arrogant little girl.” Wesley snarled, straddling her.

She groans at the extra weight, and with blur in her vision she tries to fight off his hands coming for her throat. Complete irritation washed over his features, adding more pressure with his body weight.

“You little, fucking—”

The words died on his lips as she managed to elbow him in the face, breaking the bridge of his glasses, the impact being enough for her to wiggle one of her legs free to kick him off of her. He sprawled back on the floor, as she took in a gulp of air and started crawling towards the weapon in her sight. Her fingertips ghosting the handle—

“Give me the goddamn gun!” He snaps, grabbing her by the ankles, and pulls her towards him.

Kaila manages to grab it as Wesley was right on top of her again, fighting her for dominance and the weapon. Yet, the tiresome teenager wouldn’t give up, even as his nails clawed at her skin, and his foot was digging into her fractured wrist. But she eventually cries out in pain and he snickers.

“You…” He pants, with blood lust eyes. “Are going to WISH that I grabbed Miss Page after when I’m through with you. When Mr. Fisk is through with you. You’ll just be another body to rot in the Hudson.”

Wesley snatches her hand the gun was in, using all his might to try and pry it from her death grip. Kaila tries to yank her hand free, not even worrying about the damn weapon anymore–

A loud bang echoed off the walls of the warehouse.

And what she thought for a split second was rain douching her cheeks was the color red.

Her eyes widened as she dared to meet his as the smoke from the barrel started to evaporate.

With a large gaping hole where his heart starts to bleed, and Wesley's shocked expression looking at it before going back to her gaze.

And then…

The light goes out his eyes.

And his body starts to grow limp and fall to its side where most of the weight was.

Kaila slowly pushes herself up, blood running across her vision as she stares at the corpse. Then the gun, and—

A strangled gasp falls past her lips, dropping the gun and bringing her hands over her mouth. A small whimper as she distressfully pries her eyes away from him to look around the warehouse, checking if anyone was about to barge in; Checking to see that she… she…

I did not just do that. I did not just do that. I didn’t just–

Her heart sank to the floor as the cell phone started to ring again. Her frazzled eyes looked at the body again, then at the gun next to her thigh, then back at Wesley, then–

Another strangled cry left her as she saw his blood dripping into her lap. The ringing echoed in her ears. Thoughts and scenarios played out in her mind. Good and Bad. Pros and Cons. Life and Death. It was–

““You said you were going to kill him. Fisk.””

She bit her lip and made a split second decision to grab the gun again, pulling the safety back on before stuffing it in her hoodie pocket. She pushes herself up to her wobbly feet, snatching the duffle bag and leaving the room.

Kaila swears she could still hear the ringing from outside. It was haunting her. Torturing her.

She had to get away.

Once realizing where she was, she starts to speed walk out of there. Then she lightly jogs. A quicker jog. Then–

She runs as fast as her shaky legs could take her.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Karen honestly didn’t know what to say. She was supposed to be comforting/reassuring to her worried friend on the phone, however it would be a lie if she said she wasn’t panicking either. Her heart was pounding to be truthful, and she tries not to slur her words as she comes up with some solutions. But were they really the best?

“Okay… maybe she just stopped somewhere? You said she needed some space.” She said, running her hair through her golden locks while slowly pacing around her kitchen.

‘But she would’ve told me, right? Or at least you, maybe. I-I mean… there’s not a lot of places open right now, Karen. What if something happened?’

“Okay, but we don’t know that, Matt. Maybe she–”

The buzzer by her door went off abruptly, causing her shriek and jump. She sighs when she realizes what it is while she places her hand over her heart.

‘Karen, what happened!? Are you–”

“I’m fine. Just…” The buzzing sound finally clicks in her head. “Hang on a second.” She grows quiet and so does he (unless you count his pacing). She presses the call button, listening. “Who is it?”

Silence, and Karen thought it might have been a wrong caller until–

“I-It’s Kaila…”

The blonde perks up, relief feeling her veins. “K-Kai?” She whispers, before hearing Matt’s muffled voice. “Come up.” She presses another button to unlock the front before paying attention to her friend again. “Your daughter’s here. I’m going to see what’s going on first. I’ll call you back.”

She could practically sense his hesitancy, but he complied.

‘Okay. Just call me back, please.’

“Alright.” The phone calls ended and shortly afterwards came the knocking. She wasted no time opening the door, but the sight she was met with was shocking.

Faced cake in red.

Bloodshot eyes.

Trembling hands.

Clothes dirtied and sticky.

Karen took a step back in surprise. “Oh god… Kai… what the…” She chokes on her words as the teenager slips by her, standing inside the apartment, dropping her bag. The woman closes the door, locking it. “Kai–”

“Did you visit Wilson Fisk’s mother?” Kaila asked immediately, just above a whisper with a flat tone to it.

Karen blinked, confused. “What?”

The girl swallows visibly, and barely makes eye contact. “Did you visit Wilson Fisk’s mother? Did you go with Mr. Urich to visit her?”

Another blink. “Um… yeah. Yeah, we… we did.” She raises an eyebrow. “How do you… know that? Did… did your father tell you that?”

Kaila shakes her head. “N-No. Um…” Her lip twitches. “Um… F-Fisk’s right hand, um… James Wesley um, w-wanted to speak to you about that. But I was… home be-before you so h-he grabbed me instead…”

Karen’s eyes widened slightly. “Kai…?”

“H-He explained that he knew the two of you visited his mother, and… explained how–” Her eyes started to glass over. “Fisk would… lose it if he found out the truth. So Wesley took care of it on his own. Um…” She sobs, and lets out a shaky breath. “So I asked him if he was going to k-kill me…”

“Kai–”

“B-But he said he couldn’t. Because I-I knew lawyers. A-A Journalist.” She gestures to the adult. “A cop. He knew… by killing me would cause more problems than solving them. S-So… he offered me a job.”

“A job?” Karen asked, skeptical/confused/worried (could I just say every emotion in the catalog?).

Kaila nods. “Yeah. To be… his errand boy. To… change people’s minds–” Another sob. “About Fisk. I… I said no but…” A few stray tears rolled down her pale cheeks. “He said he’ll kill everyone and I…” She makes a strangling cry. “I-I… I didn’t m-mean to…”

Karen’s heart skipped a beat at the tone. “Mean to, what? What happened?”

Kaila tries to blink away the tears as her throat starts to close up; holding back anymore displeasure cries. Slowly, her twitching hand slides into her hoodie’s pocket, and shows off the weapon that didn’t belong to her. The older woman’s eyes widened some more, mouth opening slightly.

“I-I…” The girl chokes. “I-I didn’t mean to. I j-just grabbed it as leverage, but then one thing turned to another and then I… I-I…” She sobs loudly. “I-I…”

“Oh, Kai.” Karen says, before pulling her into her arms. She carefully cradles the teenager’s head close to her chest, the other hand secured around her waist. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

And then Karen felt her break down. The water works at a ten fold, the sobs and cries get louder and louder. The blonde made soothing shushing noises while stroking her wet hair; Slowly rocking them both side-to-side. But when Kaila tried to grip onto the adult’s shirt with her free hand, she whimpered.

Karen pulls back worriedly, looking around to see any injuries.

Kaila holds back another hiss, holding her left hand close to her chest. “I think I sprained it when he tackled me.” She replies, quietly, then her eyes trailed to the gun in her other hand; Swallowing. “Um… F-Fisk doesn’t know about you, but… I don’t think I can go to the police. Even with Mr. Brett, Fisk has the police wrapped around his finger and um, I, I can’t–”

“Kai, sweetheart.” Karen begins, hands coming to rest on shoulders, capturing her attention. “Let me…” She sighs. “Let me take care of the gun. Go take a shower and I can set you up a bed.”

Kaila shakes her head. “Karen, I-I…” She trails off, words dying on her lips. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to feel, how to think, how to…

Karen seems way too calm about this.

But Karen just gave her a reassuring look. “Everything’s going to be okay. Just let me handle it. Okay?” She said, holding out her palm.

Surprisingly there was no hesitancy from the teen, she just wanted that vile thing away from her. Karen takes it before gesturing down the hallway, telling her where the bathroom was. Kaila mutters a small ‘thank you’ and takes her duffle bag with her; Hoping that a hot shower could wipe the sickening memories away.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When Karen was halfway to her destination, she finally decided to call Matt back. She owed him that much, but…

Oh, fucking, boy.

What could she even say? There’s no way she can tell him that–

‘Karen?’

She jerked in her seat, mentally cursing. “Uh… S-Sorry. I was trying not to clip a biker that darted out.” She heard him grow silent, which made her stomach tie itself into a knot. “Matt–”

‘You’re driving?”

“Uh…”

Shit. She scolds herself again and grips the steering wheel tighter.

“Yeah. I wasn’t expecting company so I’m just going to grab a few things at a bodega nearby.”

‘Oh. I guess that makes sense.’

Another pause.

‘So is Kai–’

“She’s fine, Matt. At least she claims she’s fine.” She notices the pier coming up, the dark waters calling her name. She clenches her jaw. “Well, I see the store, so I’m going to go. I’ll keep you updated.”

She was honestly expecting more bite from him, but I guess the stress he felt was finally wearing him down. She could even hear the sigh of relief in his next words.

‘Okay. Thank you, Karen.’

She flashes a painful smile he wouldn’t see. The white lie just sitting on the tip of her tongue. “Of course. Goodnight, Matt.”

‘Goodnight, Karen.’

Karen really wanted to scream at how sincere he sounded.

Why the hell did history have to repeat itself?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It took forever to see the water turn clear. It took forever to scrub it all out of hair and under her fingernails. It took forever to quadruple check every nook and cranny for any blood or bloody smell. With having a dad who could smell anything up to a whole fucking week, her mind starts to cloud with heavy doubt that he might just find out. He’ll know that the blood was not hers. He’ll know she was involved in… in…

She swallows down the disgusting bile for the millionth time before shutting off the water. For a while she just stood there, letting the steam dissolve before being covered in goosebumps by the cold air.

And after having the courage to dry off and put fresh clothes on, she eventually decided to toss the ones she wore tonight into the trash; Tying the bag closed. What was the point in trying to clean them? Even if cleaned her father would know. He just would, no doubt.

With a neutral expression on her face, she leaves the bathroom, immediately hearing Karen walking over with a grocery bag in hand. She smiles softly.

“I got you a few things.” She replies, and places her hand on the girl’s shoulder to guide her. “Come on.” As they walked into the bedroom she continued to speak, “I put fresh sheets on the bed. I got some more painkillers, some bandages, and a brace for your hand. I got some soda and snacks too if you like.”

Karen sits on the edge of the bed, waiting a few seconds before patting the empty spot next to her. “Sit. I want to see your hand.”

Kaila says nothing but does what she’s told, sitting down and holding out her limb. The adult carefully takes it in hers, feeling around, occasionally apologizing when the girl winces.

“It looks like you might have fractured it. I can see some swelling, but it’s not too bad.” Karen said, while sliding on the brace, securing it tightly. “Try not to move it too much either.” She then pops out two small pills and a drink from the bag. “Here. Take these.”

Kaila takes the painkillers first, throwing them into her mouth before grabbing the beverage. She felt the soda fuze in her mouth, slowly dissolving the medicine as she swallowed.

“So, Kai, I was thinking–”

“How are you so calm?” The teenager asked, sounding more rude than she wanted it to be. But she needed to ask that. There’s no way a sweet woman like Karen could be so calm about… that.

“I’m sorry?”

“How are you so calm? I just told you what I’ve done and you’re… okay?” Kaila chuckles nervously. “How? How can you be okay?”

Karen frowns, but not at the question or the kid, but herself. She sighs, shifting on the bed. “Because…” She trails off, collecting her thoughts. “Because I’ve killed someone too.”

She blinks, body growing colder than the temperature. “W-What…?”

The woman nods, eyes getting teary at the demons memories. “Believe it or not, I… wasn’t the best person before I moved here. I was in a dark place, trying to keep my family’s business afloat, trying to keep my dad on track from debt. But inside of talking to someone about my feelings, I… found comfort in alcohol and drugs.”

Kaila’s shoulders sagged, heart clenching. “Karen.” She whispers, her name the only thing she could mutter.

Karen sighs again. “My boyfriend, Todd, at the time was a drug dealer, and not a very good influence on me.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “One night, my brother, Kevin, revealed to me that he enrolled me back into college that I had postponed to help with the business. What should have been a night celebration turned into a nightmare.”

Her frown deepens and continues, “We all got into an argument, which caused me to leave to go to Todd. We got high and drank, and when w-we drove back to his trailer, and… m-my brother was there burning his trailer. This led to another argument, in which Todd attacked Kevin. I… s-shot Todd so we could get away. Um…”

Kaila frowns and touches the blonde’s knee. “You don’t have to keep going.”

Karen shakes her head. “No.” A tear rolls down her cheek that she brushes away. “I do.” She takes another gulp of air in. “Me and him started yelling at each other, in which Kevin revealed to me that he didn’t want to lose me like our mother and…” She sobs. “I hit a railing and our car flipped and… I killed Kevin.”

Kaila's eyes widened. “Karen…”

“Now, I know it’s not… the same but I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone in this.” She finishes, watching the girl shake her head.

“I-It’s n-not the same. Y-You didn’t mean to kill your brother. Y-You…” Kaila trails off, the waterworks flowing again.

“Did you?” Karen asked, quickly. “Did you mean to kill him?” The girl shakes her head again. “Then, you’re in the same boat as me. And that’s okay. And until we can get Fisk behind bars, I’ll support you all the way to the end. Okay? Don’t let that guilt eat you while you’re alone. Trust me. It’s the worst feeling in the world.”

Kaila sobbed, visibly shaking. “Y-You can’t tell my dad… not yet… not until…”

“I won’t. I promise. Now come here.” She pulls her into another quick hug for reassurance and healing.

The young Murdock wiped her cheeks clean before saying, “I-I know this sounds… weird but… can you… sleep next to me? Just for tonight.”

Karen thought she looked half her age at the way she said it, and it tugs on her heart. She smiles. “Of course.”

The woman moves the stuff off the bed, letting the girl get under the covers, pulling it up to her neck. Karen then turns off the lights and slips in beside her. Feeling those brown eyes on hers, she turns slightly to get in the teenager’s view.

“Is something else bothering you?” Karen asked, just above a whisper.

“No. Not really. It’s just…” Kaila replies, eyes starting to close, her energy finally depleting. “This is nice. It’s always just been… m-me and my dad and… F-Foggy.” She yawns slowly. “I’ve never… had anyone else. No… motherly figure, s-so…” She snuggles into the pillow more. “This is nice…”

A heart wrenching expression displayed on Karen’s features, causing her to reach out and gently move a lock of hair from the teen’s eyes. “That’s right. You’ve never met your mother.” She said, sadly, and the girl snuggled in more.

Kaila hums peacefully. “That’s all right. I met you. And that’s pretty great.”

Those were the last words she spoke before retiring off into dreamland, and although Karen felt a little bit honored to have those words spoken to her, she also felt…

Guilt.

Guilt because…

Is she even allowed to take that place?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Kaila woke up feeling better than last night, refreshing with a little more energy. The only thing that was bittersweet was when she found the spot next to her empty, but her feelings were lifted just a smidge when saw the letter on the bedside. Karen left one behind saying she was going to run to the office to get something, and that she’ll be back soon.

She’ll be back soon. She repeats, and it echos abnormally in her head.

That’s alright.

So she gets up and stretches, yawning while debating if she shower again. The lingering thought of ‘what if the blood is still there?’ keeps obnoxiously replying. But before she could make a decision her phone started to vibrate. She pinches her brows together, taking a few steps to swipe it and see who was calling her.

Her heart leaped into her throat at the three letter name.

She didn’t even think she had her number.

Hell, how did she get her number?

Her pupils started shrinking as her mouth opened agap.

There’s no… no way.

Out of the fourteen years she’s lived on this planet, why now? Why would she just suddenly call out of the blue?

She clenches the phone and mutters, “Mom…?”

Then–

The floorboard creaked and–

“It's a difficult thing, isn't it?”

His voice was smooth and cunning, but his tone sent shivers down anyone’s spine.

Kaila swears she might have died on the spot ‘cause her body is completely numb like last night, her lungs deceasing and taking all the oxygen. She didn’t want to look but she did. Facing him seemed less scary than not.

Fisk took a step into the room further, dressed in his white suit with hands tucked behind his back to look proper. “Taking a life... feeling of the weight and responsibility of all the years the person you've murder has lived…”

Kaila starts to tremble under his gaze, eyes getting glassy as she starts quietly begging. “No, no, no, no, no–”

But her pleas were on deaf ears as he kept creeping forward, an unrecognizable emotion in his chocolate orbs.

“Moments that they've cherished... the dreams that they've struggled towards, gone... because of you.” He puts force on the last words, sprinkled with a bit of venom.

Kaila swallows, shaking her head apologetically. “I-I didn’t m-mean to… I-I swear. Pl-Please… d-don’t…” She whines, and he stops just an inch in front of her.

Surprisingly, for just a tiny moment, he too looked sorry.

“I want you to know something. Something important that I've learned. That it gets easier... the more you do it.”

And his large hands grab the sides of her head, applying so much pressure she screamed–

She gasps awake, bolting straight up. She lets out a shaky breath as she looks around frantically, making sure this was real.

It was daytime.

No note from Karen.

The half drunken soda was still by her side.

The brace was still on her wrist.

There was no terrifying man in the room.

And…

Her eyes glance to her phone on her night stand, wondering. She slowly picks it up, unlocking the screen and scrolling to the call log.

Nothing.

No mysterious phone number. No voice mails. No strange text from a person called ‘Mom’.

Nothing.

She sighs, dropping the phone in her lap before rubbing the sleepys out of her eyes.

God… I’m going crazy.

It took her a while after that to pull herself from bed, and wandered into the kitchen where she heard Karen making breakfast. The older woman greets her with a warm smile.

“I was just about to wake you up.” She says, fixing up a plate. “Hope you like bacon and cheese omelets.”

“Smells good.” Kaila said, sitting at the island just as the dish was slid to her. “Thanks.”

“Sleep okay?” Karen asked, while handing the kid a cup of orange juice.

“Uh…” The girl shrugs. “It was fine.” She replies, taking a small sip as she eyes the adult’s attire. She’s seen this outfit beforehand. “Going somewhere?”

“Uh…” Karen begins, nervously. “Um… if it’s okay, I-I… have to go to the office, um–” She fiddles with her hands. “Or-Or I can just uh, grab some stuff there and come home, and–”

“Karen?” Kaila says, earning a hum. She smiles bittersweetly. “It’s okay if I have to go to work. I’m not going to keep you from that. I don’t mind.”

Karen looks torn between surprise and uncertainty. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone after everything that’s happened.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. I know you probably have a lot of work. Reporter work too, and you probably need to talk to Mr. Urich. So go.” She continues, honestly. “I probably need to go to my Dad, actually…”

She trails off, eyes falling to the counter top as she brings the drink up to her lips, thinking. Karen frowns worriedly.

“Are you… going to tell your Dad about… what happened?” The blonde asked, wondering but the girl shook her head.

“I… I don’t think I’m going to tell him about that yet. I just… kind of need to apologize. I left on a bad note.” Kaila admits and chuckles dryly. “That, or I kick his ass. His and Foggy’s.”

That got Karen to laugh, her giggles making the room feel so much lighter.

“Oh… I wish I could see that. Or join you. God knows I could give them a piece of my mind right now.” She replies, still smiling which is contagious now.

Kaila flashes a small smile, one that feels genuine and real. “Honestly, if I were you, I would go for it.”

And maybe the two lasses should.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Kaila ordered the most caffeinated drink she could think of, Hoping that when the time comes to cross her father she could blame her quicken heartbeats on the caffeine.

Or… maybe I should just tell him?

She thought about it off and on since she left Karen’s apartment, wondering if she should come clean, wondering if it’ll make everything better, But–

She stays silent for a moment, before muttering something just above a whisper. ““You said you were going to kill him. Fisk.””

He tenses. ““Kai–””

““We had that long talk last night. We talked about if killing him was logical for yourself. You made it sound like you weren’t going through with it! And now you don’t want to stop at all?!””

She groans loudly into her hands as she plops in an open seat against the coffee shop’s wall.

There’s no fucking way I can do that. I made such a big deal about my dad that’ll just look like a hypocrite.

She moves her hands to cover her mouth, tired eyes staring off into the distance.

I’m fucked…

Unknowingly next to her, a boy around her age was watching her closely. Almost in amusement, he pushes the hood he was wearing up more, revealing his dark locks and olive eyes.

“Sounds like you’re having a blast.” He said, getting her attention.

She sighs, hiding her surprise that someone was actually talking to her. “You have no idea.” Kaila said, leaning back and stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I’m not even really supposed to be here. I should be going home, not moping around.”

He nods in agreement. “I know the feeling.”

“What?” She raises an eyebrow. “You snuck out of the house or something?” She asked, teasingly.

He snickers, lips ghosting a small smile. “You could say that. You?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, revealing half of the truth. “I just got into an argument with my dad. I’m still mad, but… I can’t hide forever, you know?”

His smile falters. “Well… I have.” He mumbles, but plasters the grin back on and holds out his hand. “I’m Jayden.”

She copies his expression and shakes his hand. “Kaila.” Her eyes flickered to the familiar state logo on his hoodie. “Are you from Cali?”

“Uh, yeah. I live there. But I actually was born here in HK.”

“Oh, so you’re just visiting?”

“Yeah. I have some… family here. Although–” He shrugs. “Depending on their living situations, I might come live here.”

“Might?” She teases again, and he copies her sly smirk.

“Might.” He replies, just before hearing his name being called. “Well that’s my cue.” He stands up. “Nice talking to you, Miss Kaila.”

“Will I see you around?”

“You might. Depends on how these next few days go.” He smiles again, grabbing his drink and waving as he goes out the door.

Kaila couldn't help but keep the huge grin on her face. Soon, her name was called and she got up. But before she could even touch the cup, someone swoops in and takes it.

“You know your dad wouldn’t want you talking to teenage boys, right?” Foggy said, half heartedly.

The girl frowns. “How did you know I was here?”

“This is like your favorite coffee shop. How would I not know?” He hands her drink over. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She mutters and takes a sip. “So what are you doing here?” She asked, coldly.

Foggy looks at her with guilt filled eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. Really, I hated that you got caught up between me and Matt. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He replies, sincerely. “But I need you to come with me. I need you to help me convince your dad.”

Kaila gives him an odd look. “About what?”

“About how we can stop Fisk.”

A/N: Looks like Karen's the real MVP here, and who's the new guy??? And check out my fanart here: Poster.

Thanks for reading! I'll be out with the next story as soon as I can!

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peterrparrkerr · 4 years ago

Text

Revoked consent - read on ao3

TW for rape/noncon

*-*

Peter's hands shake a little as he takes the offered glass from Tony. He gives a smile, hoping he doesn't look as nervous as he really is.

Its his first time being paid for sex, and he doesn't know why it's so daunting this time. Hes had sex before, he's fucked himself on a dildo on camera for money.

But this is the first time he's actually sold himself for it.

Tony had offered him an amount he couldn't refuse. Not only would he be able to pay three months of rent, but he'll be able to actually get groceries and still have enough money to live comfortably for a couple months after.

Tony had already deposited half of it into his account. Peter's throat had closed up when he'd seen it.

Tony sits down beside him on the couch with his own glass. Peter glances over at him, then down at the glass.

He had to act like he was old enough to drink. Tony didn't know he was only sixteen. He'd said he was twenty-three online. It was the only way he could get on the website.

"Drink," Tony commanded softly. Peter glances up at him before giving a small nod and brought the glass to his lips.

He could feel Tony watching him as he tipped the glass up. He held his breath -the scent of the alcohol making his nose burn- and swallowed quickly.

The burn and taste isn't something Peter's ever felt before. It feels like he's swallowed acid and the burning won't leave his tongue.

He chokes on a cough, trying desperately to act like its not as fowl as it really is. But the one cough opens up the gateway, and he's hacking out a lung, his eyes burning with tears.

"Not into the hard stuff, hmm?" Tony asked, sounding amused as he plucked the glass from Peter's hand.

He shakes his head, forcing himself to calm down. How fucking embarrassing.

"No, I'm sorry," he manages, wiping under his eyes.

"Dont be," Tony hummed, standing up and moving back to the bar. "Its an acquired taste."

Peter doesn't say anything. He watches as Tony reaches down behind the bar. Theres a distinct sound of a can being opened, the sizzle of something carbonated being poured into the glass, and then Tony was returning.

Peter's glass was fuller than before, darker and fizzy. "Try this."

Peter takes the glass, bringing it to his nose and sniffing it quietly. Its pepsi. He takes a tentative sip, all while Tony watches silently beside him, leaning back against the couch.

Peter takes a drink. The alcohol is hidden in the soda, the burn lost in the fizz, and he smiles gratefully at Tony.

"Thank you," he manages, nerves still closing around his throat in a vice-like grip.

He drinks more, feeling Tony's fingers brushing softly against the hairs at the back of his neck. It makes Peter shiver, his stomach rolling and threatening to bring up his lunch.

He's halfway through his drink when Tony sets his empty glass down on the coffee table.

He then takes Peter's glass and sets it down too.

"Come sit on my lap," he orders.

Peter's hands grow sweaty, and he awkwardly does as he's told, feeling like he's all limbs and no grace.

Tony's hands feel huge on his hips, fingers pressing into the softness of his ass while his thumbs hook over the front of his hip bones.

"You're tense," Tony hummed, squeezing Peter's hips. "Relax."

Peter gives a small nod, forcing himself to put his whole weight onto Tony's thighs. It makes the older man smile, and Peter fights back the urge to get up and run out of the penthouse.

"What- what would you like to do?" Peter asked, hiding his shaky hands by holding the back of the couch on either side of Tony's head.

"Hmm," Tony grins, his hands moving up and under Peter's shirt. They're warm against the bare skin of Peter's sides, and it makes him slightly nauseous.

"Why don't you let me be in control," he suggested. The idea made Peter's heart rate quicken, but he forced himself not to outwardly react.

Tony had paid him handsomely for this, and he was going to pay him more once this was over. This was just a job. Peter's had sex before. Hes had a job before. This was just- combining the two.

"All you have to do is follow my lead, okay, sweetheart?"

Peter swallows thickly before nodding. "Okay," he agrees. He can do that.

Tony smirks before lifting his hands higher, forcing Peter's shirt up and exposing his tummy to the cool air.

Peter lifts his arms, allowing Tony to pull the shirt completely off before returning them to the back of the couch.

"Kiss me."

Peter leans forward, kissing Tony hesitantly, softly. His goatee is scratchy, the shirt pricks of hair biting into Peter's soft skin.

He hates it. Hates how kissing Tony makes him feel. But he kisses him with everything he's got.

The man under him groans against his mouth and begins working Peter's fly open.

Peter pulls away, glancing down, opening his mouth to tell Tony he's changed his mind, when the man grabs him by the chin and forces their mouths together.

Peter forces himself to allow Tony to tug at his jeans and boxers. He even gets up to allow them to fall to his ankles.

He's mostly soft, and he wants nothing more than to hide himself away from Tony's eyes as he crawls back onto his lap.

Tears burn in his eyes, but Peter forces them away, leaning in and kissing Tony as the man's hands roam over his naked body.

His nakedness to Tony's suit is unnerving -the juxtaposition making Peter feel lesser than.

He tries to ignore it. Tries to ignore the hands kneading his bare ass, pulling him apart to expose more of him to the cold air of the penthouse.

Tony's tongue tastes like whiskey, and Peter pinches his eyes shut on the wave of nausea that curls in his gut.

"Up," Tony orders, shoving at Peter. He climbs up as quickly as he can, and struggles to breathe as Tony manhandles him onto the floor.

He's on his knees, bent over the cushions, his ass presented to Tony.

Peter struggles to level out his breathing. He pinches his eyes shut and lowers himself so his chest is pressed to the couch cushions, mostly to hide his face in his arms.

"Hmm," Tony hums approvingly, hands rubbing at Peter's ass. "You sure are a pretty little thing."

Thing.

Peter feels humiliated, on the verse of a panic attack. His knees hurt against the hard floor -he thinks it might be granite or even marble. Its cold. He doesn't think he can go through with this.

But Tony's already lubing his fingers and pressing two inside. Peter bites back a sob, reminding himself this is only for the money.

This is a job. He can do this. Its one time, and after this, he'll leave and never see Tony again.

He'll delete his cam page, he'll cut off any ties to Tony. Its just one time.

Tony continues to finger him open, but Peter can tell he's becoming impatient. He winces as three fingers are shoved in, the back and forth much too rough for prep work. Thankfully, Peter had done a lot of it himself.

Tony's fingers leave his hole and Peter can't help the momentary relief that floods his system.

Its chased away with cold water though, when he hears the zip of Tony's pants and the snick of the lid popping on the bottle of lube.

Peter's heart lodges itself deep in his throat, and its suddenly all too much.

He pushes himself up off the couch, half turning. "Wait, Tony, I can't do this-"

Tony's hand shoves against his back, right between his shoulder blades and pinning him to the couch. "Don't be nervous," he orders.

Peter feels the head of Tony's cock nudge at his entrance and he lets out a whine, frightened and desperate all at once.

"Wait, Tony, stop," Peter gasped, fighting to push himself up. Tony only leans more of his weight onto his back, and shoves his cock inside in one quick thrust.

Peter yelps at the stretch and burn, thighs shaking as his muscles work to keep Tony out.

"There you go, relax, sweetheart, you're doing so well," Tony grunts, feeding more of his cock in until its flush, hips to Peter's ass.

Tears burn at Peter's eyes as he struggles against the weight on his back.

Tony's fucking huge -bigger than he thought he'd be. He feels split open, ripped at the seams. Its so painful, and Peter has to bury his mouth into the cushions to muffle his whines and mewls of pain.

"Ton-Tony I can't-"

"Sure you can," Tony huffed, beginning to thrust in and out. Peter wails at the sharp snap of his hips.

He cries openly against the pillow, chest heaving, body shaking.

Each thrust punches out a breathy "ah, ah, ah," from Peter, his gut twisting with a mix of pleasure and disgust.

"Listen to you," Tony hummed, sounding almost desperate, hands holding Peter down. "Those noises. God, you're so tight, sweetheart. Taking my cock so well."

Peter chokes on a sob at those words, a string of babbled begging leaving his mouth, muffled by the leather couch cushions.

Tony must interpret the unintelligible babbling for something else, because he goes harder, thrusting faster, and Peter's back arcs, his head lifting off the couch on a shout.

"Please, please, please," Peter sobs, chest heaving. Tony pistons his hips, shoving Peter into the couch over and over in a disorienting pace.

Tony drives into him hard, burying himself as depe as he can go, and then pushing in further. Peter sobs against the pressure, being filled to the maximum.

And then Peter feels it. The unmistakable warm wetness that spreads inside him, coating his inner walls.

Peter whimpers as Tony punches his cock deep inside, pushing the cum deeper than Peter knew possible before pulling out.

Peter doesn't move, just tries to level his breathing. To collect himself before Tony seems his face.

"You going to cum for me, sweetheart?" Tony asks only seconds later. His hands are still pinning him down, but one now slids around Peter's front.

He doesn't get a chance to deny the man before a callused hand grips his cock and tugs painfully.

He yelps as his orgasm is yanked from him. Its not pleasurable in the slightest. It hurts so bad, Peter's eyes water again.

And Tony keeps milking him through it, wben when the last of it has dribbled to the floor. Peter reaches a hand down, whimpering and whining at the assault.

"Stop, stop!" He begs, stilling Tony's hand. "Please it hurts."

Tony stops, smoothing his hands over his belly and pressing a soft kiss to Peter's shoulder blades.

"Such a sensitive thing," he remarks. Peter buries his face in his arm. Tony gets to his feet then and steps away.

Peter reaches for his shirt on the couch and quickly pulls it over his head, hands still trembling.

He glances over to see Tony's back at the bar, filling a glass for himself.

Peter stands on shaky legs, stepping into his boxers and jeans and pulling them up before any of Tony's cum drips down his legs.

He tucks himself in and zips up before stepping into his shoes. His phone and wallet are still in his back pockets.

He glances up at Tony again, who's watching him over the rim of his glass. Peter doesn't know what to say, so he makes his way halting towards the door.

"The rest of your money will be deposited tonight," Tony said when Peter reached the door. Peter's gut twists, but he nods in thanks.

"I'd be more than happy to continue this partnership in the future," Tony hummed, just as Peter gripped the doorhandle that lead to the hallway. "Should you have need of extra money."

Peter doesn't acknowledge that. He slips out of the penthouse and into the hallway, making sure the door shuts behind him before rushing for the elevator, fresh tears blurring his vision.

#marvel #peter parker #tony stark #starker #ao3 #sfsummerbingo21 #my writing

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weeinterpreter · 4 years ago

Note

Okay, Blue here- forgive me because I know this isn’t angst or anything, but because I am a comedy lover- this AU where Artemis joins a league of Evil Villains... perhaps a bit of a light-hearted spin on it and some shenanigans? Idk I just feel like the villains are Not Ready to handle the likes of Artemis Fowl. (Your writing is absolutely spectacular, btw- the FEELS. How dare you break my heart like that... even if I love it so.)

Hi Blue! Thank you so much for your message and the lovely praise. It really means a lot to me. 😊

Now to your request: Butler alive AND I get to write happy, funny, goofy League of Evil Villains?! Hell yeah! I love comedy! Let’s get this party started!

The conference room was filled with the most dangerous criminals in the world, happily chatting away with each other. This was the last place Butler wanted to be in. But Artemis had received a personal invitation from the President of the Evil Association of Evil Villains, and the boy had been adamant on going, making Butler's life – as usual – extremely stressful. He stared across the room at Jon Spiro's bodyguard, who sneered right back.

Before the two men could exchange hostilities, though, another man entered the room, and the conversations died away. Butler turned to him as he stopped at the one empty seat at the round table. He looked more like a retired teacher than a criminal with his grey hair and bushy beard, but Butler had been in the business long enough to know better.

The President, the evilest of the evil villains, beamed at his fellow evil villains.

"Most respected Evildoers," he said, rolling the words like a true Irishman. "Thank you all for coming to the monthly roundtable of the Evil Association of Evil Villains. The first part of the agenda today is to welcome our newest and youngest member. I won't say too much as some of you have already made his acquaintance, but I am quite pleased that he is a fellow countryman of mine. It's the Irish businessman, Artemis Fowl II."

The members knocked on the table as Artemis gave everyone a cordial nod.

"A kind reminder, everybody,"–the President gave every single person a stern look– "associates aren't allowed to kill, maim, bludgeon, poison or otherwise threaten other associates or their henchmen. Okay, let's continue with the monthly high score of Evilness. Last month has been truly quite successful, and I am pleased about your commitment. You have achieved a new record of the most almost committed crimes of the last 20 years. I think that deserves some applause!"

The criminals around the table whooped, giving each other high-fives.

"You all did amazing, but I am sure you want to know who got to the top in July, huh?"

Cheers throughout the room. Butler had to fight hard not to roll his eyes at how everybody sat up straighter, eager to hear who would be the Evildoer of the Month.

"In a very respectable third place is Opal Koboi, with her attempt at making Castle Rock, a dead volcano, erupt once more. She almost caused fear and consternation among the people of Edinburgh. Very well done!"

Opal Koboi blushed, waving her hands at her fellow villains as she received applause, while her henchmen Mervall and Descant Brill shifted in their seats, hastily reaching for the water glasses, and gulped down the water. Butler frowned, studying the other henchmen. He caught Arno Blunt giving the pixie brothers a discreet thumbs-up.

"Next, Jon Spiro, with his truly devious invention of a 5G Brainwashing Chip. I realise there were some start up difficulties. Instead of brainwashing the victims, you gave them a really good internet connection."

The room let out a collective gasp. Jon Spiro shook his head in shame, lifting his hands in an apology. Ark Sool patted him on the shoulder, whispering some encouraging words.

"But the thought counts. You were really close, Jon, keep up the good work!"

Meanwhile, Butler watched Arno Blunt wipe away a drop of sweat that had run down his forehead before clapping with the rest of the room, hooting and chanting for his employer.

"Which brings us to our winner for July, which is our youngest, but surely most promising, member. Artemis, you almost poisoned the entire country of Ireland! Well done!"

The criminals around the table murmured among themselves, while Artemis made a face.

"I was convinced it would work, too. I don't know why it didn't."

Butler clasped his hands behind his back, trying hard to look innocent and not to gloat. His attempt at exchanging the poison-filled capsules with some harmless vitamin pills hadn't been easy. It had almost cost him two fingers, but thanks to Madame Ko's additional seminar "Your Principal is a Villain? 101 Ways to Thwart Their Plans" he had succeeded.

He caught the eyes of a goblin, who picked his nose in a way that Butler could only describe as congratulating.

The President lifted his hands. "You all did very well this month. Until next month. Be bad, do evil and have fun!"

The villains clapped loudly, while the henchmen, including Butler, let out a collective sigh.

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fowlblue · 4 years ago

Text

Ignis Aurum Probat

———————————

(Artemis takes custody of the twins AU. Be aware that there are some minor spoilers up ahead for The Fowl Twins: Deny All Charges.)

———————————————

Artemis Fowl had been resting when the call came.

His tasks for the day in manning the spacecraft were all completed, and the data he had taken from the morning’s experiments was all written down and filed away. All he had left to do was relax for a bit, before retiring for the night. While he would have rather continued his work, he had nevertheless accepted that relaxation was a crucial, if frustrating, facet of his life he had ignored long enough.

Currently, he was simply free-floating, allowing his mind to drift. While Butler seemed more fond of the artificial gravity the ship was perfectly capable of producing, Artemis had found that it felt rather nice to be suspended in the air- the feeling of weightlessness was calming.

I imagine this is a bit like what flying feels like, he reflected.

He wasn’t given the opportunity to explore the thought, as at that moment, he heard a short buzz vibrate through his earpiece.

Someone’s calling.

It didn’t take very long for him to maneuver himself over to one of the monitors that lined the wall- his time in space had taught him well. Reaching up over the screen, he tapped the glowing symbol that was meant to alert him to incoming calls. He heard a sharp buzz in his ear as the audio connected.

“Hello?”

“Artemis!”

At the sound of Beckett’s excited voice, Artemis felt his face split into a smile. “Hello there, Beckett. How are you? Is Myles there?”

“No.”, Beckett admitted, his voice dropping into a hushed whisper. “I stole his glasses- he’s asleep.”

Artemis paused briefly for thought. “Beckett,” he said slowly. “It is well past your bedtime, if my calculations are correct- and we both know they are.”

“I know. I just wanted to talk to you- we miss you.”

Beckett’s voice sounded unusually down, and Artemis’s brow furrowed. It was unlike his little brother to sound unhappy, and immediately he was concerned. “Is something wrong, Beck? You sound upset.”

For a second, there was silence on the other end of the line. “Well... maybe.”, Beckett eventually admitted. “Father was really mad at us today- we got in a lot of trouble.”

“Oh?”

This came as no real surprise to Artemis- Myles and Beckett enjoyed all things exciting and adventurous, but this curious nature no doubt drove his parents up the wall. Then again, it served them right for not keeping an eye on them, in his opinion. “I’m sorry, Beck. I hope it wasn’t too stressful.”

For some reason, the silence on the other end of the line felt louder than normal, and Artemis could sense Beckett’s unease. “Beck?”, he prompted, as the silence and his concern grew. “Are you alright?”

There was another second of quiet. “Can I ask you something?”. Beckett’s voice was quiet and hushed- Artemis could barely hear him.

“Of course. Ask away.”

“Did Dad ever.... scare you? Like, when you were little.”

Artemis’s blood went cold as he processed what Beckett had just asked him.

His next words were gentle, though, even if Artemis himself felt like he had just been dunked into ice water.

“Beck, tell me exactly what happened. Please.”

His little brother needed no further encouragement, seemingly desperate to get it off his mind. “Well, we took the jet. And it blew up. So Dad was really, really mad.”

“Okay.”

“And then he started yelling at me and Myles. He was really loud, and he wouldn’t listen to us. When Myles interrupted him, he lost it. He started telling us to ‘stand up straight’ and said we weren’t ‘listening to reason’- stuff like that. He said we didn’t care about him or Mom, and that he ‘found the shine wearing off a little’, whatever that meant. We aren’t allowed to talk to Lazuli or NANNI anymore either, and I miss them. I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to be talking to you.”

“And this frightened you?”, he asked, fighting to keep his voice calm and soothing. Beckett sounded genuinely upset, and Artemis felt that familiar feeling of protective fury begin to well up inside him.

“Yeah... He’s never yelled at us like that before. And he looked scary, like he wanted to throw something.”

“He didn’t, right?” The question escaped Artemis without thought. He had never known his father to lose that much control of himself, but you never really knew.

“No. He just yelled at us.” If Beckett had heard the note of panic in Artemis’s voice, he didn’t point it out. “But it was still scary.”

“Of course it was, Beckett. He was yelling at you- that would scare anyone. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that. It was very, very wrong of him- you should never feel afraid of your father.” Artemis tried to reassure him. He realized he had been wringing his hands together- he didn’t bother to stop. “So, he won’t let you talk to anyone? Not even Lazuli?”

“No... And he won’t talk to us either...” Beckett’s voice sounded like he was close to crying, and Artemis’s heart broke a little.

He knew he couldn’t have Beckett start to sob now- no doubt that would wake Myles, and then the whole house might follow. He couldn’t allow that. “Hey, hey, Beck, it’s alright. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”, he whispered frantically. “I’ll talk to him.”

“You will?”

Beckett’s voice held a note of disbelief- Artemis realized the inherent problem with that plan. He persisted anyways, a new and desperate scheme beginning to outline itself within his mind. “Yeah, buddy. I will. Don’t worry- Arty will handle this, okay?”

“Okay.” Beckett still sounded unconvinced, but he was no longer sniffling. Artemis knew he would have to end the call soon, so he chose his words carefully.

“Look, Beckett. I’m going to be coming back soon. Later this week, if the ship can manage it. Don’t tell anyone else though- it’s a surprise. Especially Mother or Father. I’ll talk to him when I get back. In the meantime, lie low and try to behave- get Myles to do the same. That way you don’t get in any more trouble with Father.”

Beckett’s voice had brightened slightly at the prospect of seeing his brother. “Okay, Arty- I can’t wait to see you!”

Artemis allowed another smile to split his face, this one albeit much sadder. “Same here, Beck. Why don’t you go get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Beck.”

The audio disconnected with a short burst of static, and Artemis immediately sunk his head into his hands. Guilt and anger and sadness raced through him in equal measure- why, oh why, had he ever decided to leave the Earth with the twins in their care? They clearly hadn’t changed, and now he was countless miles away from them.

Because you wanted to trust them. Now you know better.

He certainly did, now, which was why Artemis began to think, and scheme, and plot. He had only one real course of action available to him.

Clearly, Fowl Sr. and Angeline were not fit parents. The twins were still not being watched, enough so that they had managed to steal the family jet. And now Fowl Sr. seemed to have reverted back to the man Artemis himself had grown up with- a man who ruled his household through strict rules and intimidation. No wonder Beckett had been frightened- if the lecture he had been given was anything like what Artemis himself had to endure, it was a small wonder his younger brother wasn’t outright terrified.

They were not fit parents, and it sounded to him like Myles and Beckett had been cut off from the underground to boot. They had no one around to keep them safe, or keep an eye on them, or shield them from his father’s behavior. Which meant the burden fell on him.

By the time Butler had awoken, Artemis had already moved on from planning, and was now seated (the ship’s gravity having been restored), his head in his hands as the reality of what he had learned struck him. When he looked up at his trusted bodyguard and spoke, Butler felt a slight chill at the fury in his voice.

“We need to head to the Villa. Now.”

——————————

Myles was the one who was woken first, the night of Artemis’s return to Earth.

He had gone to sleep anxious, like he had every night in the previous week, ever since Father had declared them ‘grounded’ and locked them inside the house.

At first, Beckett had been excited at the prospect of their Mother and Father being around the house more often- he was crushed to learn that just because Father had promised the fairies he would keep an eye on them did not mean he had any intention of spending much time with them. He was still ever-busy, and his anger refused to abate.

It was miserable, for Myles and his brother. They were not allowed to leave the grounds. They couldn’t be loud (which felt rather unfair to Beckett), and he was not allowed into his lab. His father insisted he’d only make trouble, which to Myles felt decidedly unreasonable, seeing as most of the troubles he was upset about had happened outside of the lab, not within it. Any attempts to socialize with either parent was met with coldness or avoidance.

Needless to say, Myles’ anxiety had been off the charts.

So when he heard his glasses buzz against his desktop, he was instantly alert.

Cautiously making his way over to them, he put them on, answering the call as quietly as he could. The caller was Artemis- Myles was surprised by his relief.

“Myles?” His big brother’s voice was soft and unusually strained. “Is it you or Beckett?”

“It’s Myles.”, the twin answered with a small sniff. He thought he heard Artemis sigh in relief.

“Alright, listen. I am on my way to the Villa- there’s something I need you both to do, alright? It’s very, very important, so I need you both to be listening.”

Myles hurriedly crept over to his brother, shaking him to wake him up. Within a matter of seconds, both twins were awake and (somewhat) alert. “What do you need?” Myles whispered.

Artemis’s voice was urgent. “Both of you need to get up and get dressed. Grab what you’ll need for the next few days- I’m not talking lab equipment, I’m talking necessities- and head to the front. You guys are going to be staying with me for a little bit. Don’t let Mother or Father hear you. Think of it like a stealth mission in a video game, okay? No chatter.”

“Why do you-“

Artemis cut Beckett’s question off. “I promise I will explain everything as soon as I can, okay? For now, just know Mother and Father aren’t doing a very good job being parents, so I’m going to be taking care of you for a little bit. All clear?”

The line disconnected.

Myles turned to his brother. “What on Earth is Artemis going on about- Beckett, what are you doing?”

The twin in question was already stuffing various items into his backpack, a look of resolute determination on his face. “Is that a trick question or something?”, he grumbled. “Come on- we gotta get ready like he said.”

Myles couldn’t believe this. “Are you kidding? We’re already in trouble enough- who knows what Father will do if he finds us sneaking out? Do you want to be forbidden from seeing Artemis too?”

Beckett shook his head furiously, stuffing Myles’ own backpack into the more studious twin’s arms. “No, I don’t- but I also want to get out of here. Dad’s been weird all week. Besides, do you really think Artemis was asking? Something tells me he was being serious when he said it was important.”

Myles let out a small hiss of frustration, though Beckett noted with satisfaction that he began to hurriedly pack up his things. “This is insane. Completely insane.” the bespectacled genius growled.

“We Fowls always do the unexpected.”, Beckett recited, his voice slightly teasing.

“Shut up.”, snapped Myles, now cramming as many of his notebooks as he could into the space remaining in his bag. He hated the thought of leaving his precious research behind, but he knew that it wasn’t exactly labeled a necessity by anyone but him, and hopefully he would be able to recover it once this nightmare was over.

In a few seconds, Beckett had finished placing all of his essentials in his bag, and was now creeping over to the door. After pressing his ear to it, he shot Myles a cheeky grin. “Mom and Dad must be asleep- I don’t hear anything.”

Myles sighed deeply, having finished packing his own supplies (just what kind of trip were they going to be taking?), and crept over beside his brother. After a few more seconds of quiet, the two stepped out into the hall.

The Villa was pitch-black in the gloom, and Myles felt himself instinctually huddle closer to his brother. There were no lights left on when everyone was asleep (better for the environment, according to their mother), so they would just have to hope that what little light streaming in through the windows would be enough to make it to the front hall.

It was, barely. Beckett nearly tripped down the stairwell, and Myles jammed his foot right as they made it to the front. It was a miracle he hadn’t shouted, though the sudden pain had made him tear up a little.

From there, they waited.

—————————————

Artemis was ever-so-thankful he had remembered to bring his key to the Villa, because otherwise his entrance into the family home would have more resembled a break-in than a son returning home. That, alongside the unfortunate deactivation of the NANNI security system, enabled him to creep inside without detection.

He nearly tripped over Beckett, waiting alongside his brother, backpacks in tow.

“Arty!”, the two twins whisper-yelled, each immediately latching themselves around his waist in a bear hug. Artemis let them for a second, overwhelmed by the sudden warmth in his chest. Oh, how he had missed them.

Unfortunately, he did eventually have to push them away, shepherding them towards the door. It felt odd to have to be whispering in his own home, but he did need the twins safely with Butler before he came back, and he didn’t want to wake Fowl Sr. and Angeline. Yet.

“I’m going to take you two to Butler. And then I’m going inside for a bit, alright?”

Both of them nodded, shivering against the chilly night air. Artemis did feel quite guilty, waking them in this sudden manner. They hadn’t even had time to fetch coats. But it was imperative they were on the boat as soon as possible- with luck, they would all be on the mainland before dawn.

The bodyguard was waiting when they arrived at the narrow strip of beach the two had chosen to dock at. Myles gave the cabin cruiser an uneasy look, and Artemis gave his brother an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Myles. I know you prefer flying- but we don’t have a jet right now, so this will have to do. A good friend lent it to me, so please try not to break anything. Butler, help them get their stuff inside, if you would.”

He crouched, so that he and the twins were eye-to-eye. “Listen. I’m going inside to go talk to Mother and Father. I shouldn’t be too long- you two are going to head into the cabin of the boat and get settled. When I come back, we’re going to talk for a bit, and I’ll explain what’s going on. Then you will be able to ask any questions you want, alright?”

Both of them nodded slowly, confused but unwilling to argue. Their lack of protest was suspicious- Father’s lecture must have really rattled them. Artemis took a second to give them the best, most encouraging smile he could muster, desperate to console them. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” He stood. “I’ll be back soon. Stay with Butler.”

With his instructions understood, he turned his back to them, and strode off back towards the Villa.

——————————————

(Part 2 can be found here.)

#this is kind of meant to be a sequel to Facta Non Verba #but it works well enough on it's own #i think #im going to post the second part (curse tumblr's text block limits) in just a second #artemis fowl #beckett fowl #myles fowl #fowl senior #angeline fowl #the fowl twins #fowldom #my fics #familia supra omnis #ignis aurum probat #custody au

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wing-ed-thing · 4 years ago

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Cabaret (Might Guy x Reader, Chapter VI)

Synopsis: You can't stand Might Guy. Honestly, how could anyone be so boisterously unaware and sickeningly positive? Your heart sinks as the both of you are teamed up to infiltrate and collect information from the Hidden Sound's gritty nightlife. Maybe losing yourselves in the dark of the underground will help you both come to an understanding.

Word Count: 2,251

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIIIChapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI

Warnings: Minor Sexual Assault (you are kissed without permission), adult themes, alcohol, fowl language

You were at the club early the following day. You sat down at the bar with a deep exhale. Guy hadn’t arrived but the girls helped themselves to what was behind the counter. You couldn’t choose between water or hair of the dog. You opted for both.

The hangover wasn’t the only factor worsening your exhaustion. Chiasa had just helped you finish hanging up your gowns. One gown on its own didn’t yield much weight, but you severely underestimated how heavy multiple evening gowns became when jutsu wasn’t used to store them. Your headache from your first night on the job pounded in your ears. You were just about done downing your third glass of water when you heard a man clear his throat.

You turned on the stool, seeing the Sound ninja from last night. He wore his uniform still… and still looked the slightest bit like Might Guy. You blinked rapidly, trying to physically banish the comparison from your head. His bangs framed his hitai-ate. The eighth note on his forehead shone under the lowlights of the club.

“Oh, hello.” You greeted him weakly.

“Accompany me for a walk.” His demanding words carried a passive tone. It was not a question. You looked over to one of the other hostesses. She did not look back, but her side eye told you that you better leave with the ninja before you.

You removed your gloves and placed them on the counter before following the man out of the building. It was that time again. The sun just began to set on the Sound. You didn’t know what it was, but the sunsets appeared different in the Hidden Sound. Equally beautiful, but different. The air smelled like the ocean.

You walked with the ninja. The sandy gravel of the path crunched under your heels.

You noted his sports gloves and the hole open on the back, exposing the skin of his hand. Another patch lay exposed between his ear and his scarf. You took in the many cuts and scrapes on his arms, honing in on four puncture wounds. His face remained unobscured. You remembered his high cheekbones from the night before. You remembered his lean frame. You remembered his bangs, his almond shaped eyes and thin lips.

“I would like to take you on a date.” The ninja told you. “You will be compensated for your time and the meal. I already worked it out with the woman known as Mama-san. I’ve taken a liking to you and you will be ready for me here tomorrow before you work at six. Then, you will sit with me for a drink. This conversation is a courtesy, of course.”

You felt an unpleasant pang in your chest. Objectification. Subhumanity. The sheer fact that he thought that he was doing you a favor to tell you before buying you was enough to lose your temper where you stood, but you shut your mouth. You had no choice but to accept, but that did not mean you wouldn’t seethe silently the whole way back to “HEAVEN”.

“Marigolds keep snakes away.” You told him when you got back.

“What?”

“The snake bites on your arms. Marigolds.”

***

“It’s called dohan,” Chiara explained when you told her later. “You’re very lucky!” She told you, lips puckered and eyes bright. Lucky. “You get extra money for dohan! You just got yourself a regular, Yume-san!” In her excitement, she nearly tripped. You caught the tray of empty champagne flutes from the table you just cleared. You exited the kitchen when another hostess approached the two of you.

“There’s a request for Yume-san at table fifteen.”

“Okay! We’ll be out in a moment!” Chiara chirped.

“Just Yume-san.”

“Just Yume-san?” Chiara questioned. The hostess nodded. She perked up. “It might be that guy you told me about! From earlier! You’re doing such a great job, I can’t believe you already have regulars!” You frowned, less than happy at such a prospect.

Your two coworkers sent you out with a tray with a scotch and a martini.

“I’ll take a scotch and whatever it is that the lady wants.” Your new client apparently said.

You sauntered past the bar to your assigned table in the upper left corner of the club. A hostess performed on stage and her gorgeous melodies flowed throughout the area. She shook her hips, making explicit gestures as she ran her hands down her body. Another hostess accompanied her on the piano. Another few played various brass instruments. You would have to ask Chiasa about that later.

You caught sight of your client. You nearly stopped in your tracks. Seeing his full face now, your mind flashed back to the Leaf’s bingo book, but you pressed on as to not alarm the wanted man. He lounged in the booth like a prince upon a throne. He lazily swirled around the ice in his drink. His hitai-ate restrained his overflowing silver locks. When he noticed you approaching, he made no effort to adjust his posture.

You placed the tray on the table in front of him. You pushed down the heat rising to your skin and picked up your martini. You handed him his scotch, mentally picturing him in cuffs on his way to prison. He gave you a silent nod of acknowledgement as you sat down next to him. His arm immediately came to rest around your shoulders. His circular glasses caught the light from the lamp above.

“Hiya… Handsome, how are we doing today?” The words were still clunky as they rolled off your tongue despite your day of experience.

“Just fine, thank you,” He took a sip of his drink and put it back down on the table. His eyes narrowed and a wide smirk encompassed his lips. The hand around your shoulder played with your hair. The ninja leaned down, two fingers under your chin. His cold touch on your skin coursed through you. You fought off the urge to recoil. He breathed, “You can call me Yakushi-sama, Beautiful.”

The hand in your hair came to pin your shoulder back against the booth. The shock of his touch encompassed your system, pounding in your head. He leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. You mentally shattered. You felt dizzy, your senses overloaded by his shifty spirit. He came crashing into your mind. You felt arrogance. Snark. Devotion. Loss. Need. Hunger.

Clients weren’t supposed to touch you. You weakly pushed him off you, bowing your head away before the exchange, leaving the overload of sensations erupt in your core.

When you looked into his round frames, you could have sworn he looked through you. You felt on display. You took a deep intake, the sharp frost dissipating into a balanced equilibrium.

“Of course, Yakushi-sama.” He looked amused at your reaction and reached back for his drink. Your smile faltered as he did so. The room may as well have been spinning. You gripped your glass, the sensation of the smooth glass under your fingertips grounding you to reality. “I’m honored that you chose me for your company tonight.”

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you, Yume-chan.” You eyed him and tried to ignite a semblance of fire within you. Guy’s words echoed in your head. Prepare yourself, watch your back. But you found yourself unmotivated and failing. “And I must say that I am disappointed.”

Kabuto finished his drink. The cubes of ice clinked as he once again rested the glass on the table. He took out his wallet, fishing out a few ryō before he stood. The ryō were placed on the tray. And he left you alone to down your martini.

***

You stumbled into your studio apartment, wasted but sobering up. You were beginning to build up a tolerance, but that process was ever slow. You flung your heels off and tossed your gloves on the bed. You trudged to the bathroom, taking soaked rag to the glue of your wig. The lace peeled from your skin inch by inch.

You took a large bottle of mouthwash out from under the counter. Swirl, gargle, repeat. Swirl, gargle, repeat. The bottle stood half empty by the time you slammed your cup down for the last time.

You leaned, a hand on the counter. You looked up into the mirror. Your makeup smeared around your eyes and wig gel flaked at your hairline. The bags under your eyes stood out more prominently without concealer. You stripped out of your gown, hanging it up on the hook on the door.

The steam from the shower began to clear your head as you washed your hair out. But even under the hot water, you felt grimy. You scrubbed at your skin, trying to wash away the unwanted touches from the club. You pushed the loofah into your skin, but the sensation still remained. You turned the heat up before returning to lather the loofah in soap once more. You returned to roughly scoured your skin as the water scorched your back. But once again, the feeling of hands remained. You kept trying and trying and trying until your skin became red from both the heat and the friction. You could still sense them: each and every client. Their spirits etched themselves in you with every grope. Every moment of bitter exchange and unpleasant balance. The ninja from the bingo book flashed across your memories. You let out a bitter cry, throwing the loofah down. Your head met your hands as you sat, crouched, crying.

Guy had sat on your couch once again when you came out of the bathroom. You wrapped a towel around your hair. You balanced the weight as you finished buttoning up your night shirt. You sat down next to him. He did not bring beer this time.

“Rough few nights?” Guy threw on his usual jovial smile. You curled up into the couch.

““I have some things to tell you about the mission but… give me a second, okay?” That was all you said. He sat with you silently and patiently. A clock somewhere in the room ticked on. You took a deep inhale, your voice a whisper, “We need to get into that back room.”

“And we will!” Guy was overdoing it. A beat. A pause. Your features didn’t change. His voice became low, “You don’t have to go with him tomorrow.” You felt the sting of tears gathering in your ducts. You weren’t sure why you were crying.

“Yes I do.” You blinked, tears streaming down your face. You wiped them away with your sleeve. “That’s not it…” Guy cleared his throat.

“Well, I don’t think you should go.” Guy promptly put. You shook your head at him, brow furrowing farther in sadness.

“Don’t-... Guy, don’t-...” Your hand wove itself in your hair as you clenched your eyes shut. “I told you it’s not about that.”

“It would be hard for me to spot you. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be there, but it’s harder to follow you away from the club-” He began to get lost in himself.

“Guy please! I don’t know if I can do this!” His eyes met your tired puffy ones. “I know it’s not a big deal. I know I shouldn’t be bothered.” You let out a huff of a laugh as tears streamed down your cheeks. “But fuck… I hate that I’m so worked up over this.”

“What is it?”

“My kekkei genkai,” You took a breath in an attempt to slow your breathing. “Sure, I can connect myself to others. If I can get my hands on someone’s face I’m golden, you know?” You kicked a leg out. The coffee table tumbled across the floor and you cried. “But that’s when I can get information and be done. That’s when I’m in control! I can’t turn it off! I feel it all day, every touch from men and their slimy spirits.” You scrunched your nose in bitterness. “We better find what we’re looking for soon.”

“And we will.” You gripped onto a pillow, screaming into it.

“ I can see shit I wish I didn’t, hear the things they want to do to me, to other women and I can’t do shit about it! Fucking pathetic!” You melted into the cushions around you. “I don’t know how much more I can handle and it’s only been two days! I-I... was the wrong choice for this.”

Your features contorted themselves in pain, in hurt. The way of the ninja always was gender neutral. It didn’t matter if you were a man or a woman or anything in between, your duty to your team remained your duty to your team. You were always a confident kunoichi or at least you thought so. The fury buried itself in your chest. You didn’t understand. You did not understand what this mission was doing to you and you didn’t like it one bit. Unable to escape, you felt it burn you from the inside out. For you were no longer a capable kunoichi, but a doll to be ordered off a menu.

“Please, talk about anything else.” You pleaded at this point. Guy’s features softened.

“Anything else, huh?” He pursed his lips. He tried to replicate the usual brightness in his eyes. You appreciated the attempt. “Well, let me tell ya’! Mine and Kakashi’s last rivalry challenge was truly one for the record books! It was a barbecue eating contest and I’m convinced that he cheated!” Guy continued on with gusto as tears fell from your eyes. “We’re seven pieces of flank steak in and all of the sudden he’s tellin’ me he has to go to the bathroom-”

You softly take his hand into yours.

A wave overtook you. You felt it again. Warm. Kind. You let his spirit swirl in your core and you exhaled thankfulness. Guy sat with you silent now like a foreigner in a sacred temple. You knew he felt it too.

“Please continue.” You whispered. Your thumb traced his knuckles. “I think I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Ah… right! So it’s neck and neck, we both have two more plates to go…”

You basked in his comfy spirit, watching the glow in his eyes that was just for you. The sensations from the club slowly began to fade away and not once did Might Guy falter.

You know, I was watching Spirited Away when editing this. I want to like it, I really do. I love Studio Ghibli, but dear lord, did they have to make Chihiro scream all her lines? Like the animation and story is gorgeous but jeez so much yelling.

Aaaaanyway enjoy!

#might guy #might guy x reader #might guy relationship #Maito Gai #maito gai x reader #maito guy #Maito guy relationship #cabaret #x you #reader insert #x reader #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagine #naruto imagines

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helaintoloki · 5 years ago

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Sweet Dreams

pairing: Dan Torrance x reader

warnings: language, angst, scenes of violence, death, somewhat of a happy ending (?), over 2k words in length

notes: this is dedicated to @obitwo who not only encouraged me to write this but also helped me brainstorm and was supper supportive in the process♡

summary: when death flies mark their territory on your face, Dan knows he must do whatever he can to keep you safe. But will he be able to protect you from a vengeful Rose the Hat?

The drive to Colorado is a long one, the empty roads along the way only adding to the apprehensions surrounding the trip. The Overlook was your only hope of defeating Rose, the only place that could finally bring that bitch to her end, but that didn’t mean she would go down easily. Dan knew this, and yet the three of you were diving straight off the cliff and into the belly of the beast. You just hoped it wasn’t too starved.

He stops halfway through the trip for gas, allowing Abra and yourself a chance to stretch your legs and pick up some snacks as well- your idea, because you can’t fight the devil on an empty stomach.

“Want anything?” You ask Dan, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in hopes of providing him with a sense of comfort and solace. You know how heavily this trip weighs on his mind and heart, what it means to him, and you’ll do anything you can to make sure he knows he’s not alone.

“Coffee,” Dan murmurs as he brings your hand up to his lips and presses a careful kiss to your knuckles.

“You got it,” you smile gently, releasing him from your grasp before escorting Abra into the convenience store.

A long sigh escapes Dan as he leans back against the car and waits for the tank to fill. A million thoughts swirl through his mind, a million outcomes and a million possibilities of how this will all play out. His main priority is protecting you and Abra, but what if he can’t? What if the plan backfires and he succumbs to the will of the Hotel just like his father had all those years ago? What could he do then? Rose would finish you both off while Dan was off fighting the ghosts of his childhood. He wanted to vomit, wanted to lie down and close his eyes and dream it all away. And, as guilty as it made him feel, he really wanted a drink.

“Almost done?” Your voice asks, your presence immediately lifting some of the weight off of Dan’s shoulders. He takes the coffee from your hands and stares down at the lid thoughtfully, mind drifting back to the old memories of midnight liquor store trips during his drinking days. Would you have loved him then as much as you do now? No, that didn’t matter. Dan was different now, a new man, a good man. A good man with a good woman to call his own.

“Almost done,” he nods, looking up to meet your gaze. “Did Abra-“

The coffee slips from his hands and onto the ground, the hot contents draining from the cup in the same manner that the color begins to drain from his face. His heart is pounding in his chest and bile begins to rise painfully up his throat. He can’t move, he can’t speak, and no matter how much he wants to he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight before him.

A litter of flies coat your face, buzzing animatedly as they crawl along your skin unnoticed by everyone except Dan. Those same flies had once swarmed his dying mother’s face, and now they had found a home in you. Death was approaching quickly, a new fly appearing with every passing minute, and Dan wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed before. Your life was in danger and he had no idea how to stop it.

“Dan?” Your voice calls, sounding far away and muffled in his ears. “Danny, is everything alright?”

Strong arms immediately pull you flush against him, bodies chest to chest as he cradles the back of your head in his hand and buries his face into your shoulder. He doesn’t want to scare you, he doesn’t want to make a scene, but the tears are steadily flowing now and he can’t seem to stop them.

“Dan, what’s wrong?” You exclaim fretfully, reciprocating his actions by throwing your own arms around him and giving his body a tight hug. “What is it?”

“I won’t let them get you,” he vows through tears. “I won’t let them take you away. You can’t go. Not yet. Not now. Not ever.”

His outburst makes you uneasy, but you can only reach up to card your fingers through his hair and attempt to soothe him.

“I’m not going anywhere Dan,” you console. “No one’s going to take me. It’s alright.”

But it isn’t alright, you don’t know how close you are to death, and it makes Dan feel all the more terrified. You shouldn’t be here, you should find somewhere else to stay until it’s all over, you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t-

Abra returns to find her Uncle Dan inconsolable as he sobs into your neck, exchanging an uneasy glance with you as you do your best to soothe him. Tensions have risen now as his cries echo throughout the empty gas station parking lot.

You send Abra for another coffee and sit Dan in the passenger’s seat because there’s no way he’ll be able to make the rest of the drive. The cup trembles in his hands the same way his bottom lip trembles in fear. The urge to suck his thumb is stronger than ever, but he refrains.

Your gaze is fixated on the road ahead as you drive, brows furrowed ever so slightly as you mull over your own thoughts. Flies continue to crawl over your face, and Dan wills himself to look away.

He holds your unoccupied hand bone crushingly tight the rest of the way and refuses to let go because there’s no way in hell he’ll ever lose you. Not now, not ever.

The flies continue to buzz, and Dan’s heart continues to break.

~~~

In some twisted form of irony, despite the fact that you’re getting closer and closer to danger the flies begin to dwindle in amount as you approach the Overlook. It’s a hopeful sight for Dan, one that let’s him know there’s still a chance for all of you to get out of this alive. As long as he keeps an eye on you, as long as he keeps you close, as long as he does everything in his power to protect you things will be okay. They have to be. They will be.

It’s freezing when you step out of the car, fresh snowflakes cascading from the clouds and landing in your hair and on your clothes. In normal circumstances the snowfall would have been a beautiful sight, but right now it only seemed to fuel the eerie aesthetic of the rotting building before you. Dan drapes his jacket over your shoulders to keep you warm, but it isn’t the cold that has you shivering.

“I’m gonna go inside. I want you to keep the car running and turn the heater on. Abra, you keep an eye out for Rose. You’ll be able to see her coming through the tree lines, and as soon as you do I want you to call me. Stay together, and no matter what you do don’t split up.”

“Aren’t we going inside with you?” Abra ponders apprehensively.

“I have to go inside and wake it up first, and I don’t want either of you spending a single minute in there if you don’t have to,” he explains, casting his gaze towards you.

The snowflakes have begun to collect in your hair, crowning you ethereally in ice and tugging at Dan’s heartstrings in the process. The flies are still there, but only in a single handful, and it’s enough to spur him on and ignite the courage within him to finally face his past. You’re going to be okay, that much he’s sure of.

“Dan,” you call out softly, halting his movements so that you have the chance to take his face in your hands and meet his tender gaze. Your touch is still warm despite the cold and his eyes flutter shut at the contact. If he could, he’d melt into your hands like putty and savor the sensation forever. “I love you Danny. So much.”

“I know you do,” Dan murmurs gently, turning his face in order to press a kiss to your palm. “I love you too.”

You release him reluctantly and wrap his jacket tighter around yourself as he steps foot into the hotel, disappearing into the hallways and out of your sight. From beside you, Abra takes your hand in her own and holds it tight.

(I’ve got her, Uncle Dan)

(Good. Now don’t let go)

~~~

“She’s here,” Abra announces suddenly before quickly dragging you inside with her. Your body trembles at the thought of finally facing the horrible child killing monster, stomach churning anxiously and panic bubbling in your chest. With no special shine to you and no weapons, you would be completely and utterly defenseless by the time Rose came, and you’d be no help whatsoever to Dan and Abra. She stumbles as you stop suddenly and gives you a look of uncertainty, still clinging to your hand.

“Y/n, come on,” she urges, tugging at your arm only for you to release yourself from her grip.

“It’s a hotel, so there must be a kitchen here somewhere. And if they have a kitchen then they must have knives.”

“What are you talking about?! Come on, we have to go!”

“You go on, I’ll meet you there.”

“Y/n you can’t, Dan said we have to stay together,” Abra pleads, “no splitting up!”

Her eyes begin to water as you pull her into a quick embrace, making sure to press a kiss to the very top of her head.

“It’s going to be okay, Abra. I promise you, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right behind you, okay? Now go find Dan,” you instruct with a reassuring smile. You give her one last kiss to the forehead and smoothen out her hair before jogging off down the hall in search of the kitchen.

You don’t know it then, but swarms of flies coat your face completely as you disappear from Abra’s sight.

~~~

The kitchen is grimey and rotten with mold growing in various corners of the room and a putrid stench wafting through the air that’s so fowl it forces you to cover your nose and mouth with the sleeve of Dan’s jacket. Dust coats the abandoned pots and pans, and the remnants of bad memories are all that seem to remain alive in the room.

You feel as if you’re being watched while you tiptoe through the kitchen, stumbling over a disarray of pots on the ground and cringing at the rattling that follows. You hope to god you’re alone right now.

The knives hang neatly from their rack, glinting underneath the artificial lights from above. Despite the dust that has collected on them they’re still clean enough for you to see your own reflection. Against the steel you can see the sweat that has started to collect along your brows and the red from the cold that has slowly started to fade from your cheeks. A shadow joins your reflection, and before you have time to react a hand reaches out and grabs a fistful of your hair before harshly yanking your head backward.

“Well hi there,” the shadow greets cheerfully. You try to cry out for help only to have them tug harder. “Oh come on now, let’s play nice. Don’t you want to play nice?”

A shiver courses through your body as the figure leans forward, chin resting on your shoulder and tongue darting out to lick a slow, long stripe up your cheek while simultaneously pulling the knife off the rack. When they pull away to give you a mischievous smile you’re able to see that it’s a woman. She’s beautiful, but the hat resting at an unnaturally crooked angle on her head is what reveals her true identity to you- she’s Rose the Hat.

“Let’s go,” she says, holding the knife to your throat while gracefully dragging you out of the kitchen with her. Light laughter escapes her at what’s to come. “Lover boy is just going to eat this up.”

~~~

“Hey handsome,” Rose smiles nonchalantly, waltzing casually into the room as if she didn’t have a kitchen knife held dangerously close to your throat. The sight of you in her grasp almost brings Dan to his knees, and from beside him Abra begins to weep with guilt. Your face is almost unrecognizable with the flies that bury your features underneath them.

“Let her go,” Dan utters breathlessly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“You’re the one who killed Crow,” Rose says carefully, and Dan swallows harshly in response. “I loved that man more than anything. I’m sure you know what that’s like. Loving someone so much it hurts.”

The tip of the knife begins to dig uncomfortably into your skin, slowly drawing little droplets of blood as a result. You gasp faintly and try not to move as tears begin to pool in your eyes.

“Let her go,” Dan repeats again, desperation clear in his voice. “Please.”

“You know, the others I could handle. But Crow Daddy? That was a mistake.”

“Please,” Dan whispers. Tears are steadily streaming down his face now, and the axe trembles in his hands.

“I love you,” you manage to mouth to him, and Dan’s heart is ripped in half.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as Rose slashes the knife against your throat. Your hands immediately fly up to your neck in a feeble attempt to stop the blood that gushes out from the open wound, a choked gasp echoing from your lips as Rose harshly shoves you forward so that you land at Dan’s feet.

“Y/N!” He cries, knees buckling underneath him as he falls to floor beside you and sobs. Dan lifts your upper half as delicately as he can so that your head may rest in his lap. Trembling hands gently brush away the stray strands of hair that stick to your face, the warmth of your blood flowing down your neck and onto the fabric of his jeans below you.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Dan weeps. You look up at him with wide eyes, afraid and unable to speak over your gasping breaths. Your hand feebly reaches up to caress his face but drops down before you can touch him. You’re dying, eyelids struggling to stay open despite Dan desperately begging for you to hold on. “No, stay with me sweetheart. Look at me, look at me y/n. Look at me!”

But you can’t. You’re cold and you’re tired and you want nothing more than to close your eyes and sleep, and so you do. And even Doctor Sleep himself can’t ease your pain, can’t make your transition into the next life less terrifying. You die afraid and alone and in Dan Torrance’s lap.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” Rose taunts, inching closer and closer until Dan is forced to stumble back and away from your body. He watches horrified as she presses her boot against your still chest, pushing just enough so that a cloud of steam blows past your lips. Abra begins to sob as Rose sucks up what’s left of you, her eyes rolling back with an unsatisfied groan.

“Such a pretty face, but her steam is shit,” Rose scoffs in disbelief. A wry smile paints itself across her lips, and with a shake of her head she laughs. “What a waste.”

“Y-You’re going to pay for that,” Dan warns through clenched teeth. “You’re going to die for that.”

“Oh honey, it was nothing personal,” Rose smiles. “An eye for an eye, you know the drill.”

“She was a good person,” Dan chokes out.

“Good people die all the time, don’t they?” Rose mocks, and Dan sees red.

“You’re going to die.”

~~~

The boiler room engulfs itself in flames and blocks off the doorway so that nothing can get in or out. Danny sits back on his knees breathless but relaxed, patiently counting down the minutes he has left on this earth. Rose is dead, Abra is safe, and in a few moments he’ll be with you again. All he has to do is wait.

The old building begins to creak and groan as the fire spreads throughout the hotel, the boiler room growing increasingly stifling by the minute. Death is approaching, and Dan is not scared in the slightest.

“Danny,” a voice calls sweetly, prompting him to open his eyes so that he may be greeted by the two most important women in his life. In front of him kneels his mother, a gentle smile on her face as her hand comes to tenderly rest upon his cheek. You sit beside Wendy, her arm around your waist keeping you close and safe under her wing. You look beautiful, skin glowing under the embers, and there isn’t a single fly in sight.

“Hi Danny,” you smile gently. “Welcome home.”

Home. He smiles faintly at the thought as he leans into his mother’s touch and reaches out to take hold of your hand in his own. Together the three of you sit, patiently waiting for the night to reach its end. The ceiling above begins to cave in, and Dan gives your hand a tight squeeze.

“It’s going to be alright,” you soothe. “You just close your eyes and go to sleep for a little while. We’ll be here when you open them again.”

“I’ll go to sleep” he murmurs in agreement. His eyes begin to close, and the image of your smiling faces is the last thing Danny sees before everything goes dark.

“Sweet dreams, Doc,” Wendy’s voice echoes distantly.

Danny Torrance falls asleep in the boiler room of the hotel, and the Overlook burns to the ground.

#dan torrance #dan torrance x reader #danny torrance x reader #dan torrance imagine #abra stone #rose the hat #doctor sleep #the shining

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repmet · 5 years ago

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Fic: Iris

For FowlFest2020: Obscure Character Appreciation Day. Iris is actually an OC, but her family is mentioned so... that counts right? Shoutout to @ms-nothingspecial for betaing and listening to me stress about word choice for far too long.

The fairy shuttle port at Tara was an impressive operation. Ten thousand cubic metres of terminal concealed beneath an overgrown hillock in the middle of the McGraney farm. For centuries, the McGraneys had respected the fairy fort's boundaries and, for centuries, they had enjoyed exceptional good luck.

- Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident

Iris McGraney is born at midnight on a full moon, which for a McGraney is the very best of luck.

The birth goes smoothly and without complications, and Iris is born quietly, wailing briefly to let the world know she’s arrived, before settling on her mother’s chest, quietly basking in the comfort of her family around her.

Iris McGraney is born lucky. Then again, her family always has been.

When Iris is 7 she gets sick, as children do.

Plans are made to see the doctor in the morning, but McGraneys have a certain way of treating illnesses first that most others don’t.

Iris is well enough to listen to her Dad tell her to keep the bedroom window open all night, even as he bundles her up in blankets and turns the heater on.

He puts a note on the sill along with a single gold nugget, just in case.

“We’ve invited them in before, but it’s better safe than sorry, isn’t it? And you should never ask without offering something in return. It’s rare they take it but it’s only polite.”

The McGraney’s were always digging up gold, especially near the fairy fort. Iris knew it was a secret though, or else everyone would want to come dig on their farm which would make the cows sad.

“Now, go to sleep,” her Dad tells her, tucking her in tight. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Iris doesn’t wake all night, and in the morning, the note is gone, the small piece of gold now sitting on her night stand.

Iris picks it up and runs to the kitchen.

“It moved, Daddy!” she announces proudly, the picture of a healthy child. “They didn’t take it but it moved.”

Her father laughs and hugs her.

“That’s how they let us know they were here.”

When Iris is 14 a severe looking boy in a suit sits down across from her at a cafe she’s in, and puts a phone on the table.

Iris recognises the model, it’s seven months away from being released and the hype is already intense.

“For a moment of your time.”

Iris stares at him.

“My parents are gonna think I fucking stole this.”

The boy sets a letter down on the table as well. Iris has a brother so she ignores the letter at first and continues staring at the boy, hoping to unnerve him. He seems unbothered, maybe he has siblings too. She picks up the paper and reads a very official looking letter from the phone manufacturer congratulating her on being selected to test an early release prototype.

It’s fake of course. Iris isn’t an idiot, she is however a teenager in a tiny village with not much going for it. In short, she’s bored and whatever the hell this is, it’s interesting. Also her parents don’t know shit about technology or how major releases work.

She shoves the phone in her backpack.

“What do you want?”

“The fairy fort on your property, I want to know about it.”

Iris raises her eyebrows, that’s hardly top-secret information.

“I don’t know, man, it’s been there for ages. We take care of it, respect the boundaries, and we get lucky.”

“In just the past fifty years your family has uncovered a lost work of Holbein the Younger, a sword owned by Íriel Fáid and seven seperate stores of gold. You’ve also never lost an animal to bovine spongiform encephalopathy in all the history I could find of your farm.”

Well it was more gold than that at last count but they’d stopped being so vocal about it and also-

“Yeah... what’s that last one?”

The kid gives her a disdainful and patronising look. “Mad cow disease.”

“Right.” This dude is a dick. “Like I said. Lucky.”

“It seems a bit more than lucky.”

Iris shrugs. “Look man, you don’t need to believe in the People if you don’t want but you’re in the wrong town. We eat that shit up here, the Hill of Tara borders our farm, there’s three fairy-dedicated gift shops in this village alone.”

He looks interested now though, leaning forward in his seat.

“The People?”

His eyes are weirdly intense, Iris can’t wait to tell her friends about this. Orla is super into vampires right now, she’s going to love it.

“Fairies, the fae, the fair folk, aos sí, whatever you want to call them. Maybe it is just luck, I’ve never seen one-” She frowns, a memory bubbling up then she shakes her head, brushing off a dream of a small winged figure on her windowsill one night. “The People is what my grandparents called them though. Capital P.”

“What else did your grandparents tell you about them? Did they have any superstitions specific to your family?”

Iris doesn't even need to think on that one.

“Grandpa Rob had this thing where he would make everyone wash their hands after we came back from church. Said it was not to harm the People with the holy water, but no one else I know does that, even the Creideamh Sí families.That means -”

“The Fairy Faith,” he interrupts. “Yes, I’m aware. I’ll need to know anything else your family knows about them.”

He pulls a laptop out of his bag which looks like nothing Iris has ever seen and her family is pretty well-off (selling lost works or art tends to help).

“This is getting to be more than a moment, dude.”

“I can take the phone back.”

Iris laughs, he’s not wrong that the phone is worth more than a short conversation, but the threat is just plain funny coming from a pre-teen who looks like he’d never seen the sun in his life and a stiff breeze would knock him over.

The man standing behind him, who Iris initially assumed was his dad but now isn’t so sure, clears his throat and there’s something in the way he does it, or maybe the way he glances down at her, that makes it very clear this tiny undertaker looking child would be leaving with either his answers, or the phone.

If Iris were older or wiser, she would be suitably unsettled but today she just waves a hand at the mountain of a man.

“Chill, I don’t mind, just weird to be honest.”

“You’re welcome to whatever opinion you please so long as you answer all of my questions with as much detail as possible. Now, tell me more about the holy water.”

This phone better be worth it. (It is.)

When Iris is 19 the world ends.

Kinda.

Her PlayStation is ruined at least which is annoying as shit.

More importantly, the fairy fort is gone and there’s an actual fucking fort there.

“I always thought it would be a bit less… concrete.”

She’s not sure who she’s talking to, her brother’s moved to London and her parents are out at lunch with friends. But it’s rather the sort of day where Iris thinks she might not believe anything at all if she keeps it just in her head.

The door gives a loud bang and Iris yells and leaps backwards. The banging continues and she realises there’s someone on the other side.

“Are you okay?’ she calls, trying to keep the sudden nervousness in her chest from coming through the words.

“There’s a fire in here, and the suppression systems aren’t working.”

Iris takes several long breaths, processing several things. One, her family is not mad, fairies do exist. Two, they do in fact have a fort on their farm. Three, she might be about to meet them for real. Four, it’s kinda ugly and dull, she expected a bit more… magical?

She looks up to try and centre herself and catches sight of a plane, trailing smoke and flying disturbingly low before it disappears over a hill. In the distance there’s the sound of thunder.

Right, the world is possibly ending, perhaps that should be higher on the list. That part is plain not registering in her head.

She tells herself she imagined the plane, there’s no room in her head to process the alternative right now.

“Who are you anyway?”

Iris’ head snaps back up at the question. Right, fairies trapped in a burning building. Focus.

“Iris McGraney! Stand back, I’ll kick the door in.”

“This door is built to withstand more than you, human.”

Iris frowns, annoyed. “You prefer to suffocate?”

There’s a long pause then, from what sounds like a distance, the voice calls back, “Alright, give it a go.”

Iris is a farmgirl through and through. She’s been stacking hay and climbing fences and eating well her entire life, she wouldn’t be carrying the Dinnie Stones any time soon but she could best all the local boys in an arm wrestle and carry a small calf several fields if she had too.

Her first kick connects with a satisfying crack. The second gives more of a crunch and on the third the door snaps and slams inwards. It’s a pretty cool moment, Iris wishes the day wasn’t so surreal so she could bask in it more.

Smoke starts to billow out as soon as it meets the outside air and there’s a lot of yelling and organised panic as thirty-odd fairies of differing colours and various sizes of small come pouring out, most coughing.

One, in an official looking uniform, makes a line for Iris.

“You’re a fairy,” she tells him.

“Yes, a gnome if we’re getting technical.” He pulls out a handkerchief and starts dabbing at his forehead. “Thanks for that, by the way, Frond only knows what’s going on. One moment we’re getting the call that Haven’s locking down the next the electronics start sparking and melting off the walls.”

“The same thing happened in the house.” Iris tells him, rapidly compartmentalising, there was far too much to take in today. Fairies sure, but gnomes? She pushes it in a box for later. “My phone melted, and the TV almost started a fire.”

The gnome shakes his head worriedly. “This is not good, not good. No contact with Haven and all our tech going bust. I bet it’s that Koboi pixie somehow, right crazy one she is.”

Iris nods for a moment, then shakes her head. “No, I don’t know what that means.”

“Not good, is what it means.”

Iris looks across the fields to several columns of smoke rising in the distance, the further she looks in every direction the more there are.

Not good at all.

When Iris is 32 her parents die.

It’s sudden and so plain, after a life of quiet magic and unrelenting luck. Her mother took a turn too fast and hit a patch of ice.

They didn’t suffer at least.

She blames the People at first, but even as the anger bubbles inside her she knows it’s only grief behind it. She’s learnt over the years they’re just people themselves, no capital letter. They can do extraordinary things but miracles are miracles for a reason.

After the wake is passed and the friends gone home, her brother reluctantly back across the channel, promising to call that same night, Iris is at a loss.

She had expected to be but still.

The knocks at the door are so frequent she doesn’t even startle when another comes. She’s not sure she’s in a mood for more well-wishers but she’s not doing well alone either so- she sighs and goes to open the door.

On the other side is a black-haired man in a three-piece suit, still pale but Iris felt less concern now that he might combust if the sun ever does manage to find him.

“Artemis Fowl, I didn’t expect us to meet again.”

“You remember me.” He doesn’t seem surprised.

“Being interrogated by a ten year old tends to stick in a girl’s mind.”

He smiles. “I was 12.”

Iris invites him in and makes tea.

It’s a welcome distraction right now because you have to be living under rock in Ireland not to know how just very extraordinary Artemis Fowl the Second is. Three doctorates, Time Man of the Year at 22, already one Nobel Prize and smart money’s on a second soon.

If anyone could have done it at 12… well.

For a moment she almost hesitates, but Artemis gives her a real smile, as if he already knows what’s on her mind.

(In the years ahead she will come to know him well enough to realise that’s exactly the case.)

She hands him a cup and sits down.

“Tell me, Dr. Fowl, did you ever find the People?”

#artemis fowl #fowlfest2020 #artemis fowl fanfic #prompt: suggests named characters #me: but what if that one family briefly mentioned just that one time and never referred to again #fanfic #fanfiction #do you know how long it's been since i posted a fic #like damn

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sushiandstarlight · 5 years ago

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Kintsugi

Read this story on AO3

Inspired by the Japanese art of Kintsugi: " repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique.As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.” and the fact that Aziraphale seems to limp when he's temporarily discorporated and sent back to heaven.

Crowley had written it off as a figment of his imagination the few times he thought he had noticed it: the slight limp in Aziraphale’s walk. Angels didn’t really get hurt and, if they did, they could heal themselves. If it was bad enough, they could go to one another for healing. No, there was no reason for Aziraphale to have a limp. And, every time Crowley thought he saw it in the next blink it would be gone.

In the days leading up to (what was to be) the failed end of the world, he thought he saw the limp with increasing frequency. Maybe it was stress on his own part: the ever-present worry that they wouldn’t be able to save the world, that they would be parted, that one of them (maybe both of them) would be destroyed... Really, there were a lot of stressors. Maybe he wanted to see something he could actually put his hands on as a problem. Or... maybe the strain was living in Aziraphale and he was having more difficulty hiding his physical ailment. Crowley couldn’t decide because, again, as soon as he would be sure there was something amiss he would take a breath to address it and then the evidence would be gone. They would be off chasing the doomed apocalypse or arguing over the merits of running away from it.

As they walked back to his flat after dining at the Ritz he noticed the limp again. Aziraphale was a couple steps ahead of him, talking about his favorite part of the meal and there it was: a slight lopsidedness to his gait. Crowley could kick himself. He was inside that corporation just hours ago. He could have checked for himself. But, he had been too busy trying to save Aziraphale’s whole self. It hadn’t occurred to him to give the angel a physical once-over. And, really, wouldn’t that be an invasion of privacy?

He caught up quickly enough, taking in the angel’s face and finding no distress there. He couldn’t just ask, could he? “Hey I’ve known you 6,000 years and I’m just now noticing that you limp on one leg... what’s that about, eh?” There was no decent way to ask. It might be something that Aziraphale didn’t want to discuss.

Only now they were at his door and he hadn’t heard much of anything Aziraphale had said the whole way here. He hardly remembered putting one foot in front of the other. He had just followed Aziraphale like a puppy, worrying and fretting and trying desperately to figure out how to bring this up. He wanted to know that Aziraphale was okay, that was all.

Yet, somehow, his mouth was running. Which, wasn’t really a good thing, since he wasn’t in complete control of it. It was meandering on about something. Ducks, it seemed, and methods to make them less buoyant. How had they gone from talking about dinner to discussing the buoyancy of water fowl?

Aziraphale was giving him the most peculiar look: head tilted and a soft smile on his face. It was only interrupted by the occasional glance at the door beside them. The door that was still closed. Because Crowley couldn’t stop talking about ducks while he thought about asking him why he limped.

And then Aziraphale’s warm, soft hand was on his cheek and his lips- somehow even warmer and more soft were on his own. Whatever Crowley had been about to add to the duck discussion (for the curious: he was about to propose the idea of finding something equally as buoyant as a duck and strapping the duck to the thing to see if the duck would spin perpetually in the pond) died on a gasp.

“Could we go inside?” Aziraphale’s face was still close to his, the soft smile from before tugging harder at the side of his mouth. Crowley nodded dumbly and snapped the lock open. “There we are.” Aziraphale had hooked his elbow in Crowley’s and was leading him inside.

Brain still stalled out completely from the kiss, Crowley stood in his own entryway while watching Aziraphale venture further into his flat. The sounds of a kettle being put on (did he even own a kettle?) and mugs being set out on the counter drifted his way from the kitchen.

Aziraphale had kissed him.

Aziraphale had kissed him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aziraphale had kissed him while he’d been having a serious thought. But, that thought was gone now. All that existed in Crowley’s head was the feel of Aziraphale’s lips on his own. The gentle breath that tripped over his chin as the angel had pulled away and smiled at him.

And Crowley hadn’t had a chance to respond to that kiss. He wandered into his own kitchen in a daze.

“I hope you don’t mind... I miracled over my own kettle and mugs. You really have nothing in here, Crowley,” Aziraphale tutted, “I figure... well, I figure I won’t be getting any more memos about frivolous miracles from upstairs. Not for a while, anyway.”

Crowley found himself standing directly behind Aziraphale now, close enough that he could feel the heat of him. When the angel turned he startled.

“Crowley!” a hand went to his chest, “I’m glad I wasn’t holding the mugs... what a mess! Really, though, if you’re going to have a kitchen you should at least make an attempt to stock it- mph!”

He hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. Really, no fretting at all had occurred. Aziraphale had kissed him in the hallway which meant that it was okay for Crowley to kiss him in the kitchen. a + b = b + a

Aziraphale’s hands wasted no time finding the waistband of Crowley’s too-tight jeans and untucking his shirt. Those hands that had been on his face mere minutes ago traced over his belly and then his sides on their way to his back where they clawed him closer with always-well-manicured, blunt nails. Crowley pressed him harder into the counter top, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and scraping his teeth over it. The angel made a sound deep in his chest, one of his hands dipping beneath Crowley’s waistband to grab a handful of Crowley’s ass.

Crowley broke the kiss off abruptly, leaning his forehead against Aziraphale’s and sucking in some deep breaths even as he rutted against him.

Suddenly, the kettle went off on the stove beside them, causing them to spring apart and spin wildly, looking for whatever danger had found them. They both looked from the still-whistling kettle to one another at the same time and laughed as the tension in the air eased. Aziraphale took the kettle off the heat and turned off the stove.

“Maybe we can have tea later.”

“Something you’d rather be doing right now, Angel?” Crowley would argue that his voice never “purred,” but he was perfectly aware that it just had. He took a step toward his bedroom and then looked back at Aziraphale in invitation.

“Tempting me, serpent?” Aziraphale reached out a hand and Crowley took it.

“As I recall, you kissed me first.” Crowley pulled him down the hall and into the bedroom, tugging him closer once they got there.

“Well, you would not stop talking and I’m afraid I p... I pani... cked.”

Crowley had leaned into his space, trailing his nose along the angel’s jaw in an almost nuzzle as he breathed him in.

“Perfectly good way to shut me up, Aziraphale, bravo.” And then Aziraphale was left with cold air in the space in front of him as Crowley knelt at his feet. “May I?” Crowley paused, hands over Aziraphale’s trouser fastenings.

Aziraphale nodded and was about to say more, but now his trousers were in a pile on the floor at his feet. Crowley suddenly remember what he had been pondering before they got to the door of his flat.

He found himself face to kneecaps with Aziraphale and got a partial answer: the knee to his right looked like any ordinary human knee. The one to the left, however gleamed a bright gold. The gold spread in patterns almost like spiderwebs- or sealed cracks- up into his thigh, disappearing under his pants, and down into his shin, leading to his sock. Crowley reached out a hand to touch, but thought better of it and glanced upwards for permission. Aziraphale didn’t so much look embarrassed or upset as he looked caught out and vaguely concerned.

“You can touch. You won’t hurt me, darling.”

Crowley looked back at the patterns before him, tracing the cool metal replacement kneecap downwards to where it mixed with warm flesh then back up again, following the same lines up Aziraphale’s thigh until his fingers stopped just under his pants. He felt Aziraphale shiver.

“I wanted to ask.”

“You knew?”

“Angel, there’s little about you that’s escaped me in 6,000 years,” Crowley leaned forward and kissed his golden knee, “I just wasn’t sure you’d want me to know.”

“I want you to know everything about me... but this, well...”

“Wouldn’t they heal it for you?” Crowley was proud of himself that his voice remained level. The idea that heaven would let Aziraphale suffer, even after what he’d seen of them when he wore Aziraphale’s body as a disguise... It made his blood boil. He could feel the yellow expanding in his eyes as he vied for some kind of control.

Aziraphale sat heavily on the bed behind him and Crowley immediately filled the space between his knees again, stroking his fingers along the newfound lines.

“I was afraid to ask them to. Afraid they would think less of me or cast me out for my weakness. It was all about casting out then, you know.”

“Yeah, I know... So you healed it yourself.”

“As best I could.”

“But it still hurts.”

“Aches sometimes. If I’ve been on my feet too long or if I’ve been back to Heaven. It’s so very cold there. It seeps in and lingers.” Seemingly without thought, Aziraphale flexed his leg under Crowley’s hands. “Not to mention they don’t seem to believe in chairs. What marvelous inventions, chairs.”

“You hid it from me. Why?”

“My dear serpent,” Aziraphale reached down and caressed the side of Crowley’s face, tilting it upwards so he could meet his eyes, “I didn’t want you to worry. You worry enough. There was nothing you could do.”

Crowley gazed up at him, rubbing his hand up and down Aziraphale’s shin and knee.

“I suppose not.”

“And I don’t want you worrying yourself about it now, either.”

“Okay.”

“No, I mean it. I’m not made of glass. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“I hear you.” Crowley walked his fingers around the back of his knee and found flesh there, making Aziraphale jerk and laugh. “Hmm, been hiding a ticklish spot, too, I see?” Crowley tickled the spot again and Aziraphale tried to pull away, but the demon had his ankle in a strong grip. He sprawled backwards, pulling at the bedspread trying to get away from the merciless fingers.

“Foul fiend!”

Crowley took the moment of distraction to divest him of his socks and shoes and finally completely remove his trousers. Then he released the angel’s ankle and climbed up the bed to face him. Aziraphale was doing the best he could between deep breaths to look put out, but the crinkles around his eyes gave away the smile he was hiding.

“I suppose I only have one more question, then,” Crowley drawled as he traced the edge of Aziraphale’s pants with his fingers, watching in satisfaction as shivers raced up the angel’s body.

“Only one? You? Surely not.”

Crowley traced him through his pants, just a barely-there touch.

“You got anything else that’s gilded?”

“I’ll gild you in a second if you don’t touch me properly!”

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x arizaphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fic #star light-reads

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dre248 · 4 years ago

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The Blind Date

When Lisa had first arrived at the shopping center, fifteen minutes early, her worst fear had been that he was going to stand her up. She knew that it would hurt if this happened, it would make her feel ridiculous... and pathetic.... and.... cheap, she had thought. Like the kind of girl who has to throw herself at a man, who has to use classified advertisements, who doesn't get asked out. But of course that was the kind of girl she was, wasn't it?

The reason that she had chosen somewhere so public and so ordinary, a wooden bench by a fountain in the foyer of a City Centre shopping arcade, was in case this might happen. If she had had to sit by herself in a restaurant or a bar, and he hadn't turned up, all those eyes would have been watching her, judging her. But here - why here she could sit as long as she wished, or simply stand up and walk away. Nobody would pay the slightest attention. She could be waiting for a girl friend, or just resting her feet. She felt almost.... invisible.

Now that she had been there for a while, and the actual agreed time for the meeting was drawing near, she began to worry that he would show up. She was by no means at ease with herself about what she was doing. Rationally she knew that it was a very sensible and honest thing to do: to take control of her own life and go out and find somebody, to simply say what she wanted and see if anybody was willing to offer it. But in her heart of hearts she felt a kind of shame. She was beginning to wish that the whole thing was over and done with. and she was on her way home to her own little room and her own comfortable, single bed.

An even more appalling thought had occurred to her. What if he came to have a sneak preview before committing himself? What if he was one of these men standing around, reading their newspapers, searching for their credit-cards, rearranging the shopping in their carrier-bags, waiting for wives and girlfriends to return from the shops or the toilets or who-knows-where....? He could easily pretend to be passing the bench and take a little peek. Then if he didn't like what he saw he could walk on... she would never know. It was horrible. Maybe at this very moment she was on display, like a cow at a cattle-market, being assessed, weighed-up, considered as a worthwhile prospect... very likely being rejected.

She looked at her watch. Two minutes to go. No, more like one-and-a-half. She wondered if the device was really as accurate as that. Probably not. The moment might have come and gone already, or it might be three or even five minutes into the future....

She stopped herself. This wouldn't do. She was becoming paranoid. She must calm down and try to relax, try to approach the situation like an adult. It was only a first meeting with someone who had sounded perfectly all right on the phone. She hadn't been nervous then. He had been easy to talk to. What was she worried about? She was being silly. She made a deliberate effort to make her breathing slower and deeper, and to stop fidgeting with her handbag. That's better, she told herself. That's much better. "Lisa?" The voice came from behind her, almost next to her ear, and it made her start. "Lisa Cooper?" It was a kindly voice, and when she looked around it was a kindly face that met her gaze. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sneaked-up behind you like that." "No, not at all, it was silly of me... my mind was miles away..." As she spoke he made his way around to the front of the bench and smiled down at her. She realized that her heart was racing slightly now. He was a lot better looking than she had imagined him! Taller, thinner, younger, better dressed... better in every imaginable way! Now she began to worry that he wouldn't like her... Stop it, she commanded herself. This is ridiculous. "Sam Levin" he introduced himself, although of course she already knew his name, "May I join you?" "Oh yes! Of course. Please do." Now I'm sounding too keen, she said to herself. Oh, why can't I just relax and be natural? For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. They were looking at each other eagerly, with barely concealed fascination, but trying to do it tastefully, without seeming to stare. "Am I... as you expected?" he asked with a broad smile. She was flustered by the question. If she told the truth it would sound too forward... "Yes," she replied hesitantly, "pretty much. What about me?" "Better in every way. Younger, more attractive, more vivacious... a bit daunting, to be honest. You're better than I deserve." She laughed. "Oh, please! We've only just met... you're embarrassing me!" "Sorry. I take it back. You're fat and ugly." She laughed again. He was charming. So charming. And so natural! Why couldn't she be natural like that? "I... I've never done this before, you know," she said hesitantly, then instantly regretted having said it. It sounded such a cliché, and he probably wouldn't believe her anyway, and besides - what did it matter to anybody whether or not she had done it before? It only mattered if she was ashamed.

"I have," he replied, breaking her train of thought, "but nothing ever came of it. They really were fat and ugly. No, that's unkind. They just weren't for me. I told them so. I was quite open about it. I mean, the chemistry is either there or it isn't, don't you think?

"So... you can decide as quickly as that? After one meeting?"

He considered the question. "I think I come to decisions quite quickly about most things. Whether or not they are always good decisions is another matter."

She paused. "And... you've already decided about me, have you?"

"I've decided that you're beautiful, charming, desirable... but of course as you say I don't really know you yet. You might be a mass-murderer or a raging Neo-Nazi. But I would be willing to compromise on things like that." She laughed a little too loudly, then the embarrassment flooded back.

"Why don't we go somewhere and eat?" he suggested with a smile that would have made her knees buckle if she had been standing up, "Somewhere quiet, where we can talk?"

He offered a hand like a knight in a fairy-tale, and she stood up and accompanied him out towards the car-park while he held her elbow, like Prince Charming leading Cinderella on to the dance floor.

Lisa arrived home a little earlier than she would have predicted, poured a glass of plain water at the wash-hand-basin and sat on the edge of her bed to drink it. Her head was swimming with a strange and unfamiliar mixture of emotions. She would not have been able to put names to all of them if she had tried, but among them were elation, excitement, anxiety, and a deep, painful vein of sadness and self-pity.

She sat for some minutes, quite motionless, then she noticed that her bedside telephone answering machine had a little flashing red light, indicating that someone had phoned and left a message while she had been out. She played the tape.

"Hello, Lisa? It's Yvonne. Look, sweetheart, I don't care how late you get in, I want you to phone me straight away and tell me how you got on with that man! Even if it's tomorrow morning!" She giggled suggestively. "I mean it. Don't let me down now! Bye."

Automatically, she lifted the phone and touched the "memory" button to dial Yvonne.

"Hello, Yvonne... Yes, I know, it is quite early. Well, no, nothing happened. It was.... quite incredible, really. He was tall, and very handsome... and he had lovely teeth... and I really liked him. Yes. He was a perfect gentleman... Yes, I know it sounds great.... It's just that...." she found herself choking with tears, "it wasn't real, Yvonne. Do you know what I mean? I mean, he was just being nice to me. He was sorry for me. I could sense it. He's way out of my class, Yvonne. Honestly. Like a film star. I've never spoken to anybody as.... as perfect as that. He tried to make me feel okay, but it was all silly nonsense. He almost told me he loved me as soon as we met! It was over the top, Yvonne. It was just embarrassing. I don't know why I let him go on with it. Why I didn't just go home.... I suppose I was flattered. I suppose I wanted to believe it. But it was no good. I couldn't. No, I just said: You've got my number, give me a call. But I know he won't. Oh, Yvonne, I feel so stupid !" Finally she could hold back the tears no longer.

Sam didn't go straight home. He parked his car in the usual place outside his house, then went for a long walk across the flat stretch of parkland that bounded his back garden. He sat on a bench by the side of the lake and watched the play of the moonlight and the distant streetlights on the water's surface.

He felt deflated. To have come so close, and to have failed. Why didn't she like him at least a little when he was so bowled-over by her? The only girl since Trudy who had actually made his heart leap when he laid eyes on her, who had brought the sweat to the palms of his hands, who had left him tongue-tied. That must have been it. She must have thought him a total fool, babbling with all that nonsense about how wonderful she was when they'd only just met. It was a ridiculous way to behave. She must have been laughing at him inside. She must have felt something close to contempt. Somebody as beautiful as that already knows she's beautiful. She doesn't need a half-witted totally ordinary person like himself to go on and on about it. It must have been such a let-down for her when she saw what he really looked like. She was so careful to hide it too, to protect his feelings. She must be such a lovely person, to humor him like that.

He took the little piece of paper containing her phone number out of his pocket and looked down at it, held it against his chest for a moment like a talisman, cupped it between his two hands.

He was going to have to be a little bit more realistic, he told himself. Lower his sights a little. Stop dreaming impossible dreams.

"Ugly ducklings shouldn't go bothering swans," he announced to any resting water-fowl that might be within earshot. Then he crumpled-up the piece of paper, flicked it neatly into the waste-paper bin beside him, and started back towards the house.

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katedrakeohd · 4 years ago

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My Own Favorite Dialogue and Why

Drake and Liam may be best friends in TRR canon, but for me the dysfunctional bromance that I've created between Maxwell and Drake is my favorite friendship. For this one from The Lake I loved the angsty/comedy so much I couldn't just select a small part, so I had to post all of it.

From The Lake

Out in the middle of the lake the air is still, the water smooth like glass. It's been an hour since the men cast their fishing lines, and for Maxwell an uneasiness was setting in.

"Are you sure there are fish in this lake?"

Drake looks up from the magazine he's reading, his last bite of sandwich in his hand. "Of course I'm sure. I oversaw the stocking of trout myself."

Maxwell looks down at the half empty can of low alcohol beer in his hand, resenting the lack of buzz he was feeling because of it. "I thought we would have gotten a nibble by now."

Drake shrugs, popping the last piece of his bread crust into his mouth. "You just have to be patient, Max. Sometimes they bite, sometimes they don't."

Maxwell shades his eyes with his hand and gazes off toward the Manor in the distance, it was so tiny and the shoreline seemed so far away. He tried not to imagine how deep and cold the water was beneath them, but it still gnawed at him anyway. He squeezed the backpack between his feet, its contents giving him a slight sense of reassurance.

Drake glanced down at Maxwell's backpack sitting in the belly of the boat. Since leaving the shore he's seen him take out a tube of sunscreen, a granola bar, his mobile phone to take pictures, and repack his sweater when he got too warm. Each time he set it back down there was a strange heavy thump against the wood, and so far it didn't seem to belong to any of the things he'd seen.

Drake shifted his ass on the boat seat, trying to combat the numbness he was feeling. The boat rocked slightly, causing ripples in the water, and for Maxwell to snap at him.

"Hey, man. Don't rock the boat."

Drake rolls his eyes, "Jeez, Max. Paranoid much?"

Max rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen up but he can't, "Seriously, you don't find it creepy? The whole time we've been out on the lake I haven't heard or seen a bird, you'd think there would be some ducks or geese or something."

Drake takes a deep breath and looks around, squints up at the sky, and then looks over to the mountains and trees in the distance. He listens for anything other than the sound of the water lapping at the side of the boat.

"I suppose it is a little odd. Just yesterday there were lots of geese and ducks paddling along or flying and honking over the lake."

Maxwell lifts and bobs his fishing rod and line in the water. Looking down into the depths he's struck by how it goes from clear to pitch black so quickly. He scoffs and makes a joke, feeling uneasy as the words leave his mouth, "Maybe Gaga ate all the fish, and scared the birds away."

Drake chuckles, "Say, what now? Who or what is Gaga?"

Maxwell's eyes go wide and he looks at Drake with disbelief, "You mean you haven't heard the legend of Gargantua? The monster of Lake Valtoria?"

Drake shakes his head and opens the cooler to get another beer, "You can't be serious, Max. Not every big lake has a monster living in it."

"Trust me, Drake. My house sigil is a giant squid remember? I know my monster legends. How many years have you been stocking the lake, and have you ever caught any of the fish afterwards?"

"As a matter of fact, I caught a fish standing on the dock yesterday. So I know there are fish in the lake." Drake insists as he opens his beer and takes a long swallow, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Ok, well what about the lack of birds?"

Drake sets his beer down with a sigh, scrubbing his forehead with his hands and then raking them back through his hair, "So, now you think some monster is yanking ducks down into the water from underneath?"

Maxwell shrugs, "You never know. Maybe Gaga has a taste for water fowl and fish?"

"Now you're just sounding crazy, Max."

Maxwell shifts forward in his seat, causing his pack to fall forward and make another thump, Drake looks at it again and frowns. Maxwell points an indignant, angry finger at Drake. "Don't you dare call me crazy!"

"You're the one talking about lake monsters, when there's probably some logical reason to explain everything."

Maxwell picks up his backpack again and hugs it in his lap, his hand finds the weighty item from the outside and shifts it carefully. Drake looks at him suspiciously, "Max?"

"What?" he asks, nervously.

"What's in your backpack?"

Maxwell shrugs, "You know, just the usual 'day out on the lake' sorta stuff."

Drake's eyes narrow, "Why don't I believe you?"

Maxwell hugs the backpack a little tighter to himself, he tries to avoid looking at Drake. Off in the near distance, behind Drake, there's an odd rippling splash on the surface of the lake. Maxwell gasps, trying to swallow the sudden fear constricting his throat.

"Why won't you believe me when I say there's something creepy about this lake?" Maxwell croaks out, pointing over Drake's shoulder.

Drake sighs, turning in his seat to see what Maxwell's pointing at. "I don't see anything."

"There..there was a ripple and a splash on the water. Like..like something big moved it."

When Drake turns back around Maxwell has his hand buried in the backpack, fishing for something. "Max, what are you doing?"

Maxwell's eyes are wide and he's scanning the surface of the lake for more movement. "Ssshh, Gaga will hear you."

Drake frowns with concern and then sits up straighter in the boat to look around again.

"It was probably just a big fish, Max," he says quietly. "Maybe we're finally going to catch something."

A breeze ripples the surface of the lake, and the boat tugs at its anchor line. Maxwell jumps when their fishing rods shift as well. He jerks his hand out of his bag and pulls out an antique pistol.

Drake braces his foot against the end of his fishing rod and puts his hands up and waves them back and forth frantically. He looks at Maxwell and can't believe what he's seeing, "What the Fuck?! You brought a gun on a fishing trip?! Put..that...away."

Maxwell breathes rapidly as he searches the water, swinging the antique firearm from his home's armory back and forth. "It..it was Bertrand's idea. Remember his bachelor party all those years ago, when we met up with that bear, he insisted I take it with me."

He imitates his brother's voice as he quotes him, "No Beaumont will ever go out adventuring in the wilderness again without protection."

Drake ducks as Maxwell swings the gun back in his direction, "Seriously, Max! You know how I feel about guns. I've already been shot twice, and I'll be damned if I'll let you shoot me by accident while we're fishing."

Maxwell's hand shakes as he continues to look around nervously. Drake reaches forward with fear grinding at his stomach, he pleads with him quietly.."Max....just hand over the gun, okay? We'll pull up the anchor and just go back to shore. We don't have to fish anymore."

Nodding, Maxwell loosens his grip on the weapon as Drake wraps his hand around the barrel. Something splashes the water nearby, making Maxwell jump, causing them both to let go and drop the gun. It hits the bottom of the boat and fires. Drake screams out in pain as the bullet tears through the side of his rubber boot and lodges in the wood of the boat beside him. Water starts to trickle in, and warm blood starts to run down into his boot.

Drake yanks his boot off and pulls his foot up onto the seat and clamps his hands around his bleeding calf. "What the fuck?!" he screams, glaring at Maxwell angrily.

Maxwell picks up the gun from the bottom of the boat and throws it overboard. "I..I'm so sorry Drake!"

Drake leans to the side, his hand shaking as he gets his pocket knife out of his back pocket. Maxwell panics and chops at Drake's wrist with his hand, causing him to drop it when Drake pries the blade free.

"What are you doing?!" Drake barks at him with surprise and reaches for his knife again, it's now wet from the lake water pooling in the bottom of the boat.

Maxwell folds his hands over his chest, feeling embarrassment flooding his face with heat, "Oh..oh my God, I thought you were going to stab me with it, or something."

Drake grumbles as he cuts open the bottom of his bloody pant leg below the knee with the blade, "There's still time. Now either get with hauling up that fucking anchor, or calling for help before we sink goddamnit!"

Maxwell trips over the drink cooler, and soggy picnic basket as he stands up, trying to pull the anchor rope up out of the water. It won't budge, and his efforts are now causing him to rock the boat side to side dangerously.

Drake curses to himself as he cuts a strip of denim and wraps it around his bleeding leg tightly. "Careful now, Max."

Both fishing rods teeter into the water and disappear. Drake keeps a close eye on the oars, praying they don't go next. Maxwell tries again to pull the anchor up by the rope but the nylon burns at his hands and he hisses in pain and then lets go. He stumbles back to where he was sitting and flops down heavily, wiping his sore palms on his thighs.

"I...I ca..can't. What the ..heck..did you..anchor...us to?"

Drake rinses his bloody hands in the lake, and then dries them on the sleeves of his denim shirt. "Ok then, I'll try the anchor and you try calling or texting for help."

He cuts strips from his denim sleeves and then wraps his hands for padding. Wincing in pain he swings his leg over to straddle his seat and then reaches for the anchor rope.

Maxwell holds up his phone trying to find bars of service, "You've gotta be kidding me! Oh, wait there's a blip. I'll try sending a text to see if I can get through. Who should I try?"

Drake grunts as the rope finally starts to come up out of the water, but it was a lot heavier than it should be. Sweat bloomed on his brow and stung at his eyes, he swiped his face against his shoulder, "Preston... is standing by..in case of emergencies."

"What's his number?"

Drake rhymes off his number and grits his teeth, pulling the wet rope inch by inch into the boat. The burn in his calf muscle is intense and he wonders what ancient dirty projectile that antique pistol was loaded with. He could see Maxwell frowning down at his phone.

"Well, did you get through?"

He shrugs, "I sent it, but don't know if it went anywhere."

Drake looks down into the water, wondering what his anchor could be tangled around to make it so heavy. He pauses to catch his breath, and feels the rope vibrate in his hands and then go still. It's almost as if something rubbed up against it and then moved on. His heart starts hammering in his chest and cold fear creeps into his gut. His throat goes dry as he takes a deep breath and drops the rope back into the water. He didn't want to see what was down there anymore. Maxwell was still trying to send panicked texts to anyone who could receive them.

"Fuck it," Drake mutters and uses his knife to cut the anchor free.

The nylon rope floats on the surface of the water for a few seconds and then disappears into the darkness as if it were yanked. Drake jumps back with surprise and then watches, holding his breath, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. Several feet down at the deepest point that was reached by sunlight, where the clearest water went dark, an even darker shape slowly sank beneath the boat and then disappeared.

............

I've written many first time moments for Drake and (MC) Kate in various timelines and stories. But it wasn't until I started writing "What Happens in Paris.." from Kate's point of view that I found my favorite passionately charged moment between them. Feeding off the emotional evening with Drake that included Liam's second bachelor party and the never have I ever scenes, I found a way to push Drake over the edge and succumb to the mutual attraction between them.

From What Happens in Paris..

"Uh, Darling? What do you think you're doing? You know we can't..." he says, although the look in his eyes betrays the way he really feels.

"We can't what, Drake?" I say, stepping away from the door and pressing my body up against his. He's still holding onto my hands, and now our faces are so close I can feel his breath on my cheek.

"Darling…" he warns, as I flex my hands out of his grasp and undo the next button of his shirt. It's such a tease how he's already left the top button undone for me. My thumbs push the material aside and I slide my hands in. He takes a sharp breath in when I touch him, and I feel his chest rise and fall along with the rapid beating of his heart.

I pop another button out of its hole, and lean in to kiss his throat as my hands continue to explore his chest, tugging his shirt out of the waist of his pants. He hasn't stopped me yet, and I look up at the darkness in his eyes and the pained expression on his face.

"Kiss me, Drake." I plead. "I know you want to."

Cupping my head in his hands, he tilts my chin up and leans in. I close my eyes. But instead of feeling his lips on mine he plants kisses along my jawline and I hear his voice rasp in my ear, hitching with desire, "And if I want to.. do more than kiss you?"

I gasp, bunching the fabric of his shirt in my fists as his nose traces the shell of my ear, and his stubble bristles against my cheek. "Ye -..."

But my reply is swallowed up by his mouth as it captures mine, and he presses me up against the door.

His kisses are hungry and I struggle for breath as he grabs my wrists again and pins them up above my head. His knee parts my thighs and I can feel how hard he is underneath his jeans.

When he finally releases my mouth, and presses his forehead against mine we're both panting. "Tell me.. to stop," he groans between breaths.

....

Drake is my favorite Choices character and thus he's the one I abuse and make suffer the most. 🤣 This next dialogue is from Cordonia 1885 between Drake and a hotel employee when they share a "holy/what the f*ck" moment that confounds them both.

Because of the grisly, graphic nature of this vampire fic I will just post a link and you can read it if you want. Cordonia 1885 - Chapter One

...

There are so many other favorite scenes/dialogue that this post could go on forever..LOL

Thanks @dcbbw for the tag, it's been so much fun to revisit some of my older stuff and experience it again. I look forward to next week's Monday Funday prompt.

#long post #monday funday #favorite dialogue

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lycorogue · 4 years ago

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Perfect Doesn’t Need to be Perfect: Chapter 3

This was probably the easiest chapter to write, since Pixie basically wrote it for me.

And with this, I call it a night.

**Contains Spoilers for Taurus Pixie’s story Twelve Days of Chatmas**

Summary: Chat Noir has run into a long streak of poor luck, all in an attempt to give Ladybug the perfect Christmas gift. Little does he know, his first try was already perfect in Ladybug’s eyes. Now it’s her turn to try to navigate around Chat Noir’s failed attempts in her own pursuit to find something equally fantastic for him. **A Switched-POV Unofficial Companion Story to Twelve Days of Chatmas by @thetauruspixie**

Rating: General Audience

Chapter Word Count: 2427

Story Total Word Count: 37,973

Status: chapter 3 of 12; complete

**For reals, if you haven’t read Twelve Days of Chatmas yet, read that first so my story doesn’t spoil anything for you. It’s cool. This story will still be here when you get back. ;) **

See below for chapter 3, or find this story over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

CHAPTER 3:

“Miraculous Ladybug!” A bit exhausted, Ladybug tossed her Lucky Charm into the air. In a fireworks burst of magic, a swarm of enchanted ladybugs swept around the destroyed house on the outskirts of the city proper. In a few quick seconds, the house was restored to how it was before the akuma attack, although Ladybug wasn't sure it was much of an improvement.

The house was tiny, and they were cramped in the basement with cages upon cages of sickly looking Faverolles chickens. Their straw matted and filthy. Their cages too small for any of them to move. The lighting in the basement was dim. The chickens were so poorly cared for that most seemed to have lost a lot of their feathers, and some had wounds on their wings where they got caught in the cage bars as they shifted within their confines. Faverolles chickens were known for being delightfully plump and with fluffy white feathers topped with cinnamon-brown wings and head feathers. They were like lightly-toasted marshmallows normally. These tragic fowl, on the other hand, looked like under-stuffed plush animals dropped upside down in the mud.

Ladybug blinked back tears as she heard the chickens mournfully cooing in their cages. “This feels-” she struggled to choke down the knot in the back of her throat, “-wrong.” She wanted to say 'evil'. She could stop the likes of Hawk Moth and his akuma, but injustices like what was happening to those birds? She felt helpless. Less then, actually. She was the one who imprisoned them a second time. Some times she wished her power didn't restore the damage an akuma caused. Some things were better destroyed.

Sometimes, the akumatized villains were right in their rage.

“Huh?” Chat Noir was lost in thought as he looked up from his right hand. The black miasma of his Cataclysm still circled around it. Ladybug's original plan of attack was derailed by the chickens running around, and they managed to break the akumatized item without Chat Noir's power this go. He had still activated it, however, and was probably wondering what to do, especially with how confined they were. It could be disastrous if he tripped on something when they were all practically breathing on each other.

"Using my lucky charm to fix this awful place,” she explained to her partner as she looked for something he could harmlessly touch to use his power. “I mean, look at these poor chickens, I can understand where this man is coming from." She gestured to the animal rights activist that had been akumatized as Liberator; a man on the mission to free these poor birds and punish the owner who would be so cruel to a living creature.

She gave Chat Noir an unsure smile. He gave her an uneasy but still bright smile in response; a way to help reassure her that she made the right decision. It helped a little.

“Ladybug? Chat Noir?” The activist was coming around after his ordeal, a bit dazed and confused as he tried to remember what happened to him the last hour or so.

Forgetting her mission to find Chat Noir something to use his Cataclysm on – he was a big boy, he could find something himself – Ladybug knelt down to greet the activist at eye level.

“Are you okay?” Her heart broke a little as she asked the same question she tried asking all of the akuma victims. Nothing happening in that basement was okay, and it seemed unfair for anyone to say otherwise.

The man must have had a similar thought. He looked away and furled his eyebrows; a deep frown etched onto his face. "No. I know I should feel bad for what just happened, but honestly-” The man turned back towards Ladybug and stared straight into her eyes, “I don't. I don't want anyone to get hurt, but it's not fair for these chickens to be kept like this.” He gestured towards the tight cages. “It's abuse, plain and simple. It's not fair that they spend most of their lives in cages. This farm is illegal. It's not run by proper farmers. These people just bought these chickens and shoved them in cages. This place is even worse than a proper battery farm.” The man started to tear up and Ladybug saw his jaw clench. “But no one will listen to me. The police and the council don't seem to want to deal with it."

Ladybug closed her eyes, fighting back her desire to cheer the man on. A second later she maintained her normal heroic demeanor. "I know, but violence isn't the answer," she told him as calmly and evenly as she could muster, "It is a shame about the chickens, but I'm sure there are other ways you can help rather than attacking and getting aggressive with people."

“What other course was I left to take?” the activist demanded.

Ladybug strained the impulse to nod in agreement. The man truly was left with little other choice than rampaging against the illegal farm. Around them, as if cheering the man on in Ladybug's stead, the hens all clucked louder and louder. Some rattled their cages as much as they could. The sound quickly became unbearable. It was a reminder of what Ladybug did to them in an attempt to cleanse another akuma and save Paris.

Pushing the cacophony of clucking and cage rattling as far out of her head as possible, Ladybug suggested the activist set up a petition to pressure the mayor and police to investigate the grounds and let them shut down the illegal farm.

The man seemed skeptical, but open to hear her out. Then, behind Ladybug, Chat Noir let out a sarcastic chuckle, drawing their attention.

"Oh, come on, my lady, I thought you were more proactive than that." His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, and he gave Ladybug a playful wink. “Why bother with all of that when you have a chicken liberator right here?” He held up his right hand and wiggled a 'hello' with his fingers. A black aura encircled his hand still.

“Chat Noir?” Ladybug knew she should stop him. This wasn't what their powers were supposed to be for; circumventing the law. It wasn't like they were using their powers for personal gain though, and that was the only true rule they were given. So she bit her tongue and let her partner do the saving this go.

Eyeing up the tight room for the best path, he stepped past Ladybug and the activist so he was standing in the doorway. Then, with a toothy grin, he sprinted around the cramped space, his fingers carefully racing along the cages where they connected. He didn't take his hand off the metal even once; doing so would have concluded his power's use. The only benefit of the poor chickens being cooped so tightly together was he managed to make the full circuit around the room without his fingers ever leaving the cages. A few seconds later the Cataclysm stretched through the metal bars; rusting every last cage until the excited hens could crumble their own prisons with their flapping wings.

The metal that once confined the birds was now black dust mounds on the floor, and the chickens aimlessly wandered the room; unsure what to do with themselves. All their excited flapping kicked up enough feathers though, that Chat Noir went through a mini sneezing fit as his reward for freeing them all.

Through puffy and water-lined eyes, Chat Noir proudly smiled at his handiwork. Crossing his arms over his chest, he heroically posed.

"Dude, thank you so much!" Clamoring to his feet, the activist sprinted to Chat Noir to engulf him in a tight hug. Catching the hero off guard, he did manage to knock some wind out of the teen.

With an awkward grin, Chat Noir patted the man on the back. Ladybug softly chuckled. In part it was because of how adorably uncomfortable but accepting of the affection that Chat Noir looked. In part it was being happy that the activist was so happy and grateful. In part it was because these chickens could possibly begin to have a good life. Finally, it was partially because the chickens' owner deserved to be punished, and freeing his fowl seemed a good start.

"I'm pretty sure you can give them decent homes," Chat Noir addressed the activist, who had finally released the teenage hero. "Because after what happened earlier, I'm pretty sure you scared the guy who runs this place away for good." Chat Noir laughed. "Besides, this place was illegal, so I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry about him going to the police over you taking his chickens."

Ladybug blinked a couple of times. She didn't realize how rebellious Chat Noir could be. It was bending the rules, to be sure, and she was glad Nadja wasn't around to film any of this. She wished she could find a more legal solution, but Chat Noir was right. This would be their win, and she'd be satisfied with that.

“Oh, I will, don't worry!” The activist clasped Chat Noir on the shoulders and gave him a little excited shake before sprinting up the basement stairs. “I'll just go and get some back-up to help me evacuate the chickens. You're amazing, Chat Noir!”

Chat Noir beamed at the compliment, and didn't seem to notice Ladybug sliding next to him. She snaked her arm around his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Upon feeling the little hug, Chat Noir whipped his gaze down to his partner, his cheeks reddening under his mask and his lips parted in an adorable 'o'.

“That was a very nice thing you did.” To accentuate her praise, Ladybug gave his arm another tiny squeeze.

"Yeah, well, I don't like to see innocent creatures suffering." Chat Noir puffed out his chest, placing his free hand on his hip in the hopes of looking impressive. Ladybug again giggled.

As if thanking Chat Noir for what he did, one of the hens clucked happily at his feet, making his nose twitch as he fought down another sneeze. The chicken ruffled her feathers and slowly lowered her backside as she squatted between Chat Noir's boots. A couple of seconds later, the hen cooed and stood up to wander some more, leaving an egg behind.

Smiling, Chat Noir picked it up before holding it out to Ladybug. "Here you go, my lady. The first free range egg from these chickens."

Ladybug chuckled at the gesture, her eyes twinkling at how adorable her partner could be sometimes. "I don't think that's quite how that works, silly kitty."

The two of them smiled at each other for a second before three hens surrounded them. The chickens puffed their chests and flapped their wings, making themselves as large as possible as they closed their semi-circle around the superheroes.

“Uh, Chat Noir?”

He tried to back away from the advancing hens, but was also winding up for a large sneeze from all the loosened feathers now floating around in the air. As if in slow-motion, Ladybug watched as he released a trumpeting sneeze, and lost his balance from the force. He caught himself quickly enough, but the egg went crashing to the ground and splattered against the cement floor. A second later, the three advancing hens leapt up onto him, clucking angrily.

"Hey! Get off!" Chat Noir tried to swat them off of him as gently as he could. Ladybug simply stared, a bit in shock that the chickens had enough spirit still left in them to go after Chat Noir like that. It was kind of a pleasant surprise.

“LB. Care to help?” Chat Noir squeaked in surprise as the hens kept taking turns leaping at him, causing him to sprint around the room in an attempt to retreat. His sneezing fits kept throwing him off just enough that the chickens could catch up and attack again.

"Hey, I freed you! I'm your friend; your savior!" Chat Noir cried out as he started for the stairs. The hens were determined to get him for whatever offense he had done to them, and chased him out of the basement.

Ladybug felt a little guilty about it, but she didn't help him with the chickens. She couldn't. She was laughing too hard. She knew he wouldn't be hurt by the fowl. Their super suits made them near invulnerable, and poor Chat Noir just looked too ridiculous running from chickens after all of the akumatized villains they had gone up against. The whole scene – a hoard of chickens attacking a blonde hero – also reminded her of one of her favorite video games.

“Ladybug!” Chat Noir pleaded from upstairs.

Tears in her eyes, and sides hurting, Ladybug chased after her partner for the rescue. He had sprinted outside and climbed up a tree, shooing the chickens away as they leapt nearly four feet off the ground to try to get to him. Her kitty was literally stuck in a tree. She nearly burst into laughter all over again.

Taking a few centering breaths through her nose, she grabbed one of the baskets the owner had used for the harvested eggs and quickly scooped each chicken up from under the tree; herding them back into the house before scooping up the next one.

Once all three were safely locked into the house, Ladybug turned to let Chat Noir know it was safe to come down. He was already gone though. He must have escaped while she was rounding up the last hen. Climbing the tree herself, she sat on the branch he was trapped on and scanned for him.

He was long-gone. She felt even worse about laughing at his misfortune. He very rarely got a chance to feel like the prominent hero, and his big moment with freeing the chickens was instantly ruined by those he had saved. Ladybug wondered if that was somehow karma for using his power to release them in the first place when that wasn't what they were there to do.

“I don't think a blanket is a good enough gift,” she muttered to herself. “I'll have to find something even more special for him for Christmas.” The wheels again churned as she swung back home to start up a new list. Her gift had to be perfect for Chat Noir. She knew that much for sure.

Thank you for reading. Read Next Chapter

Read from the beginning: Chapter 1

Please let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list.

@discoveringmiraculouswriters

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ninjakasuga · 5 years ago

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Sonal Celebration Week Submission: Reunion

In case Tumblr ate my direct submission to @boundforfreedomsonsal I’m also posting my submission myself with the Tumblr tagged. So finally the celebration is here, and here’s my first submission. Taking place around issue 50 of the Archie-series, this is my take on when Sonic woke Sally up. As well as my own fanfic head-canon injection where I personally feel after all the kerfuffle with Endgame, Sonic and Sally got their confessions out and started the road to being a couple there. Instead of the long, convoluted delayed process, we fans had to wait nearly ten years to see to fruition.

REUNION:

The only sound was the crunching of leaves under Sonic’s shoes after he slowed down upon reaching the memorial. His heart instantly ached at the sight of it, despite knowing from Doctor Quack that Sally wasn’t dead. However, the sight of her ‘viewing’ memorial and her body resting in the clear-view casket, just hammered home what was his reality until a few minutes ago. His heart was hammering in his chest. The closer he got, his brain reminding him of the water-fowl doctor’s words. ‘She’s alive, but in a coma. Her tenacious will-power probably saved her life as much as her getting medical attention quickly. However, while Sally’s body has mended, I have no clue if and when she will wake up.’

Sonic himself had been advised to stay in bed given how utterly fatigued he had been through the entire ‘Endgame’ fiasco as everyone was calling Sally’s seeming death, his frame-job, and Robotnik’s near victory which ended in his defeat. Shuddering Sonic looked at his hands, they still tingled from impacting on the fatso’s face, and by God, if the Ultimate Annihilator hadn’t taken out Robuttnik; he was ready to end him himself. A thought that scared him to the core, especially on how he still felt okay with the act if had taken Robotnik’s life.

Guess luck was looking out for him, and maybe, just maybe luck would hold out again.

As he reached the see-through casket, a disguised medical pod, his mind snapped back to the here and now. Sally looked so peaceful, so, very dead. He knew she wasn’t, but the brief flicker of thought made his heart jump, and his breathing increase for a moment. All the pent up emotions were wanting to spill out, but he held them in. Focusing back on his task, Sonic found the latches sealing the casket and input the combination code into the five buttons Doctor Quack had given him. After the code was inputted, a soft but potent ‘hiss’ sound could be heard as the casket was unsealed and could now be opened as he wished. Grasping the edge of the container, he pulls open the clear-top, which flipped open from the bottom before automatic hinges locked the canopy into place.

Looking down upon Sally’s form, he could now see clearly, she was breathing, but very shallowly. His gaze briefly went up to the clear-canopy of her viewing casket. He had to give kudos to Doctor Quack for installing some weird, trick into the thing that hid the fact Sally was breathing from anyone who came to pay their respects. If he hadn’t pulled out all the stops, Robotnik would have undoubted discovered the ruse and finished the job Snively set into motion through Drago and Hershey. Kneeling down, he reached out, softly touching her auburn hair, and gently began to caress it. Sally always had such soft hair, even when the humidity of the summer would frizzle it to heck, somehow she still kept it silky soft. Smiling Sonic trailed his hand down to her face, feeling those adorable cheek tufts, and very, very happy he could feel the warmth of her body under her fur. Another much-needed indicator she was alive, which helped set his still hammer-beating heart at ease to some degree.

As a soft breeze blew past him, the blue hedgehog stared at the Princess’ sleeping face, wishing her eyes would open. The last few days of thinking she had died weighed on him all the things he never got to say to her, the regrets of not having gotten to say such things to her. The denial of things to come, things he at the time felt he’d taken for granted that they would come in due time, only there was no time. Now, she was alive, but would she even wake up so he could make good on doing all those things he should have already said and made clear.

Life was too short, and thankfully he’d be given another chance, and if she’d only wake up, he’d make good on telling her everything he’d always felt. With a long sigh exhaling from his lips he looks down upon Sally’s peacefully, sleeping figure again as a stray thought crossed his mind.

“No way it’d work, just stupid story-book mumbo-jumbo…” He muttered to himself, but yet at the same time, what else did he have to lose? Stranger things have come true in his short life. Grasping the edges of the casket, Sonic leaned over, planting a soft kiss to Sally’s cheek, murmuring softly, almost pleadingly, hoping it might awaken her. “I love you, Sally, please come back to us, to me.” Pulling back from the kiss, he sat on his knees at her side, watching her, and unsurprised nothing happened. That’s what you get for putting hope in fairytale nonsense.

Just as Sonic was about to pick up Sally to take her back to the hospital, someplace less out in the open, he saw her eyebrows furrow and twitch. His breath caught in his throat as he saw more signs of Sally stirring awake. “Sal?” He asked quietly, hope slowly blooming into his tone. Her mouth opened and a low groan escaped, followed by her mouth smacking together as if she was trying to get rid of morning dry-ness of the throat. The cute ears on top of her head twitched, and her fingers began to move, unclasping from the pose she was placed in, and resting on the bottom of the casket. With a smooth, if slow motion, Sally pushed herself up into a sitting position; flinching as if the motion caused her a brief bout of pain.

“Ahh…” Her voice was scratchy and parched, but clearly hers. Finally, her eyelids managed to force themselves open, and Sonic soon found those beautiful blue peepers looking into his own as Sally craned her head causing their gazes to meet at last. Her gaze turned to one of concern as she saw Sonic’s expression along with big-wet tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Sonic? Is that you? What’s wrong, are you okay-?” Sally’s words of confusion turned to concern and were soon interrupted as she found herself caught up in a big hug that threatened to expel the contents of her lungs as she found herself gasping for air.

“YOU’RE AWAKE!” Sonic cried, standing up fully with Sally in his arms, swinging her around as he both laughed and cried happily in pure, unadulterated joy.

“S-Sonic! A-air, can’t breathe!” Gasped the squirrel-munk as the blue hedgehog spun her around, adding a bit of dizziness to her lack of oxygen.

Realizing this, Sonic quickly sets her on her feet and lets go of her, but his hands instantly snatch hers and hold on. As if afraid letting go would allow her to disappear. “Sorry Sal! I just-I just…” His words trailed off as his voice broke. Unable to really say anything he just smiled at her. “J-just glad you’re back.”

Shaking her head, she gently pulls her hands from his and cups his face, looking concerned. “What happened Sonic? You never cry unless something big happened.”

Sniffling the hedgehog wiped his eyes, trying to dry his tears. “We all thought you were dead.”

Staring at him blankly, Sally couldn’t speak as it felt like a lump was in her throat, but she somehow managed after a few beats. “Dead?!” Her tone started off incredulous but as she looked about, one look at the memorial site told her Sonic wasn’t blowing things out of proportion. Putting a hand to her head, Sally wracked her brain and slowly recalled falling down the cut rope. “I fell, that’s right I fell, my rope was cut.”

With a nod, Sonic explained everything. Her near-death experience, his being framed for her murder, Robotnik’s plans, and all the little bits and pieces that fit into each puzzle-piece slot to make up the entire affair. Once Sonic finished, Sally stood staring briefly before moving closer and hugging him tightly.

“I’m so sorry Sonic, that you went through all that.”

Accepting the hug, Sonic fought the urge to squeeze her again and nuzzled against her face, unable to help himself. Luckily for him, Sally didn’t see to mind. “I’m just glad you’re alive, that’s all that matters.” Being able to hold her again alone made what he went through worth it alone. “We’ll catch ya’ up to speed. Gonna have lots to do especially as Buttnik’s gone for good.”

A soft smile formed on her beautiful face, as Sally exhaled gently. “I still can scarcely believe it. It-it’s really over isn’t it?” It was like a dream, and she prayed to whatever deity was listening this wasn’t the case. In fact, Sally reached down to her own wrist and pinched the skin under her fur. After a brief flash of pain, followed by a wince. Once nothing seemed to have changed, she let out a sound of relief. “I’m not dreaming am I?” “Not at all,” Sonic replied all smiles. “So the war’s over, we can stop fighting, well mostly.” With a nod and a shrug Sonic quipped. “Minus whatever under-bosses Buttnik left lying around Snotly, yeah we’re good.”

Both enjoy a much-needed chuckle, breaking the hug and just staring at one another. Recalling his earlier despair and regret for not ‘saying’ things to Sally, Sonic swallowed a hard lump in his throat and took her hands into his again. “Sally I gotta say something to you.”

Curious and intrigued, Sally grasped his hands, giving a friendly and assuring squeeze back. “Oh? What is it Sonic?”

It was now or never, he’d thought of this moment often. Of the various lines he could say, maybe even whip out his guitar and sing a rock-ballad; any and every avenue he’d entertained this moment in his brain for some time. Yet now; he couldn’t find any of his prior ideas truly worth their salt in conveying this moment.

So Sonic did what he did best, and improvised. “Sally I love you, I always have and I want you to know that!!” His words came out fast, yet were clear enough to be heard clearly despite the nervous-tick in his tone. Almost as soon as his confession came out, Sonic began to sweat and panic internally. Did he screw up by not being flowery, and all that mushy stuff girls were supposed to like? As this internal panic began to wreak his mind; he almost failed to take notice of Sally’s response.

The Princess’ eyes first went wide as her jaw began slack, staring at Sonic, to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Did she hear Sonic correctly? “Say it again Sonic, please.” She begged, her own heart beating loudly in her ears.

Sally’s words snapped Sonic out of his initial panic, and upon seeing those beautiful baby-blues looking at him inquiringly, he nodded as he mustered his courage and confidence. “I love you Sally Acorn, I always have.” Lifting her hands he placed both on his chest, allowing her to feel his widely beating heart. He felt her fingers curl in his chest fur, a sensation that almost distracted him from talking it felt so nice. “I don’t know when, but...I just knew it, we’ve been together since we were in diapers. You’re my best friend and without you in my life, it would suck a lot.” Licking his lips, he fought back any nervous lumps trying to make talking difficult. “I love you, and I need you in my life Sal-I, I thought I lost you and I can’t… I can’t let a day go by without letting you know.”

Sonic again found himself worried he screwed up as Sally’s eyes misted over and Tears began to leak from them. “Sal? D-did I say something-MMMPH?!” Now it was his turn to be interrupted, as Sally pulled him close, her arms now firmly around his neck and her lips over his. Soon Sonic’s eyes slowly close and he returned the kiss; his own arms wrapping around her waist and held her close as their bodies almost seemed to shift and rub together perfectly. Slowly the kiss evolved, becoming much more explicit as each opened their mouths, letting their tongues intertwine as a surging heat-formed between them. Not a sexual one, that was there but not prominently, this was the heat between two hearts that had found their way to one another.

Soon the kiss ended, and both parted, staring at one another as they tried to catch their breath. Sally recovered first, smiling warmly at Sonic as she brought a hand up to cup his cheek. “I love you too Sonic Hedgehog, always since I can remember.” Like him, she kept her words simple, any prior ‘showy’ confession was pushed aside in lieu of simple, direct but heartfelt. “Whatever is coming over the horizon I want to meet it with you at my side.”

“And you mine.” He smiled widely, like her he now had tears of joy in his eye. The two lean forward, resting their foreheads together as they basked at the moment. Robotnik might be gone, but the war was not yet over; and who knows what threats may lay over the next hill or around the bend.

Whatever was to come, they would face it together, now and forever.

#Sonsal #Sonally #Sonic the Hedgehog #Princess Sally Acorn #romance #prompt #Endgame #Archie-Sonic

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