#Let's Point Those Claws Of Yours In A Safer Direction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

h3rmitsunited · 2 years ago

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Backdraft: A Steddie Sky High AU

A chapter 2??? A chapter of Eddie freaking out?? Over 6000 words???

Sky High AU tag

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1

"Shit… shit-fuck-shit-fucking-fuck. Come on. Come on, you fucking-" Eddie's hands were shaking as he held his arm under faucet, flames still licking angrily up his wrist. The water splashed over the fire, sizzling and sending puffs of hot steam into the air, but didn't seem to make the flame any smaller.

He knew it wouldn't.

Water only helped sometimes, but only when he was calmer, when he was able to allow the water to do what it was supposed to. He was way too amped up right now. All of his nerves prickled violently under his skin like they were seconds from igniting, desperate to burn that energy off.

He'd been doing well. He’d been doing so fucking well.

Someone rattled the door handle to the bathroom. He flinched, watery eyes darting to the makeshift barricade of a frantically placed mop stuck between the handle and one of the stalls. Whoever was out there gave it a hard shake, and Eddie held his breath. He heard someone mutter outside, giving another couple of bangs on the door before it went quiet. A shaky breath trembled out of his mouth as he listened to the set of footsteps walking away.

He needed it to stop. The roaring burn in his ears, the high-pitched whine of panic. He just needed to claw it back into his body, deep down and suffocate it until it shut up for a few goddamn minutes.

Nobody could see him like this. Not when they were barely two weeks into the school year and his poor excuse for a guidance counselor was already breathing down his neck about being one fuck up away from another suspension.

'Keep it under control, Munson. You start flaming in the hallways and they're gonna have to cuff you again.'

His wrist spasmed under the flow of water like it was reacting to the memory of last year. One too many accidents… and even if he didn’t hurt anybody, every time he flared up, people got nervous. The people in charge got nervous.

Three weeks. They’d cuffed him for three agonizing weeks. Left him powerless and so numbed out that he was barely aware of anything that was going on. Couldn’t even find it in himself to care about the way that Wayne looked at him or the mocking words of the other kids at school.

After they finally took them off, everything crashed into him like a speeding train, and he spent two days smoldering in the empty cement pool at the edge of the trailer park, vacillating wildly between anger and panic and sadness and fear. He could finally register the worry laid into Wayne’s expression, the exhausted shadows under his eyes, the clench of his fists. Eddie knew those three weeks hadn’t just been hell on him, but on Wayne too, and he didn’t hesitate to agree when Wayne made him swear not to let that happen ever again.

And he’d been trying. He’d been trying so hard.

But they just didn’t want him to get out of this place intact.

They didn't treat the fucking Hero track kids like this. Those dickheads got to strut around picking up lunch tables with their stupid magic muscles and flying up to get kittens out of trees, and everyone would just ooh and ahh like it was the coolest thing, while the kids like him, the freaks with powers that made people uncomfortable, that were inherently destructive, that had parents locked away, never to see the light of day again; they had to keep their powers chained up tight. They were treated time bombs, like there was no point to treating them like they could be anything but disasters.

Risk Management Track. That was the… political term for it. It’s about creating a safer world, they said, a safer future, a safer population. Bullshit.

Everyone knew Risk Management was future villain culling, a direct pipeline to prison. They slap a bright red warning label on your forehead, tell you that you’re a danger to society and set you up to fail, and then when you inevitably do, they take your powers away… permanently, or they lock you up.

Eddie was already on thin ice, which… well, as a guy that could blast fire out of his hands, the ice wasn’t somewhere he wanted to be. He’d failed what was supposed to be his final year last year, he’d already been cuffed once, and he’s been around enough to have heard the rumors that you only get three chances. The fourth fuck up and you’re done.

No more powers.

The flames curled around his forearm, stroking over the dark tattoo inked under his elbow. It should be a reassurance, the feeling almost soothing, but knowing that he wasn’t supposed to use his powers, made the sensation sour.

Just fuck off already, stupid fucking fire…

He had planned to keep his head down this year. Less stress on his uncle, less trouble for him, and maybe the assholes that liked slamming him up against the wall behind the school to teach him a lesson or whatever shit they called it, would lose interest. He hadn’t helped his reputation much last year with his tendency to get worked up and rant up on the lunch tables about the injustice inherent in the system, mostly considering that they usually sounded like the dramatic monologue the villains make before the execute their evil master plan.

So if he just didn’t…

No.

No. Even if he didn't do that, even if he was on his best behavior, they'd still look at him like he was a bomb just waiting to go off. Like he was one misstep away from becoming his father. They were just looking for an excuse to take his powers away for good.

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

And he'd just given them the perfect one.

His stomach sank, his hands coming up to grip the edge of the sink.

Steve Harrington.

He had been shaking his hand.

He had been shaking his fucking hand when he…

He'd burned him.

The fucking kid his father had tried to burn alive, and he… he…

The flames on his hand flared up in a second, violently matching the pounding of his heart. They covered the sleeve of his jacket, licking at the bottom of his hair. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth together.

He was fucked.

He was so goddamn fucked he couldn’t even try to laugh about it.

There was no way that anyone was going to believe he'd done it by accident. Not at this school. Not him.

Someone that had done… that… by accident would have apologized, tried to make sure the guy was okay, not run off like a coward, locking himself in the bathroom because he couldn't face the music.

And man, was that music loud, just screaming and screeching in his ears.

You deserve to be cuffed, Eddie. You were always going to end up just like your father, Eddie. Your uncle has wasted nine years of his life fighting the inevitable, Eddie. You’re a fuck up and that’s all you’re ever going to be, and they might as well put you down now before you hurt anyone else.

"Fuck," he breathed out, shakily. "FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK."

Wayne was going to be so disappointed.

His other arm erupted into flames, wrapping around his back and chest and Eddie stumbled back from the sink, shoving into one of the stalls and falling to the floor between the toilet and the wall. He squeezed his arms tightly over his knees, rocking back and forth, panting heavily, eyes closed. The roar of his fire nearly covered the sound of his pounding hear.

It took a minute before he could register another sound. The soft echoes of music around his neck (thank goodness for fireproof cassette players). He reached quickly to tug the headphones back up to his ears. His favorite mixtape was still playing, one of the last songs on the playlist, but a good one, loud and fast and hard. He needed it, desperately.

He turned it up louder, letting the music overtake everything else. The panic, the fear, Harrington and that weird look on the guy's face, the inevitability of having his powers taken away, the heat of the fire on his own skin, the way it felt so good, how he just wanted to let himself enjoy the feeling of it, but he couldn’t because it was bad, and he was bad.

The guitar screeched in his ears, cutting off those thoughts.

He kept breathing, letting the air draw deeper into his lungs with each breath, rocking against the bathroom wall and clenching and unclenching his fists. His lips started subconsciously mouthing along with the words, head lightly bouncing with the beat.

Breathe, Eddie.

His fingers followed along with the notes of the guitar, he could feel the uncontrolled heat shifting, absorbing back into his body, circling around his fingers like the press of his rings, physical and rough like the feeling of guitar strings. He liked when his fire was like this, responding to his movements, part of him instead of something he had to fight against. He wished people could see that too, but they were too afraid, too judgmental.

For good reason, his mind supplied, unhelpfully as Harrington's face appeared back in his head. The fire flared hotter, and he knocked his head against the wall, focusing on the pressure on the back of his scalp.

Guitar. Drums. Loud. Breathe.

It took ages before he finally managed to drag the fire back into his skin, wincing at the discomfort of it. It took another few minutes before he was able to stand back up without his legs collapsing out from under him. He was exhausted. He hadn’t a flare up that bad since… since a while. Months. They took a lot out of him every time. He’d usually end up passing out for hours afterwards, and if he wasn’t expecting an entire squadron of security guards wielding fire extinguishers and handcuffs to be waiting outside the doors, he might have just flopped back and taken a nap right there in the corner of the bathroom stall.

But he couldn’t hide forever.

Eddie expected to be tackled the second he walked out, but the hall was empty. Other than the soft echoes of teachers talking in the classrooms down the hall, it was quiet.

Eddie swallowed.

What the hell did he do now?

Go to class and wait for the executioner's axe to drop? Run to his shitty guidance counselor to confess and just hope that by getting there first, they'd be more likely to buy his excuse? Try to track Harrington down to explain himself?

He wondered if the school had warned Harrington that he was here. It would have been smart if they had. Not that Eddie was planning to hurt the guy, but he figured Harrington at least deserved to know that the son of his attempted murderer was here wandering the halls. They hadn’t given Eddie a heads up on it, which obviously was not a great plan considering what just happened, though he couldn’t be sure that they hadn’t intended for something like this to happen, so they could finally just get rid of him once and for all.

Eddie couldn’t tell if Harrington had known who he was when Eddie had walked outside and asked if he was okay, or if he was just as blindsided by the introductions as Eddie was. Though… Eddie hadn’t given him his last name… had he? Maybe he still doesn’t know.

He's not sure if that’d be better or worse than him knowing.

Eddie thought back on the interaction, on how panicked the guy had been crouched by the wall, like he couldn't breathe. How he'd asked if Eddie had been staring at him, that he'd looked like he wanted to... what had he said? Wanted to stab him with a plastic fork or something? He'd been scared of him.

So... he knew?

But then... then he smiled. He'd relaxed and smiled and shook his hand. And more importantly, he'd taken Eddie's word. He'd acted like he believed that Eddie hadn't been trying to stare murder daggers into his back.

So, no, he must not have known who he was, then. There's no way he would have shaken his hand or stood there talking to him if he knew that he was the son of the man that tried to kill him eight years ago.

The skin of his hands prickled in a warning, and he knew he was moments away from flaring up again. He didn’t have the energy to deal with that again, so he needed to stop thinking about this.

He wasn’t going to class. It only took a couple of steps to realize he was way too tired to even try. And he couldn't leave school. The shuttles back down to the parking lot wouldn't start running until after the last class, so he was stuck up here for at least a couple more hours. The benefits of going to a school that’s stuck a mile in the air, he thought sarcastically.

Telling his guidance counselor what happened seemed like a pretty shitty option too, since they seemed way too eager to fuck his life up, and he’d basically assaulted the son of two of their most important alumni.

Not basically. He did. He just hoped he hadn't burned the guy too badly.

Eddie groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face. His feet started moving before he registered where he was going. He had one place here that he could hide out, at least until the consequences of his actions tracked him down.

_____

"Okay?" Mr. Hammond… Benny, as Eddie called him when the other students weren’t around, glanced up from the car he was pointing into the hood of, giving him a pointed look. He was surrounded by a group of what looked like toddlers (were freshmen really that small, what the fuck?) who stared over with wide eyes.

Eddie pressed his lips together, nodding hesitantly before eyeing the door at the back of the garage. Benny knew him well enough to see the anxiety in his expression and he rolled his eyes and waved him off. "Go on. She's still in there."

Eddie huffed a relieved sigh, forcing himself to walk to the door, rather than run despite the urge otherwise. He ignored the stares from the younger students and Benny snapped his fingers a few times.

"Alright, alright, focus back on me. Supercars don't fix themselves… well, some of them do, but we’ll get to those next semest-" Benny’s voice faded out of Eddie’s ears as he walked across the room.

Eddie would never be able to repay everything that Benny had done for him over the years. He was an old friend of Wayne's, back when his uncle had been working as a truck driver and Benny worked in some shithole diner on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere that just happened to frequently be on Wayne’s routes. They chatted and became friends over the years, even when life took them in different directions.

Benny had a similar story to Eddie; mom gone, his dad was locked up when he was still pretty young, but old enough to understand what was happening, family never had much money, and he had a power that made people scared of him. He was an incredibly hard worker, though, and with everything he went through; it never made him mean. After he left that diner, he kicked around in a few jobs, ended up finding out he made a fairly decent mechanic and learned enough to get a job at the school teaching sidekicks… hero support… how to work on complicated superhero cars.

And lucky for Eddie… and Wayne… that he did, because Eddie had been a mess, still was, obviously, but he'd been... a different mess then.

Young, scared, emotionally volatile, way too recently got his powers at the same time his father was being sentenced to life for what he’d done with his. Wayne tried hard to be there for him, but he’d never had to deal with a traumatized kid with the ability to throw fireballs out of his hands when he got pissed off or overwhelmed or frustrated or any burst of emotion, which apparently just happens way too much when you hit puberty. He just couldn’t handle it all on his own and the school administrators were absolutely no help, pushing him to get him on sedatives or temporary cuffs and aggressively bad “power control” counseling that was barely a step up from a dog shock collar.

But then Benny was just… there. He didn’t know what Wayne had told him, but after a particularly argument that led into a three hour long flare up, the next day at school, Eddie was sent into the basic supercar mechanics class and kept after class for a short talk that led into longer and longer talks week after week and then Eddie didn’t feel like he was so alone in this. It still sucked, but he had someone that understood and that helped. He couldn't change how everyone treated Eddie, but he could give him a safe space to retreat to breathe just for a little while.

After the first year, Eddie didn’t need the excuse of a class to go to him. Benny always had his back office and had told Eddie that whenever he needed it, whenever, the door was open, and he'd deal whatever crap the administrators wanted to give him for skipping.

The door to the office creaked as he pushed it open. Eddie breathed in the scent of grease and oil, shuffling past a few cluttered tables and drawers with tools and books stacked on top of them, and walked around a shelf into the small area behind it, barely big enough for the ratty sofa shoved against the wall and a coffee table made of a couple boxes. A familiar black guitar case was propped up in the corner.

Something released in his chest just by looking at it.

Eddie tossed his backpack to the floor, snatching the case up in his hands. He dropped down onto the couch with a grunt, pulling the case against his chest and folding himself over it, like he was trying to meld it into his body.

The weight of it, the smell, the feel of the stretched leather; it was enough to drain another wave of the panic away, even with the guitar still safely closed away.

His hands warmed as he dug his blunt fingernails into the surface of the case. Worn black leather, scratched and scraped and slightly burned in a few places, roughened by the years and an anxious teenager that had needed something to get his panicked little fire hands on.

Eddie drew in another deep breath, snapping the latches open. A shiver of anticipation crawled over his spine, like it did every time he pulled the old girl out. He had often joked that it was more exciting to unlatch a guitar case than it was unbuttoning someone's jeans, and he was sure his buddies thought he was joking more than he actually was.

The hinges of the case crackled softly as he lifted the lid, breath catching in his throat as he caught sight of her. An old, scratched acoustic, the Gibson name nearly worn off the head. She was beautiful.

Eddie reached over to lean the case against the side of the couch, and laid the guitar flat across his thighs.

There were a couple of char marks laid into the dulled finish and a dark black ring around the neck, but, luckily, he'd never been so lost in himself that he caused any severe damage to the poor thing.

The guitar pulled his focus, giving him something to latch onto when the… everything got too much, and his fire seemed to respond well to having the direct intention in his actions, as opposed to the chaos that he usually ended up falling into.

He kept his thoughts neutral as he brushed the pads of his fingers lightly over the strings. The sound sent a shiver up his back, and not a good one. He hadn't played her since spring, before he’d gotten into trouble, and she was achingly out of tune.

Eddie tutted softly, secretly pleased to have a task to distract him. He hoped that he could get her sorted out before reality came to drag him away.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Benny hasn't been taking care of you, huh?"

He tugged his headphones down again around his neck, and clicked the tape off, setting it aside, and started to get to work. His tongue jutted out as he carefully and quietly picked at the strings and twisted the knobs into the right places. By the time that strumming a few chords didn't sound like a discordant mess, Benny was leaning in the doorway with a careful look on his face.

“She missed you,” Benny said, smiling softly. Eddie nodded with a soft sigh, looking back down at the strings and giving a pointed strum. Benny took a step inside the office, pushing a few books off of one of the low chests of drawers, and sat carefully on top of it. He cocked his head and Eddie knew he wasn’t getting out of here without answering a few questions. "What happened?"

Eddie sighed again. Benny knew. He always knew when something was wrong. He picked at one of the strings with his thumbnail and shrugged. Benny stayed quiet, just watching and waiting.

Benny couldn’t help, not with this. He’d messed things up too badly this time to be able to smooth things over. He just wanted to pretend like he hadn’t, just for a little while.

"Nothing.”

“Eddie.”

“Benny.”

“You look tired, kid.”

Eddie nodded, knowing what Benny was getting at immediately. “Yeah. Flared up a little in the bathroom. It’s… it’s fine.”

He could feel Benny’s frown without even looking up, the weight of the concern being sent his way pressing onto his shoulders.

“Been a while since that happened.”

Eddie nodded again. “Yeah. I know.”

Benny stood up quietly, walking back past the shelf to the front section of his office. Eddie could hear the soft pop of a fridge door opening and then shutting, and Benny walked back, setting a bottle of Yoohoo and a wrapped sandwich on the makeshift table. Eddie eyed them, but didn’t make to pick them up yet.

“’M not really hungry.” Eddie tightened his grip on the guitar as his stomach growled loudly. He huffed in irritation and Benny laughed.

“Right,” Benny added sarcastically. Eddie rolled his eyes and set the guitar aside, picking up the bottle and giving it a few shakes before popping the cap off and taking a sip.

The too-sweet flavor washed away the layer of musty smoke that always coated his mouth after a bad flare-up.

“Should I be worried, Eddie?” Benny was sitting on the chest of drawers again, watching him.

Eddie snorted softly, taking another mouthful of Yoohoo.

“Aren’t you always?”

Benny seemed to pick up on that Eddie wasn’t ready to talk about what happened, and he didn't push. He knew well enough not to. He just nodded. "Alright. You know where to find me if you want to start sharing.” He glanced around the room. “You need anything else?"

Eddie shook his head, biting his lip.

"I don’t… is it okay if I stay here until classes are over?"

Benny huffed, cocking his head.

"You gonna make a habit of it?"

Eddie shook his head. "Nah. Just today..."

Benny nodded again, staying quiet for a moment. "Learn anything new?" He motioned at the guitar. Eddie was grateful for the change in subject, needing the distraction. He half-heartedly nodded.

"Couple things… You wanna hear 'em?"

Benny snorted. "Well, what else am I gonna listen to? You know the radio up here is crap."

Eddie nodded in agreement, grinning back at him, before setting the half-empty bottle aside and dragging the guitar into his lap again. He had a few new favorites that wouldn't sound as good on an acoustic as they did on his precious, true love that he kept safely in his bedroom at the trailer, but they’d still sound alright, and it was the playing mattered, the movement of his fingers, the attention, the distraction.

He played, relishing in the sensations on his fingers, the sound of the notes pulling and humming together, filling the empty air around him, letting everything else fall away. He could feel the swirls of heat at his fingertips, curling up his wrists, pushing down the fear and doubt and worry. He opened his eyes, catching the warm, gentle glow of his fire wrapping around the body of the guitar, dancing up the strings, sparking harmlessly in the air to the rhythm. It didn't burn, just danced, happily, flickering and warm and… safe…

Sadness caught in his chest. He loved this, loved being able to let his power out, to shine and glow and meld with the music he made, but it wasn’t… he wasn’t… he was dangerous.

How could he enjoy this now? After having undeniable proof that he was just meant to hurt people. After burning someone because he was just… surprised.

Maybe it was better if they took it away.

He pulled the fire back in, laying the guitar aside. Silence filled the room again. It hurt, pressing at his ear drums like how they felt before popping as he rode the shuttle up to the school. He didn't deserve the music though.

He curled up on the end of the couch, folding his legs up as much as he could with the tight pants he was wearing and closed his eyes.

Just a little longer and he could leave. He could leave and talk to Wayne and Wayne would talk him down from the ledge… again, reassure him, help him figure out what to do.

His fingers crawled up to his head, digging into his hair, tugging the strands until the pressure was just right to ease something in his body and pull him into a heavy and aching sleep.

______

"Eddie."

Eddie sniffled, letting out a tired groan. He shifted and his hand caught in his hair, pulling a few strands uncomfortably hard.

“Wake up, kid.”

Eddie groaned again, blinking his eyes open blearily, expecting the familiar posters and faded wallpaper of his bedroom in the trailer and Wayne peeking his head around the door. He jerked up, fire flaring at his fingertips, when he wasn’t in the trailer, his hand still stuck in his hair.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He could feel his rings tangled around a big chunk of his frizzy curls, and the flames that were burning hot around his hand.

Eddie's eyes darted around, quickly trying to determine where he was, who was speaking, if he was safe. Benny waved at him from the doorway, wisely standing at a safe distance away. Eddie wouldn't forget about the time he'd burned one of his eyebrows off when Benny tried to nudge him awake, and he was sure Benny hadn't forgotten either, even if he insisted Eddie hadn't needed to apologize.

Eddie huffed out a relieved sigh, recognition washing over him and cutting the strings that had pulled his muscles taut as he’d woken up. He slumped against the back of the sofa, half-heartedly tugging at the tangled mass on his head. He felt hungover despite not having anything to drink, his body feeling like it'd been dragged ten miles down a road covered in broken glass.

Benny tutted at him, grabbed a pair of thick gloves off of one of the shelves and wandering over while pulling them on.

"Last bell just rang.” Benny gently grabbed Eddie’s hand, the gloves keeping him from getting burned by the fire that was slowly getting smaller as Eddie’s panic settled. He started working to get his hair free and Eddie closed his eyes, focusing on pulling the fire back in. “You ready to go?”

Eddie groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling the seam of the armrest imprinted on the side of his face. Great...

“As much as I ever am,” he said, very much lacking any enthusiasm. He could feel one of his rings come free and Benny passed it down for him to hold in his other hand.

“Hmm, very believable.”

Another ring came free and some of the tight pressure on his scalp released. Eddie let out a sigh.

“Benny?” Eddie asked carefully. Benny’s fingers paused for a moment before starting to work again on the last ring.

“Yeah?”

Eddie swallowed tightly. “Just… I wanted to… thank you. I mean, for letting me come here, you know?”

Benny’s fingers stilled again, this time Eddie watched the gloved hands come down off his scalp and move to his shoulders, holding him in place as Benny leaned down and sat on the box table behind him, now face-to-face. His expression was serious.

“You know how that sounds, don’t you? You’re making me real worried, kid. You planning on doing something stupid?”

Eddie shifted under Benny’s gaze. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. Not really a lie. He’d already done the stupid thing, though if it was smarter to turn himself in, then maybe he was still being stupid.

Benny huffed and shook his head. Eddie knew the look on his face. Disappointment and resignation. It ached to look at and Eddie tugged the last ring free of his hair, pulling a few strands of hair along with it and then busied himself with putting the guitar away.

“You know I’m not gonna push you on this. But whatever it is that happened, or that you’re thinking about doing, because I know you, kid, and I know there’s something going on, you gotta talk to someone, okay? If not me, then your uncle, or one of those friends of yours. You got people that care about you, that want to see you make it outta this place.”

The fire that had been wrapped around his hands when he woke was out. He could still feel it thrumming under his skin, ready for the next emotional outburst to burst to life, but for the moment, he could feel safe. He finished latching the guitar case closed and set it to the side, avoiding Benny’s face.

“Can you promise me you’ll talk to someone? Please? You know bottling this shit up isn’t good for you.”

Eddie pressed his lips into a tight line, fiddling with his rings as he slipped them back on his fingers. “You gonna call Wayne?” He hesitantly looked up at Benny.

“Do you want me to? He’s gonna know something is up the second you get home anyways, Eddie.”

He was right. Wayne had gotten scarily good at reading him over the years. If he went back home, Wayne was going to see right through him. Eddie shook his head.

“No. I’ll… I’ll talk to him when I get home. I promise. Thanks, Benny.”

He pushed himself up off the sofa, taking the sandwich that Benny shoved into his hand and snatched up his backpack, tossing it over his shoulder. He gave a bright grin and patted Benny on the shoulder before walking out into the garage. He could see students out on the sidewalks heading towards the buses and shuttles, laughter and shouting echoing through the propped-open door.

"Eddie," Benny said behind him, his voice stern.

Eddie's lips tightened. "Yeah?" His heart was racing in his chest.

"Say hello to your uncle for me. We're due for a beer sometime."

Eddie released the breath he didn't know he was holding, twisting around to give a haphazard salute to his teacher... mentor... friend... guy, and then started walking out the doors, falling into the crowd.

He was used to people looking at him. It was part of the performance. Give them something to talk about, something to pull their attention. They'd be talking about him anyways and at least this way he could pull their little puppet strings a little bit. Why talk about stupid boring things like his dad or the trailer park he lives in or the fact that one time when he wasn't paying enough attention, someone caught him staring at that boy in the locker room, when they could instead whisper about his awesome wild hair or his excellent taste in loud screeching music or the sweet tattoos that stuck out of his sleeves, usually not with as many complimentary adjectives, but, at least, they noticed?

Today though, he hated it. The eyes, the whisper, the voices. It felt like everyone knew, knew what he’d done. His mind warped the words he could just barely overhear people saying around him.

(Is that him? -- Did you hear what he did to the Harrington kid? -- Oh my god, he’s a total freak. -- Why don’t they just lock him up already? -- You know his dad’s a villain, right?)

He ducked into the back of the line for the shuttle, gritting his teeth, his eyes darting back and forth, searching for the armed guards that he was expecting to burst out of the school doors and drag him away. He desperately tried to push the thoughts out of his head.

They weren’t saying any of that, you’re being paranoid, you fucking crazy bastard. You always do this. Just breathe.

His arms itched uncomfortably, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, fumbling for the rubber bands that he always kept in them. Eddie worked them over his fingers, fidgeting and snapping the bands, concentrating on breathing, keeping his eyes forward, unfocused, until he noticed that someone was looking back, meeting his gaze.

Harrington.

One of the rubber bands melted in his hand.

He hissed in irritation, flicking off the warm rubber dangling out of his palm onto the ground. When he looked back up, Harrington was gone, just a glimpse of brown hair walking up the steps into one of the shuttles. It filled up, leaving him to stand and wait for the next one, which was good because he knew he was not emotionally capable of being anywhere near that guy right now, and it would definitely put everyone in that vehicle flying a mile above ground level at risk of exploding horribly.

He hadn't looked... well, Eddie didn't know. He was never good at reading facial expressions, and Steve seemed like someone that didn't like people knowing how he was feeling, not that he even knows the guy at all, besides the one interaction that ended with him burning his hand... so Eddie was mostly basing that on the fact that he'd found him earlier next to a dumpster alone and mid-panic attack behind the school, and he had seemed agitated at the fact that Eddie was there.

Just now though, he didn’t seem particularly surprised to see him… which hopefully means that he wasn’t expecting Eddie to have been dragged off in handcuffs…

He didn't think there was a way to interpret Steve's expression in a way that would give him the answer to all... or any of the questions circling in his head, the most panic-inducing and prominent of them being, did you tell anyone what happened; and the second, are you okay, so he was probably just going to have to wait and see what happens.

Which was less than ideal because Eddie was not the most patient of people. It was a good thing that his body was resistant to heat damage because he probably would have no taste buds left in his mouth with how hot he drinks his coffee every morning. He at least pours it into a mug, but that's mostly because Wayne drew the line at drinking straight out of their shared coffee pot.

It took another five minutes for the next shuttle to arrive, and then ten more to actually fly down to the parking lot, and then another five to try to remember where the hell he'd parked his van that morning, and he didn't see any sign that Harrington was still around by the time he made it to his door, grateful that nobody was waiting there to hassle him today.

He threw in a tape, turned his music up, and drove. His heart started pounding as he pulled closer to the trailer park, to Wayne, to having to talk about what had happened.

Eddie watched the sign for Forest Hills as he blew past it.

He’d go home later.

It was fine. He wasn’t avoiding Wayne, he just needed…

…Gas. He needed gas.

He carefully ignored the dash indicating that his tank was still about half-full.

He’d get gas, pick up a couple beers to bring back to Wayne and they could loosen up a little while they talk, because he really doesn’t feel safe talking about this while he’s sober. Seems like a recipe for disaster. For both of them.

Yeah, good plan. Great plan, Eddie. Gas, pack of beer, then home.

Then…

Then.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, digging into the grooves that he’d melted into the plastic over the years. And he drove.

#sky high au #steddie backdraft #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #writing #fanfic

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love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

Text

In the Woods

M forest creature X F human, 5,671 words.

The world has ended and strange creatures now roam the Earth. You survived the end, but can you manage to make your way in this strange new land?

The trees above my head groaned and snapped. I froze, pressing my stomach to the ground. Something skittered through the branches, tiny claws scratching against the bark. It was probably a squirrel. It was almost definitely a squirrel. Regardless, I pressed myself close to the ground until it was gone.

When the forest was still and silent again, I pushed myself to my feet. My muscles were stiff and achy. I’d broken my back building my garden yesterday, and, regardless, I had to tromp through the woods in search of something to eat.

Despite my aches and pains, the hunger gnawing at my stomach, I was still one of the lucky ones. I was alive.

The Surge had happened nearly three months ago. Within two weeks, every major city had been leveled. The ground itself seemed to reach up, like the Earth was trying to slough off its outer skin. Plants had grown lighting quick, vines and roots overwhelming steel and stone within moments. Aftershocks had wracked the globe for another month, but when it was over, there was precious little of humanity left.

And then they had come. Strange creatures. Some of them looked human. Some of them did not. I avoided them. They were unnatural beings, things that grew plants from their bodies and were impervious to attack. I’d been with another group, for a while. The creatures shrugged off bullets and plants jumped to their command. I had been the only survivor.

I had no interest in fighting them anymore. The Earth was gone. I hadn’t seen another human in weeks. For all I knew, I was the only one left. I hoped not, but even if I wasn’t, I didn’t have much hope of ever finding another one.

I’d been lucky to find even a small patch of land to carve out a home in. I’d managed to scrounge up a tent and some blankets, located a few wild plants to start a garden, and even found some prepared food, though not a lot.

Hunting was my main way of sourcing food. I set several snares every night. Guns were difficult to find, bullets were worse, and even if you managed to locate both of them, they almost certainly didn’t go together. Knives didn’t run out of bullets and, providing the snares weren’t badly damaged, I could reuse them.

A rabbit already dangled from my belt. I was getting better at butchering them, and I was glad for its thick fur. Winter was on its way, and I could use all the warming items I could get.

Most of the traps were empty. I reset them one by one and headed to the snare closest to my camp. It was rare that there was anything in that one- maybe the animals knew I was there and didn’t trust the area.

Something crunched as I approached. I froze. The crunching continued. It didn’t seem to be getting closer or further away. There was a wet tearing noise and a sickening snap and my stomach rolled over. That wasn’t something moving through the undergrowth. That was the sound of something eating.

I crept slowly forward, shuffling my feet so I wouldn’t step on any twigs. I slipped behind a tree, breathing deeply. When I was sure I had myself under control, I peeped in the direction of the sound.

There was something hunched over the snare. The wet, snapping noises came from the corpse of a groundhog, which had been pulled open, its red, dripping flesh spread across the ground. The hunched figure was humanoid, roughly. Its limbs were long and spindly, with its fingers coming to dark brown points. Twisting, gnarled branches sprouted from its head, though they were small, probably so they wouldn’t impede its movement. It had long, deep green hair that fell loose down its back. It seemed to be wearing a long coat that flowed around it when it moved. The creature ripped chunks off the dead animal and bit down on them, messily tearing into them.

I gagged. I couldn’t help it. The creature’s messy smacking was disgusting. One of its pointed ears twitched and it spun around.

It was nearly seven feet tall, standing on thin, bony legs. It balanced on its toes, feet elongated like a four-legged animal. Red was smeared all down its front. Its face was human-esque, but its mouth had only sharp teeth and its eyes were flat green, no pupil or sclera. Its chest was the oddest part- it shouldn’t have been able to live. I could see its ribcage, but it seemed to be made out of gnarled wood. There was no skin stretched over its chest. Instead, there seemed to be a small bush in its ribcage, with tiny flowers sprouting out between the bones. It still lifted and fell with breathing, even though it didn’t seem to have any lungs.

Cold terror made me freeze. My knees were trembling. I brandished my knife, but I had no illusions. If this thing wanted to kill me, I would be dead. It could breathe without lungs. How would I even start to kill it?

We stared at each other. The creature cocked its head to one side. A long, slender tongue flicked out of its mouth, trailed around its lips. It seemed to be assessing me as much as I was assessing it.

We stood there for several long moments. I was almost afraid to breathe. Curiosity seemed to be the only thing keeping me alive.

Something snapped a few feet to my left. The creature’s head swiveled, ears twitching. It snarled, baring its red-stained teeth, then plunged off into the undergrowth. There was a crashing, snapping noise that got fainter as it moved away.

I let out a slow breath. Relief made me dizzy. It was gone. I had lived.

Mechanically, I cleared the trap, dragging the dead body away from it. I wasn’t eating it. Scavengers could have it. After some consideration, I reset it. If the creature came back, then I would consider moving it, but I wasn’t shifting it on a one-off. Maybe the creature was just passing through.

I headed back to my tent and butchered the rabbit. It was tasty, juicy. I tended my garden, making sure that everything was properly arranged before I headed to bed.

I didn’t sleep well that night. There was something howling in the woods, a constant screaming that sounded like a cross between a wildcat and a human.

Over the next few days, I became more and more convinced that seeing the creature hadn’t been a one-off. I didn’t see it hunched over, crunching on any more raw animals, but I saw signs of it. Traps that had clearly been tampered with, that had scraps of fur and blood on them, but hadn’t been reset. Trails of disturbed dirt around my camp. Claw marks on the trees, roughly around the creature’s height.

I didn’t like the fact that one of those things had set up camp near me and was stealing my food, but I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do. I hadn’t seen it again, and I was fairly sure I couldn’t drive it off. The only thing I could do was hope I kept avoiding it.

The howling at night hadn’t stopped. It seemed to be getting closer. The sound seeped into my dreams.

It was a chilly morning when I stepped outside to find a dead deer sprawling in the middle of my camp.

I froze. The doe had been killed by something with claws and teeth, its throat torn open and stomach slashed in ragged edges. But it hadn’t been savaged or eaten like it should have been. And it hadn’t been killed here. My camp wasn’t disturbed and I hadn’t heard the sounds of a struggle in the night. Something had killed the deer, dragged it to my camp, and left it for me.

There was a tingling sensation on the back of my neck, like something was watching me. I looked around. Nothing.

Was the deer a threat? ‘If you stay here, this will happen to you.’ I couldn’t move. I’d set up a life here. Moving would mean abandoning most of my belongings and starting over. With winter bearing down on me, it would be a death sentence.

I dragged the deer a short distance away. If this thing wanted to drive me out, it was going to have to do it the hard way. I wouldn’t be taking its threats.

My traps were undisturbed for the first time in a while. There was a chubby groundhog in one of them, which was nice. I attached it to my waist and returned to camp.

It seemed undisturbed. That was reassuring. I tried to fortify the camp a little more, setting up a makeshift fence. I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to stop anything, but it made me feel a little safer.

There was a pile of small animals in my camp when I woke up the next morning. They’d all had their necks neatly snapped and were arranged together neatly. Something intelligent had placed them there.

I buried them outside of camp. The tingling feeling of being watched was worse than ever.

The noises at night were getting closer. I could barely sleep. They were close by, just outside of camp. I kept thinking of that thing I’d seen in the woods, the human frame with those green eyes and strange, open chest.

Animals kept appearing in my camp. They varied in size and killing style- some of them had their necks snapped, some were messily eviscerated, some had simple, clean killing cuts. I dragged them out of camp each time. The amount of corpses was starting to disturb me. They were going to attract scavengers to my camp.

Several days after the corpses had started appearing, I emerged from my tent to see the creature hunched in the clearing. It was crouching over the dead body of a stag. There were no visible wounds on it. It could have been sleeping, except for the unnatural angle of its neck.

The creature froze, staring up at me. Its blank, green eyes betrayed no emotion. My heart thundered in my chest. I didn’t even have my knife on me- it was still in the tent. I’d gotten careless. If this thing killed me, it was totally my own fault.

The creature looked back down at the stag, then, slowly, deliberately, it pushed the carcass toward me. It looked up at me, back down at the stag, then up at me again. Its lips parted over its many sharp teeth.

“Good?” Its voice wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought, if such a thing could speak, it would have a rasping, unnatural quality to it. There was a strange tone to it, an echo that made it sound like two people were speaking at once. The dominant voice, though, was a baritone and surprisingly soothing.

“You can talk?” I said. The creature blinked at me. It took a moment to parse my words, then it rose to its full height. At nearly seven feet tall, it towered over me.

“Is this acceptable?” One of its hands spread, gesturing down to the carcass at its feet. I gaped at it, uncertain what it meant. It waited, still as a statue.

I licked my lips. There was an odd sense in the air, like I was partaking in some kind of ceremony I didn’t understand. But the creature was clearly offering the stag to me, and it felt improper to reject the gift. I took a deep, steadying breath.

“Yes. It’s… acceptable.” There was a faint quaver in my voice. “Thank you.”

The creature bent into a deep bow. Without another word, it turned and walked back into the forest.

I stared after it until it had completely vanished from view, then sank to the ground. My hands were shaking as I examined the carcass. I tried to review everything that I knew. The creature was the one that had been bringing me dead animals. Accepting the gift had some kind of significance, I was sure, but I didn’t know what it was. Stories of fairy deals and people being spirited away marched through my head. I shook them off. Whatever the creature wanted, it didn’t seem to want to drag me off anywhere.

I spent the rest of the day in my camp, carefully butchering the carcass. Maybe it was a bad idea to accept the gift, but I had to admit that it was a lot of meat. Properly dried, it could last a while, maybe over the whole winter.

It was silent that night. I finally managed to get a peaceful night’s sleep.

The creature was still gone when I emerged in the morning. And yet, the tingling feeling of being watched was worse than ever. Every nearby rustle or snap of a twig made me jump. Sometimes, I thought I saw something shifting between the trees, but it vanished whenever I tried to get a look at it. I couldn’t bring myself to leave camp again.

There was no avoiding going out the next day, though. The traps needed to be checked, and I needed to forage. It only took me a few minutes to realize I was being followed.

I couldn’t see what was following me, but I could hear it padding through the undergrowth behind me. I was pretty sure I knew what it was. The creature seemed to be content to follow me from a distance, so I tried to be content just ignoring it. I managed to catch one or two glimpses of it as it slunk through the foliage, but it was pretty good at staying out of sight.

It was as I was checking the trap furthest from my camp that I heard it. The heavy, crushing footfalls of a behemoth.

Behemoth was the general, catch-all term for the oversized monsters that roamed the lands now. They were enormous, unstoppable, and virtually unkillable. I’d seen one get hit with a missile and keep moving. When I’d been with other humans, a behemoth in the area prompted a mass exodus. You didn’t engage. You just ran.

I turned, slowly, and saw it moving through the trees. It looked like some horrifying combination between a bear and a moose. Larger than either, it had a great, sloping body patched in moss. Enormous antlers sprouted from its head, with points like spears, and its muzzle was large and full of jutting teeth.

Its head was low enough that I could see its enormous eyes rolling around to focus on me.

A growl vibrated from its chest, loud enough to set my bones trembling. I scrambled back, but fear was making my limbs numb and clumsy. There wasn’t a point in running, not really. It could catch me easily. And this one was enormous and heavy, ready to bulk up for winter. There was no way it was going to pass up such an easy meal.

I couldn’t turn to run. I couldn’t take my eyes off the enormous, saliva covered teeth as the behemoth opened its mouth. It could snap me in two with a single bite. A solid certainty formed itself in the pit of my stomach. I was going to die here.

There was an echoing, enraged shriek from behind me. I whirled around just in time to see a pale, slender form bolt out of the undergrowth and lungs at the behemoth.

The creature, the one that had been following me, had sprung to an impressive height and attached itself to the behemoth’s face. The behemoth staggered backward, swinging its great head back and forth. Its scream was great and keening, loud enough to make me clap my hands over my ears. The creature seemed undeterred. It raised a clawed hand and plunged it down, gouging a create cavern in the behemoth’s eyes.

Blood sprayed down from the behemoth’s face. I gaped. It was bleeding. I’d never seen one injured. I didn’t know they had blood. But the creature was tearing into it as easily as it would tear into any other animal.

With another grating scream, the behemoth turned away. Apparently, I was no longer worth the effort. The creature dropped from its face and screeched after it, claws digging furrows into the ground.

The thundering footsteps of the retreating behemoth sounded for several minutes in the otherwise silent forest. The creature stared after it, stiff and focused as a hunting cat. When the behemoth’s footsteps had finally faded into silence, it whipped its head back toward me.

Blood trailed down its front. It was dark, almost oily, and an odd sort of rust color. I froze. Had it chased off the behemoth because it wanted to eat me itself? But then why hadn’t it just killed me before?

The creature approached me so its face was only an inch from mine. Its solid green eyes bored into mine. Then it reached out and took my shoulders in its hands, fingertips trailing along my skin.

“Safe,” it said in a tone that could almost be described as soothing. “Unhurt?”

I gaped at it. The creature tilted its head further to one side. “Unhurt?” it repeated. It was asking me, I realized.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m… I’m okay.” I hesitated for a moment. “Thank you.”

Its strange chest rose as it took in another breath. Then it leaned forward, nestling its face into my neck. Its arms came around me in something like a hug. It made a long, quiet noise of satisfaction before pulling back.

It- he- had saved me. I swallowed and slowly climbed to my feet. He watched me, unmoving. After a moment of hesitation, I unhooked a rabbit from my belt and handed it to him. It seemed right.

He took it from me with surprising delicacy. His head lowered and his jaws snapped shut around a chunk of flesh, tearing it from the bone. I grimaced at the wet snapping and tearing.

He followed me as I continued on to the rest of my traps. This time, he didn’t even bother to hide himself. He walked just behind me or at my side, munching on chunks of rabbit. I kept glancing back at him. He blinked back at me.

I’d sort of expected him to break away when we made it back to camp, but he strolled into the clearing like he belonged there. I watched him as he padded around the edges of the camp, sniffing at things. I couldn’t very well drive him off- if he could injure a behemoth, there was no way I was going to beat him in a fight. And his presence was certainly less unsettling than it had been a few days ago. But I didn’t know what he was doing here. What did he want?

When I headed inside my tent for the night, he made to follow me. I froze in the entrance, staring back at him. Fighting him was still out of the question, but I did not want him in my tent with me. There was a long, tense pause, then the creature backed away and slunk to roughly the center of the camp. He curled up into a tight ball, apparently trying to sleep.

I retreated into the tent and wrapped blankets around me. There was something strangely forlorn about him curling up in the middle of camp, alone. He looked… small. Harmless. The unsettling feeling twisted in my stomach until I fell asleep.

He was still in camp when I woke up, ripping chunks off a fat squirrel. He made a soft humming noise as I walked toward him.

“You’re still here, huh,” I said. Talking to him felt weird. I knew he could talk back, but it still felt odd to try and have a conversation with him. He looked back at me steadily. He looked neither confused, nor comprehending. “I don’t know what you want.”

If he could understand me, he didn’t seem to want to answer. He just ripped another chunk off the squirrel and chewed it, still looking at me.

When he was done eating, he stalked around the camp, examining the border. Often, he would reach up and run his claws down the length of a tree, leaving long scores in the bark. I watched him as he completed a circuit, then started fussing at the small barrier I’d created. He seemed to be trying to build it up.

And so it went for several days. The creature stayed in the camp with me, building up a small barrier around the edge of the camp. Whenever I went out to check traps, he would follow me. Occasionally, he would hunt, dragging carcasses back to camp. He always allowed me to take some of whatever he brought. Eventually, I found myself offering a section of my hunts to him. It only seemed fair. A tense sort of partnership had formed between us. As odd as it was, I had gotten used to him. I was enjoying having some company. When I woke in the morning and he wasn’t present, I found a stab of loneliness sinking in between my ribs.

He meandered back into camp near midday, hands cupped around something. I glanced up at him. “Hey,” I said. “What have you got there?”

He opened his hands. There were clumps of bright red berries in his hands. He held them out to me, head tilted, waiting.

“Uh.” I didn’t recognize the berries and, with no leaves or branches to help identify them, I wasn’t going to eat them. “Sorry. I don’t think I can eat those. You can have them.” He blinked at me and extended his hands again. “Uh, no. I can’t have those.” I reached out and carefully curled his fingers over them. His hands were surprisingly warm. I was rather expecting them to be cold and corpse-like. Something twisted in my chest, a wave of loneliness that I couldn’t quite choke back. I was so unused to having someone with me. I’d managed to bury the feelings of loneliness, but they were starting to come bubbling back up.

He stared at me for a moment, then walked toward the edge of the camp, munching on the berries. I went back to the tending the fire. It was starting to frost overnight and the fire was becoming more and more necessary. If I wasn’t huddled close to it, I was walking around to keep my body temperature up. Despite not wearing much more than a cloak and pants, the creature seemed unbothered. He slouched next to the fire, staring into it. I could see the fire reflected in his eyes, a burning emerald flame.

As soon as the sun started to lower, the cold really set in. The sun and the fire were the only bits of warmth in the bitingly cold air and without one of them, the chill came on swiftly and remorselessly. There was no going back to the tent. I huddled next to the fire, shivering. The flame kept guttering in the wind. Leaving the fire to grab extra bits of wood was painful, my fingers stiffening in the cold and my skin almost burning in the wind. I huddled in on myself, wrapping fur over my body. It was still early winter and I was already half-mad from the cold. How was I going to survive the really bad months?

Something nudged my leg. I looked over. The creature was crouched next to me, half his face illuminated by the firelight. The sharp planes of his face made harsh shadows dance over his features.

“Need something?” I said. The creature pressed close to me. He was warm against me, driving the shivers out of me.

Slowly, like he was trying to give me a chance to stop him, he wrapped his cloak around my shoulders. He pressed me in close to his side. Warmth radiated over me, like there was a miniature sun beaming out from his chest.

I leaned into him. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that there was a human there with me. His hand pressed gently to my back, and where his fingers lay, warmth radiated through my skin. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer. My shivering abated somewhat.

Once I was feeling better, I looked up at him. He was blinking down at me, his green eyes difficult to read, but still utterly focused on me.

“Why are you doing this?” Speaking was a little difficult. Breathing in seemed to freeze my lungs. But being close to his warmth helped, and the curiosity was eating at me. He looked down at me. I wasn’t really expecting an answer, but his mouth opened and his voice issued softly forth.

“Protect you.” His voice was whispery, still with that strange double-tone.

“Protect me,” I repeated. He lowered his head until his chin was resting on top of my head. I could smell him, I realized. It was sort of pine-like, with a smell under that, like sawdust.

“Pack protects pack,” he said. His chest shifted as he drew in a deep breath. “We are pack now.”

“We’re… a pack?” I tried to make sense of his words.

He drew back a little bit so he could look down into my face. “You accepted my offering,” he said. “We have exchanged prey. We are bound now- a pack.”

Things fell together in my mind rather quickly. The marking of trees, the prey dragged into the camp, the way he had lunged to my rescue- he was trying to impress me. He was courting me. And in giving him the rabbit, I had accepted.

I leaned into his chest. It shifted, and his arms came tighter around me. For the first time in a long time, I had a companion. An image of him leaping out to protect me filtered into my mind. A small smile tugged at me mouth.

“Okay. We’re a pack,” I said. And just like that, it was no longer me against the world. It was the two of us.

Underneath me, somewhere in that strange, hollow chest, a rumbling purr started.

I spent most nights with him after that. He was incredibly warm and when I wrapped a blanket around the both of us, it was impossible to be cold.

The first snows came and I carefully kept the camp free of as much snow as I could manage. He focused more on creating a stronger barrier around the camp, fussing with brambles and branches. There was much less prey in the traps now, and I’d taken to ice fishing with little luck. He was much more skilled at catching animals than I was now, and every few days he would bring back some small morsel to the camp. I was always fed first, and he would only eat after I was done. I found myself wondering exactly why I’d been so afraid of him in the first place- after watching him catch snowflakes on his tongue and chatter insistently whenever I didn’t finish a meal, it was hard to see anything frightening in him.

Whenever I decided to check my traps, he came with me. It was reassuring, to have him there. If he could drive off a behemoth, I was fairly certain there wasn’t much that could bother him.

It was when we were checking the traps on the edge of our territory (I assumed it was the edge- he marked the trees there and didn’t like going beyond that boundary), that he stiffened. His pointed ears twitched. A low growl started in his chest and he bared his teeth.

I went still too, straining to listen. There was a faint rustling, like something was moving through the undergrowth. That wasn’t unusual, though, not enough to make him react like that. I drew closer to him and he shifted, like he was trying to cover me with his body.

“What is it?” I whispered. He pulled his lips back from his teeth, the growl coming deeper and stronger.

Something snapped nearby, the sound echoing through the stillness like a gunshot. Our heads whipped toward the noise in unison. He gave a resounding, challenging cry.

Slowly, something emerged from the bushes. It was like him, I realized. The same species, or whatever. They both had long hair, open, wooden chests that had flowers twining out of them. The newer creature didn’t have the small, branch-like antlers, though, and something about its posture or its shape made me think it was female. Regardless, she stood taller than him and her claws seemed longer.

He made a snarling noise that I interpreted as a warning. The other creature’s head turned as she looked between me and him. An expression like confusion crossed her face and she made a questioning noise.

He snarled out another warning, a thin strand of saliva dribbling from his bared teeth. The other creature considered him for a moment, then crouched down, teeth bared. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. I recognized a hunting crouch when I saw one.

She lunged. He knocked me aside and took the brunt of her attack, rolling backward into the snow. I expected shrieking and snarling, but they were oddly silent as they rolled in the snow. All their energy was focused on defeating the other.

He was trapped beneath her, teeth snapping everywhere he could reach. She was struggling to keep a hold on him, but it was clear she was in a better position. Her claws dug into his side and her teeth snapped dangerously close to his throat.

I needed to do something. But what could I do? These things were practically indestructible, at least to humans. But I needed to help him. Her teeth snapped close to his throat again and he made a strangled whining sound.

Fuck it. I grabbed a stick from the ground and lunged. If she killed him, she was going to kill me anyway. Might as well die trying to protect him.

I jammed the splintered end of the stick down into her face. It just barely missed her eyes, scoring a long, bleeding line down her cheekbone. She shrieked, startled, and turned to see her attacker.

It was the opening he needed. He drove into her, knocking her off him and into the ground beneath them. Before she could focus back on him, he swung down, claws plunging them deep into her shoulder. Blood sprayed into the white snow. With a final, agonized shriek, the other creature squirmed away and bolted back into the forest. He didn’t bother to pursue her. He just stood and watched as she vanished into the trees.

As soon as she was gone, he turned toward me. “Okay?” he asked, looking me up and down. “Safe?”

“Yeah, I’m all right. You?” He appeared uninjured, for the most part. There were a few small scratches and he was moving like he was in some pain, but he didn’t seem badly hurt.

“Bleeding,” he said, pointing a claw at me. I looked down. There was a long cut running down the length of my right forearm. It must have happened when she rounded on me. I hadn’t even been able to feel it. Now that I was aware of it, I could feel the stinging pain.

“Ow,” I said, probing at it lightly. It wasn’t particularly deep, but it wasn’t shallow, either. He moved closer to me and crouched, taking my arm delicately in his hands. His long, sinuous tongue slid out of his mouth and ran once along the cut. The pain grew dull, more of an unpleasant tingling than anything, and the blood dripped sluggishly.

“Home,” he said, tugging on my arm. He stayed close to me as we headed back to camp. We leaned on each other. I appreciated the comfort.

When we returned to camp, I dragged out my medical kit. He helped dress the wound, giving it a few more licks. I was a little leery about allowing him to clean it like that, but he seemed to know what he was doing. I figured it couldn’t hurt that much. Once it was fully wrapped, I lay down next to the fire. He lay down with me, arm draped over my body.

“Who was that, the one that attacked us?” I asked. Warm breath huffed against the back of my neck.

“Wanted a pack. Tracked my scent,” he said. “Was not happy that I already had a pack.”

“She recognized that we were… uh. A pack?” I said. There was an odd, fluttery sensation in my stomach.

“I claimed you,” he said. “My scent surrounds you. As your scent is around me.” He nuzzled closer to me. “We fought her off. She will not return. She knows she is beaten.”

“You did most of the work,” I said. He laughed.

“Would not have won without you.” He pressed his head into the back of my neck. “My mate.”

I looked up at him. “Mate?”

He nodded slowly. His eyelids were starting to droop. “The first two members of a pack are mates,” he said. “We will grow our pack over time. But not now.” He leaned into me, eyes closing. “Now we will wait.”

I reached up and stroked my fingers through his hair. He made a soft purring noise and leaned into me more. The world was different now, I thought. It was a place with new creatures, new ways to live, and you needed to be new in order to survive in it.

It was new, but perhaps it was good. With a yawn, I settled in against my mate for a nap.

#exophilia #forest monster #forest screature #forest deity #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster mate #OCxOC #MxF

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sparklingchan · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 2k+

Warnings : Profanity, descriptions of mythological monsters, monster killings, not edited.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: Felix and you have your first encounter - but why did it have to be under life threatening circumstances?

A/N : I’m so sorry this chapter took so long skskskkksks ugh I’ve been having some personal issues as well as midterms. For those of you who waited, thank you!

Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST || Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

"So.. you are not allowed to use cellphones because it attracts deadly monsters?"

"Yes," you snicker at Zeus, "No thanks to you, dad."

Zeus - the king of all gods on Mount Olympus, the god of sky and lightning - sits on the couch beside you in a simple striped shirt and loose baggy jeans, his long hair tied in a braid. He doesn't look anything like a Greek God or a king, he doesn't look grand or royal or powerful. He sits on your couch with his legs crossed, back slouched - like a normal father of a normal twenty one year old.

He rolls his eyes at you, "Yeah, yeah, blame it on your poor, old dad. " he's immortal, by the way.

You grab a cookie from the plate your mom had put on the coffee table before driving to work. You're kind of glad she's not here to see Zeus - your mom and Zeus didn't exactly part on good terms. Of all the times you'd met your father, she's not been there to witness any of it, fortunately.

"What do you want, dad? I'm sure you're not here to eat cookies and talk about mortal technology with me. "

Zeus nods, sighing. The distressed expression clawing it's way back to his face. "When are you going back to the camp?" He asks.

"I was about to leave before you decided to show up. "

"And with who exactly?"

"Oh, with Minho."

Zeus runs his fingers through his flowing beard, "The Dionysus kid?"

You nod - yes, Minho's father is the Greek God of Wine and fertility but your friend's never been much too proud of it. So you know better than to add to his insecurities, even behind his back.

"Dad, can you please tell me what you're here for?" You insist, now slightly annoyed.

"Ah, fine, fine," he nods, frowning like a little kid, "I actually need your help, y/n. I cannot ask this of anyone but my own child, which is why I have come here."

It's normal for God's to let their demigod children do the bidding on their behalf - it's nothing surprising or new, but you're taken aback since you're father has never asked you to do anything for him before.

Before you can reply, he continues, "It's Poseidon, y/n. He's...He's been sick."

Poseidon? Sick? Isn't he an immortal God? How could he ever fall sick!

"He can just drink some nectar and ambrosia and he'll be as good as new, dad." You deadpan.

"No, not this time. Poseidon's trident is lost. Someone stole it, apparently. And the trident holds in all his power. He's weak without it, and with him gone it's hard to control what goes on in the Oceans. The monsters and demons and even the Nymphs are out of control. "

"I would be very grateful if you could do something about it, y/n. Tell your camp director about it and go on a quest with your demigod friends. Find the trident, please. We need it back or else the mortals as well as the demigods will not be safe anymore. "

As if they'd ever been, "Okay, fine..I'll put in a word at camp."

Just before Zeus speaks again, you hear the loud honk of a car outside your house. Minho.

"I have to go now, " you quickly grab your bags, "And dad?"

He stops munching on the cookies to look at you. "Please clean this place up and go back before mom comes home."

He winks at you as you close the door behind you, jogging to Minho's old Hyundai that stands near the side of the street.

He waves at you enthusiastically and you almost feel bad for your friend.

Oh, Minho, you’re not going to be happy with the news I have.

Halfway into the drive, you realise that you're not the only who has news - Minho too had information to share - more like rantings, but you liked to classify them as information.

"I fought with my parents again. " he sighs, his eyes focused on the road ahead, "They don't want me going back to camp every year. It scares them, y/n, can you believe it!"

Minho - unlike you - had never met his birth mother. He was adopted right from the hospital. Sadly, Dionysus visits him more often than he wishes he would.

"They're just worried because you keep getting yourself in trouble there. Try to keep calm, you'll do just fine." You mutter, shaking your leg, your mind running through numerous possibilities as to how you can break Poseidon's news to Minho.

"Well that's not all. So I fought with them and came to camp a month earlier. While I was out with the annoying Satyr, scouting for demigods, I found three more washed up on the shore of the beach where we first met you. They'd been attacked apparently, and we brought them to the camp and guess what, the youngest one is as old as you are! It's so fascinating for once to not have to deal with unruly teenagers."

You scoff, "First of all, the annoying Satyr has a name. He is called Eden. And second of all, how is it possible for demigods our age to make it this long without living behind a protective barrier?"

Minho shrugs, taking a sharp right to the road that leads home to Camp Levanter. "Beats me, y/n. They must have lived like nomads without anyone to protect them from the monsters, but I'm glad we found them. You'll like them too. The other boys love them."

You nod, not giving too much thought to a bunch of new demigods. You've been with demigods all your life so there's nothing to worry about. What you are worried about is Poseidon and his lost trident, because no matter what, this new development does put all mortals and half-bloods at risk.

"Um, Minho?" You start, playing with hem of your checkered shirt, "I might actually know why the new demigods were attacked by a sea monster- "

However before you can speak out the next word, your eyes land on a huge blue wave of water, as tall as a ten floored building, engulfing everything within it's vicinity. You see mortals run in alarm, screaming and crying. The cars rush away, trying to escape to a safer place. The earth vibrates beneath you, as if to warn about an approaching danger.

"What the hell is that!"

"It's a sea monster... a Cetus."

Minho slams on the accelerator, speeding away from the approaching sea monster. The camp is only a two minute drive from the highway you are on so if the Gods are kind enough, the both of you might just make it before the monster catches your scent.

And if it does, then Minho and you are as good as dead.

"Can you see it, y/n?" Minho asks you in an urgent voice, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him, "Do you think you could create lightning and kill that thing?"

You make the mistake of looking behind you, because as soon as you turn around, you see a gigantic dragon- like creature chasing close behind your car, baring it's fangs. Your blood turns cold.

"Minho, drive faster! I think it has smelt us!" You yell in panic, "We're not enough to defeat a sea monster; even with your vine growing power and my electrokinesis."

Minho does as he is told, driving the car faster than the mortals do in their stupid car races, his hands tightly gripping the handle and handsome features twisted in agony.

You roll down the window and glance outside, estimating how much time you have to summon lightning before the monster catches upto your car.

Sucking in a deep breath, you pray to your father for help and thrust out your hand towards the sky, and see small electrical impulses begin at your fingertips. Rolling the window further down so as to be able to aim the lightning directly at the monster, you concentrate all your energy into your right hand.

The lightning may not kill it, but it’ll surely slow it down.

Electric sparks cover your entire arm like it were some kind of jewelry.

A deep breath, and you release.

“Its hurt,” you whisper as the monster stops on its tracks, its googly eyes closing as if in immense pain and in a spilt second, they open and stare right at you. The monster is angry. At you.

“Shit! Shit! Y/n!” Minho panics.

"Keep driving." You reassure Minho, "I'll slow it down."

You see dirty green scales of the monster when you glance at the rear view mirror and your immediate reaction is to grab your bow and arrows from the backseat of the car.

Minho nods and you position yourself such that only your arrow is pointed directly at the monster's direction while you squint one eye and careful peek out without showing too much of your face. Monsters have very good memory.

The monster hisses, his long, red tongue rolling out of his mouth as if in annoyance. The mortals do not bother coming in between your car and the Cetus - all thanks to the Mist.

The Mist creates an illusion that hides any supernatural beings like monsters or titans or giants from the mortal's sight so it is safe to believe that the mortals are perceiving the Cetus as something as simple as a huge storm.

"It's coming closer." You warn Minho.

"I can't go faster than this! Has no one from the camp received any news of a sea monster coming out of the water and roaming out in the streets yet?" He yells back.

You stretch the bow string, the arrow aimed right between the monster's two hideous eyes.

"Stop! Y/n!" Minho suddenly says, slowing down a bit, staring at the rear view mirror, "There's something on the monster's head."

His words seem to fade away in the background as you see the monster's tail - resembling that of a fish - flying up behind him, and then thrashing hard against the concrete road. The ground shakes.

"I'm shooting." you mutter, "It's going to kill us all!"

"Y/n, no - don't."

"What! Why?"

You loosen the string and pull back the arrow, trusting Minho's judgement better than yours.

"Just trust me, okay?" Minho mutters, slowly pulling up by the sidewalk.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you quickly glance out the window.

"What the.."

You catch sight of a blonde man, probably only as tall as Minho, standing on top of the monster's head and thrusting his shining bronze sword right into the Monster's forehead.

The man looks in your direction, as if he’s known you all along and nods, with what you perceive to be a smile on his lips.

"Shoot now, y/n." Minho says from beside you.

You immediately act on it, stretching the string tighter, the arrow pointed at the ugly monster that now cries desperately. You let go of the string and the arrow cuts through the air and stabs the Cetus right at his neck.

A loud, thundering wail leaves it's mouth and then it disappears into millions of dust particles, on it's way to the depths of Tartarus ; the underground prison of all monsters.

"That's Felix, y/n." Minho says, unlocking the doors with a slight grin on his face. He looks proud. "He's one of the new demigods at the camp."

The said man quickly jogs up to your car, panting and huffing, and knocks at your window.

"Hey, can I have a ride back home, Minho?" He smiles, "And you must be y/n, right?"

And you sink back into your seat as you see his entire form up close.

Beautiful. Ethereal. And every other synonym of those words in the English dictionary fall weak if it ever comes to describing the man standing in front of you.

You don't even need to ask who his godly parent is because you already know now - Aphrodite, goddess of love, lust and beauty.

****

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Text

Demonic Intervention (Indruck)

Prompt for the 7th: “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” - The Tempest (William Shakespeare). This fill is NSFW

It can't get much worse.

Indrid is barely scraping by. He can count his friends in town on one hand. He’s gay in a tiny, rural community and one of the few men like him is a goddamn priest. His house is a mess. And his every waking moment is filled with the demons of his past or the devils lurking in his future. There are so many of them in his present too, roaming the streets of Kepler.

What’s one more in the mix?

He lights the stubby black candle by the bed, scratches the symbols on the floor, and retreats into his cocoon of blankets to wait.

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

Duck hates when it’s his turn on the summoning shifts. All this ancient knowledge and power and he’s stuck waiting to see if some yahoo in a graveyard or a wannabe cult leader will call him up into the world.

He has brambles that need pruning, damn it.

His name isn’t well known among humans, so he only gets summoned if someone is just rooting around for a demonic entity without caring who they get. He’s only been summoned twice in the last hundred years. The tingle in his horns tells him it’s about to be three.

The room he arrives in is gloomier than any graveyard; the lights are off, the curtains are shut, and the place looks like it got hit by a tornado with a grudge. By the light of the candle, a pale-haired head emerges from the blankets of the small bed. A hand reaches for the floor, comes back with a pair of red glasses.

“Greetings, infernal one. Thank you for answering my summons.” The man’s voice is flat.

“Even demons got manners. So, uh, what’s the job?”

“There are so many dishes in the sink that the thought of doing them is an insurmountable task. Please do them for me.”

“...You realize I’m takin somethin’ from you for this, right? Like a piece of soul or a month of your life?”

“Mmmm” The man rolls over and says nothing else.

“A day of your life for this.” Duck feels like he should haggle more, but then he’d had to pretend he actually thought a higher price was fair.

“I accept your terms.” A crackle of green and black electricity flickers in the air in the form of Duck’s signature and the other man’s name: Indrid Cold.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

Indrid says nothing. Duck is sure to wash and dry before he goes.

The next day he’s summoned to the exact same room, in the exact same state of depressing mess.

“Greetings, infernal one. Please clean this room.”

“Same terms?”

“Mmhmm” Indrid is just staring at the ceiling.

“You gotta say you accept.”

“I accept.”

Duck snaps, turning on the light, and gets to work. Technically he could do all this with a wave of his hand. But then he’d lose his chance to learn a little more about the guy who’s settled on demonic deals instead of a maid service. It’s the opposite of the usual problem he has in these kinds of situations, where the humans reveal their deepest secrets, desires, and fears within five minutes of meeting him.

The records he stacks near their player, the clothes all go in the hamper to be magicked clean, then are hung in the closet; they’re loose and soft, not a scratchy fabric to be found. Tarot cards and candles abound, as do art supplies, and under a pile of drawings he finds magazines featuring muscular, hairy men in various sexual positions. Some of them even look like his preferred human form, the one he’s wearing now.

He glances at the bed; Indrid is on his side, facing him, must have been watching him at some point but has dropped into a restless sleep. The blankets are slipping, showing a The Sonics tank top hanging off skinny shoulders. Right, that was one of the bands in the record stack.

Duck doesn’t tend to pry into souls or auras or shit like that; there are whole heaps of trouble that lay that direction. But as he flicks the dust from the bookshelf covered in paperbacks, he feels the edges of Indrids and nearly falls on his ass from the wave of exhaustion and loneliness.

When it’s time to go, he pauses to pull the blankets back up around him, sets his glasses on the bedside table, and turns the calendar on the wall from “September 1974” to “October 1974.”

When he’s summoned right back to Indrid’s room the next evening, he spots the same tank top on him as he sits up in bed.

“Greetings infernal one.”

“You can just call me ‘Duck’. It’s a nickname.”

“Oh” Indrid blinks, perplexed, “very well. I, ah, there are some bills that need to be paid to keep the lights on.”

“You need the money for them?”

“No, just for someone to fill out the forms and checks and put them in the mail.”

“Okay. But my fee’s a little different this time: you gotta tell me when you last ate.”

“I accept. I ate this morning.”

Duck snaps his fingers

“Two days ago!” Indrid yelps, then slaps his hands over his mouth. He glares, “why does it matter?”

“Because while I’m payin those bills, you’re eatin’ dinner.”

“Everything in the fridge is disgusting and I can’t go to the store.”

Duck takes the short trip out to the kitchen, opens the fridge to the new sound of Indrid’s footfalls behind him.

“You got lots of decent stuff in here; could make you some eggs?”

“No, thank you.” Indrid shakes his head, looking a bit ill.

“Well, what do you want? I can summon it up.”

“I’m out of Lucky Charms.” The humans says sheepishly, staring at his bare feet.

A fresh box of cereal appears on the table, Duck pulling out the half empty bottle of milk. He thinks back to the drawings he saw yesterday and conjures a bowl covered in a pattern of brightly colored moths.

He gathers the stack of bills of while hearts, stars, and horseshoes rattle into the bowl. After a few moments of crunching he hears, “May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why is your nickname Duck? Does that word mean something else in demonic speech?”

Duck stuffs paper into envelopes, “Nah. It’s, uh, kinda silly but, uh, most demons learn how to take on an animal form. When it was my turn, they asked me which I wanted and, uh, I said I wanted to try bein’ a duck. Liked it so much I stayed that way for three months.”

There’s an odd, strangled sound that makes him look up; Indrid has one hand over his mouth and is shaking with little squeaks. He’s laughing.

“I’m, I’m s-sorry but, but I, I cannot get over the image of you as a little, feathery waterbird.”

Duck smirks, “Only part that ever gave me trouble was the quackin’; always came out too deep.”

He just manages to pull the envelopes back as milk comes out the human’s nose and he giggles uncontrollably.

“Ow, ow, heeh, oh g-goodness, I’m s-sorry I, I just haven’t laughed in so long, ugh, there’s milk on my shirt-”

“Guess you’re gonna need to shower now too.”

“Nono, I can just change-”

Duck waves the bills back and forth, “Uh uh, if you want me to actually put these in the mailbox, you gotta agree to shower.”

“But that’s changing the terms!”

“Demon.” Duck grins.

“Very well. Let me finish my dinner first.” Indrid scarfs the rest of the cereal, pads back towards the bedroom while Duck cleans the table. He waits to hear water running before going to the mailbox. When he gets back he sticks his head into the steamy bathroom.

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you again.” Indrid pokes his head out from the shower curtain and Duck resists the temptation to make the whole barrier disappear just for a peak. What can he say? He’s always liked his humans a bit unique looking.

He draws a special sigil in the steamed-up mirror and heads for home.

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

Indrid sets the candle on the table, lights it, adds the symbol he found in the mirror, and then starts unpacking his groceries.

“Lookit you doin’ chores.” The whiff of burnt pine needles accompanies Duck’s voice and draws the tension from Indrid’s shoulders.

“I’ll have you know I swept today as well.” Indrid turns and crunches the bag of potato chips in his fists; Duck hasn’t put his horns or claws away, and his shirt is half unbuttoned.

“Caught me while I was gardenin, which is why I ain’t as put together as normal. What can I do for you?”

“This may sound strange but, ah, what is the fee for just talking with you?”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up and then he chuckles, “You’re full of surprises, little moth.”

Indrid touches the luna moth on his shoulder; how much had Duck studied him when he was here? Did he like what he saw? Does he give everyone he makes deals with nicknames that come out in a drawl like summer honey?

“Hows a little nibble of the old soul sound?”

“I accept. Ah, would you like some cookies? A friend of mine brought them over to me.”

“Sure. The fella on the fridge bring ‘em?” The demon indicates the picture of himself and Barclay, the one he can’t bring himself to throw away.

“No. My friend Dani, she’s in charge of the gardens for the little co-op in town and when the bakery has seconds she often drops them off for me.”

He really needs to stop staring at Duck’s chest, even demons probably find ogling rude. Duck’s eyes--one blue, one brown-- catch his own and suddenly claw tips are undoing the remaining buttons. Indrid goes pink but manages to get the cookies and two glasses of water on the table without incident.

“You know, you never told me why you stayed a duck for so long.”

“It’s the least demonic thing you’ve ever heard but, uh, I just thought it was nice. Bein’ out in the woods, paddlin’ on the lake and watchin the world go by. Sleepin under the stars. Just makes you feel like you’re part of somethin’ bigger than yourself. Now, I got a question for you; why go to all the trouble of summonin’ me just to do your chores?”

Indrid bites his lip, “I knew I was in the kind of mental place where I could not manage it myself. And it felt safer to ask you than to ask my friends. Not that they wouldn’t help me. It’s just, when my mind is like that it turns so inward I can’t conceive of a world that might contain things for me.”

The demon says nothing for a moment, sips his water with a thoughtful look. Then he sets down the empty glass, “Glad you’re feelin a little better.” He tilts his head to indicate the sketch on the counter, “that new?”

“Yes” excitement bubbles up in his chest, “I was reading about--ah, well, it’s, it’s sort of a long story, I don’t want to bore you.”

Duck kicks his feet up on the spare chair and gestures for him to continue. So he does, tells the demon about reading every book he could find on the mythology and folklore of the Mexico and the American southwest, about his new inspiration for a series of drawings, his worries that no one will like them or purchase them and he’ll be stuck running his little psychic side business until he dies

Duck, in turn, tells him about life as a forest demon, about his hellcat, and about the fact he routinely comes up to the human world for french onion soup because the stuff made in his realm never tastes right. When Indrid next looks at the clock, it’s well after midnight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

“No complaints here. But I oughta get home and feed Winnie before she shreds my cabinets again.” The demon stands, rounding the table, “gotta get my fee first.”

“Right. How should I…” Indrid stiffens as Duck bends forward, wondering if the sharp teeth that smiled at him all night are about to pierce his skin.

Warm lips meet his forehead and he sighs at the tenderness in the gesture. Duck, however, moans as he pulls back, then quickly covers his mouth.

“Uh, that, that’s a totally, uh, totally not, uh, un-normal reaction, uh, fuck, see you around.”

He’s gone with a campfire crackle, leaving Indrid to wonder how a demon can be such a terrible liar.

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

“Sweet fuckin hell.” Duck gasps as his living room forms around him. His lips still tingle from kissing the human’s forehead, from the sheer force of the want and yes that came when he took that sip of soul. It’s never like that, never comes so willingly and eagerly, like the soul is searching for someone to look after it.

Technically, there’s nothing stopping him from zipping right back up there and pinning Indrid to his bed while he takes what the human seems so happy to give.

Duck takes five deep breaths, then ten, and then goes to retrieve Winnie from the cabinet she clawed her way into.

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

When Barclay suggested Indrid find someone to confide in, Indrid’s going to guess he didn’t mean, “routinely invite a demon into your house to play cards or listen to music.”

Most times, Indrid isn’t even summoning him; they have two standing dates a week, plus a game night with Dani and her new girlfriend, Aubrey (who Duck seems to know but refuses to say more about how). Duck will sometimes drop by unannounced, and he hardly ever collects a fee these days. When he does, it’s always a taste of Indrid’s soul, taken via a kiss on the cheek.

Indrid would let him take it any way he wanted. He’s well past denying the fact Duck is type in all his forms, that he’s gentler than most humans, and that he’s so charming Indrid would eat out of his hand.

Duck even goes out with him, like the boyfriend he wishes he had. When he puts on his human form to accompany Indrid around town, he radiates enough residual, demonic energy that the people who normally make Indrid’s life a living hell stay far, far away. In fact, tonight is the first night in months he’s had something close to a disaster, and it was mostly an accident. He’s peeling his beer-soaked shirt over his head when he feels mis-matched eyes on his back.

“Have a little too much fun bartendin’ tonight?” Duck holds out his hand, rendering the shirt fresh and clean when it touches his palm.

“Some caveman hit on one of our regulars and would not back off when asked. She threw a full pint of beer on him and I happened to be standing right behind him when she did.” He wiggles out of his jeans, let’s Duck give them the same treatment he gave the shirt, “ugh, I need a bath, I smell like Rheingold.”

“Allow me.” Duck waves his hand and steam wafts from the bedroom, goes into it and grabs the bubble bath from under the sink as Indrid follows him in his underwear. Duck’s constant glancing at his crotch and legs makes him bold.

“What’s the fee for such excellent service?”

“No fee, little moth. I’m just doin’ a favor for my friend.”

“And what if your friend wants to repay you anyway?”

When the demon looks up from the tub, his eyes are glowing, “Only if he’s doin’ it because he wants to and not because he owes me.”

“I want to, so very badly.”

In a flash Duck is in the tub, beckoning Indrid to join him. Indrid tests the water with his finger just to be safe.

“Mmm, nice and warm.”

“Hellfire, sugar. Now get your cute ass into the tub or--oh fuck yeah.” Duck growls as Indrid strips and climbs in with him, drags him into his lap and traces his claws up his sides while Indrid yanks him into a kiss.Curious, Indrid reaches one hand up to rub the base of his horn, the dark brown curls like smooth bark beneath his fingers.

“Fuuuck” Duck groans, “feels like gettin a back-rub.”

“Then I better keep at it. Oh, oh my” Indrid sits back to admire the vines of green appearing in Duck’s skin, “you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Kinky little thing, you like that I’m a demon.” Duck scrapes his teeth along Indrid’s shoulder, “that really why you summoned me? You were hopin I’d have my, uh, demonic way with you?”

“N-no, I, I, it’s no secret I’m attracted to you but I, you make me feel so happy, I’m so safe when I’m with you, and, and if all your care and affection towards me has been part of some malevolent plan please, please just tell me because I, I think I’m falling in love with you.” He kisses Duck with far more force than before, forestalling the inevitable confession that this was all just a game for his soul and his own, pathetic admission that he’s not sure that changes anything.

“Oh, sugar” Duck keeps brushing their lips together as he speaks, “First time I tasted your soul I knew I was fucked. Knew I wanted to keep seein’ you, even if you never gave me another goddamn thing.”

Indrid buries his face in Duck’s shoulder, letting out shuddery sighs as Duck pets his back. He’s never leaving this spot, Duck is just going to have to carry him about while he does his infernal business and his housekeeping.

“Tell me what you want, little moth.” Duck kisses the shell of his ear. It still tingles, even when his soul stays put.

“Please fuck me? Oh! Oh that’s very efficient and extremely strange.” He squirms in Duck’s lap as his ass turns slick and stretched, like someone has pulled four fingers from it.

“Do it the traditional way some other time” The curved head of a cock bumps his ass, “you wanna feel just to be sure you can take it?”

He flails in the water a moment, finds a warm, responsive shaft with four, bumpy ridges leading to the head. It’s no bigger than the one toy he splurged on during his last trip to the city.

“Yes, certainly, oh, oh, AHHhnnnn yes.” The cock is hotter than his body as it slides in and he wonders if it will just melt him from the inside out, if Duck’s cum will be just as warm, how it will feel on his tongue and down his throat when he drags the demon into his bed.

“That’s it sugar, take it all the way. Fuck, been jerkin off to the thought of you on my dick for months.”

“Nnngh” Is his eloquent reply, the ridges of Duck’s cock making his toes curl and his fingers dig into Duck’s skin.

“You like that idea, little moth? Knowin I could be out temptin anyone I wanted to and instead I was in bed thinkin’ about you?”

“Mhhmmm” He whines, the desire pouring off the demon wrapping around him and soothing his insecurities.

Duck slows the thrusts of his hips and his voice is gentle when he whispers, “Course I did; no one can compare to you, ‘Drid.”

“Ohgod, Duck, please, please, please, want to be yours, always yours-”

“Careful,sugar, that sounds like you’re anglin’ for an infernal marriage.”

“A, a what? OHhhhnnyes” He moans as claws knead his ass.

“It’s a special kind of deal where a human agrees to marry a demon. Soon as they’re dead, they go straight to their spouse, no other options provided.” Duck cups his face, holding it steady so he can look into his eyes, “but there ain’t no need for that right now; way I see it, we can do this like we were just two normal fellas for now.”

“But it sounds fun.” Indrid offers a teasing pout and gets an adoring kiss in return.

“Yeah? What if I tell you a lot of demons mark their spouses by piercing these” He pinches Indrid’s nipples, the pain making him bounce more determinedly on his dick. His demon growls, drops one hand down to thumb at the head of his aching cock, “pierce here too. Won’t even do it in public like you’re supposed to; do it at home so no one else will see just what a sweet, needy thing you are for me--whoah, fuck, did not expect you to cum just from playin with this nice dick a little.”

“V-very sensitive” Indrid gasps against the green swirls in Duck’s shoulder, his orgasm such a surprise he’s still registering it, hips twitching and tongue threatening to loll out of his mouth.

“Keep that in mind for next time. Might even bring a cage so you don’t cum too early and spoil my plans. Now, hold tight, little moth.”

Indrid clings to the warm bulk of Duck’s body as his cock pounds up into him, the demon easily holding his hips up and his ass open so all he can do is whimper and writhe on it. When he cums it’s hot enough that Indrid squirms

“Don’t hurt does it?” Duck pets his sides, concerned.

“Nono, it, it’s nice, just very strange.” Indrid winces as Duck pulls out, watches him wave his fingers to clear away the mess. When the demon makes no move to let go, Indrid looks up, “you really meant what you said? About wanting me as a boyfriend?”

“Damn right I do. Now c’mere, lemme get the beer outta your hair.”

Indrid hums as Duck scrubs his scalp and runs warm water over his skin, talking all the while about how they should go camping as a first date so no one will bother them, says he’ll even turn into a duck to make Indrid smile.

Indrid says he knows just the spot, let’s his boyfriend dry them off and bundle them to bed and then, for the first time, falls asleep with a devil in his arms.

#indruck #promptober #indrid cold/duck newton #Demon AU #monster boyfriend

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maxineswritingcenter · 4 years ago

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 20

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

Stiles and I sat outside the ruins of the Hale House in his Jeep. It was the early morning before school, practically the crack of dawn. Derek thought it would be safer there and they could do more research in the family archives that had survived the fire. It had been a few days since the attack at the police station and to say we were both shaken up was an understatement. We had both been so helpless. He had been paralyzed and forced to watch his father be beaten and I was under control of the person who had hurt him. They had put Stiles in counseling at the school. He said it helped but I’m not sure how much I believed him.

“Dad’s asking about you. Why haven’t you answered him?” He asked, staring straight out the windshield. Uncle Noah had called me multiple times, a least a hundred text messages, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

“Because I’m afraid.” I answered honestly, “You didn’t see the look on his face when he saw me with-with the claws and fangs. He looked at me like I was a monster.”

“He’s worried about you.”

“He’s worried about what I am, Stiles.” I looked at him, trying to hold back tears, “I’m the monster from the movies he took us to watch when we were kids. I can’t see him. Not now.” I have been crying a lot lately, but how could I not? None of this was fair? Why couldn't everything just stop? As soon as we stopped Peter and Kate a new and worse threat appeared.

Stiles sighed, “Alright, I get it.” He looked towards the house, “Derek... He treats you well, right?”

I smiled slightly, “Yeah, he does. He tries to be protective but I’m too stubborn for that.”

“I just...” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, “I just wish that none of this would have happened. All this supernatural stuff.”

“I know.” I said softly, “I’ll try to talk to your dad soon, maybe he’ll let me come home.”

“He will, (Y/N). He loves you. I love you too.” He avoided eye contact which is something he did when he was vulnerable. I leaned forward, hugging him tightly, blinking back tears. He wrapped his arms around me, breathing in deeply.

“I love you.” I pulled away, grabbed my bag that he had packed for me of my clothes from home and hopped out of the Jeep. After waving him off, I made my way into the house.

Derek was in the middle of the room, looking through boxes, his back turned towards the door.

“Man,” I said, dropping my bag off on the floor next to him, “I haven’t been here since I threw your uncle through that wall.” I smiled, leaning against his arm. He seemed off, his movements sharp and rigid.

“What’s wrong? Where's the rest of them?” Talking about the betas in the pack.

“They want to leave the pack.” He said, flipping through another book.

“What?” I asked, shocked.

“I can sense that they’re making a decision. All of them.” He let out a deep breath through his nose. I took his hand in mine slowly, hoping to ease his nerves.

“And what happens then? Is it just us?”

His anger spiked, “Well, we don’t have any other allies. Seeing that McCall is working with the hunters. All for some girl.” He grumbled.

“Wars have been fought for less.” I sighed, “I understand your anger. He betrayed us. He... Betrayed me. I mean they want to kill you for what happened to Argent’s wife. All for Allison who has been a little two sided of late.” Scott was my friend, and had been for a long time. I thought I knew the kid inside and out. But I guess I was still surprised by this town. Surprised by people I thought I knew.

“He’s not Chris anymore?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not when he wants to kill you. Besides, I don’t think the treaty he had with my father stands anymore.”

I caught their scent before they came into the room. Erica smelled like flowers and Boyd was like the deep woods. Derek closed the book he had been looking in, turning in their direction. They stood by the stairs, hardly meeting our gaze.

“You've decided.” Derek said like he was resigned to it, “When?”

“Tonight.” Erica said timidly.

“Everyone's gonna be at the game. We figured it was the best time.” Boyd said. I had completely forgotten about the game.

“It's not like we want to-”

Derek took a few steps forward, “What do you want?”

“Since I just turned sixteen a month ago, I wouldn't mind getting my license... I can't do that if I'm dead, you know.” Erica said.

“Well, I told you there was a price. We both did.”

“Yeah, but you didn't say it would be like this!” Boyd said, defending their actions.

“Yeah, but I told you how to survive-- you do it as a pack. And you're not a pack without an Alpha.” Derek turned back towards the stack of books.

“We know.” Boyd said, causing Derek to turn back around quickly. They both seemed anxious.

“You wanna look for another pack? How are you even gonna find one?” Derek asked. Erica looked up at Boyd to speak.

“We think we already did...” They explained how they were running through the woods and stopped. How they heard howling.

“Like, all of a sudden, we heard all this howling. It was unbelievable.” Erica said.

“There must have been a dozen of them-”

“Maybe more!” Erica interjected.

“Yeah, or maybe only two.” Derek scoffed, “You know what the Beau Geste effect is? If they modulate their howls with a rapid shift in tone, two wolves can sound like twenty.”

“Look, that doesn't matter, okay?” Erica said quickly, “There's another pack out there. There's got to be. We've made up our minds.” She looked at me, “You understand, don’t you? You never wanted this for us.”

“No one forced you to take the bite.” I looked at the both of them, they seemed shocked at how cold my voice sounded, “Sure, he changed two impressionable kids, but you could have taken the time to think it over. You heard what you wanted to hear and took it blindly.” Whatever sympathy they thought they would get from me was not something I was willing to give.

“We lost. And it's over. We're leaving.” Boyd finished. Derek didn’t feel anger, more sorrow, guilt, and betrayal. A familiar feeling.

“No. No, you're running. And once you start, you don't stop. You'll always be running.” After he spoke, both of them scurried away. We turned back towards the books, Derek deep in thought.

That’s when I picked up a new scent. A dangerous one.

“No...” My internal voice rang, “It can’t-” Derek grabbed a shard of glass from the table, throwing it back towards the intruder. The sly bastard caught it with one hand, the tip of the shape edge against his throat. We both turned, glaring at the man who was supposed to be dead.

“...I expected a slightly warmer welcome. But, point taken.” Peter said, almost amused. I stayed close to Derek, my eyes never seeming to find a distraction from the monster before us. Peter Hale was like a car wreck: no matter how much you want to look away, you can’t, you don’t want to miss a single movement. Derek kept an arm in front of me to shield me from any incoming attack.

“It's quite a situation you've gotten yourself in here, you two...” Peter said, “I mean, I'm out of commission for a few weeks, and suddenly there's lizard-people, geriatric psychopaths, and Derek's cooking up werewolves from every self-esteem-deprived adolescent in town.” He looked pointedly at Derek.

“What do you want?” Derek asked irritably.

“Well, I want to help.” Peter said innocently, “You're my nephew-- the only relative I have left. And (Y/N), I owe you an apology and I can show you how to be a true matriarch. You know, there's still a lot that I can teach you...Both of you.” He walked closer to us, Derek’s anger growing more and more. “Can we just talk?” He put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. The shoulder closest to me.

Very bad choice.

Derek looked at Peter’s hand, “Sure. Let's talk.” Peter was then thrown across the room into the staircase. He landed to a thud and groan, some wood from the railing falling on top of him.

A few hours went by and I had received a couple messages, namely from Coach and Stiles, both wondering where I was. I looked at the time, the game would start soon, meaning I was missing Coach’s speech. It was the same speech he made every year... It was the speech from Independence Day, but I don’t think he knew any sports movies.

Derek had been beating Peter for a couple of hours, running off his rage and mine. A groan made me look down, Peter was at my feet, panting heavily.

"Ya know, groveling isn't gonna make me forgive you." I stepped to the side, letting Derek grab Peter by the collar and punching him in that smug face of his. I needed to figure out how I could get to the game safely. If I went, that meant Gerard or any other hunter could grab me and use me as leverage to get to Derek. That would kill us both.

Derek growled and kicked Peter, sending him back towards the house. It was a side of the house I had only seen once or twice, when I had to run from the what turned out to be Peter all those months ago.

“You don't actu-actually think that I want to be the Alpha again, do you?” Peter chuckled nervously, panting hard, “That wasn't my finest performance, considering it ended in my death. I mean, I'm usually more-” He sat up. Derek grabbed his collar, rearing his fist back.

“Okay, go ahead! Come on, do it! Hit me. Hit me. I can see that it's cathartic for you!” Peter shouted, causing Derek to hesitate, “You're letting go of all the anger, self-loathing, and hatred that comes with total and complete failure.”

“Hey!” I shouted, coming around and slapping Peter hard across the face, "Watch your tongue."

Peter’s head snapped in the direction of my blow. Slowly bringing it back towards Derek, “I may be the one taking the beating, Derek, but you've already been beaten. So, go ahead. Hit me if that will make you feel better. After all, I did say that I wanted to help.”

Derek shoved his uncle back to the ground, “You can't help me.” He walked towards the main living area. I started to follow.

“You’re wearing the ring.” Peter panted, causing me to pause. I look down at the silver triskele ring, “That was my sister’s wedding ring.” This was Talia’s.... I left the room quickly, following Derek back to the main room of the house. I touched the ring softly.

Talia’s face was close to mine, a sweet smile on her lips. In the reflection of her eyes I saw myself, no older than two or three. Looking down I saw small hands playing with the many rings on her fingers, including the silver triskele.

“You like my rings, don’t you?” She said, her voice higher and more animated, the usual tone someone had when speaking to a young child, “Someday you can have pretty rings like this.” She smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I was brought out of my memory by a text.

UNCLE NOAH:

Stiles is playing... You should be here to see this. For him.

Derek sat on the steps of the stairs, looking over his bloody knuckles. I sat beside him, running my fingers softly over his back. Peter managed to stumble into the room, leaning against a doorway.

“See? Prime example right here-” He began yet another monologue, “I’m not healing as fast. Coming back from the dead isn't easy, you know. I'm not as strong as I used to be. I need a pack. I need an Alpha. An Alpha like you. I need you as much as you need me.” He spoke only to Derek, knowing how vulnerable he could be.

Derek scoffed, “Why would I want help from a total psychopath?”

“First of all, I'm not a total psycho.”

“Coulda fooled me.” I glared.

He titled his head to the side, speaking defensively, “And, by the way, you're the one that slashed my throat wide open. But, we're all works in progress, right? So, we need each other. Sometimes, when you need help, you turn to people you'd never expect.”

"I killed you for a reason.” Derek glared, “You used mind control to kill people, you killed Laura, you tried to kill me, and you tried to force her into creating a new bloodline.

"All for a good reason."

"And that is?"

Peter looked like Stiles when he hadn't come up with a clever comeback, "Come back to me about that." He tried a different approach, “You tried to build your pack. You tried to prepare for the worst. You weren't ready. Because of it, Gerard is winning. He's taking his time. He's toying with Scott. He's going after your wolves, one by one. He's relishing in his victory.”

“How about you tell me something I don't know?” Derek said, getting more and more irritated.

“Oh, I'm going to, and it's gonna prove why you should trust me-- why you need to trust me. Because I'm going to tell you how to stop Jackson.” Both of our heads perked up.

“What do you mean? You know how to kill him?”

“Actually, how to save him.” He licked his lips, “There's a myth that you can cure a werewolf simply by calling out its christian name.”

Derek scoffed, “It's just a myth.”

“Sometimes myths and legends bear a hint of truth. Our name is a symbol of who we are. The Kanima has no identity-- that's why it doesn't seek a pack.”

“...It seeks a master.”

“And who else grows up with no pack? No identity?”

“An orphan.”

“Like Jackson. And right now, his identity is disappearing beneath a reptilian skin, and you need to bring him back.”

“How?”

“Through his heart-- how else?” Peter said as if it had always been the obvious answer.

“You know, in case you hadn't noticed, Jackson doesn't really have much of a heart to begin with...”

“He’s a spoiled prick.” I added.

“Not true.” Peter said, “He'd never admit it, but there is one person-- one person with whom Jackson shared a real bond. One person who can reach him. Who can save him.”

“...Lydia." We both said.

Peter leaned down close, “Your best ally has always been anger, Derek, but what you lack most is heart.” I jerked forward, Derek grabbed my arm, bringing me back to my seat.

“That’s why you’ve always known that you need Scott more than anyone. And even somebody as burned and dead on the inside as me knows better than to underestimate the simple yet undeniable power of human love. Perhaps that’s why you were drawn to our lovely (Y/N). She knew our secrets, yet still human.”

“I’ll show you human-” I growled, my claws sharp and ready to swing.

“Feisty.” He smirked. My phone started ringing and I cursed.

“Shit. I missed the game.” I slipped off the stairs, shoving by Peter on my way into the other room. Scott.

I pressed my phone to my ear: “I know, I’m sorry I missed it. Is Stiles mad?”

“That’s the problem.” Scott said, his voice full of dread.

“What is it?” I asked, gripping onto the doorway.

What he said next practically made my heart stop, “Stiles is missing.”

”I’ll be right there.” I hung up the phone, rushing back into the room. Derek was already on his feet, catching me before I ran into him.

”Stiles’ is missing, we need to find him. Now.” I said hurriedly. He looked me in the eye.

“We’re gonna find him. He’s going to be okay.”

“But what if he isn’t? What if he’s not okay and it’s because I wasn’t there to protect him.” There was a tight ball of emotions in my chest, ready to burst.

“We’ll find him.” He said calmly, leading me out to the car.

The three of us made our way into the school, avoiding Gerard and whoever else he had patrolling the halls. There were a few deputies, we passed one who almost made me gag. I could smell that beef jerky spice rub. He was one to avoid.

We got into the locker room with ease thanks to my keys. We found Isaac and Scott in front of Stiles’ locker. Isaac was holding up a shoe.

"How come you get a shirt and I get a shoe?" Isaac grimaced, his eyes shooting up to look at his two alphas. Scott noticed his expression, turning quickly.

"We need to talk." Derek said. Peter walked up behind us, making a dramatic entrance. As usual.

“All of us.”

“Holy shit.” Scott whispered, “What the hell is this?”

“You know, I thought the same thing when we saw you talking to Gerard at the Sheriff's station...” Derek looked at him pointedly.

Scott’s eyes widened, “Okay, hold on! He-he threatened to kill my mom! And I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do?”

“I'm gonna go with Scott on this one.” Peter said, causing us all to look back, “Have you seen his mom? She's gorgeous!”

“Shut up!” We all said.

Isaac leaned over to Scott, “...Who is he?”

“That's Peter, Derek's uncle. A little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire, and Derek slashed his throat.” Scott glared.

“Hi.” Peter smiled.

“...That's good to know.”

“How is he alive?” Scott asked. I was curious myself.

“Look, the short version is he knows how to stop Jackson... and maybe how to save him.” Derek said, getting more and more irritated.

“Well, that's very helpful... except Jackson's dead.” Isaac dropped the bomb shell.

“What?” Derek and I asked.

“Yeah, Jackson's dead. It just happened on the field.” Scott motioned back to the direction of the lacrosse field.

“Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?” Isaac asked, so incredibly confused.

“Because if Jackson is dead, it didn't just happen-- Gerard wanted it to happen.” Peter said slowly.

“But why?” I looked back at Peter.

“Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out.” He sighed, “And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing. Quickly.”

Back at the Hale house, Peter and Derek were looking around for something that could help us. Scott finished getting off the phone.

“Oh. Oh, they found Stiles.’ He sighed in relief. I let out the breath I had been holding in since he had been on the phone.

“That kid is gonna kill me.” I leaned against the wall, a smile on my face.

“I told you, I looked everywhere.” Derek shouted.

Peter smirked and got down at the ground, looking under the staircase where Derek usually sat, “You didn't look here.” He removed a plank of wood and pulled out a thin rectangle. Has that always been there? Or had it been since the fire?

“What is that, a book?” Derek asked.

“No,” Peter scoffed, “It's a laptop. What century are you living in?” He opened the dinosaur looking laptop, “A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had.” He closed the laptop, seeing that it was still working, “Fortunately, the Argents aren't the only ones who keep records.” He stood up with the laptop, moving into the living room area, Derek and I following behind. Scott was in the corner of the room, talking to his mother. Melissa had gone with the EMT taking Jackson to the hospital for an official autopsy.

“Hey, Mom. I can't talk right now-What's wrong?”

“Something... Definitely something... I don't know what, but I think you're gonna want to see this for yourself.” He looked over at us.

“Go.” I said, motioning my head towards the door, “We’ll stay here.” Scott nodded, rushing out the door.

After a while, Scott called us and explained that Jackson wasn’t as dead as we thought he had been. Derek had the phone on speaker.

“They say he's in some kind of transparent casing made from the venom coming out of his claws...” He said. I grimaced at the thought of it.

“That sounds sufficiently terrifying.” Peter said, not looking up from the laptop screen.

“They also say he's starting to move.” Derek said grimly.

“Okay, look- I think I found something.” We both looked over Peter’s shoulders. “Looks like what we've seen from Jackson is just the Kanima's Beta shape...” Beta shape. That’s definitely not good.

“Well, meaning what? It can turn into something bigger?”

“Bigger and badder.” His voice wavered, meaning that it was definitely worse. My eyes widened as I saw the kanima’s next evolution. It was bigger and it had wings which and longer claws and would be in my nightmares.

“He's turning into that? That has wings!” Derek shouted, looking just as terrified as I did.

“I can see that.” Peter said curtly.

“Are those... more tails?” I asked, really hoping they weren’t what I originally thought.

“No, those are claws.”

“...Great.”

“Scott, bring him to us.” Derek spoke into the phone.

“I'm not sure if we have time for that...”

“Look! Somebody actually made an animation of it. Maybe it's less frightening if we-” He played the video. A loud shriek played over the screen. Peter closed the laptop quickly.

“Nope. Not at all.” He looked back at Derek, “We should probably meet them halfway.”

“Scott, get him out of there now. Go now!” Derek shouted into the phone, sounding more urgent than ever. Derek grabbed my hand, starting to rush with Peter through the house. Peter stopped in front of the door, stopping us from moving forward.

“Derek, we need Lydia.”

Derek growled impatiently, “There's no time for-”

“That's the problem.” Peter interrupted, “We're rushing. We're moving too fast. And, while everyone knows that a moving target is harder to hit, here we are, racing right into Gerard's crosshairs.”

I looked up at Derek, gnawing on the inside of my cheek, “I wouldn’t usually agree with him, you know that. But he’s right.” Satisfied, Peter opened the front door and we all came out. Peter reached for the door handle on the passenger side. I grabbed his hand, pulling it off.

“I don’t think so.” I chuckled and opened the door.

“I’m taller than you.”

“Get in the back, Peter.” Derek shouted, glaring. Peter hummed, getting into the back of the car.

As we drove, I looked over, seeing that Derek hadn’t put his seat belt on. I leaned over, trying to grab it. He swatted my hand away.

“It's not really that important." He grumbled. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not important? Tell that to the seat belt that kept me from being thrown through my car window and killing me.”

“You would have healed.”

"Derek Hale-"

"I am a little busy worrying about a reptilian demon out for blood!" Derek said, glancing at me. Huffing, I sat back in my seat with my arms crossed over my chest. After a moment, Derek sighed loudly, followed by the familiar metal lock of a seatbelt clicking into place. Peter blew out air, followed by the sound of a whip cracking.

Derek looked back in the rear view mirror, eyes red.

We parked in the alley next to the railway depot, waiting for Scott and Isaac to arrive with Jackson. Soon after they pulled up, dragging Jackson’s body bag behind them. And after Scott and Isaac appeared Chris Argent behind them. We got out of the car, waiting around the corner and listening.

“I think he stopped moving...” Isaac panted.

“Where's Derek?” Chris asked. That’s when Derek ran around the corner on all four. Peter and I looked around the corner, seeing him do a flip, then land in a crouching position. Probably flashing his red eyes.

“Someone certainly enjoys making an entrance...” Peter mumbled.

“Must run in the family.” I said casually, smirking a little when he looked down at me.

“I'm here for Jackson, not you.” Chris said.

“Somehow, I don't find that very comforting.” He looked to Scott and Isaac, “Get him inside.” I stepped out to follow behind them when Peter grabbed my arm. I looked down at his hand, then him.

“Taking my hand off.” He removed his hand quickly, “But you need to stay out of this.”

“Why-”

“Because you don’t remember how to fight.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Don’t remember how to fight?”

“Yes, You don’t remember. You were trained by your parents and my sister. You were an excellent fighter.” He looked over my clenched fists, “But when they took your memories, you forgot.”

“I know how to fight.” I glared.

“No, Derek taught you how to defend yourself. You swing your claws and hope to land a blow. That’s not fighting, you’re leaving yourself too open.”

“Look, we don’t have time for this.” I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. My attention was brought to the voices inside the warehouse. We looked in through a nearby window. They surrounded Jackson’s body bag.

“Where are they?” Scott asked, looking around.

“Who?” Derek had his eyes trained on Jackson.

“Peter, (Y/N), and Lydia!” Scott shouted. Derek shook his head, kneeling down and unzipping the body bag.

“Whoa! Hold on a second-” Scott stepped forward, “You said you knew how to save him.”

“We're past that.” Goddamit, Derek. I’m about sick of him doing this. He knew that killing Jackson when there was a possibility to save him wouldn’t go down well with anyone.

“What about-”

“Think about it, Scott!” Derek shouted, “Gerard controls him now. He's turned Jackson into his own personal guard dog, and he set all of this in motion so that Jackson could get even bigger and more powerful.”

Chris stepped forward, “No. No, he wouldn't do that.” He said defensively, “If Jackson's a dog, he's turning rabid, and my father wouldn't let a rabid dog live.”

“Of course not...” Gerard’s brogue echoed through the depot. “Anything that dangerous, that out of control... is better off dead.” I inhaled sharply, my whole body wanted to run into the warehouse to be by Derek’s side but Peter was keeping me back.

“Pay attention to Gerard.” He whispered, “Look at him.”

“I can see him-”

“Look closer. Get his scent.” He whispered. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I could smell metal and gun smoke, but there was something else, something foul.

“He’s dying.” I whispered, opening my eyes. I looked back at the group, watching Derek lift a claws hand to slash Jackson’s throat. That was Jackson beat him to it, stabbing his hand through Derek’s chest and throwing him across the room.

“DEREK!” I screamed, getting out of Peter’s grip and running into the back entrance into the main room of the depot. A cocking gun made he stop abruptly, Gerard had a gun trained on me.

“Please.” I begged, my voice shaking. Not only from watching the man I love be skewered and thrown through the room, but from the pain we shared. He only chuckled, motioning for me to join Scott and Isaac on the other side of Jackson’s body bag. I slowly stood besides them, watching Gerard and the area Derek was thrown in.

"Please get up... Please don't die on me."

“Well done to the last, Scott.” Gerard said smugly, “Like the concerned friend you are, you brought Jackson to Derek to save him. You just didn't realize that you were also bringing Derek to me.” A whistle shot through the air, and the next thing we knew, Isaac had an arrow in his shoulder. Isaac fell back, grunting.

“Allison?” Scott sounded shocked, as if there were any other people we knew who worked exclusively with crossbows. Scott and I rushed over to Isaac, moving to get him away from her line of fire. A shot rang out, Jackson’s reptilian hiss echoed. More gunfire followed. We got Isaac behind a cement pillar. He was grunting in pain, gritting his teeth together.

“This is gonna hurt.” I said, pulling the arrow from his shoulder. Isaac yelled through his teeth. A roar cut through the air, making us all look back.

“Derek.” I smiled. We walked back, growing claws and fangs, ready to fight Jackson before he fully transformed. Scott and Isaac walked forward and as I stepped up, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck, followed by darkness.

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

Read part 21 here!

And there is where the story takes a turn, see I told you we'd get there.

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#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

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icouldntfinditsoiwroteit · 4 years ago

Text

The clones get adopted. Part one

So I saw this video that talks about a platoon of snow troopers that appear on legends, in this video they talk about how they where obliterated by the natives, but at the end the Jedi manage to make peace with them, due to this I felt that the clones could have been saved or at least some of them but none did, and I will not stand for that, I'm gonna make a story where this clones not only survive but meet and unexpected "friend".

Shiv thought that someone up there must really hate them, besides being stuck in these frozen rock of a planet the cold had made the rations loose any flavor the once had.

"Hey Shiv, are you going to eat your rations or not?" A voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Y-Yes, I was just thinking," Shiv answered before taking a bite of the ration.

"Hey stuttering is Stutter's job," The vod mocked.

"Hey!!" Stutter jabbed the mocking brother.

"Say whatever you want Lost," Shiv mocked.

"Lost isn't my name," Lost glared.

"Tell you what, if you manage to not get lost next time we have to find some place I'll stop calling you Lost,"

"Very funny mister Shivers, I won't get lost next time if you convince the lieutenant to let me on the scout team," Lost finished his ration.

"Let you on the scout team?" Asked a older voice.

"Sir!" They all saluted.

"At ease men, I'm just here to look for a replacement, Frost broke his ankle and I need someone for the scout team, So your in luck," Lieutenant Alfie explained.

"This is your chance to change your name Lost," Shiv nudged Lost who had gone pale at the info and Stutter gave a mocking smile.

"Y-Yeah my chance,"

"Either way I need to know because they are leaving now," The lieutenant reminded.

"C'mon Lo-Lost, thi-this is you-your ch-chan- your ch-chance," Stutter gave a thumbs up.

"Or are you scared," Shiv whispered.

"No, I'm going," Lost finally said to the surprise of his two batchmates.

Lieutenant Alfie chuckled before he walked away with Lost following him.

"Do you think he'll get lost on the way there?" Shiv asked.

Stutter nodded before they started laughing.

............................................................................................................

"The scout team hasn't come back, they should already be here," Shiv paced.

Stutter watched him just as worried but knowing that he needed to stay calm for their sake.

"The last scout team had already told us about hearing weird things,"

"What if there is something out there and it got the scout team," Shiv speculated worrying himself even more.

Shiv only stopped pacing when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, Stutter was holding him still in order to calm down.

"We need to calm down, the more we worry the less we help" Stutter signed.

"Your right, maybe they are running a little-" Before Shiv could finish his sentence another trooper stormed in.

"There's something you need to see!" He said before running back.

The two troopers didn't need anymore convincing before they ran after the brother who was leading them to one of the windows.

"What are we supposed to see?" Shiv asked.

"Here use this," The brother gave them a pair of electrobinoculars.

With them they zoomed in to where the brother had told them, there they saw something that made their blood run cold.

"No, this can't be," Shiv took a step back in shock.

"I'm sorry," Came the lieutenant's voice from behind them.

"We lost contact with them a while ago, we thought that it was the bad signal but it wasn't," The brother informed remorsefully.

"What could have done this," Stutter managed to sign.

"We don't know," Lieutenant Alfie admitted while they looked in the direction of where the lone helmet that had Lost's painting stood impaled to a spike.

...........................................................................................................................

It's been a while since the first time they lost their brothers on the scout mission, but it wasn't the last either, little by little they where all taken out by force knows what, until now that only Shiv and Frost remain.

The tried to call for help but their equipment didn't work anymore, Stutter had been on the last team that disappeared.

Now Shiv and Frost where trying to move somewhere safer, yeah it wasn't their smartest idea but at this point what did they have to lose.

"Oi, your supposed to be sleeping, when it's my turn to sleep I want you wide awake," Frost scolded.

"Sorry, I was just writing a letter,"

"To who?" Frost head tilted.

"An old friend," Shiv explained.

"Do you think it'll get to him?" Frost was never a pessimistic nor optimistic, he was realistic, that had gotten him his name.

"No, he died in Umbara," Shiv sighed.

"Sorry," Frost looked away.

"Don't be, it's been a while since he died,"

"Well th- AAARGH!!!" Before Frost could say anything else giant claws snatched him from behind.

While Shiv jumped to his feet another claw carve a hole where he had been before the tent was lifted up and trowed away by a giant creature, this left him in the middle of a circle of this creatures.

*This is how I die?* Shiv saw how one of them held Frost's limp body by the arm.

*Is he dead?* Shiv saw Frost's body give a small jerk, he was alive!

*Are they going to kill us now?* Panic rouse in his body at thought of being killed slowly.

This panic was replaced by the one that appeared when one of the creatures launched at him, he closed his eyes bracing himself for the pain but it never arrived, instead he heard something heavy colliding with the monster.

He felt a body fall besides him and when he opened his eyes he saw that it was Frost.

*What the hell???!!* He looked up and saw a creature that moved so fast that it only looked like a shadow attacking the white furred monsters.

This was a perfect distraction so he didn't wait another second and picked Frost up to get away from there.

*Where do I even go?!* Shiv panicked remembering that there was no safe place to go and by what he heard behind him the creature was still distracting the white monsters.

He had managed to get them barely a quarter of a mile away from the fighting creatures, with the storm he was unable to hear if they where still fighting.

*Dammit, at this rate we're going to die frozen,* He grimaced but then he heard what sounded like heavy steps and they where nearing them incredibly fast.

When he turned around he was able to make out the outline from one of those white monsters and it was running towards them.

*Kriff!!!* He started to move as fast as he could but he knew that it was impossible to outrun that thing, he heard how it jumped to crush him but before it could reach him something pushed him aside.

It was the creature from before, and it was scaring off the white monster, when the white monster retreated the bigger creature turned to look at them.

*Is it going to eat us?* Shiv thought while the creature approached them slowly as if wary.

The creature slowly closed the distanced between them and it lowered it's head to be at the same level as Shiv and Frost, Shiv could feel it's breath.

*It's warm, it doesn't smell bad either,* Was the las coherent thought that Shiv was able to make before darkness engulfed him.

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

So I saw this video that talks about a platoon of snow troopers that appear on legends, in this video they talk about how they where obliterated by the natives, but at the end the Jedi manage to make peace with them, due to this I felt that the clones could have been saved or at least some of them but none where, and I will not stand for that, I'm gonna make a story where this clones not only survive but meet and unexpected "friend". The video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_E1Jr-g7UM

#clone troopers #clones #clone wars #the clone wars #AU #Clone OC's #Fuck canon #even if it's legends #especially if it includes a clone's death #tcw anakin #captain rex #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker

21 notes · View notes

bluenet13 · 4 years ago

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Heroes Tonight

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: 911: Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Prompt: Taking the Bullet

Summary: Life is but a series of split-second decisions, and when you were born a hero, any one of them can end it all in the blink of an eye. Especially when your boyfriend is about to be shot and you don't think, just leap. Or, Carlos and T.K. should have been safe. It was only their day off. But when a convenience store robbery walks in on them, they end up in even more trouble than if they had been on shift.

Links: ff.net - AO3

"This was a really good idea," T.K. says softly, before taking another bite of his cherry ice cream, "thanks for insisting we do something special."

Carlos smiles, and squeezes the fingers that are intertwined in his. "I'm all about staying in bed all day on a day off, especially if it's with you. But every once in a while I like to go out and show the world that the prettiest boy in Texas is all mine."

"You're a dork," T.K. says, a teasing smile on his face, which quickly turns into a fake pout. "But… only in Texas? And what about the other days?"

Carlos sets his mango sorbet down and captures T.K's mouth in his, anything else that T.K. wanted to say dying on his lips, as he parts them in an invitation and deepens the kiss. Carlos' hands now on either side of his boyfriend's face, as T.K's moves his to Carlos' back and draws him close.

When they both need some air, they break the kiss and smile at each other shily. Carlos then grabs his phone and takes a selfie of the two, doing quick work of posting it to his Instagram. "There you go, now the whole world knows... Maybe we can get Marjan to reblog it so even more people know," Carlos lets out with a breathy laugh, then snickers when T.K. playfully smacks his arm. "As for other days... on those I like to show that boy how happy I'm that he chose me." Carlos again continues right from where T.K. left off, his smile only faltering for a second as he remembers a time when a failed past relationship made T.K. choose fear over him.

"I love you," T.K. breathes out, "and if you let me, I'll gladly spend the rest of my life showing you how I choose you over and over again."

"Rest of our lives," Carlos echoes wishfully, "I like the sound of that."

Carlos and T.K. share another kiss, before T.K. interrupts the moment with a chuckle. "I think the rest of our lives is going to be cut frustratingly short if we don't get out of here and to the Ryder household soon."

Seeing the time, Carlos blanches. Quickly finishing the last of his ice cream cone in one swallow, then grabbing T.K's hand and pulling them both towards the parking lot.

Carlos and T.K. had already agreed to meet the team for another 126 hangs before Carlos convinced T.K. to take advantage of the first day of summer landing on their day off to go on an adventure. So they had spent their Saturday on Zilker Park, then playing a round at Peter Pan Mini-Golf, which Carlos had insisted was a real Austin attraction and mini-golf tradition that T.K. needed to experience. Then stopping at The Range after much insistence from T.K. for Carlos to teach him how to shoot. Argument which had been going on for weeks and which Carlos had instantly metaphorically shot down as soon as T.K. tried to argue that it wasn't just for fun, since they never knew when he would be taken hostage again, and learning how to shoot could help him defend himself. At that, Carlos had mumbled that making the switch to paramedic was supposed to be safer, then told T.K. there was no way he would let him handle a gun, as he already was a trouble magnet without adding firearms into the mix. But T.K. was nothing if not stubborn, so today he had sweetly offered to drive when they left the park, and next thing Carlos knew, they were already parked in front of The Range, T.K. smiling up hopefully at him. Never able to deny his man anything, Carlos had begrudgingly agreed. And so they had spent their next two hours in the shooting range, before ending their magical day at the ice cream parlor.

That's how now Carlos and T.K. were very late. Which wouldn't be a problem if not because they were already in hot water after being no-shows at the last three team gatherings. This time, Marjan had said in no uncertain terms that they were both expected to be there or they would be forced to take a time-out every third shift. Well, that idea had come from Mateo, always the sentimental wanting to keep the band together and preserve the status quo, but Marjan and Paul had easily agreed, much to both Carlos and T.K's displeasure. Judd hadn't particularly cared either way, saying his only job was getting the house ready for the team.

-x-x-x-

"I'll be back in a sec," Carlos says, as T.K. parks the car in front of a convenience store a few blocks from Judd and Grace's house.

"I can go with you," T.K. offers, already turning the key and opening his door.

"Sure?" Carlos inquires softly, "I don't mind if you'd better just wait here."

T.K. shakes his head, shooting Carlos a confident smirk. "I'll just get some snacks while you check the fridge."

Nodding, Carlos gives T.K's hand a quick squeeze before following him out of the car. As much as Carlos always wants to protect T.K, he makes a point to remember that living normally while in proximity to alcohol is a natural part of his boyfriend's recovery.

Intertwining their fingers together, Carlos and T.K. then walk into the store, completely oblivious to the two men arguing next to their car, three spots away from theirs.

Parting in different directions, Carlos goes to pick some beer, while T.K. tries to decide which potato chips brand is better, then meeting back in the center aisle and walking together towards the front. "Wait, I forget Mateo wanted some Takis," T.K. says, cringing, then runs back to the snacks aisle.

As soon as he meets Carlos again in the center aisle, T.K. sees the six-packs discarded to the side, and turning to his boyfriend, he easily recognizes the no-nonsense posture and fiery eyes that Carlos keeps reserved for when he's on shift. But before he has a chance to ask what happened, Carlos moves his finger to his lips in the universal sign for please stay quiet and don't get us into any trouble, and grabs his hand, forcing them both to kneel, as he begins to take quiet steps back.

That's when the voices coming from the front start to filter into T.K's mind, eyes going wide as he realizes what's going on. "...quietly open the register and no one will get hurt. Speak or call for help and you won't live to say another word." A man is threatening in a hushed voice. Then there's silence, and Carlos and T.K. can only assume that whoever is tending the register is complying with the robber's demands.

When Carlos feels that they have backed away enough, he drops T.K's hand after giving it a final squeeze and reaches for the phone in his back pocket.

"We have to do something," T.K. whispers, a broom in one hand, and shovel in the other, his face scrunching as he silently tests which would make a better weapon. Because, of course, and much to Carlos' dismay, he had walked them to a mix aisle containing household, yard and other miscellaneous items.

"We're not doing anything," Carlos warns, "and drop those things!" He exhales long and slow, his hand clawing through his hair as he tries to take control of the situation. "I already messaged my boss, someone should be here any moment now."

"It will be too late, we can't let them get away," T.K. argues, "come on, you're a cop, you can't tell me you're okay with this."

Releasing a pained exhale, Carlos closes his eyes for a second. "Of course I'm not okay with this! But I'm a cop because I know what to do in these situations," he chides, "and I'm not okay with my hothead boyfriend getting hurt either. So, you're staying right where you are," he finished in a low, threatening tone.

T.K. nods and stays put, even if the fighter inside is shouting at him to do anything but that. But with Carlos here, he can't do something stupid and risk his boyfriend's life.

Those thoughts however come to mean nothing as soon as the bell above the door rattles loudly and a mother and her daughter come in, both stumbling and crying out loud as soon as a gun is pointed in their direction.

"Oh, crap," Carlos mutters, turning quickly to T.K. with a pleading look on his eyes. "Please," Carlos tries but T.K. is already crawling forward to get a better look. "T.K!" Carlos hisses but he's too late, and is forced to follow instead.

"You two, come here," the robber directs, grabbing the lady by the arm, pulling her along with the girl, who's holding on to her mother's skirt. "Just stay here, and don't try to interfere," he says, pushing them both down towards the floor, behind a hot bar full of hot dogs, taquitos and pizza slices.

With that done, the man moves back to the register and continues pulling out bills and dropping them onto a bag his partner is holding open. "Come on, man. That's more than enough. Let's go before someone else decides to crash this party." The second robber pleads, speaking for the first time. His eyes looking nervous as he moves them from the register to the front door and back again.

And as if summoned, the bell rings again, and a couple of teenagers step into the store. "Mierda!" One swears loudly as his eyes move between the two men, the cash register, and the terrified store clerk whose back is as far as it would go into the wall, his hands raised and slightly shaking.

"Marcos, vamonos," the older teenager says as he grabs his companion's hand and tries to walk back outside.

"You're not going anywhere," the first robber declares, his gun already being pointed towards the two boys, "we don't need no one calling the cops."

"We won't, we won't. Please, just let us go. My brother and I won't say anything. I promise," the teenager begs in a heavily accented voice. Then out of nowhere, he opens the door and pushes his younger brother out of the store. At the same time a shot rings out and the boy collapses in a pool of crimson.

Back in the rear of the store, the shot seems to set something loose in T.K's mind, because not two seconds later, he's turning to Carlos with an apology in his eyes. I'm sorry, T.K. mouths, then gives Carlos' hand a final squeeze, before he drops it and begins crawling towards the front of the store.

-x-x-x-

Getting to his feet, T.K. raises his hands just as the two robbers notice him for the first time. A lump making its way up his throat as he stares down the barrel of a gun. "I'm a paramedic, I can help. Let me..." he begins to say, but his words are cut short as the gun is pressed directly to his temple.

"And where did you come from," the man asks, "is there anyone else here?"

"No, I was alone, hiding in the back," T.K. explains, releasing a relieved breath as both he and the man with the gun scan the area where he came from but come out empty. "Please, let me help him. He's going to bleed out," T.K. tries again, pointing with his chin towards the teenager.

"Go! But I don't want any more surprises or I'll shoot you both," the man angrily concedes.

"I need a first aid kit," T.K. says. "Please," he adds as an afterthought, because he's open to being polite to the man threatening him with a gun, if it can potentially stop him from getting shot, again.

After getting a nod from the man, the store clerk lowers his hands for the first time, reaching down towards the counter and grabbing a small red bag that he throws to T.K, before raising his hands again just as quickly.

Catching the bag, T.K. wastes no time. Just barely acknowledging the robbers with a clipped thank you, before rushing to the boy and kneeling next to him. By now the boy is unconscious, his wound bleeding freely. Not ideal, but T.K. honestly thinks it's a small mercy as he roughly pushes gauze into the opening. After the wound is packed, T.K. curses to himself when he sees there's no chest seal or sterile medical plastic on the kit. Reaching for his wallet, he instead grabs his credit card, and carefully places it over the hole, then uses some medical tape to hold it in place, doing his best to form an airtight seal on the wound to keep air from being sucked into the wound and preventing the lung from collapsing, while also making sure to leave a small opening to let out air.

With that done, T.K. turns back to the robbers, wondering why the hell they're still here and where the damn cops are, when the boy starts to stir, mumbling in pain. Wishing he could switch places with Carlos, T.K. tries his best to keep him calm, whispering whatever comforting word he can think of in Spanish and promising that his brother is safe. Absentmindedly, T.K. also wonders where Carlos is cause he hasn't heard a single sound coming from the back.

Turning to the rear of the store, T.K. tries to find any sign of his boyfriend, but instead he notices the reflection of blue and red lights bouncing off a potato chips display. Keeping any expression from his eyes and his breathing even and calm, T.K. turns to the door, trying to understand what's happening outside.

Seeing cops beginning to get close, weapons and shields at the ready, T.K. carefully starts to pull the boy towards the first aisle and away from the front of the door so he doesn't get trampled down.

"What are you doing?" One of the men asks, as he and his partner begin to walk towards the door, eyes going wide as they see what T.K. just saw. "Did you call the cops? Or maybe it was that damn brother of yours," he all but shouts, gun going up as his finger tightens on the trigger.

Not knowing what else to do, T.K. raises to his feet and stands protectively in front of the boy, his lips parting as he tries to form words, but before he settles on anything in particular, a voice booms from outside, no doubt amplified by a megaphone.

As a man, who T.K. assumes is commander of S.W.A.T, or whoever came to negotiate their release, asks the men to turn themselves in before anyone gets hurt, the one who's clearly the leader swears loudly, as he begins to take steps back. Then when he feels far away enough from danger, he begins to pace, his gun moving widely along with his thoughts and words.

A telephone ringing is the only thing that stops the pacing, as the man angrily grabs it and starts shouting demands. Not smart, T.K. knows but what can he expect from two guys that took like 20 minutes to rob a convenience store. Not able to hear the other end of the call, T.K. just sighs as the robber asks for a car with a full tank, and for the cops to leave so they can drive away, threatening to shoot everyone if his demands are not met, before he throws the phone into a wall, the device breaking on impact.

Knowing there's no way out now, the firefighter turned paramedic tries to add his two cents in an attempt to get everyone safely out of this situation. "Come on, man. Think this through. The cops are already here, they won't just let you go. Turn yourselves in and I can say this was just a big misunderstanding." T.K. has no idea how he would do that, but he can only hope the men are dumb enough to believe his empty promise.

"But we shot someone," the second man whispers, voice shaking. "There's nothing you can say that would justify that."

What a surprise, the one not in charge is actually the smart one, T.K. thinks and chuckles inwardly. "That's okay. He just came in too quickly and scared you guys. We can explain that to the cops," T.K. tries his best to sound convincing.

Seeing the leader drop the gun to his side, T.K. has a second to think that his words must be sinking in and they will turn themselves in. But there's a reason why he's a firefighter and paramedic, and not a cop. Because next he knows he hears someone shout his name, just as the gun is lifted again and a single shot resonates all around him. Everything happening before he even saw it coming.

T.K. waits for the remembered pain, but it never comes. Instead his mind barely recognizes the voice of his boyfriend as the one who screamed his name, just as the man in question lands on the floor in front of him. Blood already beginning to pool under him.

As soon as T.K's mind comprehends that Carlos just jumped in front of a bullet for him, he tries to run to his side, but the robber is now standing in front of him and as soon as T.K. moves he swings the gun hard against his temple. Stunned, T.K. stumbles backward as tears cloud his vision, and he can only wonder if they're because of the hit or due to the fact his boyfriend just got shot.

Feeling like he has nothing left to lose now, and throwing what's left of his self-preservation out the window, T.K. launches himself forward, tackling the man. Both paramedic and bad guy land hard on the floor and instantly begin to struggle against each other as they fight for control of the one weapon. The robber manages to land the first hit, punching T.K. on the face, but he just shakes his head and swings, connecting with the man's nose and feeling it break on impact. Taking advantage of his bit of good fortune stunning his assailant, T.K. takes hold of the gun and raises to hit feet, backing away from the offender on the ground.

Trying to remember everything Carlos taught him earlier today, T.K. sets his feet down and squares his shoulders as he points the gun at the man who just shot his boyfriend. But before he can cock the gun or even really think about pressing the trigger, T.K. instead disassembles the weapon and throws it to the ground. Not only because his oath says that he's supposed to save people, not be judge and executioner, but because T.K. knows Carlos would never want him to hurt someone on his behalf.

Fight over with and save for the time being, T.K. stands paralyzed as he stares down at Carlos, bleeding out on a dirty store floor in front of him, after being shot with a bullet meant for him.

-x-x-x-

As T.K. took care of the injured teenager, Carlos had stayed hidden in the back. Grateful that his boyfriend was just working quietly and not doing anything special to put himself in even greater danger.

Keeping an eye out on T.K. and the robbers, Carlos had text his boss as the men continued to wipe the cash register clean, moving then to the mother's purse. He had done his best to keep calm as he shared with his boss the internal layout of the store, and information on the number of people inside and where everyone was located. But when the commander of S.W.A.T had started making demands, which were only followed by the leader of the pair making even more demands over the phone, Carlos realized he had seen many stories like this before. And rarely, did any of them end peacefully.

Knowing the men wouldn't voluntarily give themselves up, and not wanting his worst fears to come true, Carlos had begun to crawl forward. Luckily T.K. had been focused on the man with the gun and the injured boy, and the man with the gun on T.K. and the cops, so no one had noticed Carlos getting closer.

When T.K. had started trying to plead with the men to turn themselves in, Carlos had the sudden urge to kill his boyfriend himself. But then T.K. seemed to be gaining ground so he allowed himself a brief smile. Before his cop training kicked in and Carlos recognized the man was not accepting defeat, but preparing to go out in a blaze of glory.

And suddenly Carlos knows what is about to happen. And what he has to do.

"T.K!" Carlos shouts, at the same time as he closes his eyes and leaps.

The pain is instantaneous as Carlos collapses to the floor. Darkness already nudging at the edges of his vision.

With all his energy being used on just being able to take one breath after the other, Carlos barely notices the robber walking towards T.K. before the man is raising his gun and Carlos stops breathing altogether when he thinks he's about to shoot at T.K. again and this time he can't do anything to protect him. But the man just pistol whips T.K, forcing Carlos to release a nervous exhale. Because another hit to the head is not ideal, but definitely better than the alternative.

But then Carlos gets another urge to shoot T.K. himself, because his boyfriend launches himself against the robber and they begin to struggle on the ground. And before Carlos can even try to get up and help, T.K. is standing and pointing the gun at the man, making Carlos curse silently because why did he teach him how to shoot. But T.K. being T.K. never disappoints him, and does what Carlos himself would have done, then seems to lose the remaining of his energy and just stumbles and stares at Carlos with teary, guilt-ridden eyes.

Just then the doors to the store burst open and the scene around them turns to full-blown chaos as cops and paramedics rush inside. Doing his best to ignore everything going around him, Carlos focuses solely on T.K, because he can feel a lot of blood pooling below him and if he's about to die he wants his boyfriend to be the last sight he sees. So, doing his best to clear his eyes, Carlos shakes his head and looks up, smiling at T.K. who just dropped to his knees beside him.

Carlos parts his lips to try to say something to his boyfriend, but he's not listening. "No, no, no," T.K is saying over and over again, his already blood stained hands going to Carlos' chest as he tries to stop the flow of the blood which has already soaked his shirt.

Talking off his flannel, T.K. pushes it into the wound on Carlo's chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know it hurts, but I need to stop the bleeding," T.K. soothes when Carlos grunts and tries to move away. "Damn it! Why is this blood not stopping?" Discarding the saturated shirt to the side, T.K. uses his own hands again, blood seeping through his fingers.

"T.K, it's okay," Carlos tries to say, but stops as he coughs and chokes on a mouthful of blood. "Please stop and look at me," Carlos whispers as T.K. continues trying to stop the bleeding, so he weakly raises a hand and catches T.K's, intertwining their fingers together. "Whatever happens, everything... everything will be okay," Carlos promises, even as more blood trickles down his mouth, "you'll be okay. I love you, T.K."

"No, no, no!" T.K. continues his chant, tears sliding down his face as he desperately shakes his head. "Please, Carlos…"

"I'm sorry," Carlos says with a pained gasp, weakly reaching out with one hand and running it through T.K's hair, stopping on the bruise already beginning on his temple and stroking softly. By now he can hear muffled voices around him but can't make out any words and he knows that he's fading. Then he sees T.K's lips moving and desperately tries to read the meaning behind his words, but his eyes are closing and he's just so tired. When his lids finally close, Carlos can see unshed tears pressing against them, but instead he chooses to focus on the last image he saw. That of two cops grabbing T.K. by the arms and pulling him from Carlos, his boyfriend's teary eyes pleading, as T.K. begged him to hang on and open his eyes.

-x-x-x-

The door opening behind him and a multitude of emergency personnel rushing inside, springs T.K. back into action.

Forgetting all about the boy whose life he just saved, and ignoring the cops and paramedics around him, T.K's only focus is the man bleeding in front of him. He drops to his knees, doing his best to ignore Carlos' attempts to talk, because it sounds suspiciously like his boyfriend wants to say goodbye and he's not ready for that, instead he concentrates on using his shirt, then his hands, as he tries to stop the bleeding. As Carlos grunts, T.K. does his best to push his guilt down, hating that he's hurting him but willing to do whatever is necessary to save his life.

As Carlos continues trying to call his attention, T.K. can only continue his chant and work because if he stops to listen he knows he will break down, and that is not going to help Carlos. But then his boyfriend grabs his hand and squeezes weakly, and T.K. crumbles. Because Carlos' tear-streaked face is looking directly at him, and there's blood on his lips, and he is obviously dying.

But Carlos can't die so T.K. shakes his head and continues to chant, "no, no, no!" His words, a plea for anyone willing to listen. Then he pleads to the man himself but T.K. can see Carlos' eyes are beginning to close and then he's apologizing. Carlos' hand softly caressing his boyfriend's hair, because even when he is bleeding out, Carlos is still more worried about T.K.

As Carlos goes silent, T.K realizes someone else is talking to him, and there are also people kneeling to his side, and someone is grabbing his arm from behind, but he does his best to ignore it all. "I love you, too," he whispers instead, because he didn't say it back and if this is Carlos' last moment, then T.K. needs to make sure he knows. But he doesn't think Carlos understands because he scrunches his face in confusion before his eyes finally slip shut. "Carlos, please, you can't do this to me, to us… please fight… Please, open your eyes." T.K chokes on his own sobs, and then he's being pulled away from Carlos, two sets of hands grabbing him from behind.

"Son, please. Let the paramedics work. And they need to check you out too," a cop, who is not Carlos, but might be his boss, T.K. can't really remember, is saying to him. "That's a lot of blood."

With that comment, T.K. looks down at himself, his stomach threatening to revolt at the sight, but he pushes it down and shakes his head. "It's not mine," he mumbles, pushing away from everyone. He stumbles backwards, almost collapsing, but steadies himself on the same potato chips' display that first alerted him to the cops' presence. If only he hadn't seen them and tried to play hero.

Feeling his anger and guilt begin to overpower him, T.K. uses the last of his strength and swings his arm hard against the display. The sudden movement makes him feel lightheaded, and for the first time, T.K. notices the nausea and headache. Blinking his eyes a few times, he lifts his hand and touches his temple and winces, then frowns when he sees his fingers covered in wet blood. But he focuses on the dried crimson staining his fingers, and suddenly T.K. is stumbling to the back of the store where he remembers seeing a bathroom and standing in front of a run-down sink as he roughly rubs his hands, trying to get the blood, Carlos' blood, out of his skin.

After his hands are as clean as they will be with just water, T.K. stares at himself in the mirror, absentmindedly wondering if the cop had been talking about the blood on his clothes, which is undoubtedly the boy's and Carlos', or about the one that he now sees flowing down the side of his face. Not particularly caring about the answer, T.K. feels the need to strip off his clothes because he just can't keep seeing all this blood that should be inside Carlos' body. But shaking his head, he just sighs and exits the bathroom instead.

As soon as he's back in the front of the store, T.K's stomach drops as he notices the amount of blood on the ground, then the absence of one of the men whose it belonged to, but before he can ask, he sees the stretcher being pushed into a waiting ambulance. T.K. tries to run outside to follow, but with his adrenaline fading, and all his discomforts finally making themselves known, he just swings wildly as his vision dims and he feels arms pulling him down into a stretcher.

"No," T.K whispers, struggling to get up. "I'm going with him. You can treat me in the ambulance... or I can wait until we get to the hospital. Just save Carlos, please," he begs, voice breaking at the end.

The paramedics prepare to argue, but a voice T.K. only heard once but still would recognize anywhere, speaks next to them. "Let him go." Steadying himself on the stretcher, T.K. turns to find Gabriel Reyes staring back at him. "Let him ride with his boyfriend."

"Thank you, sir," T.K. says, then wastes no time and climbs into the ambulance, sitting on a bench next to the stretcher and instantly taking one of Carlos' hands in his.

"Just take good care of my son. I will be by the hospital as soon as we're done here." And by done here, T.K. knows Mr. Reyes means making sure everyone remotely at fault for what happened to his son is sitting in a cell, without any possibility of parole. So he just nods, before the double doors of the ambulance are closed, cutting any further conversation short.

And whatever happens next at the convenience store is lost to both T.K. and Carlos as their magical day ends with another trip to Dell Seton Medical Center.

-x-x-x-

Opening his eyes, Carlos' first conscious thought is asking himself why everything hurts. He then tries to move his hand to rub his tired eyes, but finds an IV there and decides to leave it alone. Trying to move his other hand, Carlos sees no IV or tubing, but his hand still feels glued to the bed, so he turns his eyes downward and sees another hand attached to his, their fingers intertwined together. Following it to its owner, Carlos sees T.K. slumped on a very uncomfortable-looking chair next to him. The sight steals his breath away for a moment, as all the memories of the last day come crashing down on him.

So, Carlos' second conscious thought is wondering how he can still be alive when there was so much blood. Maybe this is all a cruel dream and I'm still in surgery, Carlos thinks, but as soon as his eyes land on his boyfriend again, seeing him unharmed except for a white bandage on his head and brace on his other hand, Carlos pleads with whoever is listening for this to be real. Because if T.K. is okay, nothing else matters.

There's no third conscious thought, as the pull of whatever drugs they're giving him is too strong and Carlos drifts back to sleep. But not before he squeezes T.K's hand, and softly promises that he will see him soon.

-x-x-x-

One of the next times Carlos wakes up, he quickly notices there's no hand in his, instead T.K. is lying on the bed next to him, one of his hands under his head holding it up, the other one carefully set on top of Carlos' chest, as his eyes focus on the rise and fall that tells him Carlos is still alive.

Wanting a moment to take it all in, Carlos says nothing and just stares at his boyfriend, thanking their lucky stars because they're both okay. A few seconds later, still saying nothing, Carlos just moves his free hand and sets it over T.K's, intertwining their fingers from above.

Turning away from their joined hands, T.K lets out a small squeak, tho later he would argue it was only a gasp, then looks up and smiles at Carlos. "Hey babe, glad to see you awake," he says softly, "you really scared me today."

Carlos begins to say something, but his dry throat makes it hard to talk and he ends up coughing instead.

"Here, don't talk yet." T.K. quickly turns to a table next to the bed and grabs a cup of water, setting the straw in front of Carlos so he can drink easily. "Go slow."

Carlos drinks a few, tiny sips, letting the cold water soothe his throat and waits a moment before he tries to speak again. "Thank you."

"Anytime," T.K. whispers, then turns back to the bed and gets closer so he can kiss Carlos' forehead. His lips lingering above as his eyes look down on him with as much guilt and pain as Carlos as ever seen there.

"I'm sorry I scared you, but you also scared me a lot," Carlos admits, barely stifling a grunt as he slowly lifts his head to press a kiss to T.K's lips. "And I'm also glad you're okay."

"You shouldn't have done that," T.K. mumbles, lowering himself back onto the bed as he continues to stare at his boyfriend, as if trying to convince himself that he really is okay. "When you said I wasn't allowed to get shot again, that didn't mean you could just jump in front of a bullet meant for me." With that admission, his eyes glaze over and he squeezes them shut to stop any tears from falling.

"I'm sorry, T.K, but I couldn't just do nothing and see you get shot right in front of me," Carlos says honestly, even when he knows his action forced T.K. to do just that but still not regretting his decision. "Besides, at the moment, I didn't think, I just did."

"That's not how this works..." T.K. begins, but Carlos cuts him short.

"This works however way it ends with both of us alive at the end of the day," Carlos finishes for him.

T.K. opens his mouth to say Carlos didn't know that would happen when he took that bullet for him, that he could have died, but honestly, he doesn't think it matters. Because T.K. would have done the same thing for Carlos, and they both know it. So why delve on it now.

"Thank you," T.K. says instead, "and sorry for also worrying you. I just couldn't let the boy die."

"You saved his life… both our lives," Carlos says proudly, "a doctor came before, the boy is okay. His brother also. He stayed outside and helped explain things to the cops when they got there," he answers the unspoken question on T.K's eyes.

T.K just nods, the events of the day still too fresh for him to say much. So Carlos and T.K. just fall into silence for the next few minutes, eyes locked on each other but no words being exchanged.

Raising his hand, Carlos runs it through T.K's hair, stopping when he reaches the white bandage. "You okay?" He asks softly, breaking the silence in the room.

"You just spent four hours in surgery to fix a hole in your chest and you're asking if I'm okay?" T.K. wonders incredulously.

"I will always worry about you," Carlos says sincerely, "and… I'm very high on painkillers, I can see you're not."

Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, T.K's sighs, for once wishing Carlos didn't know him so well. "I'm okay, or I will be. They offered some OTC painkillers but you know I'd rather not."

"Okay," Carlos says simply. He wishes he could do something to alleviate T.K's pain but he knows he can't. This battle is something T.K. always undertakes alone, but as every other time, he will just be here to hold his hand while he toughs it out. "Come here," he says, pulling T.K to him and running his fingers soothingly over his scalp.

Sighing, T.K carefully rests his head over Carlos' shoulder, mindful of all the wires and tubes around him. "Next time we're not going out, and just staying in bed all day, just like this," he says with a breathy laugh, his eyes beginning to slide shut as feelings of content and relief overtake him.

"And next time you guys don't want to hang out with the team you can just say so, no need to be all dramatic and get yourselves shot and concussed again," a voice says from the door and both Carlos and T.K. groan when they see Marjan, Paul, Mateo and Judd standing by the door, no doubt with Owen and Gabriel closed behind… Both cop and paramedic wondering if it's too late to close their eyes and just fake sleep.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fanfiction #bad things happen bingo #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes

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alphadaddyderek · 3 years ago

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Let’s Point Those Claws of Yours in a Safer Direction!

This was my very first Sterek Big Bang and I’m super excited for people to read it! I had an amazing time with my partner @seanchaidh7. Their art is gorgeous and they’ve been very supportive throughout this journey! I couldn’t have asked for a better partner!

#sterek big bang 2022 #Sterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sbb2022 #my fic

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cant-blink · 4 years ago

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Half-Life, Ch. 3

Summary: Gigan takes Ghidorah on their first “date” to the bar. We learn a few things about this three-headed dragon.

Normally, the flight from a planet into the void of space was the most satisfying part of his mission.

The thought of the carnage he left behind, a planet burning beneath him and rendered completely uninhabitable. The complete extermination of life, the knowledge that it was all from his own hard work. He adored the strength of his wings fighting the gravitational pull, the feeling of the air thinning, and at last, the weightlessness of space.

The sight of the stars all around, promising more worlds for him to destroy. So many lives to toy with.

The wave of cosmic energy that would hit his scales, rejuvenating him. Feeding off the energy through the membrane of his wings, healing his wounds and restoring his strength for the journey ahead. Under normal circumstances, he would then cocoon himself within an asteroid produced by his own body, reducing himself to a pure energy form. Content and happy, he would fall into dormancy, his asteroid drawn towards planets one after another until his moon-shaped crests would pick up signs of life to awaken him once more.

But this was not normal circumstances and as he flies higher through this world’s atmosphere, the only thing that coursed through him was not satisfaction, but anger, hatred, frustration...

And dread...

Breaking free of the planet’s hold, Ghidorah felt the cosmic waves flowing over him, speeding his regeneration to be almost instantaneous. The pain coursing through his back with every stroke of his wings had disappeared.

The pain in his middle head, however, remained. The injury there has healed, but the newly-active chip gave a very uncomfortable sensation. He wanted to chew at the spot, scratch at it with a foot, but he knew it was useless. Even if he could will his body to perform the action, chewing and clawing it out would only result in his own death.

Granted, death would probably be preferable to what fate the half-life had in store for him.

He kept glancing back towards the planet. He wasn’t used to leaving a world only half-destroyed. It went against every fiber of his being and his impulses fought against the mind-control in vain. Always in vain.

His glare fastened on the cyborg, and the light from the blue giant star that reflected off the metal armor was almost blinding. It was obnoxious, as was the look of expectation given to him. He wanted to just fly off in the opposite direction, just to spite him, but of course, he couldn’t. Absolutely infuriating, being trapped in a body that was no longer his to control.

At the silent order, Ghidorah felt his wings fold close and his tails moving to curl around himself. All three of his heads lowered, his legs tucked in and wings wrapping around himself. Red wisps like flames came from his scales, until it engulfed him and his body became energy. Stone began forming around him, its minerals perfect for holding his vast energy and absorbing in more cosmic rays to ensure he did not weaken during his hibernation.

At least in said hibernation, he can forget...

“Your name is Ghidorah. You were created to be ultimate weapon.”

Those telepathic words have been imprinted in his mind for as long as he could remember. Repeated over and over, his Masters would put these thoughts into his mind, to the point where it provided some level of comfort to the young dragon.

And at this stage of his development, comfort was very important.

There was darkness around him, even in a well-lit sterile room beyond the membrane that held him. His eyelids were still sealed, having not yet opened to experience the light he would instinctively seek out as an adult. His ears were still closed, and his scales were soft. Occasionally, one of his tongues would flick out, but the only scent he would pick out was his own, in the nourishing goo around him.

His only real sense was that of his well-developed crests. He could feel irresistible auras, all around him. Every so often, several of these auras would get closer, more potent, so close that his three jaws would snap open through instinct. Muscles in his chest would tighten, but the organs housing his gravity beams has not yet fully matured and held no energy within.

He would calm when the auras faded back into the noise. He still desired them, though, and every time he woke from his sleep, he would test the boundaries of his egg, kicking at the membrane uselessly. But the day will come closer, when he will be ready to emerge. Then he can snuff out those auras, and it would be amazing.

"The Universe is a terrifying place,” the message would continue. “You will make it safer, for all of us."

Safer.

He felt pretty safe now, growing steadily within his warm confines. He had never experienced fear, or pain, and it would take several more weeks before he had his first taste of it...

He had grown substantially, easily twice the size he once was just weeks ago. His wings were growing the fastest, wrapped tight around him like an extra blanket within the membrane. Said membrane was expanding, stretching over his scales. Those scales were more developed, a distinct keeled look to each one. His eyes were open, sleepy and unfocused, but he saw the light.

He wanted that light...

Especially when he felt the aura growing stronger. His red eyes can make out movement, a blurred shadow looming by him. The impulse to lash out at it was powerful, and already two of his three jaws had opened. By now, only sparks escaped and deteriorates into the goo.

“The Universe is a terrifying place,” the message replayed again, but this time, it added more. “It’s filled with violent races that seek to destroy those who only wish to live in peace. You will be the savior that fights for those innocents, that cleanses the universe of those dark forces. But first...”

He felt something odd, brushing against the mane of his middle head. The first time a foreign object touches him. It lacked an aura, but nonetheless, his left head automatically moved to bite the thing with tiny fangs, an-

A stabbing pain came from the back of his middle head. His legs kicked out, the membrane stretching from the movement, but not yet giving out. His wings and tails push against his home, his prison, as he tried to escape the pain.

The sharpness left just as quickly as it had appeared, but it left the pain behind, as well as a very wrong feeling. Like something foreign on his body. IN his body.

“You will hold great power and to focus that power, we have given you a gift...”

Ghidorah snapped awake even before the half-life gave the signal that they have arrived. It was not often he had dreams like that, reliving such old memories. It honestly pissed him off.

A gift, that’s what his old Masters called it. Even back then, he knew that was completely false. By ‘focus’, they meant kept under THEIR control. This damn chip and all the trouble it caused has plagued him even before he hatched! If he had lungs and the concept of sighing, he would have done so at this moment. Seems even in hibernation, he cannot be left in peace.

It takes a moment before he was calm enough to notice the presence of lifeforms, many more besides the cyborg that held him hostage. He felt the vibration of his stone cocoon, hears the muffled voice of the half-life calling out to him.

Wait, hear him? That means there has to be an atmosphere. He didn’t feel the impact of striking a planet or another celestial body.

“Wake up!” the half-life continued, still banging against the asteroid for no reason other than to annoy him, he’s sure.

Ugh, just hearing that stupid voice made him wanna go back into hibernation, much less the damn incessant knocking. But alas, he felt his own energy escape the stone, rendering it to dust before he took form. He opened his eyes, and his sight was immediately assaulted with pink. A vivid purple-pink everywhere.

Where was he?

He looked around, the haze stretching in all directions with no sign of an end. All six of his eyes swept the area before all meeting right at the cyborg.

"The bar is over there," The half-life told him, pointing a claw towards a nearby asteroid. "Clean yourself up. I want you looking your best. Y’know, before I ruin you."

Ghidorah lets out a growl at those words, and that growl gets even louder as he automatically moved to groom himself. He always took pride in his appearance, as a dragon should. But as much as he enjoyed grooming, the fact he wasn’t doing it because he wanted to took away all enjoyment.

It isn’t made better by how the half-life was watching him. Damn thing enjoying the show? He wanted to gravity beam that face. Especially when he starts flying closer. Ghidorah felt himself go on edge, wanting to move away to keep the distance, but his body refused to stop cleaning itself.

Unfortunately, it was the half-life himself that stopped the grooming session, one of his claws once more hooking around the back of his middle head and pulling him down.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” came the retort. “Especially with any of your damn back-talk.”

Ghidorah narrowed his eyes, especially when the crest on his forehead was touched by the half-life’s other claw. His crest was glowing quite strongly, as it tended to do when a high concentration of life-energy was nearby. They were quite sensitive and he did not like the sensation of anyone touching them, much less this disgrace of a kaiju.

He nonetheless held still as the half-life examined his crests for whatever reason before he caught a whisper.

“You feel them, don’t you? This is what you mean with your crests ‘filtering’ my presence. They never glowed this brightly for me.” The half-life’s voice had a very odd edge to it. It almost sounded like this fool was...

Was he jealous?! That didn’t make sense to the dragon. Why in the void would he be jealous over something like this? He can’t control how brightly his crests glowed; it all depended on the size and number of the lifeforms in the area! It’s not his fault this idiot had his aura tainted so badly and was hardly considered alive! But Ghidorah didn’t respond with these sharp words no matter how much he wanted to, the chip rendering his tongue frozen. All he can do is hide a wince when the claw tapped against the moon-shaped structure.

He heard a grunt before the cyborg continued in a cold tone, despite the foul smirk on his beak. “Remember when I said we can kill a few folks here? I lied. For once, you’re going to have some damn self-control and not kill any of them. Got it?”

There was a slight widening of his eyes. Never before has he been given an order that so blatantly went against what he was created for. His old Masters, every other alien race that took advantage of him, wanted him to kill. Sure, they wanted specific targets killed, but killed nonetheless. But this... IDIOT decides he was going to waste his time, waste his talents, for... WHATEVER it was that one did at these ‘bars’. He was convinced the cyborg was only doing this to irritate him further, and it was working! If he wasn’t pissed off before, he definitely was now!

“Yes.” That word still escaped him, monotone and lacking any of the anger fuming within his mind. And it only gets worse when it rouses a snicker from the half-life and he felt that metal-coated beak touch the scales of his snout. The left mandible seemed to caress under his jaw, the cyborg moving it side-to-side against his skin. He wanted to pull away, willed every fiber of his body to get him away, but he can’t move.

“You missed a spot.”

What was that supposed to me-

He froze when he felt something wet and warm slide against the scales of his face. His right head could see the half-life running his tongue along his snout and lips. He had no idea what to do with this, as nobody has ever made such moves towards him before. He didn’t like it, at all! He wanted to bite, to blast the half-life in the face, push him away with his heads. ANYTHING!!

But he can’t do anything, except endure.

He closed his eyes, all six of his eyes, just counting the seconds for this to be over. He felt the creature’s tongue push into his mouth, and the urge to bite down and tear it off was through the roof! It was so damn frustrating, and the seconds crawled slower in his mind before finally, the half-life pulled away.

“Hm,” he heard from the cyborg, his middle-set of eyes opening to see the face just inches from his own. The glare he gave was intense, but the other kaiju doesn’t seem bothered. If anything, the half-life seemed encouraged to rest his beak on his nose as he chuckled. “We’ll work on it~.”

Ghidorah didn’t want to work on anything except this thing’s death. How DARE this inferior creature pulled such a stunt with him, and to think, it was only going to go downhill from here! Swear, for every second he had to wait during that, he was going to make the cyborg suffer ten times longer when he breaks free from this! But he couldn’t speak any of the thoughts going through his mind. Damn this chip, taking away everything including his voice!

He felt the claw holding his head down slide off, the edge teasing the fur of his mane before the creature turned away.

“Let’s go.”

He flew towards the asteroid he pointed out the bar being on. Ghidorah lingered where he was for a moment, but alas, his wings gave a flap through the atmosphere and followed after him.

“Hey, McLegsalot!”

“Don’t call me that,” came the retort as Gigan sat down and made himself comfortable. A winged centipede-like kaiju squinted ten beady eyes at the cyborg, his antennae brushing over his face and chest. The four pairs of arms cleaning the glasses slow to a halt. “Gigan?”

“Scolopendra. Long time, no see. Loving my new look?”

“This is what you’re doing to undo your ban? Slap on a new paintjob and pretend you’re someone else?”

“Nah, if I was going to do that, I’d put on chainsaws instead of these,” Gigan responded, lifting the blades on his arms. “Less obvious that way. Anyway, what’s a little ban between friends, huh? Mind giving me the usual?”

“I’m not giving you anything. I-” The centipede cuts himself off, glancing off to the side before muttering. “Look, man, I ain’t losing my job over this. Last time you were here, we had to rebuild everything from the ground up thanks to your little drunken tirades. Like hell, we’re doing all that again.”

Gigan waved a claw dismissively. “Don’t worry your pretty little antennas over it-”

“It’s antennae, you dumb fuck.”

“-I’m not here to make a mess. I just want a nice, quiet time. Honest. So-”

“HA!”

“-Soooo,” Gigan drawled, refusing to back down from this little game. “Why don’t you just give me a drink and we can carry on the night like usual.”

“What part of ‘you’re banned from this establishment’ do you not understand? Hell, if Mr. Mavex finds you here-”

“And I told you, not to worry about it. Your boss won’t even have time to think about you, much less fire you.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how this works.”

“It will, trust me. Y’see, I brought along a date an-”

“Oh, for fuck sake, Gigan,” the centipede interrupted, shaking his head as the cyborg glanced over his shoulder and gave a loud shrill whistling noise. “How many times do I have to say this, I’m not going to...”

The centipede’s voice trailed off, as all the patrons within a ten-mile radius suddenly went quiet. A very large three-headed silhouette loomed at the entrance towering above all other customers, long serpentine necks lowering as Ghidorah entered the doorway. Gigan found the silence to be amazing, and he gave a smirk as the many-legged kaiju reared up to eye-level with his four clear wings fanned out. Typical defensive stance, never gets old seeing it.

“I’d like you to meet Ghidorah,” he started in a smug tone. “King Ghidorah. I’m sure you’ve heard of him, yes?”

At once, everyone made a hurry to vacate the vicinity, as Scolopendra glared at the cyborg. “You led that thing right to us! Are you insane?!” Gigan knew he didn’t have to answer that, but he does anyway with a cheeky little grin.

“Only a little.”

He glanced back at Ghidorah, whose six eyes were locked on the smaller creatures fleeing from him. He can see the spark of bloodlust in those eyes, the familiar instincts to give chase and end them all. But as expected, the dragon could do no such thing. At least-

“Now, about that ban...” Gigan continued casually, as everything ran amok behind him. “I told him not to do any harm to anyone, but if you really insist on denying me drinks...” He reveled in the angry look the bartender gave to him and he settled his blades on the bar, propping himself up a bit as he leaned closer. “I’ll take the usual, yeah? For two.”

Those eyes stay locked on him for a long moment before Scolopendra finally backed off and went to prepare his drinks. That’s more he liked it and he leaned back on his seat. “Glad you can listen to reason, Legs. I’m sure your boss will too.” He heard a nasty grumble from the bug but he disregards it as his eye returns to his golden prize, who was now staring at the bartender intensely.

“Hey,” he called out, earning the dragon’s attention. He nodded towards the chair beside him. Ghidorah glanced towards it and wandered over. It was adorably awkward, watching the dragon attempt to sit on a chair that was too small for him. Gigan couldn’t keep in a chuckle. “Lean on me~”

It still delighted him, that Ghidorah could do nothing to resist his orders. He felt the hydra press up against his side, those scales felt cold compared to their surroundings, but the cyborg didn’t mind. He nuzzled his beak against that golden hide, his mandibles nipping playfully before the bartender returned with his order.

“Good man,” Gigan snickered, his tail moving to clasp onto the glass. He caught Scolopendra eyeing at the dragon as he placed the glass down in front of him, and he was quick to show off his prize. “Told you I had a date.”

“A date?” Scolopendra responded skeptically. “Or another one of your meatshields?”

“Hey, hey, no need to be like that.” Gigan gave a chuckle as he took a sip of his drink. Ah, still tasted the same as he remembered. He took a bigger gulp. “And what do you mean, ANOTHER meatshield? Don’t act like you don’t miss those old days. All the plundering and pilfering, great times.” Another gulp. “Not my fault you got yourself trapped in here.”

“Pretty sure it was,” the centipede grumbled. “When you threw me under the bus while you ran away like a coward.”

“Like a pirate~.”

“Like a coward.”

“Meh, don’t take it so personal, Legs. I was going to come back for you, but you were already gone and now...” Another swig. “Who am I to tell you this ‘honest’ life is boring? After all, you're giving me free drinks.”

“This piece of work...” Scolopendra hissed with another shake of his head, before looking to Ghidorah. “And you’re dating this? What do you even see in him?”

The cyborg gave a short, sharp laugh as he brought his glass back up to his beak for another go, intending to respond for his partner when-

“No, I’m not ‘dating’ him.” Gigan heard Ghidorah growl softly and he sputtered mid-gulp. But the dragon doesn’t stop, maintaining direct eye-contact with him with all six eyes. “The half-life coward did the same to me, tried to abandon me in a fight. Watching Godzilla blast him out of the sky was the single most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen.”

Moment of silence, as Gigan glared towards his slave harshly. Didn’t he tell this asshole not to speak unless spoken t-

Dammit, Scolopendra spoke to him and now this bastard was taking every advantage of it to ruin everything! Well, two can play at that game. Glancing at the centipede, who was now giving him a Look, he pushed the drink closer to his partner.

“Heh, stop kidding around, babe. Tell the bug you’re joking.”

The smirk returned to Gigan’s face as Ghidorah did as told immediately. “You’re joking.” AND that smirk died just as quickly as it appeared.

Oh, this smartass mother-fuckin’ piece of-

Without warning, he struck a blade across the chest of the dragon, who jolts back and loses balance from his chair. The ground trembled from the impact as he fell, and Gigan gave his partner no time to recover as he stomped a foot onto the gash he left. This earned a pained snarl from the dragon, but Ghidorah does nothing to retaliate as the cyborg once more hooked a claw around that middle head, leaning in to hiss directly into this asshole’s ear.

“How about this: You don’t speak, at all, unless I directly address you. Now shut up, and drink your damn glass.”

They continued to lock glares for a moment, before Gigan lets him go and sits back on his seat. Ghidorah took a moment to get up, blood seeping from the wound but he does nothing to tend to himself. He instead looked at the drink, glanced at Gigan’s glass, then back to his own. The middle head leaned down and a forked tongue slips out his mouth and barely brushes the surface of the drink.

“Well?” Gigan persisted impatiently. “I said, drink.”

The dragon growled but said nothing as he began lapping up the drink. And no sooner had he done that, that he began gagging and what liquid he managed to swallow came right back up, seeping from the corners of his mouth. He opened said mouth and allowed it to spill its contents onto the bar.

“Oh, what the hell!?” Scolopendra barked, jumping back as the puddle sparked for a moment before petering out. The multi-legged kaiju shot a glare at the cyborg. “You said no messes!”

“Oh, ho~!!” Gigan chortled, ignoring the bug. “Didn’t take you to be THAT much of a lightweight! Or does it really taste that bad?” He shot Scolopendra a teasing look, but the centipede was having no more of his shenanigans, leaving the mess with them as he resumed cleaning glasses on the OTHER end of the bar. Meh, whatever, Gigan had better entertainment next to him. “Drink the whole thing, babe. It gets better as you go.”

His tail clasped Ghidorah’s glass, holding it to the dragon’s lips. Of course, Ghidorah couldn’t refuse and opened his mouth to receive the drink. And no sooner did it go down his throat than his stomach gave another heave to expel it. Well then...

“Seriously, it can’t be that bad,” Gigan grunted, glancing at the glass. He was a little bit annoyed that his new partner was having this reaction to his favorite drink. “Is the taste too strong for you?”

Ghidorah glared at him with venom before responding in that beautiful monotoned voice. “I taste nothing.”

...

Gigan would blink his eye if he could; he wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting to hear, but that certainly wasn’t it. Was this dragon serious? Who’s he kidding, of course this dragon was serious! He really can’t taste anything? Then why was he spitting it all out? Can he not drink alcohol? Did the hydra’s body take it as a toxin and thus something to be rid of? Time to find out...

“Hey, Scoli!”

“Clean it up yourself.”

“Not that, you idiot. I need you to give a glass of water. Just. Water.”

The centipede doesn’t even turn to look at him, continuing to clean before placing one of those glasses down and filling it with ice water before sliding it over to the cyborg. Gigan stopped it with a blade before pushing it pointedly towards the dragon.

“How about this one?”

“I said, I taste nothing.”

“Don’t care. You’re still going to drink this.”

Ghidorah sneered at him as he turned to the water. This time, he took it with one of his jaws, teeth closed over the glass delicately yet firmly. It looked a bit awkward to the cyborg, but he imagined the hydra didn’t have many situations where he would need to manipulate objects. Ghidorah took a sizeable gulp from it, and just as the alcohol had done previously, so too did this water. The dragon heaved and out it all came, all over the floor with more sparks.

Gigan watched this for a moment, less than amused. So the dragon can’t consume ANYTHING at all; did his creators not see a purpose in it? Well, isn’t that just great! Ghidorah really was being a pain in the ass right now, wasn’t he? All he wanted was a night of fun with his future mate, show him off, get them both plastered before the main event. But of course that can’t happen, can it? The dragon just had to make fools out of both of them. He lets out a huff, forcing a crooked smile onto his beak. He will have his fun, Ghidorah be fucked.

“Fine, more for me. Keep ‘em coming, Legs! We’re gonna be here a while.”

#ghidorah #king ghidorah #gigan #godzilla #gigadorah #mah random thought of space booze returns!!#also my joke kaiju is now real #gigan is a space pirate :3 #ghidorah is not having fun right now #it'll only go downhill from here

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reinepadova · 4 years ago

Text

To Be Seen

[←Previous] | Chapter 3 | [ Next → ]

‘A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.’ Will I be able to hear yours?

It's almost sunrise. Mei might wake up soon.

Stella let out a short, measured breath, wiping a hand on her skirt to get rid of the excess dust – and slime death, she mused in mild satisfaction – before reaching up to get to the next ledge.

Sudden tremors made her freeze. Her thoughts race at the impossibility of another attack when an ocher column emerged horizontally next to her with a small blast. She sighed.

How could I forget.

She shot steely eyes up, narrowing at the glowing horn tips peaking over the edge of the mesa, with the creature attached to them no doubt resting luxiously at the top while waiting patiently for her to complete her ascension.

They've been over this. It's like the creature's ears are merely decoration with how much it doesn't listen to her. “Mr. Guardian. Please. We're absolutely close now. As helpful as you have been, its time you return to protecting your area. Trouble won't find me again this time. I am sure of it,” she stressed, forcing more confidence in her voice than what she actually feels. She ignored the aches and pains in muscles she wasn't aware she had. Stubborn creature. Why won't it leave her alone?

Silence met her for a long minute, making her perk up.

Is it finally considering? Thank the ski –

A low, dismissive grunt and a visible snout, tilted upwards, made her eyebrow twitch and her whole body deflate. She pursed her lips, reluctantly pulling herself on the resonating stone with a wary eye, dusting her hands absently as she stood. When she turned bland eyes at the creature, calm amber orbs met her.

A tense stillness lingered, an edge of pressure settling in her chest as she maintained eye contact. Wills battled like an Electro Crystal, shocking and numbing you when you get in the way. It lasted for a long moment before the serpentine thing shook its mane once, flicking its tail broadly at her, reminiscent of how she would wag her finger at Mei after getting caught doing mischief. Stella fumed, eyes sharpening like daggers at the condescension.

They've been like this all evening until the early morn: her, trying to discourage it from following – nay, 'guiding' her way – while it persistently stuck at her side, snout prodding at her leg intermittently before pointing at another way. Admittedly, the turns and drop points it led to made the journey back easier – and safer – keeping well away from the groups of snoozing chubby geo energy.

When she tried to outrun it – after gesturing in appropriate gratitude, like how the people of Liyue would – its body coiled before spiraling up, graceful and grand, into the air, golden spikes shining against the moonlight, before facing her, eyeing her smugly, gaze now level with her own. Stella felt the heavy weight of her bag on her tired shoulder again as the floating guardian cruised easily, nudging her shoulder this time to another path unknown but undoubtedly still safe. Her patience grew thin, like waves eroding stone on the shore.

Stella squared her stance, determined to argue her case for the final time. “Look. I appreciate your guidance. But I just need to go over this hill and up to the Chief's residence. See those steps? They lead right up to it. So with all due respect, I request we part ways here. I'm sure you have better things to do than keep me company.” Mr. Guardian only blinked back, ever stoic, ever steadfast, like the rocks and gems it so resembles.

A different angle then? Stella cleared her throat, softening her tone. “As grateful as I am by your...escort, that place needs your attention more than me. Isn't that why you lingered? I'm not even one of the residents. I'm a complete stranger to these parts. You know this, yes? I won't loiter, I promise. I'll be on my way right after I get my charge. So just... ,” she huffed lamely, throwing a careless gesture behind them before climbing the final stretch to the hilltop, feeling the burn of golden orbs on her downturned face. An unusual sliver of guilt and sorrow grew, her heart thudded painfully with the weight of her emotions and the flash of dark memories.

In her world, all she knew was solitude. The discover of her unique blood, after an experiment gone wrong, made her both the target of envy, and adoration within their clan. An unholy reverence surrounded her person that no one is allowed to reach, to interact – less her value lessens.

If she bore children while in her 'highest' state – a form that fills her with self-loathing – she will produce perfection – or so her relatives would justify. Her descendants will be strong, beautiful, flawless. They can never succumb to any illness deadly to man, and will endure life with longer vitality. Her songs can soothe and heal, whether they be as benign as cuts and scratches, or as ruinous as broken bones or scalded skin.

Nothing is impossible – especially if you disregard the fact she'll feel the pain as each broken seam would stitch back together, each regeneration and painful growth slicing deep.

Hers was a life generations of her family has sought for, has craved for.

The power at their fingertips... no matter the cost...

She's the perfect bargaining chip... until she isn't.

I made sure of it.

Stella absently stroked at her abdomen, glancing at Mr. Guardian, eyes turning thoughtful as she focused on the present.

Nevertheless, no matter how less lonely she felt on the walk back to Qingce Village, she's not exhausted enough to forget her senses. She could just imagine how bizarre the sight of her will be entering the quiet settlement, a floating serpent at her side. The sight of gleaming claws and sharp teeth will cause a stir. And she's no fool. No matter how...subdued it seems, the power pouring out of its scales could not be ignored or understated. It's small stature is no doubt a front of what its truly capable of. It must be a guardian for a reason.

But, as intimidating as it may be, she felt... protected while in its presence. Safe. It's... nice.

However –

I can't get used to it. I just can't afford to.

If her guess was correct, the guardian is bound to this place, like all the other stone statues dotting in and around the village. As secure as she felt knowing someone, or something, will have her back, she knows once she and Mei returns to the harbor, she'll be the one to take care of things. She'll be the one that needs to do the protecting.

Until... until Mei is of age. Maybe have a family of her own. Someone else would cherish and protect her. And she'll... after that...

After that –

Stella minutely shook her head, stopping herself from letting her heartache show.

She won't linger on the thought, on the maybes or whatifs. That future is still so far away, so uncertain.

Even though she knows her future is uncertain –

Until then, I need to make sure Gran-gran's send off goes well. I just have to deal with life, one day at a time.

She eyed Mr. Guardian again, who remained unmoved, with a golden gaze both ominous and resolute. Its body was poised yet rigid, telling her how adamant the creature was about sticking with her until her journey's end.

She turned her head away, brows furrowing at the sight of orange light peaking at the distance, thoughts racing. The village may be full of the elderly and children, but they're hardworking, morning people, that rise with the sun. Spotting her and her unusual companion wouldn't be difficult. And because its full of the elderly and children, panic might erupt, causing unnecessary damage she knows she won't be able to compensate while already running low on energy – and mora. The Glaze Lilies she worked so hard for might also get lost in the process.

In short, not hiding the creature will be a hassle. And lastly –

Stella studied the stubborn creature as she rested a hand on her hip. A finger, tapping. “Alright, fine. You want to know why I don't want you going with me?” It tilted its muzzle, eyes turning intrigued. “I'm not exposing Mei to you. I promised to protect, and care for her. She already has enough heart ache as it is. I don't want her getting a heart attack from being face to face with something that has deadly claws and fangs.”

-{-}-

Golden orbs widened, thrown off guard by the admission – or was it a threat – the dig of claws on the ground easing. After a long moment, Morax could not help but chuff – the only way he could show amusement in this form – with eyes closing in relief, and great sympathy.

To protect with resolution. To uphold that which one has agreed upon with conviction –

The siren is more like a geode then. Many layers still guard her crystalline core.

He blinked, considering.

Morax then shook his mane, dismissing her worries gently, before floating up back at her side. He made one of his whiskers drift up, waiting until the lady directed her perplex eyes on him, before tapping at the end of her nose, chuffing slowly. She let out an indignant, but charming squeak, dispelling from the morose aura she surrounded herself in. He stretched out, encircling her form with his, and nuzzled softly at her shoulder. He paused, giving her time to make up her mind, before curling up more when he felt curious fingers slowly pet at his scales.

There is only so much he could do with this form, a far cry from the freedom that speech has granted him in his other when negotiating or imparting knowledge. It is... different, but not an unwelcome experience. He could only hope she is lucid enough to understand his meaning: comprehension, compassion, and comfort. For not only does he want any innocent under his watch, directly or indirectly, to go unscathed, but also to sate the growing curiosity he has for such an interesting entity – is she of the divine? Is she only mortal, but not of this world?

Will she be a threat to his Liyue?

He may yet know. Maybe not for a long time. But until then, he will oversee, he will keep watch – just as he has done for more than the past three millenia.

Hm. How peculiar. The thought seems... heavier, somehow.

Ah. He could feel the weight of her stare, full of disbelief. He refrained from snorting, giving her more time to digest that he's not just all brawn, unyielding like the Ice Crystals in Dragonspine. He can be as soft as clay when the need arises.

Eventually, her shoulders sagged, wordlessly admiting defeat. He closed his eyes again, satisfied.

Never has his persuasions failed. He is not about to break his record now.

-{-}-

Arriving at Granny Ruoxin's was easier than Stella thought, the sun barely peaking over Mt. Qingce. All was still and quiet, except for the bubbling waters and creaking wood from Ms. Bai's mill. She hurried, self consciously sneaking glances around her.

The moment they arrived at the steps, she turned and place her bag down, opening the flap.

“Inside,” she gestured with a pointed finger, raising a brow when the creature blinked back. “Since you seem unbothered of revealing yourself to people, I assume they're used to you here. But Mei isn't. I prefer controlling how you two would meet, even though its the Lilies I want to show her more.”

When the guardian narrowed its eyes, seeming to think it over, Stella closed her own, running a hand through her hair, channeling what remains of her composure.

Feeling movement and the soft brush of fur, Stella snapped her eyes open, seeing the guardian's tail curl up over the glowing blooms before settling, remaining still, like a large coil of braided rope around a wooden pole – except its a rock-like creature surrounding delicate little flowers. It's quite an enchanting sight.

Eyes softening, a small smile finally graced her tired face. “Thank you, Mr. Guardian.” She chuckled at the muffled, reply snort.

-{-}-

“You're back! Bekfast is ready~ Look! Mei helped Chief-dàmā lots!”

Mission failed.

Stella smiled, blank face a front to the series of fluctuating emotions coursing through her body. She watched the energetic girl stop long enough to set the table, tongue sticking out in concentration, before hopping back over to Granny Ruoxin.

“Don't just stand there, young lady. Dust yourself off and eat your fill. Little Mei has been excited to let you try her, ah, version of the Noodles with Mountain Delicacies,” the village chief crooned, eyeing her bag speculatively, but otherwise said nothing else about her night run.

“Yes. I'll, ah, go do that,” she muttered, facing forward to hide her back better. Its either Mei thought I was out early morning, or she's more perceptive and more understanding than a little girl should be. Her shoulders sagged again. She's maturing too fast.

When the busybodies turned back to coo excitedly at the stove, Stella mutely trudged to the next room, arms hugging a few choice items she snatched from a basket on the way.

Shutting the door with a soft kick, she kneeled at a corner, arranging the apples and sunsettias in a neat pile before shouldering her pack down. Star dotted orbs welcomed her at the opened flap, before a long muzzle slipped out, sniffing curiously at her offering. She hummed, “It's not much, I know. Unfortunately, the meat can't go missing before breakfast.” Stella stood, wetting a clean cloth nearby to scrub at her dusty face. “You prefer that don't you? With those teeth, you're definitely a predator. Or are you one of those spirits that prefer something exotic? Like a dish with fins or tentacles or – ” The creature reared back, snout scrunching in offense. Stella stifled a giggle, surprised at the unusually strong reaction.

Looks like its not made of rocks after all.

She quickly moved behind a screen, both to hide her amusement and freshen up. “That's good to know then. We're a long ways away from the sea. Just thinking about going to the harbor and back here is already exhausting.” She waited until she heard the telltale crunch of fruit being consumed before taming her hair, and using another cloth to wipe at herself as best she could.

“Lala? Lalaaa! You're taking so long. Mei's food will go cold!” A loud bang and the rush of small feet, which skid to an abrupt halt, silence following right after. Stella knitted her brow, confused, before her eyes widened, struggling against her clothes, sweating again for an entirely different reason.

-{-}-

In the many years Morax has existed, conquering all that oppose him, that threaten the safety of his chosen land, he fought foes that would otherwise destroy the very flesh and bones of beings made less than the divine. He subdued those that were as fierce and explosive as lava, that were dark and deceitful as magma, and those that were as cold and savage as the wild waters of the seas.

But the age of gods and monsters have passed, and a new age arose. A prosperous age. An eon of peace, much soughtafter. An era where the fragile could grow freely, in between the cracks of devastation and desolation. To spread their reach, and flourish. To learn. To improve. To create. To thrive and beautify, until those years of senseless destruction is but a distant memory, a myth, to be debated until the sands of time bury it completely.

A time now, where a tiny babe could boldly approach him, awe and amazement coloring her diminutive features, before gesticulating in proper, albeit clumsy courtesy. A whispered “Bìxià” solemnly left her lips. He rested on his haunches, blinking slowly, before nodding in acknowledgement. The child suddenly turned away, as if nothing had happened, inquisitively digging through the opened pack. She squealed, understanding immediately where the glowing is coming from.

Such splendid manners from a child so young. Sharp as a blade, but still so carefree. She is well cared.

Before long, the Miss... Lala was it? – or was this just a demonstration of the child's affection to the lady? – stumbled from behind the privacy divider, stuttering an explanation for his presence. She stopped at the child's happy sounds, eyes wide. Her shoulders relaxed as he continued to eat his humble meal, eyes closing to hide his amusement.

Ha! So even a fiery siren such as she can lose composure. Fascinating.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

[←Previous] | Chapter 3 | [ Next → ]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A/N: I don’t know why I’ve agonized over this chapter. Mostly about how Zhongli should be addressed. Ah well~

#To Be Seen #zhongli x female OC #zhongli x oc #fanfiction #companion mini exuvia #shapeshifting archon #zhongli

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heathersgameoftag · 4 years ago

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preview of next fic under the cut

not me forgetting that i put these on my blog now

“I wanted to do a nice happy greeting, but instead I have to warn you that you have a problem up ahead.’

Betty, Martha and JD had all met them by a window that Duke had happily perched herself on. Well, happy was a stretch. Content might be a better word. She hadn’t exactly been joyful at any point throughout the entire morning, it was starting to get excessive, even for her. It made Heather so sure that she was still keeping a lot from her, even though she had confessed she was upset because of her parents, because there had been plenty of times she had been upset with her parents and she had recovered the next day. It was down to the sad fact of ‘growing numb from it’, but still. She wouldn’t even turn away from the scenery outside, though it was grey and dim, to greet any of the newcomers.

Heather followed Betty’s gaze as she nodded up the few steps next to them. She had been speaking to Veronica, but it concerned her too.

“Oooh, look who decided to show her face,” Veronica commented, having also turned to see the figure furiously marching towards them.

“Oh, she looks mad,” JD said, coming to stand next to her. “And she’s looking at you directly. Good look, babe!” He shoved her forward playfully, to which she grunted at him indignantly.

“I love having support from my boyfriend,” she snarked, before turning back to the huffing girl stopping just a few feet away, glowering at her dangerously. Not that it was scary, Courtney wasn’t all that tall.

“What the hell did you do?” she hissed. Heather just smiled innocently at her.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You - or somebody here, knows exactly what I mean.” She shot an accusatory glare to all of them. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. People have been whispering about me all goddamn week, and I want answers.” She reached out and grabbed her collar, sneering, “What did you tell them?”

Heather slapped her hand off in disgust. “You’re delusional,” she said, feeling a twinge of guilt for pretty much gaslighting her, but she reminded herself that it was different from when her parents did it to her. Courtney actually deserved it. “I haven’t spread anything about you.”

“It has to be you!” Courtney barked. “I know you’re upset that I insulted your little loser posse.” She eyed Betty, Martha, JD, Veronica and Duke in disdain. “It’s not my fault you let a bunch of nobodies infiltrate your friendship group, I was just pointing out the obvious!”

“Now, if you keep talking like that, maybe I will spread a rumour about you,” Heather said. “How’s, ‘the amount of times I’ve seen Courtney not wash her hands after using the restroom is gag-inducing, to say the least.’”

The group (except Duke) chuckled quietly while Courtney looked disgusted.

“That’s not even true!”

“Doesn’t have to be true. They’ll believe me.” She examined her nails, looking aloof. That only enraged Courtney more.

“You spread something! Tell me what it is, Chandler!” she demanded furiously. “Nobody will tell me. Whatever it is, you’re going to tell me right n-”

“Oh, fuck off, Courtney,” Duke suddenly spoke up, turning her head away from the window at last to shoot her an irritated glare. “Take your damage elsewhere, would you? Literally none of us care about some random preppy bitch scared of what some randos in the school are saying about her. You’ll be forgotten as soon as we all leave for college, hell, you’d be forgotten now if you didn’t constantly whine like a stuck up, spoiled little brat.”

Courtney, as well as everyone else, was understandably taken aback by the sudden outburst. Perhaps it wouldn’t have seemed so harsh, had Duke not looked so disinterested. She didn’t even hold her gaze, she just turned back around and gestured for her to leave with a flick of her wrist. Courtney let out a frustrated grunt, but exited the scene and made sure to glare at Heather snidely on the way out. Once she was out of sight, she laughed out loud.

“Oh, she is mad,” she chortled. “Coming up with a non-existent rumour was perfect, Heather.” She glanced at Duke, hoping to catch her eye to give her some praise, but she didn’t turn around. She gave a shrug, to Heather’s disappointment.

The group frowned at her, and while Mac decided to sit next to her on the window sill, she heard Martha lean to Veronica and whisper,

“Is she okay?”

“Um… she’s…” Veronica stammered, wondering what to say that wouldn’t get his head bitten off by Duke.

“Her parents are… getting on her nerves,” Heather quickly said, saving Veronica the stress. That shouldn’t reveal more than Duke would have liked; everyone gets irritated by their parents.

“That’s one way to put it,” Duke muttered, mostly to herself. Mac scratched the back of her neck nervously.

“So, should we go grab lunch? Since we’re all here,” she asked, looking around the group. The mood lifted and everyone agreed.

“I’ll catch up,” Heather told them. “I just need to get today’s question for lunchtime poll.” She left with them down the hallway, but stopped when they reached a turn.

“I also need the bathroom, so, I’ll catch up too,” JD added, hurrying off ahead of the group. Heather went in the opposite direction, and just before she reached the door to the student room, an arm slammed in front of her. She stepped backwards, immediately growing irritated upon seeing Courtney again. Didn’t she ever quit?

“I know you did something,’ she growled. ‘I’m not giving up until you tell me what.”

“Fuck off and stop bothering me, you goddamn leech.” She pushed her arm aside and tried walking towards the door again, only for her to step in her way.

“And here I thought you were wise in picking friends and enemies, Heather,” she hummed patronisingly. “As of late, it appears that isn’t true.”

“I know what I’m doing, so quit acting like I’m falling from grace or whatever you want to call it. Those people sit at my table because I let them. They’re Veronica’s friends, so I’d rather they not be harassed by bitches like you. And, you know, I’m dating one of them, of course,” she quickly amended. Courtney’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’re picking loserdome over people actually worthy of recognition now?” She not-so-subtly gestured to herself. “You’re a disappointment.”

“If it pisses you off, that’s fine by me.” She went to step around her, but Courtney wasn’t finished.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play this, then maybe I’ll just find something to spread about you. You know, to make it even.”

Heather laughed out loud at that. “Good luck getting people believing you. Why do you think no one ever bothers us, hm? I make sure they don’t.” She turned to sneer at her. “Spreading lies about me won’t get you anywhere.”

Courtney took a step back, but brushed her threat off. “You’re not exactly as respected as you once were, Heather. Hence my whole warning about the friends you’re picking.” She cocked her head to the side and smirked. “Besides, I wasn’t going to spread a lie. I’m sure behind that perfect little image you’ve made for yourself, there’s something dreadfully embarrassing that you’d hate for anyone to get their claws on.”

Heather did her best to keep her expression from changing.

“Then I wish you luck finding whatever secrets you expect to find somehow. You’ll need it.” She straightened herself up, brushing non-existent dust off of her collar as if the mere presence of Courtney was making her filthy. “Meanwhile, I’ll find a lot of entertainment in your weird obsession with me.”

“It’s not an obsession-”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun stalking me to figure out what’s happening in my personal life!” she sang over her shoulder as she walked away. “Totally not weird of you at all!”

She was soon out of her view, having stepped into the student room to grab her clipboard from Peter. She read over the question several times on her way back to the cafeteria, but it was hard to focus. As amusing as her argument with Courtney had been, the thought of her actually figuring something out did alarm her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. It’s not that she felt insecure about her choice in friends - even times when she thought she regretted expanding her bubble the way she did, she immediately shook the thought away when remembering what had happened last time she had disregarded Veronica’s friends as little more than the scum of the school that she could take advantage of whenever she wanted.

She wasn’t going to go back to that state of mind all because Courtney didn’t approve of her decisions. As daunting as the status quo change had been, she knew it was for the best to rid of that toxic mindset. But since she was making that choice, it seemed now she was an easy target for sabotage. And there was a lot of material one could use, if they found out somehow. Small things, like how her relationship with JD wasn’t real, or that she hasn’t seen a Remington party invite in ages, and didn’t want to see one ever again. Or there were the bigger things, like her actual choice in partners, or her reasonings for being so much more wary at parties. If any of those things got out, she knew it would be the end. Sure, Duke had managed to stay in power, but she wasn’t sure if she could be quite as strong as her if it came out that she was pansexual. Last time people had assumed she was attracted to women, hell had broken loose, and… she never wanted to go through that again.

The exception being her family, of course. That hadn’t bothered her at all. Coming out was little more than a tool to cut them out of her life for good.

She unfortunately found herself wondering if it would be better to separate the lunch tables again; perhaps she’d be safer that way. Not even just her - all four of them would be safe. Then that thought was dismissed upon seeing Veronica so happy to have Betty and Martha with him, laughing as he attempted to toss popcorn into Betty’s mouth from one corner of the table to another. No, she absolutely could not return to the old status quo, even if it benefited her a lot more. She had to stop being so selfish.

Then she found herself wondering, what of her reputation? She wasn’t about to deny that it was definitely crumbling. People still looked up to her, sure, but how long would that last? Would her newfound generosity slowly erode it away until she was just a face in the crowd?

But that thought got chased away while she was travelling around table to table, when she saw JD in the line for lunch, later than the rest of the group due to his trip to the bathroom, probably. A couple of guys were pushing and shoving him, all to cut in front of him in the queue. Well that just wouldn’t do. She marched over and grabbed his arm, pinning all three boys with a piercing glare.

“Is there a problem here?” she spat. Their brave, cocky expressions all collapsed, frightened ones being left behind in their place. They slowly shook their heads, awkwardly and fearfully. One of them stepped backwards in line, as if offering JD his place back, but she just scoffed scornfully and walked forward, until the two of them were right at the front. She felt bad for the girl who was about to grab a tray and walk through to grab her food, but it was worth it to gain the satisfaction of having JD grin at not having to wait in line any longer. When the girl behind them shot them a disgruntled look, she glowered at her threateningly, which got her to lower her head.

“Nice, I love boyfriend privileges,” JD said, grabbing a tray. He stepped aside and gestured to the space next to him. “You coming?”

“I’ll be there in a bit, I still have to bother some people with today’s question.” She stepped away. “See you later.”

So, no, she wasn’t going to change anything about her relationships to get Courtney off her back. If Courtney wanted to try and have her revenge with her, then so be it. If she suffered because of her, then surely, surely it would be worth it.

#tag au #tag preview #tag writing

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love-musicheart · 4 years ago

Text

NoirBug - Chapter Two - Episode 2: Don’t Touch that Dial! (1960s)

(AO3)

Summary:

Yes, NOW everything is perfect. For sure. Marinette's mind is free(er), and Adrien has both her and his mother back. Everything is also supposed to be black and white. Yet colour is making an appearance. ...maybe everything is still not quite so perfect after all?

“Adrien!”

Adrien awoke with a jolt, his eyes coming open, their icy blue bright even in the darkness.

“Mother?”

“There’s something outside,” Emilie Agreste whispered, her voice tense with fear.

Adrien was swinging his legs out of bed before she had even finished. “Where?”

“Something was tapping against my window,” Emilie explained, holding a robe close against herself as she padded down the hallway back to her own room. “I was too scared to see what it was.”

“I can go outside and check if someone is there,” Adrien offered, one of his hands already fluttering down towards his wrist.

“But what if it’s a burglar? You could get hurt!”

Adrien gave a smile that held no joy and showed all his teeth, barred in a predatorial grin. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Emilie wavered, then relented, giving a single nod.

“Just don’t open your curtains,” Adrien added over his shoulder as he headed for the front door.

As soon as he was out of his mother’s sight, Adrien unbuttoned the cuff on his pyjama shirt, tugging out a bracelet from its hiding spot. Changing direction, he headed instead for their window, undoing the bracelet’s knot with expert fingers. He pulled the silver ring off the string, then tied the knot again, slipping the bracelet on his wrist once more and hiding it beneath the cuff.

Pausing before the window, he slipped his ring on.

Instantly, a small black being emerged. He drooped, and a small part of Adrien’s heart squeezed and twisted on itself, knowing that it was his fault that his friend was in such a state.

But as much as he loved Plagg, if that was the price his kwami had to pay for Adrien and Marinette to be together… he’d gladly pay it.

“Plagg, claws out,” Adrien whispered.

There was a flash of white light, and a moment later, Chat Blanc opened up the window and emerged silently, his claws easily finding chinks in the wall to sink into.

Swarming like a white spider, he made his way to the apartment’s corner, peeking around, his eyes narrowing.

There was nothing along the side of the house other than a tree. The topmost branches were too small for anyone of any real concern to be able to perch upon without breaking.

A small breeze stirred the air, and Chat Blanc leaned into the wall slightly, arching his claws deeper into the chinks in the wall to keep his grip.

Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.

His eyes snapped into focus instantly, finding the culprit that had scared his mother.

One of the small tree branches, waving back and forth in the wind, was tapping the window pane.

Chat Blanc made his way along the wall quietly, reaching out and easily snapping off the end of the branch. He quickly went back the way he came, branch piece clutched in hand, complicating his journey back somewhat. But there was no more sound from behind him other than the wind.

“And then end with a backflip going into the splits.”

Adrien did as instructed, easily landing in the position.

“Nicely done, kitty,” Marinette smiled warmly at him. She gave a quick sprint towards him, did front flip over his head, and he could hear the thump of her landing in a pose behind him. “How’s that?”

“Purrfect, my lady.”

Marinette snorted. “Okay, I think your miraculous is going to your head.”

“Plagg, claws off.”

There was a flash of white, and Adrien detransformed. Once again, Plagg was droopy - and silent.

“They seem a little tired,” Marinette noted as her own pink kwami appeared in the air before pulling her earrings out. “Are you sure we should be using these for our routine?”

“It’s fine,” Adrien waved her concerns away, getting up off the floor. “Everyone will just think we’re wearing costumes of their favourite superheroes: Ladybug and Chat Blanc!”

“But… we aren’t really supposed to be using them for personal gain,” Marinette pointed out, rolling her earrings between her fingers.

“It’s not for personal gain,” Adrien pointed out, accepting the earrings. “We’re doing it for the children, remember.”

Marinette flashed a quick smile. “Right. For the children.”

“Think how happy Manon will be!”

Marinette let out a breath, sending her bangs fluttering away from her forehead. “All right. Fine. But take good care of those, okay?” She tapped Adrien’s hand holding the earrings with one of her fingers.

“When have I ever not?” Adrien smiled easily in return. “Remember, you always entrust them to me.”

Marinette paused a moment, her brow wrinkling.

Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. Had giving Marinette her own mind back been a bad idea? He hadn’t given her back her memories, though, so shouldn’t it be fine?

“Right,” Marinette finally said. “That’s what I always do.” Her face melted back into one of her easy smiles as she turned and headed for the door. “I need to get going to the planning committee with your mother. You’d better get going as well.”

Adrien gave a two-finger salute. “Right-o. I’ll see you at the show!”

Marinette snapped her fingers. “That’s what felt wrong!” She hurried back over to him, tapping his hand again. “You need to let me keep the earrings.”

Adrien’s heart did stop. “What?”

“I won’t be able to wait for you at the show and then just transform in front of everybody! I need to be able to transform in an alley first and then come to join you. It only makes sense.”

Adrien relaxed. Just his lady with her plans. “Right.” He slipped the earrings into her waiting palm. “Be careful with them.”

“Of course,” Marinette flashed one last smile before heading out her front door.

A dopey grin stretched across Adrien’s face. Even in black and white, Marinette’s smile was a glorious thing to behold.

“I’m ready!” Marinette announced, joining Emilie Agreste in front of the house.

Emilie smiled at her. “Your first committee meeting! How exciting!”

Marinette linked arms with the woman as they began strolling down the sidewalk together. “Anything I should know?”

“Oh, so much!”

That was… a little worrisome. Marinette glanced up with an uncertain smile at Emilie, trying to see if she was joking - then noticed the bags under her eyes. “Mrs. Agreste, pardon me for asking, but are you getting enough sleep?”

“Remember, dear, you’re supposed to call me Emilie.”

“Emilie,” Marinette repeated. “Right. Sorry.”

“No problem, dear,” Emilie waved it off before considering Marinette’s question. “I’m sleeping all right; it’s just that last night…”

Emilie’s voice trailed off, piquing Marinette’s interest. “What happened last night?”

“There was something tapping on my window. It woke me up. Adrien took care of it, though. He told me it was a tree branch.” Emilie suddenly frowned. “Though, come to think of it, I’m not entirely sure how he got it down. It wasn’t exactly near the ground if it was tapping on my window.”

Marinette had no problem figuring out how Adrien had done it - but their superhero identities were supposed to be a secret, so she steered the conversation back to safer waters. “You have a very good son; but you were saying about all the things I needed to know about the committee?”

“Oh, of course!” Emilie flashed a smile, her mood bouncing back easily. “All the girls on the planning committee are just dears - but there’s one person whose scrutiny it’ll be a little difficult to get past.”

“Who’s that?” Marinette asked - though, seeing as she was Ladybug, she felt pretty confident she could handle whatever these girls threw at her.

“Her name is Lila Rossi,” Emilie explained. “Everyone else looks up to her and wants to be friends with her; she’s essentially the key to everything in Paris. She knows many prestigious people, so she can get you practically anything you want or a meeting with anyone you want.”

“Sounds like someone I’ll want to become close with.” She also sounded like a fat liar to Marinette. “I’m sure I can pass any test she tries to give me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can as well,” Emilie assured her. “It’s just that… Lila had her eye on my son for quite some time. She’s likely to be… a little grumpy with you at first.”

She’d had her eye on my son for a long time.

“Grumpy Rossi,” Marinette nodded. “Got it.”

As Emilie went on about a list of other things Marinette needed to know - mostly saying to always pay attention to details, as Lila liked things to be perfect - Marinette slowly found her head feeling more and more cluttered with all the information. There was so much for her to remember!

A small part of her, however, couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t joined the committee before this. She’d lived in this part of Paris all her life. Why wouldn’t she have done something like this?

In fact… why didn’t she even remember having ever so much as heard of this planning committee until now?

Marinette had been forgetting things a lot recently - like today, she’d forgotten to bring a hiding spot for Tikki. She never brought her kwami with her anywhere, seeing as Adrien held onto the earrings, so it felt stupid that she hadn’t thought to bring a purse or anything with her. Her poor pink kwami was currently squirming beneath the collar of her shirt.

But to forget an entire committee of people?

Marinette screwed up her face in concentration, trying to remember the last time she’d heard of the committee, but just as the wheels in her brain started turning, Emilie’s voice jolted her back to reality. “There she is now!” She waved cheerily. “Lila!”

Marinette paused on the sidewalk beside Emilie, peeking out behind the woman and spotting a girl with dark brown hair eyeing them. “Emilie.”

“Is that a new dress?” Emilie asked breezily, somehow managing to ignore the tension in the air and the lazer beam eyes of death that Lila was shooting at Marinette.

“Yes, it is. Why don’t you join us? The committee is about to begin.” Lila gave a sugary-sweet smile to Emilie, shot one last look at Marinette that promised murder in her near future, then turned and flounced off.

Marinette grunted. “A little grumpy?”

Adrien headed out not long after Marinette. He’d taken a minute to pull himself together: keeping straight what everyone else knew versus what he knew to be true was sometimes difficult. His mind had to race to keep up with the web he’d spun - and, of course, there was Marinette.

She was reason he’d done everything he had. She was worth that. But as such an integral piece of this puzzle, so closely connected with him, they’d become even closer due to what he had done. Quite literally. He could constantly feel her presence in the beating of his soul.

Now, however, without the earrings, it had dimmed. Slightly, but enough to put him slightly on edge.

He slipped his ring on - just in case - quickly helping a droopy Plagg into his jacket. He needed to hurry if he was to be on time to his meeting.

But as he went out the gate, something flashed in the corner of his eye.

Something… blue.

Adrien stopped in his tracks.

The blue stayed.

He turned toward it.

Staring where he’d seen it, he saw almost nothing of it at this angle. He was looking straight at the bushes.

But then, as he slowly moved closer, and, he began to make out something beneath the foliage. Something blue.

Adrien’s breath caught.

What was that?

He reached in, ignoring the way the branches scratched at him. He was a cat. He was used to scratching.

Adrien’s hand closed around it, scooping the… thing up.

Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he scrutinized the object. It was an odd ball of sorts, a bright blue oval decorating the front of it and a cone attached to the bottom sticking out from it.

How did this get here?

It couldn’t have come from here.

Everything was black and white.

Even beautiful Marinette.

“You don’t belong here,” Adrien whispered to the ball, eyes hardening, his whole hand closing down on the cone part of it.

He turned on his heel, marching back to the house. As soon as he was behind the closed door, he whispered, “Plagg, claws out!”

White flashed.

“Mega cataclysm!”

“I’m Wang Fu,” the old man smiled warmly at her. “I actually don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Marinette gave a wry chuckle. “I’m starting to feel that way myself.” She held out her hand. “I’m Marinette. And may I say, your turtles are peachy keen!”

“A little less chatter and a little more focus,” Lila said, her gaze as cutting as voice as she stared at them for a moment before returning to talking about chairs and the elementary school. Or something like that. Marinette could already tell she hated the girl, and she was just doing her best to tune her out.

“Thank you,” Wang Fu said, a little more softly this time. “I can’t stand to leave them anywhere.”

Despite the meeting being full of just females, Wang Fu, an old man, seemed cool as a cucumber. But his presence wasn’t even the strangest thing about him; instead, it was the fact that he had a tank on wheels with him, filled with turtles.

Marinette leaned over the tank, peering for a closer look, Lila’s voice droning on about how someone named Rose really should have remembered the seats. Emilie had definitely been right about Lila liking everything being perfect.

No wonder Lila had liked Adrien, Marinette reflected as she leaned a little closer to the aquarium, peering in at the turtles.

And, with no warning, the little pink being of creation tumbled out from beneath the collar of her shirt, falling with a soft plop! into the aquarium.

Marinette and Fu stared at her.

A moment later, Marinette plunged her hand into the tank, swiping up her kwami and rescuing her from the water.

“Marinette!”

Marinette jerked her head up, only to find the whole committee staring at her.

“Please leave the old man’s turtles alone,” Lila told her, the expression on her face clearly saying how she didn’t know how Adrien had chosen her to be his girlfriend.

Marinette flushed, tucking her hands between her legs. She was the only one there wearing pants, but now, she used that to her advantage. There was no way tucking her hands between her legs like that would have helped make her look more normal if she’d worn a dress, after having apparently just tried to snatch an old man’s turtles. Everyone here probably thought she was crazy. But now, she attempted to warm up her kwami that way, keeping her hands closed tightly shut.

Although, what she really wanted to do was transform into Ladybug and punch Lila in the face.

But Adrien would tell her to take the high road, so she refrained.

“Mylene likes the songs I’ve been writing,” Ivan said, tapping his pencil against the table, a blank sheet of paper out in front of him. “I keep coming up with new ideas - but, of course, with a muse like her, it’s easy.”

Adrien grinned at his friend. “That’s great, Ivan. You’ll have to share some with us sometime.”

“I could help you with some melodies to go along with it, if you want,” Luka offered, leaning forward and pushing a radio further into the middle of the table so he could rest his elbows on it.

The guys had met up, and though all the girls probably thought they were doing something productive, they were just enjoying each other’s company.

Adrien most of all.

He had missed his friends.

But, as time went on, something began to feel… off. Adrien frowned, his mind drifting away from the conversation as he tried to figure it out.

Was it Marinette?

Partially. But he felt somewhere deep within his soul that, if she were in any real danger, he’d know instantly. This was more of a… deep worry.

“Adrien?”

Adrien jerked his head up, blinking.

The whole table was staring at him.

“What do you think of Ivan’s lyrics?” Nino said, obviously repeating a question.

“I…” Adrien’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, his mind trying to focus.

What lyrics? Had Ivan just read them to him?

And why was the radio getting louder?

“Sorry, Ivan, could you repeat them?” Adrien asked, glancing at Luka. Was he turning up the radio?

Ivan began reading the lyrics again. “Mylene, my oxygen…”

Yes, the radio was definitely getting louder. But, more than that, the static of it was.

“…you, most beautiful of college girls…”

The radio crackled. And then, a vague voice filtered through.

“Adrien.”

“…stronger than oak for others…”

Adrien stared at the radio, the sound of the words pounding seemingly louder and louder in his mind.

It couldn’t be.

Wait.

Someone was trying to get in.

“Adrien, can you read me, over?”

Bang!

“I knew it was bad!” Ivan cried out, his face flushed, fist shaking as his grip tightened on his pencil. “You can’t even find anything to say about it!”

“It’s not that,” Adrien quickly said, even as the radio became louder and louder, drowning out even his own words in his mind. “I’m just speechless from how beautiful it is!”

“Adrien?”

Snap!

R E D.

Instantly, the radio was back to normal.

But Adrien found himself staring in shock at Ivan’s hand.

Ivan had snapped his pencil, and it had slashed a cut into his hand.

From which poured blood.

Red blood.

Adrien’s breath sped up, his heart pounding in his chest.

Colour.

Again.

For the rest of the meeting, Marinette stewed, sweat slowly dripping down the back of her neck. She couldn’t bring herself to so much as look at the man beside her. There was no way he could know what the creature even had been, or that it meant she was Ladybug, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to ask her what it had been.

“Achoo!”

“Bless you,” Marinette said automatically before realizing it had come from her hands.

She cracked her fingers open, too concerned with Tikki to even notice the odd looks she was getting now from the rest of the members.

Between her palms, Tikki was shivering. Her eyes drooped halfway closed. Marinette had noticed how tired Tikki looked recently, but this looked a little less tired and a little more sick. She looked nothing like her normal, healthy sel…

Wait.

What did Tikki look like as her normal, healthy self?

Marinette stared at her hands, now not even pretending to be listening to Lila as her heart galloped faster and faster in her chest.

Why couldn’t she remember?

Thinking fast, Adrien grabbed a handkerchief out of his pocket, reaching over and tying it around Ivan’s hand, hiding the colour. “There, all good.”

But it definitely wasn’t. Everyone at the table was staring at Ivan’s hand, different levels of shock playing out across their faces.

Across the table, Luka leaned back in his chair, eyeing Adrien. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.” A blatant lie.

Luka’s eyes narrowed. “Your melody is discordant. Are you sure about that?”

“Positive,” Adrien said, starting to eye the door while keeping an eye on Ivan. “Ivan, why don’t we go and get your hand checked out before the show, yeah?”

“We’ve heard things about you.”

Adrien froze, then slowly turned back to Luka. “Oh?”

Luka leaned forward. The entire table was silent. He was playing them all better than his guitar. “You and your girlfriend.”

Adrien forced himself to try and calm down. He was in charge here. “Well, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I assure you I don’t mean anyone any harm.”

Luka’s eyes slowly narrowed at him before he simply said, “I don’t believe you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien could see red starting to seep through the handkerchief on Ivan’s hand.

“I need to go,” Adrien said abruptly, turning to go, dragging Ivan with him.

Behind him, the radio went static-ey again, and he stopped.

No.

He wouldn’t let anyone get through.

He turned back towards the table, his gaze instantly landing the radio. Adrien let go of Ivan, his hand clamping, clutching the ring close to his hand. He didn’t have both of the miraculouses, but he didn’t need full power. Only half of the source of all of this.

The radio let out a sudden pop, and smoke began to pour out of it.

Everyone jumped at the table.

“Who are you?” Luka asked, eyes widening.

The radio flickered, glitching in and out of focus.

And then, all at once, it stopped.

Quiet music played once again from it.

Everyone at the table relaxed.

“I was thinking that we could change our act,” Nino said, as if nothing had happened. “The detectives really should kiss.”

“In the view of the public eye?” Max asked, scandalized.

Adrien took his cue and went out the door, dragging Ivan behind him.

Marinette paced up and down the small space behind the stage, waiting, waiting for Adrien to arrive. She chewed on a fingernail, nerves rocketing through her system, Tikki still clutched in one hand.

The little kwami of creation was shivering.

One job. She’d had one job. To be careful with the earrings.

And she’d dropped the little being of creation into an aquarium with turtles of all things.

“Sorry I’m late!” Chat Blanc dropped down in front of Marinette so suddenly that she almost screamed. “Ivan cut his hand, and I - wait, why aren’t you… you know…“ He gestured at Marinette. “In ‘costume’?”

“Adrien!” Marinette whisper-hissed at him, relief and anxiety colliding within her. “Thank goodness you’re here! It’s Tikki!” She shoved her hands out to him. “You take care of the miraculouses! What should I do?”

“What happened?” Chat Blanc asked, gaping at the kwami.

“She dropped into an aquarium!”

“Into a-?!” Chat Blanc stopped short, shaking his head. “Now’s not the time. Plagg, claws in.” There was a flash of white, and a moment later, Adrien stood before her.

“What are you doing?” Marinette asked, worry tinging her voice as she glanced toward the stage. “We’re going to be called on any minute now!”

“We’ll have to do this the way we were going to be pretending to be,” Adrien shrugged. “In costume, acting like the superheroes of Paris.”

“But… we’re not even dressed like them!”

Adrien was already buttoning up his white jacket, glancing about. “You’re the designer here.”

Marinette cast about wildly for something, anything to use. She looked nothing like Ladybug.

Then again, what did Ladybug even look like?

Black and white, right?

So she could pass off as her no matter what. It would be better to have a skintight suit, but her clothes would do. The mask, on the other hand, was another matter…

Her eyes landed on a spare curtain for the stage, tossed to the side in the bustle of getting ready for the show, and she instantly snatched it up. “Help me rip this up!”

“What?” Adrien stopped his buttoning to stare at her.

“We’ll just rip off two strips, tear some eyeholes into them, and tie them around our heads! Voila! Masks!”

Adrien picked up the sheet, ripping off two strips as instructed. “Do you think anyone will be suspicious? Seeing as we were supposed to have more time to put our act together and all.”

“Nah, not at all. As long as we wear masks, everyone will think we look exactly like Ladybug and Chat Blanc.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Didn’t everyone think that when we dressed up as each other for…” Marinette’s voice trailed off, her brow wrinkling. “I… I mean…”

Adrien glanced up from tearing out eyeholes. “You okay, princess?”

“No,” Marinette shook her head, confused. “I… I mean… I could have sworn that we dressed up as each other. Once. For someone else. All we wore were the masks, and everyone thought we looked just like the superheroes for some reason.” Her brain hurt, as if it almost were fighting against her, trying to stop her from remembering. It was so, so close to finally remembering something…

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Adrien assured her, handing her the makeshift mask.

“Clara!” Marinette suddenly burst out, the name hitting her like lightning. “Her name was Clara Nightingale!”

Adrien froze. “What did you say?”

“Her name was Clara Nightingale,” Marinette repeated, more sure this time. “I don’t know why we were dressed up for her, but that was definitely her name.” She slipped the mask about her head, tying it in a knot above her pigtails. “My normal mask feels a lot better,” she grunted, the subject of Clara Nightingale already leaving her mind. It was unimportant, after all.

…wasn’t it?

But her mind really didn’t want to focus on it. It wanted to move on to other, more important things. Like the show.

“Let’s just do the act the way we practiced,” Marinette decided. “We don’t have time to prepare another. And, it’s still us, right? We should be able to do it.”

Adrien let out a slow breath, his nerves seeming to be rattled. “If you think we can, then I’ll follow you, milady.” He tied his own mask about his head. “Done.”

Marinette smiled, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Break a leg, Adrien.”

He flashed her one of his adorable smiles, his face flushing. “You too.”

“Marinette! Adrien!” Alya whispered, peeking her head out between the curtains. “We just called your name! You’re on!”

“Come on!” Marinette said, grabbing Adrien by the hand and racing for the stage.

Marinette was wonderful.

She was right that everyone seemed to think they looked just like themselves as superheroes - which was a little odd, once she’d pointed it out. But perhaps the black and white helped fool them.

They executed their routine, which was a mix of different recognizable moves from different akuma attacks. The audience was eating it up, buying the entire act.

On the inside, Adrien felt… normal again. Everything was right again. The strange coloured ball had been taken care of, and so had the blood on Ivan’s hand. He and Marinette were doing their act, and it was everyone’s favourite to an unbelievable amount, as if they were the protagonists in an old movie.

Adrien pulled off the ending of the routine as Marinette had instructed him earlier, doing a backflip going into the splits. Marinette ran at him, front flipped over his head, and Adrien turned his head just to watch her strike a pose at the end.

He almost liked seeing her do it as Marinette better than as Ladybug.

The day he’d discovered her identity had been… horrible. She’d been forced to break up with him by his father.

Not that Marinette remembered that.

To her, she remembered a scene that had never really happened: the way they had dated, then eventually revealed to one another their secret identities, unable to hide such a secret from the the one they loved any longer - except they’d chosen the same night, as they were so in sync.

They’d never spoken about that night again after it. Adrien hadn’t brought it up; he’d never even lived it.

And to Marinette, it just was.

But Adrien knew the truth.

And now, as applause greeted the end of their act, and Alya awarded them the inaugural Superhero Performance of the Year, and everyone cheered how this was for the children…

Adrien felt that he could live with this lie.

“That went great!” Marinette enthused as soon as they were backstage again, all alone. Tikki was once again clutched in her hands, but with the show now behind them, she felt ready to tackle the problem of trying to heal her kwami. “I think everyone loved it!”

“Indeed,” a familiar voice agreed behind her.

Marinette froze. Slowly, she turned around, forcing a smile. “Wang Fu! I didn’t realize you’d be here… or backstage”

The old man smiled. “My apologies for the surprise. I was at the committee meeting for the show, and wanted to congratulate you on your performance. You remember me, do you not?”

“Oh, of course!” Marinette said, slapping her forehead - mostly just hoping that her dramatics would be enough to distract him from remembering Tikki falling into his aquarium earlier. She turned to Adrien. “Adrien, this is Wang Fu; we met earlier today.”

Adrien stared at the old man, an odd expression playing across his face as he shook hands with him. “Adrien Agreste. Pleased to meet you, sir.” He glanced at the aquarium. “You bring turtles around with you?”

“Yes,” he smiled easily, then turned his gaze back to Marinette. “I was wondering if you needed help with your cat.”

“My… cat?” Marinette blinked.

“The small one you brought with you today,” he nodded. “I thought it would need some help after it fell into my turtle aquarium.”

Marinette brightened. “You can heal her?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

Marinette glanced at Adrien, excitement flooding her system. Wang Fu was so old, he must’ve not been able to realize what Tikki really was! If he could help, then all her problems were solved.

“So you know about cats and turtles?” Adrien asked, seeming amused. Yet there was something about the way he was showing his teeth in his smile that seemed almost… predatory.

“Yes,” Wang Fu said, totally at ease.

Marinette decided to trust him, opening her hands to reveal Tikki. “Here she is.”

“Place her down in front of me,” Wang Fu instructed.

They sat down on the grass behind the stage together, Marinette gently setting Tikki on the ground.

“What kind of cat is she?” Fu paused to check.

“Um…” Marinette thought fast. Wang Fu was sweet, but obviously easily confused; as long as she was vague enough, he likely wouldn’t ask anything else. And if there was one thing Marinette was good at, it was being vague and confusing. “Right! Rare hairless flying species from kingdom of Achu! I was allowed to have one because I won a zoo tap dancing contest when I was in the kingdom of Achu.”

“Hmmm,” Fu hummed. “Unusual.”

“Yes,” Marinette agreed, nodding vigorously. “Very.”

Digging into his bag, Fu produced a gong, holding it over Tikki. He gave a final encouraging smile to Marinette before saying, “This may take some time.”

At last, Wang Fu nodded, putting away the gong. “We are finished; your cat’s health has been restored.”

Adrien looked up. He had been suspicious upon seeing the man, seeing as he looked like Master Fu - a person he hadn’t recreated in Paris.

But, strange turtles aside, he seemed harmless enough. And he was healing Tikki…

“Thank you so much!” Marinette exclaimed, scooping Tikki up. “You’re a real magician, sir!”

Adrien nodded courteously to him, and then took Marinette by the hand, heart warming at the touch. It felt good to be able to hold Marinette’s hand again; he’d missed that for so long… “Let’s go home.”

Marinette chattered the entire way back as the sky slowly darkened: one of her long, rambling kind of talks. Adrien didn’t mind; he adored her for them. She jumped from subject to subject, telling him about Lila, reliving the talent show, and explaining in more detail how she’d met Wang Fu.

What had Fu been doing at that meeting - especially when he wasn’t supposed to even exist?

As they approached the house, Adrien was reminded of the ball from earlier. For a moment, he considered whether he should tell Marinette about it or not.

But she was so happy…

And it wasn’t as if she knew anything.

But a small part of him was still disturbed, recalling the moment Marinette had remembered Clara Nightingale.

“I have a surprise for you,” Marinette announced as they entered the house.

“A surprise?” Adrien cocked an eyebrow. “Does it happen to be food? This cat is starving!”

Marinette giggled. “No! You definitely may not eat it.”

“Before you show me,” Adrien said, taking her hands in his, “could you give me back the earrings? We never ended up using them for the show, so I should probably take them back.”

“Oh! Of course,” Marinette said breezily, smiling up at him. She took the earrings out, handing them over to Adrien. He instantly clutched them in his fist that he had his ring on, the feeling of power flooding over him.

He was back in total control.

Thump.

Marinette stopped. “Did you hear that?”

Adrien turned toward the door. “I swear, if it’s the tree again, I am going to rip it out by the roots!”

“It’s fine,” Marinette assured him, but hurried over to the window nonetheless, peering out. “I can’t see anything. It’s dark out.”

“Let’s go outside,” Adrien said decisively. Not waiting for an answer, he strode to the door, throwing it open and heading outside.

“Be careful,” Marinette warned, only a step behind him.

Adrien peered about the front yard. It was dark, and he wished he’d thought to transform into Chat Blanc again before coming out. He would’ve had night vision if he had.

Buzz.

“What’s that?” Marinette suddenly gasped behind him as they reached the sidewalk. He felt her hand press against his shoulder, and a moment later she was right beside him, pointing down the road, eyes wide.

Adrien followed her finger…

And froze.

Coming down the road was only what could be described as a bee keeper. They didn’t seem to have any particular destination, just wandering about, head turning left and right as if they were looking for something.

But then, the bee keeper stopped.

Adrien couldn’t see their face, as it was covered.

But he could practically feel the way they were looking straight. at. him.

“No,” he whispered. The word was quiet, but had the weight of power to it.

He clutched the miraculouses in his hand, the ring on his finger clinking against the earrings-

Marinette giggled. “No! You definitely may not eat it.”

Adrien blinked. He was right back in the house with her.

Slowly, he smiled. “All right. What is it?”

“I don’t have it yet, silly,” Marinette scolded. “I wanted to put you in suspense for it! Expect it soon, though!”

She smiled lovingly at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

…her blue eyes.

Adrien blinked, taking a step closer.

They were blue.

Slowly, as he watched, colour seeped into Marinette’s skin, spreading out across her body and around the room.

“Adrien…” Marinette whispered, her big, blue eyes fluttering in surprise. “Is this really happening?”

“Yes, my love,” Adrien murmured, staring into her eyes. How he’d missed the colour in them… “It’s really happening.”

He took her hands into his, love and satisfaction mingling inside of him. Everything was as it should be.

But…

There was one thing that still bothered him.

Despite being able to feel Marinette’s discomfort, he seemed totally unable to know when someone was trying to get into the paradise he had created until he saw them himself.

Who else was hiding right beneath his nose?

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Adrien asked, tugging on Marinette’s hands and leading her to the kitchen.

“You just want the popcorn,” Marinette teased, grinning at him.

“Can you blame me?” Adrien grinned back, pulling her close for a kiss.

Fade to black.

“Marinette? Who’s doing this to you, Marinette?”

“Marinette?”

First / Next

#miraculous ladybug #noirbug #my writing #ml fanfic #chat blanc #wandavision au

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the-princess-elven-jedi-avenger · 3 years ago

Text

Arcade

Chapter 8: The Attack

I nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

We then arrived at the statue of liberty. That’s when I noticed we weren’t alone. A storm had appeared out of nowhere. That meant Storm was here and the others. My heart leaped. Logan was coming...

“Toad, Mystique, stay sharp. We're not alone.” Father urged. He looked at Sabertooth. “And you stay here. Once I've given my power to the girl, I'll be temporarily weakened. You'll be my only defense.”

I looked over at Rogue. “Hey, they’re gonna know you’re gone. I’m going to sneak out. And I’ll come back for you.” Rogue grew even more scared. “You’re gonna leave me alone? Here?”

”Hey, hey, look at me. You’re not gonna die, all right? I’m going to fix this mess, this is on me.” I assured her. “We’re not alone. Logan and the others are here, so I’m going to get them. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

”You promise?” Rogue asked, just like she did with Logan on the train. Immediately, I nodded. “I promise, kiddo. Cross my heart, and hope to die. Now I need you to distract them.” Rogue nodded. I raised my restraints, which were plastic. Father was smart, very clever. But he taught me everything. I slowly walked out of there. But one wrong move, and I slipped, falling down. I let out a scream.

“Lorna!” Father’s voice rang out.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get out of my restrains, but I landed in the water. I doggy paddled to the surface. I quickly ran inside. I saw Scott, Jean, and Logan, all wearing X-men suits. Logan raised his hands. “Hey, hey! It's me.”

“Prove it.” Scott retorted.

“You're a dick.” Logan shot back. Scott nodded. “Ok.” I reluctantly walked towards them. I spoke up. “Hey.”

They all spun around to see me. Scott used his powers, hitting my stomach with a blast. I was thrown back against the wall, hitting the floor.

“Lorna!” Logan’s voice rang out.

I winced. I felt lots of pain from my stomach. Ouch…Logan ran over, kneeling down. He placed a hand over my stomach.

“You all right?” Logan asked.

“The dickhead couldn’t have aimed for my restraints?” I retorted.

Logan chuckled. “Well, you know Scott.”

“You know I can hear you two!” Scott shouted.

“You were meant to.” I shot back.

“I’m gonna check your stomach…is that all right?” Logan asked.

I nodded. He lifted my stomach. There was a horrible mark across my stomach. Logan stared, scared.

“We’ll fix this.” He assured me.

I placed a hand over his. “Hey, it’s all right. Watch.”

The mark then slowly disappeared. It was like I had never been hurt, but the pain was still there. I wasn’t sure how, but ever since father rescued me I had this ability. It shocked my father. Logan stared in awe.

“How…” He trailed off.

I shrugged. “Ever since I was rescued from where I was, I had this ability. I wasn’t born with it, I was given this gift.”

Logan then helped me up. He noticed the restraints. He then took off the plastic restraints, using his claws. I smiled. “Thanks…Uh, about earlier—”

“Can you guys talk about this later? We gotta go.” Scott urged.

I raised an eyebrow. “Does this mean you trust me?”

“Can we trust you?” Logan asked.

I nodded. “You can. I came back, didn’t I?”

“It could be a trap.” Jean retorted.

“It’s not. I’m here to help. I owe it to Charles, Rogue, and you guys.” I said, looking at Logan. “And if it is a trap, then you can go ahead and kill me then.”

“All right, then let’s go.” Scott ordered.

We ran up towards the top. And we were so close to the top of the statue. Don’t worry, Rogue. We’re gonna get you.

“Everybody get out of here.” Logan advised.

“What is it?” Storm asked. “I can't move.” Logan explained.

He was then thrown against the wall. I was also thrown back next to Logan. My arms and legs were covered in metal. Jean, Scott, and Storm were thrown back on the other side of the roof. Father then came down from the top of the statue. “Ah, my brothers. Welcome. And you, just point those claws of yours in a safer direction.” Father said, moving his hands towards his chest. He looked at me. “Ah, so my daughter lives.”

I scoffed. “Like you care so much.”

“Contrary to what you may believe, my dear, I care. I’ve only done what I’ve believed was the best for you.” Father urged.

“Warping my memories, making me believe something else is not what’s best for me.” I shot back. “You said a load of bullshit, I bet I wasn’t miserable at Charles’s school.”

“You’re right. I may have lied a great deal. But I didn’t want us to fight. I wanted you to be on my side. To see things the way I saw them.” Father explained. Father then looked at Scott. “You better close your eyes.”

I was angry at him. How dare he...Sabertooth jumped down, snatching Scott’s glasses. Sabertooth then placed stone around me over the metal, so I wouldn’t be able to escape. Scott spoke. “Storm, fry 'em.” “A bolt of lightning into a huge copper conductor. I thought you lived at a school.” Father retorted. He then talked into his comm. “Mystique? Mystique!”

My heart dropped. Did something happen to her? Jean then spoke. “I've seen Senator Kelly.”

“Hmm? So, the good senator survived his fall. And the swim to shore. He's become even more powerful than I imagined.” Father said. “He's dead.” Jean replied.

“It's true. I saw him die. Like those people down there will die.” Storm warned. “Are you sure you saw what you saw?” Father retorted. “Why do none of you understand what I'm trying to do?”

Father looked over at me. “I thought you out of all people would understand, Polaris. Those people down there control our fate and the fate of every other mutant! Well...soon our fate will be theirs.” “Help! Please help me!” Rogue’s voice rang out. “You're so full of shit. If you're really so righteous, it'd be you in that thing.” Logan argued.

Father glared at him. He then looked at me. “I see why you’ve taking a liking to him. You’re just like him.”

He then flew up towards the statue, where Rogue was. Rogue continued to shout. “Help! Somebody help me! Please! Somebody please help me! Somebody! Help me...Logan! Lorna!”

Rogue stopped shouting. Logan let out a yell before unleashing his claws, stabbing himself. My eyes widened. ”Logan!”

He fell to the ground. Sabertooth walked towards him. Logan got up, stabbing Sabertooth. He let out a growl. They both jumped out to fight on the statue. We heard Rogue screaming. Then we heard metal scraping all around us. After what seemed like hours, Sabertooth came back.

He grinned, walking towards me. He placed a hand around my neck. I gasped. He chuckled, darkly. ”Now I can finally kill ya without havin’ to worry about your old man.”

Logan then came back down, behind Sabertooth. He glared at him. “Hey, bub, I'm not finished with you yet.”

Sabertooth growled, but kept his grasp on me. Logan narrowed his eyes. “Let her go.”

Sabertooth reluctantly let go of my neck. I coughed a lot, but I was able to breathe. Above us, father’s machine began to work. The rings began to spin. “Jean.” Logan said.

“Scott, when I tell you, open your eyes.” Jean whispered.

Scott shook his head. “No.”

“Trust me.” Jean urged.

“You drop something?” Logan asked, raising Scott’s glasses.

Logan then threw the glasses. Jean used her powers, positioning the glasses in the right spot. Jean shouted. “Now!”

Scott opened his eyes, blasting Sabertooth. He was thrown back out of the statue and onto the boat. Logan then freed Scott, Jean, and Storm. Logan walked back towards me, freeing me. I smiled. “Thanks.”

Logan nodded. He smiled, but it quickly disappeared. My heart broke a little. But I reminded myself that this was my fault. We all looked up at the machine. The rings were moving too fast for me to fly up there.

“We gotta get her outta there. Cyclops, can you hit it?” Logan asked.

“The rings are moving too fast.” Scott said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Can you just shoot it?”

“I'll kill her.” Scott warned.

“Storm, can you get me up?” Scott asked.

Storm shook her head. “I can't control it like that. You could fly right over the torch.”

“Then let me go. If I don't make it, at least you can still blast the damn thing.” Logan advised.

My heart nearly dropped. I wanted to argue, but it was the only way. And we had to get Rogue outta there. Scott nodded. “All right, do it. Jean, Lorna, use your powers. Try to steady him.”

“Hang on to something.” Storm said.

Storm used her powers, creating a huge gust of wind. Jean and I worked together, raising Logan up towards the torch. He struggled, but reached the machine. A white light slowly made its way towards the island. Hurry up, Logan. I stared, seeing Logan struggle. Scott placed a hand on his glasses, ready to take the shot. “Scott, wait!” Jean warned.

“Jean, I have to!” Scott retorted.

“No, just wait!” I urged.

The white light grew closer. Scott finally grew frustrated. “I have a shot. I'm taking it.”

He then fired, blasting my father. Father fell back out of the torch. Logan then used his claws, destroying the machine before it could reach the humans. I let out a sigh of relief. ”I’m gonna check on them.” I said.

I then used my powers, lifting me up to the torch to find Logan, unconscious. His face and body was covered in scars and blood. My heart dropped. We need to get him back to the mansion. Rogue then walked towards me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“I know. It’s okay. We’re gonna go back to the mansion.” I assured her.

Rogue smiled. “You kept your promise.”

Her words sent me back to a memory, one I had not yet remembered.

Logan was panting, sitting up on a bed. I sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey...it’s okay. It was just a nightmare.”

Logan nodded. He looked down at my arm, seeing a huge cut. His eyes widened. “Lorna...”

“It’s okay. Just a scratch. It’ll heal.” I assured him.

Logan still looked hurt though. “But I hurt you.”

“You’ll learn to control it, Logan. It’s not your fault. It’s these nightmares...I promise you that I help you through this. I won’t leave you.” I assured him.

“I won’t be surprised if you break your promise, leaving me.” Logan said.

“I don’t break promises, James. I keep them no matter what.” I said.

I then gave him a kiss.

I smiled. “I don’t break promises, Rogue. I keep them no matter what. Now let’s get you all back.”

***

After we returned to the mansion, I was allowed into the lab, where Logan and Charles were being held. I saw Logan, still unconscious, lying on a table. He had tubes, IVs, and patches all over him. My heart broke. I didn’t like to see him like this. I didn’t leave his side at all. Charles was awake, lying in a table next to Logan. I was happy to see Charles awake.

“Lorna, you’re back.” He said.

“I couldn’t leave you...not when you’ve done so much for me.” I replied. “Not all my memories are back. But I have enough to know that you’ve always been there for me, Professor. Before Erik, you become my father. Thank you.”

Charles smiled. I believed to have seen tears in his eyes, but it may have just been my imagination.

“I knew you’d do the right thing when it counted.” He said. “I’m so proud of you.”

I felt happy. I never thought I’d hear those words. I smiled. “Thanks Charles, for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Whatever happens, you will always have a home here, Lorna. And I do hope you choose to stay.” Charles urged. “But it’s your choice.”

***

Hours then went by. Jean took Charles out of the lab and to his room to rest. I stared at Logan, hoping he’d wake up. I then heard his gruff voice. “If it isn’t magnets.”

“Hey, claw-man.” I said. “Hey.” He replied. I raised an eyebrow. “How are you feeling?” “Fantastic.” Logan said. “That was a brave thing you did.” I replied. “Did it work?” Logan asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. She's fine. She took on a few of your more charming and wonderful personality traits for a while. But we all lived through it. I think she's a little taken with you.” “Well, you can tell her my heart belongs to someone else.” Logan advised.

Did he mean me? No, he probably hated me. My heart broke, imagining Logan with someone else. No, he deserves better than me. I opened my mouth. But Jean walked towards us. “Hey. You’re up.”

I looked, seeing Logan’s eyes light up as he saw Jean. He smiled. It made my heart throb. Logan nodded. “Yeah...” “How's the professor?” Logan then asked. “He's good.” Jean said. Logan nodded, sighing. “Good.”

“I’ll leave you two alone.” I said.

I then walked out, feeling a terrible feeling in my heart. I wanted to stay here, but maybe it was best if I leave...away from Logan. I only bring pain everywhere I go...

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