#and is trying to subtly signal to the staff that no. we will not be dredging the lake. leave it to me i'll Distract him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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smoke and fire (06)

word count; 11,884

summary; after a startling experience, you seek and receive comfort from the last person you would’ve expected to turn to.

notes; I will literally be taking the stairs for the rest of my life.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to panic attacks.

Placing your foot up on the dashboard, your body swerved to the side as Newt flung around a corner, and you cursed loudly, turning to look at him as you held onto the laces of your shoes. “You know, for an ambulance driver, you drive like you’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never.” He gasped falsely, and you continued trying to tie up your laces, before swapping over to the other foot, and doing that one too. “I promise, I would never hurt you.”

The tone in his voice made you groan, rolling your eyes at the snickering boy beside you as he chuckled away to himself, and you reached out to flick at him roughly on his side. He yelped, swerving a little as he drove, before he was chastising you for your behaviour and following the bright red fire trucks ahead of you.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re seriously going to keep pretending like something wasn’t happening there?”

“I’m not pretending, because nothing was happening!” You huffed your words out a little, placing your foot back onto the ground of the van and adjusting yourself in the seat. The inner city was beginning to grow around you, shorter buildings that formed houses growing in size and stature, towering over you now in a concrete jungle as you approached the large city building you’d been called to.

“I know my best friend, okay? And I like to think that I’m getting to know you, too.” His words held a slightly teasing air to them, woven into his tone subtly, and you sighed at him.

“You’ve been saying this for a week now, but nothing happened!” He shot you a look, taking his eyes off of the road for only a second, but one of his brows was raised, and there was a smirk on his face that made your head fall back into your seat, and you realised you were fighting a losing battle. “We were talking about the argument, and agreeing to start over, without bitching at one another, I thought you’d be happy about it!”

“So, where did holding hands factor into that equation?”

“We weren’t holding hands! We were shaking hands!” A laugh left him, disbelieving and unconvinced and he began to slow down, pulling up in front of a very professional looking building, a large logo printed across the glass of the lower few floors, all of which were blacked out and reflected the light of the sun brightly. “It was just some stupid thing we did. Like, reintroducing ourselves, or whatever. Starting again.”

“And you just happened to be backed up into the kitchen counter, huh? I have a pair of eyes in my damn head, love, I saw those longing glances and the whispered conversation, and the holding of hands between you both.” He scoffed, pulling the truck up into park, and turning to look at you for only a second, speaking his next words before hopping out of the van; “Shaking hands, my arse.”

Hopping down front heaven yourself, Newt grabbed his go-bag, swinging it onto his shoulders and so you left yours where it was, simply grabbing your jacket and pulling it up your shoulders as it got a little cooler. Taking place beside him on the pavement, you nudged Newt with your elbow, before crossing your arms. “The only things you were seeing is what you’ve made up inside your head.”

He hummed under his breath, seeming to accept the statement for now, and you watched as the teams both began to unload from the fire trucks. They grouped on the pavements, staring up at the building, not bothering with any equipment except for their coats themselves, names printed across the bottoms as you all stared up at the height of the skyscraper.

The call had stated a broken elevator shaft, three people trapped inside, and in need of rescue, and so you and Newt weren’t facing much of a task. It was simply a challenge to the teams, you and Newt would patch up a few cuts on bumped heads and be there to check for concussions, but you didn’t face much of a task.

Glancing over the group, you caught honey-brown eyes, offering the man a smile in return when his lips flicked up at the sides for you, his head tipping as he offered you a soft nod of acknowledgement. The stare lingering for only a moment longer, before he was turning to check over his team, and you turned back to your partner. Newt was already staring at you, a single brow arched and a smirk on his face. “Oh, yeah, I’m totally seeing things.”

“It was just a smile. Will you drop it? We’re friends.” You scoffed, and he shook his head but let it go for now, and you set off to follow the firemen as they headed into the building. Following them inside, there was already a group of people beginning to gather, the elevator doors being pried open and pinned that way with a chair, the purpose of which, you weren’t exactly sure, because if the elevator was on the ground floor, it wasn’t exactly an emergency, and you really hoped nobody was stupid enough to stick their head inside and take a look.

As you approached, a man came forwards, an older gentleman with a receding hairline that was shining with a layer of sweat, stress you presumed, and you made a mental note to check over him as his hand trembled while he came forwards, a hand pressed over his heart, and Newt shuffled beside you, tugging his bag a little further up on his shoulder.

“Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re here.” He sighed, voice more like a wheeze, and you winced, taking another scan around the crowd and relaxing just how angry they all looked, minorly put out of their way as they were forced to take the stairs or be turned away, and there was an angry group of less formally dressed citizens around the reception desk, the phone to the room echoing front he marble floors and glass walls, and you realised they must all be being turned away for appointments.

The elevator on the other side of the lobby seemed to be working perfectly, the sign above signalling for staff only, and there was a scanner beside the door, flashing from red to green as you watched a woman in a smart pencil skirt and matching blazer swipe her ID across it, before stepping inside.

“The elevator itself is stuck at the twelfth floor.”

“It’s not a problem, we can just pry the door open and bring everyone out.” Thomas shrugged, and the man let out a sigh, shaking his head a little, and wiping a hand over his forehead, and you glanced over at your partner, your brow raising a little as you subtly dipped your head towards the panicked man who’d greeted you all, and he nodded in response, agreeing that he could do with taking a quick time out to catch his breath and take his heart rate back down. “That’s the problem, you can’t get at the elevator from the twelfth floor.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“This is a block of private offices. Only certain floors are open to the public, you have to have an ID for the elevator to get to the others, that elevator only stops and opens at certain floors.” He looked like he might collapse at any moment, and you wandered away from the group, searching for a chair around the room, and finding a row of neatly set, leather-lined seats on the opposite wall, a coffee table with magazines stacked on in a makeshift waiting room, and you picked one up.

As you made your way back over, to him, placing the chair down behind him, the firefighters were grouped up, and Newt was knelt on one knee before the man, checking over him carefully, with two fingers recessed over his wrist and the other two to his neck.

“What’s happening?”

The blond looked up at you, a frown on his lips, and he rolled them together, considering his words carefully, and glancing at the manager who was practising deep breaths and counting along upon your partner’s instructions to bring his heart rate back down. “The elevator is trapped on the twelfth floor, but the closest entrance to it is the twenty-fifth?”

“Did you just say the twenty-fifth floor?” A strike of cold fear ran through you, the math being done in your mind within an instance, and you swallowed thickly. “How far did it drop from?”

“It got stuck around about the fifteenth floor and dropped about three floors, not too bad, coulda’ been worse. The brakes kicked in, but they’re not holding up so good.” Newt stood to his feet, brushing dust from his knees, and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The firemen you worked with were already beginning to separate into groups, and Thomas was twirling an ID card in his hand anxiously, a hand rubbing over his jaw as he continued to divide up the squad team, Gally already having headed back outside to start finding equipment. “We should head outside, we probably want to grab some emergency stuff, a board, maybe, the stretcher for sure. Three neck braces, and a monitor.”

“We can call it in while we’re out there, just in case they need to head over to Med.”

“Okay.” You rubbed a hand over your forehead, your mind spinning a little as you hung on the situation, and you let out a sigh, shaking your mind clear and nodding. “Yeah. You’re right. Boards, stretcher, all that, let’s go.”

His eyes narrowed on you for a second, before you were following after him, trailing back out to the ambulance, and you were biting on your lower lip until it was raw once again, finding yourself getting lost in a spiral of your own thoughts once again.

Gally passed you by, a lazy wink to tease you with as he held up the ropes slung over his shoulder, and your stomach churned a little as you looked at it, knowing that he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help at all. Newt opened the back of the van, the ramp folding down and clanging against the road as he unclipped the bolts on the wheels, rolling the stretcher down towards you for you to receive, and you positioned it in front of you, turning it longways and beginning to undo the straps that held the cushioned padding down, to be able to thread on the blackboard for security too.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?”

You turned to look at your partner, realising you’d drifted again, grabbing onto the solid yellow plastic board he was holding to you, balancing it on the stretcher to create a table to place everything else on top of. “Nothing, just a bit apprehensive, I suppose.”

“For what?”

You pulled a face at him, moving to grab your own go-bag and pull it up your shoulders, making sure it was comfortably settled onto both arms this time, and beginning to unload equipment with him as you forced your mind to be occupied. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the abseiling down into the abyss of an elevator shaft that’s freaking me out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to do it then, huh?” You paused, turning to look up at him, confusion evident on his features, and he hopped down onto the tarmac before you, hair flopping into his face for a second, before he was blowing it away, and reaching for the ramp once again. “It’s my turn, right? You took the plunge last time, so it’s only fair I go this time.”

His tone was light, making a joke out of the situation you were both looking at, but the truth was resting strong between you in a thick layer of tension as he locked up the van, hands locking on either side of the head at the top of the stretcher, ready to push it along, and waiting for you to take the feet, but you placed a hand on his forearm gently, bringing his attention back to yours. His gaze was curious, sparkling a little as he stared at you, before the gaze was softening, flickering between remorse and pity, before finally settling on acceptance.

“It’s my turn.”

He whispered the words, and you shook your head a little, your gaze flicking down, the toes of his shoes touching against yours as he turned to face you a little more, and his shoulders slumped as he looked back up. “We both know I’m the one going down there.”

“It’s not fair, it shouldn’t have to be you. My physiotherapist cleared me; I can do it.” He sighed, flexing the knee of his injured leg subconsciously, and you chuckled a little, squeezing his arm softly.

“Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should have to. I know that it makes your leg ache when you hold heavyweights for too long, and just because you can take the pain, you shouldn't have to. I wouldn't be a very good partner, if I let you do that, would I?”

He sighed, staring at you for a moment longer, before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a smile, and he gave in, something like disappointment making itself known on his face as he tried to hide it. “You know I love you, right?”

“You’ve known me for, like, four months.”

“Ouch, the harsh sting of rejection.” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart as he faked a wound, before stepping forwards and knocking the trolley into action, prompting you to take the foot of it and guide the way. You stepped ahead of him, a hand finding the cool metal and beginning to lift it up and over the curb to the sidewalk, heading back inside of the building. There was an ache on the inside of your cheek, your teeth biting down to contain your smile, the affection shown to you by your coworker making you heart race a little, and you glanced back at him over your shoulder.

You didn’t have to say it back, you hoped it was evident simply in the actions you took, the texts you shared and the jokes that were given in hushed laughter between you both, that you did love him too. You weren’t ready to say that to anyone yet, even if it was just a friend.

Jeff was holding the door open for you both in the staff elevator, helping you to gather everything inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut, you swallowed thickly, the numbers on the panel above the door beginning to click up. It felt wrong, to be riding in a contraption that on the other side of the building was broken, and endangering the lives of three people. Your fingers messed nervously with the straps of your backpack, listening to the men behind you shuffle as they sorted through the belongings on the stretcher, and as the box dinged and the doors laid open, you were walking through them and onto solid flooring one again, a somewhat relieved breath slipping from you.

Glancing around the scene, it had all already been commandeered, and you barely had time to process it all over the noise that was being made by the bustling teams. Gally was anchoring weights into the ground, the marble flooring cracking a little as the metal was drilled into place, before he was pushing his feet against it to test the weight, and ropes were being threaded around the beams of the upper ceiling. It was impressive, it truly was, but none of it was making you feel any better.

A collection of harnesses was laid out on the floor, an even more complex pair abandoned on the floor by the doors that were being held open by a thick rod of metal, denting from the clams wrapped around them, and you sighed, nails digging into your palms from the fists you were holding just to contain the shaking of your hands.

Staring down at the straps and bondings on the floor, you were completely lost, nudging it a little with the toe of your sneakers as you took it all in, and a deep chuckle sounded in your ear, making you jump, before you were watching a familiar head of dark brown hair dip down, picking up one of the harnesses, and picking it up, showing it to you.

“You’re gonna’ want to lose the backpack, for now, we’re wearing full-body harnesses.”

It made more sense, there hadn't been nearly this many clips and straps on the one you'd worn last time, and you let your bag slide down your arms clattering on the floor loudly. Picking it up and mimicking the way the lieutenant before you was holding it, he crouched won, spreading it out on the ground before himself, waiting for you to mimic the actions, and it began to look less like a pile of fabric scars and more like something slightly reassuring the more you adjusted it.

Four circles became evident, adjustable straps on them, and a belt that would clip around your waist with a set of match straps that would all connect elsewhere over your body. He stepped into the first two, and you took a deep breath, every action taking you closer into literally throwing yourself down into an elevator shaft with nothing but a rope to keep you alive.

Matching him, you placed your feet inside of the circles, before reaching down to the ground behind yourself to find the other two circles, holding onto them tightly and beginning to inch the contraception up your body The gem of your trousers caught for a second, and you shook your leg, adjusting it all back down comfortably, before you were hooking your first arm through the strap, the band on your right coming up to sit on your shoulder, and the buttons of your shirt were catching on the fabric, stiff and uncomfortable work shirt, and you cursed a little under your breath at the restriction of movement that ti wall offered you.

Dropping the edge of the harness, it hung loosely at your waist, and you were thankful that you’d chosen to wear more than just a tank top under your shirt today, the chill in your apartment having promoted a long sleeve shirt, and you undid the buttons on your uniform shirt, dropping the crisp material to the ground, and trying again to adjust the harness on your arms.

Once it was on both, it was hanging limply on your body, unadjusted and unfastened, but the thick strap of material running up your back and pressed between your shoulder blades did feel strong, and make you feel a little more secure, and you tried to let your worries go, watching Thomas’ fingers fly smoothly over his front as he did up all of the clips and straps, no struggle as he was trained to do the equipment up, and you lifted each side of the belt, clipping it over your stomach, and struggling to tug the loose material through to tighten it around your waist to hold tight and secure.

“Struggling a little, there?”

“Just a bit.” You mumbled, and he grinned, lifting a hand up to take a hold of the straps on your shoulders, adjusting it better on your arms to sit comfortably and not dig into you, yet holding snugly to your skin as he fastened it all up, fingers flying over the bolts to tighten them. Hands smoothed down over your sides, checking each point of weakness, and your breath hitched a little in your throat as he did, before the backs of his fingers were smoothing over your hips, downs the fronts of your thighs, and he took a hold of each strap, the final material sitting loosely.

Gripping one in each hand, he tugged harshly, your body jerking forwards a little closer to him, a gasp as you did, before the material was tight along your thighs, and he smirked a little, eyes finding yours as his gaze trailed along the harness to make sure it was all done up correctly. “Tight enough?”

“Mhm..” You swallowed thickly, head nodding on a second’s delay, and he grinned, taking a step away from you as he reached away for the first rope. Looping or through both of the hooks on the front of your body, sealed over your ribs as he brought it all together, hooking it into the carabiner and screwing the clip up tightly. Giving it a test tug for security, you huffed a little as your body was jerked forwards towards him again, and you glared up at him weakly as he simply grinned in response to you tripping over your feet, a cheeky look on his features. “You did that on purpose.”

“What can I say? You’re just falling for me already.”

“I think I want to go back to hating you.” You grouched, and he laughed a little, doing up his own ropes, and firemen around you were putting their kit on. You knew he was distracting you, and you appreciated it, but as he pulled on a piece of headgear and adjusted the torch on top, it only made it all a little more real. Nearing the edge of the elevator shaft, you peered inside, unable to even see the box that had fallen, it was so far down, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not feeling so good about this whole height thing.”

“You’ve already down this once, you’ve got it this time, too.”

It was supposed to be reassuring, and you felt him come up to stand beside you, but you only scoffed, shaking your head. “Thomas, that was, like, fifteen feet down. This is more like one hundred feet.”

“It’s one hundred and thirty, actually.” You turned to look at him, a grimace passing over his features as pale skin over his cheeks turned a little pink, and he shook his head at himself. “I don’t know why I said that, it didn’t help, at all.

“No, it didn’t.”

“I admire you, though.” He turns you around, the two of you standing only a couple of metres away from the gap, backs to the gap as you watched the team finally be prepared, and while you knew only a few minutes had passed in this whole amount of time, with your stress, it somehow managed to feel like both seconds and hours all in one. “I know you’re scared, and you’re doing this for Newt to save him the pain. I think that’s really brave.”

“I suppose so..” Your words were whispered, and he nodded his head, adjusting your hands on the rope attached to your waist as it no longer lay slack on the ground. Brenda was anchored to the ground before you, holding onto your rope as she wore her own harness, feet pressing to the metal on the ground as she took a seat. Behind her was Gally the two offering you and Thomas a nod, and Minho and Fry took up place on his side, the signal telling you that it was time to go. You grabbed your bag, lifting it onto your shoulder as Thomas pulled on his backpack, and with that, you were holding the breath your lungs as nerves took over.

“They won’t let anything happen to you, alright?” Your attention was drawn back to Thomas, and as you looked up at him, he offered a smile. “Just keep your eyes on me, alright? We’re just going to walk backwards slowly, keep your eyes on me, and as we go over the edge, keep your feet on the ground.”

You nodded your head, nothing but honesty and compassion in his eyes as he made you a silent promise to keep you safe, and your hand twitched a little as you felt fingers smooth over your palm. His hand took yours, squeezing tightly as his fingers wrapped over the back of your hand, and you held onto him tightly, before following his guidance, and taking a step back.

You did as told, keeping your eyes locked with his, slow and cautious steps, and your breathing only picked up in rent as the feeling dragging your body down changed.

Your feet were teetering on the precipice of the shaft, wobbling a little, and you snapped back to look at Brenda, everything suddenly feeling unsafe again, and you froze up. “Hey, hey, c’mon! Look at me, eyes on me, remember?”

You choked up, feeling the squeezing around our hand, and you looked down, fingers wrapped warmly around your hand, and you wondered if he could feel how hard your blood was pumping through your veins and how fast your heart was racing right now. Looking back up to him, honey-coloured eyes were fixed on you, and he squeezed again, nodding his head.

“Just look at me, okay? You’ve got this.”

His brows raised a little, and you force yourself to take a breath, following after him and lifting one foot, placing it at an unusual angle as your leg bent, foot pressing flat to the wall on the inside of the elevator shaft, and as your other followed, you let out a soft sound, something between fear and relief at taking the first step.

“You’re doing so good.” His words were whispered, a few more steps being taken as you began to inch your way down into the darkness, slowly gaining a pace as you began to gain confidence in your movements.

The further down you got, the darker it got, surrounding you as you began to lose your vision. Slowly, it all faded away, until you could barely even see the rope in front of your face, and you couldn't hold the gaze of the man beside you anymore, the darkness shrouded around you. The elevator shaft above you that was the only thing that now connected you to everyone else was simply a sliver of light, and the temperature had dropped rapidly within the cold metal tunnel, making you shiver a little as only your undershirt remained on your body.

The hand wrapped around yours loosened, and you held on for a second, before he was tugging it back, your movements coming to a halt for a second as you hesitated, before releasing him, and your hands fumbled to find the rope in front of your body, wobbling a little bit as you searched for something else to hold onto, your breath hitching in your throat as your food scraped a little against the wall, and you fell forward.

Catching yourself against the wall before you smashed into it too solidly, you grunted, a slight spark of pain running along your wrist, and you winced as bright light filled your vision, Thomas messing with the head torch on his forehead, lighting up the small bubble of air around the two of you.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s alright, just needed some light.” The radio on his shoulder crackled, checking whether he was okay as the two ropes stopped lowering you both down, and he looked below himself, the metal of the elevator reflecting back to you, only thirty feet or so from you now, and he looked back up, raising his brows. “Look how close we are, you’ve come so far, look at that.”

You swallowed thickly, not daring to look down, shaking your head adamantly as you hung in the air, gripping onto the rope, lips pursed and blood running cold. The radio crackled again, and he lifted his hand, pressing the button on the side to continue lowering you down slowly, and you opened your mouth to protest, fear washing over your once again as the ropes jerked, but you were being shushed slowly.

“Do you remember what you said to me the day you ran into that burning building?”

“Not really. I remember a lot of yelling, that's about it.” You mumbled, a tremor in your voice, and Thomas chuckled, his hands finding your ankles and lifting them up, placing your feet flat against the wall, and forcing you to take the proper stance once again.

“Well, I remember. I was yelling at you, being scary, and you told me that we saved a life. You didn't take any of my shit, and then you called me out on it all, but you made me look past our actions to the life we saved. Sometimes I forget to do that, and you made me realise.” You huffed, the joke he’d slipped in there making you roll your eyes, and you took a step with one foot, regaining your momentum again as one of his hands smoothed over your clasped palms, holding onto your hands tightly as he used one on his own rope. “We’re going to go and save some lives, you’re going to save some lives, and I’m just here to help you. You need to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes coming back as you dared to look up at him, catching his gaze in the brought light for only a second, before he was nodding his head. “When we get down there, it’s going to be a little scary again, alright? I need you to stand on the top of the box while I open the hatch, and I’ll go down first. I’ll help you inside, but the rope is going to go slack, because they’re going to give you enough space to move around. You think you can handle that?”

“I can do it. I’ll be okay.” You took a deep breath, not quite having faith in yourself yet, but forcing your heart rate to calm down with every deep breath to steady your nerves, before you were finally beginning to trust yourself. The elevator became clearer, the staining on the wall of an old set of numbers, a faded ‘12’ on the wall, before you were stretching your legs out underneath yourself and finding the metal of the elevator to land on.

Just as Thomas promised, he gave your hands a final squeeze, before he was stepping back and tugging on the rope to let them know that you’d both landed. Just like that, the pressure of the pull holding you up went slack, extra rope pooling around your feet, and it only looked to be around ten foot worth of material.

“Not a lot to work with.”

He glanced up, looking at the rope that had gone spare as you were suddenly dependent on your own two feet without support, and he indeed his head. “Ropes are one hundred and fifty feet, but they need at least ten foot of rope to work with up there, and we’re close to a hundred and fifty feet down.”

You shuddered a little, that fact along bringing panic surging back, and your arms wrapped around yourself. The torchlight was overwhelmed by the flickering light on the inside of the elevator when the hatch came loose, the panicked crying of a young girl and the shushing from her mother sounding out, before Thomas was switching off his headlight.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?” You watched, the ay her face peeled back form recessed into her mother’s shoulder, tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, but the badge on Thomas’ uniform and the smile on his face made her trust him, the soft nod she gave him being enough to get them to step back towards the edges as he lowered his feet inside.

The cage shook as he landed, a sharp intake of breath that made your head spin as you panicked for just a second, before Thomas was calling out to you, and you were taking tentative steps over to the edge of the hatch. The lieutenant was staring up at you, nodding his head, and reaching up to tap at the edge of the hatch.

“Legs first, I’ve got you, just drop down.”

Choking down the lump in your throat, you tried to blink away the thin line of tears you held, knowing you needed to be brave for the people on the inside of the elevator. This was your job, you were saving lives, you were inspiring a young girl, and you were damn well going to be proud of yourself for it.

Taking a seat carefully, your legs swung over the edge, shuffling a little until your hands were pressed to the opposite side, and his hands were wrapping gently around your calves, stopping your legs from the swinging motions they’d been taking. You focused on that, on the touch of his fingertips into your muscle instead, the way he was holding onto you tightly, reassurance, instead of the way you were risking dropping down into a metal deathtrap over a hundred feet down from where you were being held up by just two people and a metal anchor.

Inching forwards again, you lowered yourself over as the metal under yourself slipped away, those same hands smoothing a little further up your body, until you were lowering yourself down by your upper arms. Smoothing over your hips, his hands found your waist, burning hot through the thin material of your shirt, and lowering you down until your feet found the ground, a small sigh slipping from you as you took a minute to control your fears.

“I told you, I got you.”

Your eyes cracked open, looking up to find honey-brown eyes fixed on you, and you offered him a small smile, taking a deep and calming breath, before turning to face the family before you, and his touch fell away. “Okay, let's get you all checked out, huh?”

The little girl nodded, and you peeled your backpack from your arms, placing it down and crouching beside it to open it up, watching as the child, who couldn't be any older than ten sank to her knees before you. As she did, the front of the mother was relieved to you, large and swollen, a pregnancy that was early third trimester or late second, and your actions paused as you tried to assess the next course of action.

Thomas had brought spare harnesses, and yet there were no spare ropes, you could hear him behind you as he worked, setting up the next set to be equipped, but there was no way that you would be able to carry a woman that far along in a tandem harness without posing a risk to the child. Turning back to look at him as you snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, his brows raised at you, pausing what he was doing for a second to look over, and his jaw dropped a little, the anticipated addition clearly bringing his mind to a short-circuited halt.

Your focus went back to the young girl, the mother now with a hand resting over her stomach, and the father was sitting in the corner, popped up against the wall, eyes a little half-lidded and a cut on his forehead, but he was lucid, and so you knew he’d be alright to wait until his family was checked out.

“Okay, this light is going to be a little bright okay, I just need you to follow it with your eyes for me, can you do that?” She nodded, and you put on the best smile that you could, before clicking the light on the end of the torch and lifting it up. Dragging it slowly from left to right across her vision, you monitored the speed at which her pupils flexed, and how capable she was of tracking the source. Returning it the other way, you watched for the same signs. Up, and down, she was alright, and you ran your fingers gently over her head for signs of bleeding or bruising, feeling under her hair for swelling. “You’re doing so good! You’re even braver than I am!”

“I cried a lot, I’m not brave.”

She sighed sadly, her mother reaching out to place a comforting hand on her head and brush her hair out of her face gently, and you leaned in a little closer, offering her a smile. “That’s okay, I wanted to cry on the way down here, too. But, you see the firefighter behind me?” She glanced over your shoulder, her eyes flicking over him for a second, before she nodded. “He’s great at this, he’s the bravest, and he’s going to get you back up to the top, okay? He’ll help you put a harness on, and then you’re going to do some climbing, think you can do that?”

She hesitated, before a look of determination was passing over her face, and she stood on weak and unsteady legs, before rounding to him. His voice faded into the background, deep and soothing as he began to get the young girl roped up, and she would undoubtedly be fastened to his chest, so that he could climb back up with her, brushing your knees off a little as you stood to talk to the mother.

“How are you feeling? Any unusual headaches, blurred vision, whiplash?” She shook her head whispering her ‘no’ on a hoarse through, and you felt awful for what she’d had to endure today, the rhythmic pattern of her hand rubbing circles over her stomach, soothing you both, and she traced the flashlight with her eyes just as commanded, and there was no delayed reaction in her responses either, all showing up with a good sign. “How about the baby, anything you want to ask?”

“No, I know my little one is alright.” She cracked a smile now, and you raised a brow at her, the hand on her stomach leaving her bump to take your wrist, pushing her cardigan out of the way until just a cotton t-shirt was covering her, and she placed your palm flat over her skin. You waited for a second, before a sharp jolt pressed to your palm, and she winced a little, the hard kick from within making you chuckle. “He’s doing just fine. If anything, he’s mad he didn’t get his lunch yet, we had reservations that we’ve missed.”

“Well, you’ve got a little fighter in there, huh?”

“You can say that again.” She teased, wrapping herself back up warmly, and you did a quick scan over what of her you could see.

“My boy is going to be a football star with energy like that.” The father grinned, wheezing a little on his words as he pushed himself up to sit a little straighter, and your attention turned to him. Before you could move onto him, though, a hand was wrapping around your forearm, tugging you back slightly, and you turned to face Thomas. He pulled you aside, to the edge of the elevator, as much privacy as you were going to get, but his back was to the family, leaning down low, and voice barely a whisper;

“We’re not going to be able to get her in a harness. You’re going to have to climb back up on your own with the mother and the girl, and come back to me with the harnesses.”

It was a reasonable decision, but the longer you waited, the more at risk of a concussion the father was growing to, the cut on his had needing attending to as blood beaded along his hairline and dripped in a single steady path along his skin, a red trail left in its wake before it was sliding down his neck and into the fabric of his shirt, his head leaning a little to the side.

“No, I think you have to be the one to go.”

He shook his head, a frown taking over his lips. “No, no, absolutely not. I can’t leave you down here witho-” Your hand found his wrist, wrapping around it delicately and squeezing a little, bringing him to silence as he glanced down, before his eyes were searching through yours as he tried to understand. “You’re terrified, though.”

“I know, but I’m saving lives, remember?” The edges of his lips flicked up a little, a sigh through his nose as his jaw clenched, before he was looking over his shoulder to the father as you nodded your head a little. “He needs medical attention, and you need to take the girl and the mother back up. I’ll wait right here, and you just get back to me as soon as you can.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear.” He didn’t look convinced, watching as your hands went to the straps of your harness, beginning to undo them as you looked down, trying to work them all out. He sighed, his own hands moving to begin undoing the clips and seals quickly, helping you to loosen the safety equipment, until it could drop down your arms and pool at the floor. Stepping out of it, you gave a final squeeze to his arm, nodding your head. “I got this.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You grinned a little, stepping away from him, and the mother looked between you both, worry in her eyes, and you let Thomas do the explaining once again, as he loosened all of the straps and adjusted the harness to be able to take her weight securely without harming the baby she was growing.

As soon as she was fastened into it, he was pulling on her rope, fastening his hands and crouching down to be able to give her a boost, lifting her up to be able to climb out from the hatch and onto the roof of the elevator. Her footsteps were loud and clanging for a moment, before they were gone, and she was clearly on her way of climbing up back to safety, taking your only escape route with her, and you felt like you were going to suffocate on your fears.

Thomas’ gaze caught yours, worried and unsure, his jaw dropping, but there was nothing he could say, knowing that this was the best way to go about it, and instead, he dropped his head in a single nod.

“I’ll be back for you real soon, alright?”

You gave him the most convincing smile you could muster, before he was telling the little girl to jump up, lifting her until she could sit on the edge of the box, and he followed as soon as she was clear, her legs out of the way. As he jumped, the box creaked a little, the force of his movements making it shake, and your eyes went wide, body tensing up, fear once again surging through your system, before Thomas was disappearing too.

The pair lingered for an extra few moments, and you knew that he was making sure the girl was properly attached to him, all secures done up tightly, before their footsteps faded too, and you were left alone, nobody to catch you this time.

Taking a seat on the floor beside the father, his eyes studied you for a tense moment, before he was offering you a supportive smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m just as scared as you are.”

You offered him the most reassuring look you could, trying to use it for your own relaxation too, and you started by running your hand gently along the back of his neck, a hiss leaving his lips as you did, and you paused all movements.

“Sorry, your hands are cold.”

“You’re lethal, do you know that?” You mumbled, lips quirking up at the sides, and you shook your head, your fingers twitching against his neck as you got back to work, and he let out a weak chuckle. “No more noises like that unless you’re in pain, or you know something wrong, alright?”

He closed his eyes, head barely moving in a nod, but it was enough to secure his confirmation, and you began the movement of your fingers along his neck once again. He didn’t make those sounds, keeping his promise, but he did wince and pull the occasional faces as you moved, the swelling frowning around the tissue and the tense feeling under the tips of your fingers being slightly concerning, but not enough to be an immediate concern. When you were finished, you placed a palm on the back of his neck, cupping carefully and lifting your thumb to press into the back of his head.

Pulling his head forwards, you placed the softly cushioned support of the neck brace behind his head, the plastic holding strong as you lay his head back into it and as you released him, finding it holding secure, you brought the front around carefully. The straps hung loose, and you adjusted it under his chin, holding his head up at the correct angle, and just like it always did with patients, a small sigh of relief left him he was no longer tasked with holding up the weight of his own head.

Placing it over his shoulders, you tightened the straps, fastening them correctly, and letting out a little sigh as one job was checked off of your list. You moved onto testing his reactions next, and bringing up the flashlight to look into his eyes, studying him. His reactions were slower than you would have liked, his pupils dilating with a paused reaction and it was sluggish in his movements, but he was able to clearly react to the light, tracing it in all dimensions, and to read the title of the notice on the other side of the elevator clearly, no blurring present.

Lifting your gaze to the cut across his forehead, you pushed back the slightly blood-matted hair of his fringe, dirty-blonde hair going a murky red-brown at the tips, and you lifted it out of the way, tucking it back in hopes that it would stay, the strands sticking up unevenly.

Pressing around the edges, and watching the consistency and speed of the blood flow, it wasn’t too bad, slow and somewhat clotted as it tried to repair itself, darker in colour as the fresh blood under the surface began to flow the way it should, and it was simply a laceration.

“Skin wound, nothing too serious. I’ll get it cleaned up for you, won’t even need stitches. Looks way worse than it is.”

“Stings like a bitch, though.”

“Well, you’re not going to like this, then.” You warned him, holding up the small foil packet with an antiseptic wipe sealed inside of it, and tearing it open. Letting the wrapper flutter away to the floor, a loud groan left his lips, ones that tails of into a whiny noise as you wiped over his skin, his hands becoming fists by his sides, before he bit down on his tongue to try and contain the noises, lips sealing shut, and a grunt rounding it out. “I’m sorry, Mr, uh..”

“You can just call me Clint.”

“I’m sorry, Clint. It’s not all that fun, but it’s a hell of a lot worse than a skin infection, that’s for sure. You’d hate it if this thing got gross and had to be scraped clean.” He grimaced a little at the idea, and you knew the feeling. On more than one occasion, you’d been called out to a call for a person who hadn't called for an original injury, and were now at risk of collapsing, passing out and omitting and sometimes even spasming when the infection got too bad. You hated those trips, when you arrived and tried to work out what was wrong, only to find a finger on one hand completely discoloured and flowing with pus from a simple cooking accident, or a scratch from a pet that hadn't been cared for and was now oozing and bruised. “All done, now, okay?”

You cleared down along his skin, doing the best you could to wipe the dried blood away from his skin and help him to feel a little bit cleaner, and he mumbled a ‘thanks’ as you did. Putting down the wipe and searching through the small plastic box on the floor that you had open, you found the half-empty and folded tube of cream to apply to it, squeezing some onto the tip of your finger, and warming it by rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger to warm it, before smoothing the healing solution over his skin.

Just as you were screwing the top back on, you flinched, pausing for a second as you tried to listen out to see whether you’d heard correctly, and much more clearly this time, your name was bouncing from the walls of the elevator shaft.

Peeling your gloves from your hands and dropping them down to the floor in a ball, you studio up, brushing the dust staining your pants away from your knees, and moving to stand underneath the hatch in the elevator roof.

“Thomas?”

“Yep, that’s me.” You squinted as bright light flashed in your eyes, the light swinging a little from side to side as Thomas moved, but as you peered out into the darkness, you couldn't see anything except for the swinging little spot of the torch. “How’s he lookin’ in there? He going to be able to get in a harness?”

“It’s not ideal, but I think if we climb carefully, we’ll be just fine.” Your voice cracked a little with the sudden shout, but you offered the man a small smile, turning to look at him. “We’re good, right. Clint?”

“We’re great, kiddo.” He mumbled, holding up a weak hand with a thumb stuck up, and you grinned, a reassuring nod for both of you.

“Glad to hear it.” The torch disappeared from your sight once again, and you figured he was looking up, back to the elevator shaft entrance that was obscured from your view, and you twisted your head away as he looked back, the light catching your eyes again, stinging at your retinas. “You’ve both done real good today, we’re almost through with it all. I just need you to come out and grab the harness that Brenda is lowering down beside me, so you can drop it through the hatch.”

“Uh, come out as in on top of the elevator?”

“Can you handle that? I’m only two or three floors away, but if you can get yourself roped up first, it’ll save a lot of time.” It made sense, it was logical, and you didn’t want to be down here any longer than necessary, because, despite the bravery taking you over, you were still in a broken metal box that was hanging precariously at thirteen floors above where it should be, with no safety measures in operation.

“I can do it.”

He gave some kind of reply, something you didn’t catch as you stared up at the entrance of the hatch, the sighs around you becoming clearer as you began to notice the grungy grey walls that were coming into clarity as Thomas’ silhouette got closer and closer to you. Lifting your hands up, you were only a few inches shy of the roof, and pushing off of the floor, the elevator creaked a little in a way that made your stomach twist, but you gripped onto the edge, and you were able to hold on.

As you swung in the air, it wasn’t too much to handle, but your arms trembled as you tried to pull yourself up, not having enough strength to do so, and you dropped back down, the box around you rattling as you did, a grunt leaving your lips as a shock ran along your leg, a jolt of pain at landing on it awkwardly, a flash of heat following it.

“What did you just do?”

“I tried to climb out?” You shouted back, not understanding the rushed sound to his voice, before there was a loud screeching sounding out, and the ground beneath you moved by a few inches, before coming to another solid stop, your arms flying out around you in a panic.

“Don’t move, okay? Don’t move even a step!”

“I’m not! I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to at this point!” There was a shake in your voice, nausea filling you once again and your entire body was tensed painfully tight, fear taking over again. “What’s happening?”

“It shifted. The movements made it come loose, but it's alright.” He was closer, voice no longer needing to shout as much as he near you, and you could now pick out the colours on the logo of his shirt, and the outlines of his features, close enough now that you could speak without shouting. “Just stay real still, and it’s going to be just fine.”

“Okay.” You took a shaky breath, running your breathing routines in your head as you tried to calm yourself down, and you turned on your spot, slowly and carefully to face your patient. “We’re okay. We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, we will.” He sounded just as scared as you, but the fatherly-instinct within him was prompting him to calm you, even though that was what you should be doing for him, and you hummed.

What couldn't have been anything longer than a minute passed you by, before the box you were in was creaking again, a shudder running under your feet that travelled along your spine, chilling your blood instantly in your veins, and your head snapped up. “Thomas?”

“It’s moving again, I’m ri-”

The box shifted, dropping once again, and you felt bile rise in your throat as your feet left the ground for a moment, feeling the air whipping around you.

There was no sound, you couldn't even muster a scream, the entire event happening so quickly that you barely even had time to process it as the fear in your body made you feel like you were blacking out. Your grip on everything slipped away, the lights inside of the box flashing, and then, just like that, you were finding gravity once again.

You collided with the floor roughly, the side of your body aching as you hit against it, the side of your head throbbing angrily only a split second later, and your vision was spotting. It was like a weight sitting on your chest, unable to breathe, fingertips digging into the floor as you tried to support yourself, and push yourself up to sitting up. Your ears were ringing a little, your hand coming up to smack at the side of your head as you knocked yourself back to consciousness and forced your senses to realign, shaking off the dizziness to look around.

Clint had keeled over, eyes wide as he now lay on the floor, his eyes searching for yours, and a groan left you as you rolled over onto your hands and knees, gasping and spluttering for breath as your head spun, an array of different aches raising along your body, and you made your way over to him. Kneeling back and sitting on your heels, you adjusted him carefully, laying him on his back and thank your earlier self that you’d already applied a neck brace to the man, keeping him safe there, and he lay out, staring up at the dimly flickering lights.

“Thomas?” Words came out croaky, your throat sore and dry, the pain of holding in tears as you tried to be the strong one making it painful to talk, and you cleared your throat, trying again to call out to him. “Lieutenant?”

“Oh, thank fucking God. Are you okay?” There was a panicked rush to his voice, and you patted yourself down a little, running your gaze over the man before you, and licking at dry lips to stop them from cracking.

“We’re both still in one piece.” He was far away once again, the light dimmer and his voice more distant, and it only scared you more, making you feel alone, and like you were sitting on a ticking time bomb. “How far did we drop?”

“Uh..” He paused, the lights flashing around the tunnel for a moment, before it was disappearing again. “You’re somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor.”

“Okay, how long until you get to us?”

“I can’t.” The silence was thick between you, the tone in his voice conveying exactly how he felt, and it matched your own mood exactly. Helpless, scared, alone, frustrated, the list could go on, and you pressed down roughly with your nails into your palms, hands shaking as you tried to hold it together. “The ropes can’t get that far down. “Minho and Fry are going to pull me back up, Newt is on his way to the sixth floor, and so are the rest of the truck and squad team. We’re going to have to pull down the wall, okay? They’re already on their way.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just hold on, and be brave. Can you do that? For me?” You absolutely could not, everything inside of you was rattled and terrified, and you were barely holding it together, but you didn’t want him panicking either, and so you held the trembling in your body off long enough to give him a smooth response;

“Yeah. I’ll manage. Just hurry, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle, empty and weak but it was there, and he agreed, the sound barely reaching your ears as it made its way down the dark elevator shaft. “I’m already on my way to come and get you, I promise.”

Looking back down and around you, the possessions from your bag were scattered around, and you lowered yourself down to the hands and knees, inching your way down slowly until you could reach out around yourself, scarcely crawling at all when you needed to, until you were beginning to gather up the possessions that belonged there. Packing away the kit, you sealed it all up, making sure you didn’t construct any sudden movements, and beginning to pack up your bag.

There were muffled voices on the other side of the wall, what you assumed would be loud shouts was almost a whisper through the layers of metal, concrete and scaffolding, but the cracking and splintering of drywall soon followed it, and you let out a sigh of relief. Packing away the various containers and boxes inside of your bag, you zipped it up, pushing it over to sit in the corner beside where the doors would open, and rocking back to sit with your legs folded before you, hands holding you up.

A hand felt out along the floor, a calloused palm patting the back of your hand gently, before settling over it to squeeze, and the dam inside of you broke. A sob left you, loud and freeing as the tears you’d been blinking away finally formed fully, and leaked along your cheeks in large droplets, a shake moving along your entire body as you did.

He squeezed once again, sitting with you quietly as you gasped for breath, letting out the terrifying mixture of emotions with you. He was shushing you quietly, and you wanted to laugh at how the roles had been reversed, how it as supposed to be you comforting and helping him, but you couldn't help him, breaking down with the overwhelming terror of the situation you were trapped in.

The sounds outside of the elevator were getting louder, voices becoming clearer, and you could hear the clattering made by chunks of the wall being ripped away and scattered across the tiled flooring of the executive building, but you didn’t care, because you had been keeping everything bottled up for so long that you were unable to hold it back any longer, and your body shook with the intensity of your emotions.

Your lungs were once again burning for breath, head spinning and heart racing and you took gasping intakes of air, swallowing down only to splutter and hiccup as you tried to exhale, and the man beside you never said a word, his hand rubbing soothingly over yours beside you on the floor as he tried to remain steady, much in the same way you were.

“I’m so sorry.” Your words were broken up and stuttered, and you tried to get a grip on yourself, wiping at your cheeks and hating how your eyes were stinging, throat raw, feeling like you’d swallowed a ball of fire from the burning within, and you felt like claustrophobia might be a fear you now had to add onto your list, the walls of the box seeming to get smaller and smaller.

Like some kind of blessed relief, there was banging against the doors of the elevator, a tap of a knock, and Chuck’s voice was ringing through to you loud and clear, asking if you were alright. Leaning forwards and pressing your hand to the cold metal, a chuckle of ecstatic relief was released.

“We’re okay, Chuck. You guys planning to get these doors open for us soon?”

There was no verbal response, but instead, a second later, the doors were cracking open, the slight humming of the set of spreaders as it was cracked open, a sliver of natural light piercing through from the lobby, and you caught sight of is flushed cheeks and darker brown curls, a worried face that was trying to ease you by smiling. “Soon enough for you?”

You nodded your head, before he was being pushed aside, blonde coming into view, and as the gap widened enough, you could make him out. His brows were furrowed, a guilty look on his face as he met your gaze, and you shook your head. “Don’t do that to yourself, Newt.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, one of his hands slipping up to rest on the edge of the elevator, his head at the same height as yours when you leaned down, only the bottom third of the elevator actually making it onto the sixth floor, the rest still raised above. Reaching down and resting your hand over his, he frowned even further, the gap almost wide enough for you to get to work, but the elevator was shuddering a little again at the action, and you pushed Newt’s hand away, just in case, squeezing it before letting go.

“Just so you know, I love you, too. You’re the best friend, like, ever. Even if sometimes I hate it.” His lips flicked up at that, and he nodded his head, before you were glancing away just for a second, he whispered conversation only needing to be shared between the two of you. Grabbing your med-bag and pushing it through the door gap, he took it, accepting it and dropping or down. “I’m going to need the board, and you need to be ready to go. As soon as he’s out, get to the ambo’, okay?”

“You’ll call once you’re out too, right? So I know you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You swore it, and he backed away, preparing the blackboard to be slid up to you, holding it over his head as the gap finally became wide enough, and you backed out of the space to be able to receive it. As you rolled out of the way, the elevator creaked again, dropping a couple more centimetres, and you swallowed thickly, annoying the straps as quickly as you could.

There was so much commotion going on outside of the elevator, your mind spinning as you tried to focus, and you heard Brenda and Gally arriving, clearly having pulled out their anchor and received their ropes, and you laid the plastic board out carefully beside Clint.

“Okay, there’s normally two of us for this, so I’m going to need your help here, okay?” He hummed, his eyes finding yours, a look flashing through that told you he understood, and you placed a hand flat under his shoulder and hip. “I’m going to roll you, and I need you to tense up, hold it for as long as you can, and I’ll push the board under you, then, when you roll back, try to shuffle onto it, okay?”

He did as told, his body going tense, despite the pain it caused as he winced, and you rolled him over onto his side as much as you could alone. Freeing one hand from his body, you pushed the board under him, and as he rolled back down, he groaned, but the shuffle had worked, because he sat squarely in the middle of the bard where he should be, and you wasted no time.

Pulling the first strap over his waist tightly, you did it up, sealing him down, and moving to the one over his chest. Once there were secure, you wrapped one over the top of his head grinning a little as he stared up at you, holding his head still, before you were tracing along his feet and arms, doing up every fasten you could think of for his safety. “You ever been crowd surfing, Clint?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Your joke was well-received, barely a second of silence before he was letting out a pained chuckle, and you looked back to the door. Gally and Winston were first, stood on either side and ready to receive the board, lifting him carefully above their heads to lower him down, and Newt had raised the trolley up as high as it could go in order to collect him.

You held in your grunt of pain at the exertion of sliding the board across the floor, hearing the scraping of the plastic along the ground, before the elevator was shaking again. Their hands sealed around the end, and the pressure was taken off of you as it began to inch out further and further again, letting them pull it as more bodied came to join, more hands stabilising the mix, and the movement at the end of the hall caught your attention.

The opposite elevator opened up, carrying the final three bodies; Minho, Frypan and Thomas. You could at least breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the rest of your team were all safe, with their feet flat on the ground and not dangling precariously hundreds of feet off the ground. The former two raced forwards, each hooking onto the stretcher board and helping to pull it the rest of the way out, and then, he was disappearing from your sights, strapped to the stretcher and ready to be wheeled away.

A final glance from Newt, a nod of your head, and then honey-coloured eyes were filling your vision as Thomas popped up in front of you. The sudden change it weight and all the added movement was making it unstable once again, his jaw dropping, mind seemingly going blank, and you gripped onto the edges of the doors as it trembled, tipping a little to one side as metal ground against concrete, the ropes on one side of the elevator beginning to give way and snap, the subtle sounds of the metal fraying sounding in your ears as small cables began to tinker on the metal roof as they fell free.

“You need to get out, like, now.”

You could only nod, trying to adjust yourself on the tilted angle to swing your legs through the gap, and you got one out, before the lift was jerking again, dropping down to become even, and the metal was caving under its own weight. “Oh, fuck it.”

A large hand found your ankle, tugging you forwards, your body jerking at the motion and the lift moved too, but before it could drop away, another hand was finding your waist, tugging you free, and you tumbled forwards enough to stumble as you dropped down the gap, but you never landed on the ground. That same hand dragged along your body as he fell back a little from the impact, holding you up the hand from your calf found your back and the hand from your hip was circling under your arms to hold onto you tightly, staggering backwards and away from the danger.

When your feet found the floor again, your toes were brushing against it, before your entire body was sagging into Thomas’, knees going weak, and you were relying upon him to hold you up everything seemed to go numb all at once. Your head fell forwards, too heavy to even hold up as your eyes fluttered closed, and your forehead pressed into his shoulder as you let him support you entirely, legs buckling underneath you.

The arms around you only tightened, the one under your arms relaxing to simply hold you, fingers spreading as his hands sat between your shoulder blades, and he rubbed slowly, the hug unexpected, but exactly what you needed, and your hands moving around him too, bunching in the back of his shirt as you took a shuddering breath and held on for dear life.

“Told you I was coming to get you.”

You could only laugh, a pathetic sound that barely made itself known in response to the words he’d whispered in your ears, but it didn’t matter, because you were soon being pulled back, Thomas’ hold on your dropping down to simply having a hand settled on your lower back as Brenda cupped your cheeks, wiping away any residual wetness sphere with her thumbs, before shaking her head.

“You scared the shit outta’ me.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t all that fond of the experience, either.” You muttered, a wave of laughter going up around you, from the other team members, and you jumped a little at the creaking of metal once again, the box dropping a foot or so further down. Reaching behind your back, to the hand that was still rubbing motions that were barely detectable into your skin, you took his wrist, pulling it away from you as he paused upon the contact.

You couldn’t keep up with the conversation around you, questions and observations about it all being thrown at you, but you could focus on the way Thomas had been able to calm you down so well before, and how you needed a little more of that now. Taking his hand in your own, just like he had done when you’d still been in your harness, you breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers wrapped around your palm in welcome return.

There was still a lot to be done, the job here was far from over, but right now, you were taking a pause to let yourself calm down, and as Thomas squeezed your hand in comfort, you squeezed back.

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #firefighter!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF #tomuary #tom-uary #tommy month #thomas the maze runner #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader

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starksvixen · 4 years ago

Text

Part 4 - Beskar and Broken Hearts

Masterlist

Summary: You and Din had admitted everything, all cards on the table. But it was all for nothing. After you had escaped Navaro, the Mandalorian started treating you the same, like the kiss never happened. Tensions had risen and hit it’s peak by the time you found her...Ashoka Tano.

Warnings: Lots of angst ahead, semi-unhappy ending,

A/N - I’m doing a major time skip cause *tension*. Also, I didn’t really have any ideas except for lots of squabbling between the reader and Mando so here’s the result.

“Wanna explain why you’ve been ignoring me?” the modulated voice speaks up from beside you.

“Not particularly,”

You move a bit faster, moving your hair to the side, free from your hood you had burned back on Navaro. The patch with the Mythosaur skull rubs against your bicep, something that you thought signified you joining Din’s clan. It was obvious his feelings had changed.

The Mandalorian grew cold, acting as if nothing happened. Like the kiss and three words meant nothing. Maybe he was just trying to spare you from embarrassment. But even that pisses you off, the thought of being babied making a dull static fill you.

You stop walking ahead at the soft cooing of the Child, the only reason you had stayed with Mando up till then. Gently, you take him from Din, not sparing him a glance as you walk with the tiny bundle in one arm.

Entering the small town, you look at its desolate state in suspicion. Din had been sent here in search of a Jedi known as Ashoka Tano. The name’s familiarity resounded within you, memories of the name being passed around during your time on Mandalore.

“You stay out here with the Child,” Mando says gruffly. “I’ll see if I can find the Jedi’s whereabouts,”

“You’re seriously benching me?” you hiss.

“No, you’re protecting the kid,”

And without another word, he walks into the city, leaving you in the dust. With a huff, you hold the kid close to your chest and walk towards the forest line near the outer gates of the city. Once you place him down, you find a rock to sit on, watching as the kid curiously held up anything that looked like food.

“Sorry, buddy, no frogs here.” you sigh, leaning your forearms against your knees.

It didn’t take long for Mando to return, only to be met with silence once again on his behalf. You could feel your heart race beneath your skin, your shoulders practically kissing your eyes with the fire radiating off of them. How the hell was he still silent about this situation?

Before any words could be spoken that you could regret, you shove the kid in his hands, mumble a poor excuse to get ahead, and let your feet take wind into the forest. You’re smart, staying close to the duo so you don’t get lost or encounter a threat alone. But being near that man, it made you crawl in your skin at his actions. Like saying those three words were nothing. Like that kiss didn’t mean something. It haunted you.

A rustle in the bushes catches your attention. On instinct, you twist your arm behind you and pull out the staff that rested on your back.

“Din?” you yell into the air.

“I only see a few beasts to the North,”

“No, that can’t be i-”

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t it. Because before you knew it, a sea of a cloak floats in front of you, white lightsabers at the ready. Barely, just barely, you block her attack with the staff, only to have the metal melt in your hands. As the Jedi pulls back for another hit, you kick her square in the gut before ducking to miss the next hit. The hiss of singed skin fills the air, it’s smell nearly making you gag as you brace yourself with the Earth.

Before you even had to think, the sound of light and beskar rang in your eyes. Looking above you, Din has his arms crossed to block the Jedi’s next hit, one that certainly would have killed you. As girly as it was, your heart fluttered at the protective move.

Swinging out of the way, you protect the Child with the small knife as the Mandalorian and the Jedi come to a truce.

“Bo-Katan sent me!” you hear Din yell, his blaster ready.

Slowly, she disengages, her hood falling gracefully towards her shoulders, looking at you and the Child.

“I hope it’s about him,”

Din paces back and forth at an alarming rate before you, the small light up ahead bouncing off the clean metal and refracting with each movement. Ashoka sits with Grogu, a secret communication taking place between the two of them, something you couldn’t help but admire.

As you lean against a rock, the searing pain at the top of your shoulder alarms you to your latest injury. Slowly, you peel back the singed jacket you had. It was a superficial burn, barely there. It wouldn’t even leave a scar. But the fear in Din’s voice would leave a scar upon your memory.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” he mumbles quietly.

In the time you were looking at your wound, you failed to notice the beskar covered warrior crouching in front of you, med pack at the ready.

“Didn’t think you would care,”

“Cya-”

“You don’t get to fucking call me that. Not after ignoring me this entire time.”

“Let me explain...”

“You should have weeks ago...” you mumble.

With the snatch of your wrist, you place a bacta patch on your shoulder, shrugging your beat up leather jacket off and onto your lap. Ashoka coaxes you both towards them. Din offers his hand to help you up, but in turn you glare and stand on your own, tightly tying your jacket to your waist and following the Jedi.

She takes you to a more comfortable plateau, the trees offering safety, something you didn’t expect this deep in the wilderness. You sit beside the kid, gently scratching the space between his ears, earning a coo in return.

“Were you two speaking back there?” Din questions.

“In a way,” Ashoka responds. “Grogu and I can hear each others thoughts.”

“Grogu?” you and Din ask in unison. The poor thing didn’t know who to look at first, making you chuckle softly.

“It must be nice to hear your real name again, huh?” you whisper softly while peering down at him.

You listen quietly to Grogu’s dark...dark story. For the first time since you thought you were going to lose Din, you cry. Silently, of course, not giving way to hysterics. But the thought of your poor boy having to endure things that you yourself had faced, it broke your heart.

As the Child starts to fall asleep, he curls up into your jacket that lay on your waist, making you smile softly at the motion. With one hand, you gently pick him up to lay on your chest. In one swift motion, you stand and walk towards a tree with him close to you. Laying against the rough bark, you let your eyes begin to drift close. Not without seeing the glint of beskar staring right back at you.

It was early when Ashoka had risen you, the Child void of your chest, instead in Din’s arms. Your gaze quickly averts away from him, opting instead to follow Ashoka.

As you all walk deeper into the forest, you engage in quiet conversation with the Jedi. She obviously could sense the tension between you and Mando, subtly using probing questions to solve her mystery. But you were used to these types of people, you knew how to deflect.

Once you make it to your destination, and Grogu was placed somewhere comfortable, you watched intently as Ashoka tested his abilities. While your boy could take the rock floated towards him with ease, sending it back, or taking it, was the problem.

“He doesn’t understand.” Din interjects.

“Oh jeez...” you mumble, already sensing the long day ahead of.

“He does,” Ashoka reassures, stepping closer to the youngling. “He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years. Let’s try something else. Come over here.”

You both take a step forward. The tense glance that Din sends your way forces you to take a step back, arms crossed in defense as you turn away. As the intense feeling begins to build, Grogu’s upset builds also. He softly whimpers at the sight of you two, refusing to make any eye contact.

“For this to work, you both need to be in harmony. Not fighting whatver lovers quarrel has settled upon you.” Ashoka says frankly.

“We’re fine...” you say, your voice void of any emotion.

Ashoka turns to the Child, a soft nod the only signal of their communication before she picks him up and walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

“We need to figure this out, for the kid,” Din says.

“Yeah, and only for the kid,” you scoff.

“What is with you lately?! What have I done that is so wrong!”

“Where do I kriffing start Din?!”

“How have I mistreated you?”

“It’s not mistreatment! It’s the lack of said treatment...”

“Dank Farrik!” he exclaims, his hands flying in the air. “Will you just spit it out already!”

“Fine! You’ve treated me like every other bounty you’ve dragged into the ship ever since our escape from Nevarro.”

The world falls silent, but your heart refuses to let up its song. You can feel it in your ears, your throat. The vulnerability that settles upon your shoulders is crushing you as you wait for a response.

“What I said back there...I never should’ve said it. I never should’ve kissed you like that,”

Your jaw clenches, your arms grip your own body tighter then before.

“Are you saying...”

“Its not true, what I said. We’re just partners.”

With a scoff and a quiet sniffle, you can’t bring yourself to glare at Din at the moment. All you can feel is a pain, wedging itself in your heart, deeper then any blade could.

“Just partners in crime, right?” you spit at him, turning away from the man that you knew you still loved.

A harsh sigh pushes through his encoder, his hands falling at his hips in frustration.

“I’ll pretend to be normal around the kid. But once he’s back with a Jedi, you’re dropping me off at the nearest planet.”

You wipe a stray tear away before walking off in silence.

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years ago

Text

@cayeeast 🥰 You are never too late, my inbox is always open. :) I hope Damirae?! I have to preface this: I apologize in advance. I don’t really do fics like these—this is the first. But I want to grow, be a better writer, and try new things. I have never written anything like this before, so honestly, THANK YOU.

Prompts

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

"More sauvignon blanc, Miss?"

A bottle of wine was withdrawn from the metal ice bucket, lifted by their waiter's practiced hands. Beads of ice cold perspiration were congealing, beginning to travel downward as Raven swallowed another gulp of air. Though it was slight, her grasp began to shake around her cutlery. She had done her very best not to look at the bottle during the duration of the meal.

Now it was practically in her face, sweating.

Her breath hitched in her throat, as she watched the condensation continuing a steady drip.

It was quite possibly mocking her.

The moment seemed to stretch on before veering into uncomfortable, until both gentlemen glanced down at her untouched white.

"Malbec, sir?"

"Please."

The waiter gently replaced the white before disturbing the red. He swept around the table to refill another glass for Damian, who murmured a polite thanks.

Damian fingered the long, thin stemmed wine glass and turned it towards himself in circles. Several rotations were completed to air out the liquor. He guided the blackened magenta beverage to his lips and sipped thoughtfully.

"Raven."

Though Raven didn't immediately glance up, she was focusing on her meal rather intently. She shuffled slices of swordfish steak and capers to make them chase her chanterelle mushrooms and root vegetables around the triangular shaped plate in different patterns.

Of course, the half-demon was sure to select the appropriately suited silverware as she did so. Her efforts were starting to slow, however, as the lemon cream sauce became nearly nauseating when paired with seafood vapors.

Did fish always smell quite so pungent?

"Is there something wrong with the food?" She refocused on the handsome face of her dining companion, flickering in and out of the candelabra light.

"No, it's wonderful," Raven insisted. "Really, wonderful—great... presentation." His emerald eyes parsed the perfectly placed parsley and the latticework of sauce that was now a soupy mess saturating a plate of parsnips and fish.

"Oh, well it must have been." Damian exhaled sharply out of the corner of his mouth. "But, I'll always say nothing is too beautiful to eat..." He drawled.

"I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought..." she mumbled, flushing a little more than delicately.

"I hope our waiter doesn't insinuate to the kitchen that the meal fell short of perfection tonight. If the chef doesn't already know..." He scanned the perimeter of the dining room, as if expecting to be ambushed by the staff or a number of dining guests.

"I'm willing to bet if it wasn't so busy, he'd be out here himself, demanding to know what's wrong with the food." He cut his steak as he reminisced. "Remember what happened the time you asked for salt...?"

"It could just be me." Subtly, she slid her plate nearer to the center of the table. "Even though, I'll never be fully assured that fish is the best idea on a Monday... Are you sure it's fresh?"

"Is it fresh?"

A part of her was teasing, but Damian physically recoiled an inch. To insinuate that he would frequent an establishment that would serve his fiancée day old fish? His face was drawn with his jaw so set, it was as though he had been slapped—or someone in the vicinity had insulted his mother.

"I called ahead. That swordfish was caught earlier today. They're in season, sustainably sourced, and delivered directly to the restaurant—"

And with a menu that read: price available upon request, where other establishments printed dollar amounts, they all but prepared it table-side.

"But... you didn't follow them to the docks?" She asked in a deadpan. "You didn't call the fishmonger either? And I'm guessing, you didn't stand in the kitchen and observe the process?" Raven folded her arms. "Well, I don't understand how someone who takes shortcuts manages to run a billion-dollar corporation."

Raven wasn't at all new to this and she wasn't sure she would ever fully get used to it.

But sarcasm always helped.

"I was under the impression it was your favorite... You enjoyed it so much when we were here months ago." Damian's eyes darkened and then shone, like a man accepting a challenge. "Have your tastes changed already?"

"It's just... It's a little strong—the smell." Raven cleared her throat with her cheeks draining of their remaining color. "It's much stronger than I remember."

"Tell me... Is it work?" He surveyed the tail-coated waiter standing at the ready and lowered his voice accordingly. "Is it...something else?"

This was meant to speak of their nightly activities, the ones that involved aliases, capes, and crime.

Well, the other ones that involved aliases, capes, and crime—no safe words.

Inwardly, Raven groaned, because once again she was reminded of how much harder this could become.

By Azar's blood.

"It's not...that either. My stomach really is too unsettled for fish today." She took the napkin from her lap to wipe her mouth. "Normally it wouldn't be, but maybe... I'm a little unsettled, too."

"Tch... Well, I knew there had to be something." A half frown stole across Damian's full lips. "It's me, Raven... And this is us. We don't hide things from each other. Not anymore."

"I know." She heard her voice wavering. "I know that..."

"If there's anything at all, you'll tell me." He reached across the table to brush her hand. "If you're unhappy, tell me. I'll do whatever I can..." he whispered, lifting his eyebrows to punctuate his next words. "And I mean... anything."

Now Raven couldn't contain a crude snort. "I know, Damian."

"We can stop by a jewelry store - that engagement ring looks awfully lonely by itself." She sucked her teeth in a manner that was less than refined.

"Shoe store then... You can never have too many pairs of those very similar—" Haughtily, Raven blew air up through the side of her mouth to ruffle through her hair. "—but different, black pairs of boots..."

"We can take a trip..." His voice grew lower still. "...have a threesome." But, that one might have been a question rather than a suggestion. And as he pondered his words, his fork went sailing straight through the remainder of his steak without the aid of the knife. "Well...maybe not that last one."

"You're incredible...suggesting a ménage à trois at a French restaurant? Coquin." The half demon shook her napkin at him. "I'd laugh if this fish wasn't making my eyes water."

"Well, I'd do anything for you..." he replied evenly. "If it would make you happy, I'd even consider thinking about that last." And Raven shot her lavender eyes straight up towards the domed ceiling. They both knew the truth. "Maybe someday in the far, far future..."

As if he would ever share her.

That was exactly right, wasn't it? As if he would ever share her, or their lives with anyone?

Why would he?

They lived on the top floor of an elegant building in Gotham with a vintage lift whose golden grills led straight out into their penthouse apartment. But, it could be argued that the building wouldn't have been complete without their elderly doorman, Tom.

On the daily, he hailed cabs for Raven. Semi-weekly, he handed Damian hangers of dry-cleaning that refilled their twin walk-in closets of the numerous suits, trousers, and shirts and monochromatic dresses, blouses, and skirts.

Each morning, he bade Raven good morning as she went off to work and each night he held the door as he bade Damian good evening, a spectator in the lover's lockstep.

Weekly, Damian and Raven maintained long-standing lunch dates clustered in his corner office at Wayne Technologies. Monthly, the couple attended Sunday brunch with the extended clan of brothers, sisters, partners, kids, and pets all assembled together at the Manor.

Yes, there were others in their lives.

Even though Damian would argue they existed more or less on the fringes of a tapestry, while he kept her framed at the center.

Still, he seemed to love everything exactly as it was and he was in no hurry to change it. Especially when every night ended with them tangled together in their king-sized bed.

Two.

Plus one dog.

Titus was the only exception. Unless things changed in the far, far future.

"Do you mind if we cut dinner short?" Raven suddenly suggested. It must have been abrupt because Damian seemed caught off guard. "I think I want to go home early, curl up next to you, and finish those final pages of my book."

"Alright." He signaled for the check. "I'd like that... We'll get you home and I want your final thoughts on the ending. They better be scathing." The waiter reappeared instantly and it was like he'd never left. And even though his eyes remained lowered to the ground, she knew he had to be appraising her.

Raven mumbled something about the ladies room. She considered splashing her face with water and giving herself a pep talk. But to what end? The evening had already gone array. Something unexpected had cropped up.

Unexpected.

How was she supposed to tell him this?

Damian was a planner and for the most part, so was she. They didn't do unexpected.

"Actually, I'm going to grab my coat."

She excused herself and placed her napkin next to the untouched glass of wine. Her feet were pinched tighter in the heels with every step towards the exit. Raven followed the partition around the perimeter of the dining room, arriving at the stairs to the entrance hall.

As she waited in the queue for her coat, her eyes wandered past the sweeping architecture and up the wrap around staircase, where Damian was probably talking to the head chef and the owner. Just as he predicted.

She handed over her ticket, her heart leaping towards her chest as the end of the evening dawned on her. And as Raven grabbed the coat, she wanted to whirl around in her uncomfortable heels and march back up those stairs. Uncaring of her rudeness, she'd steal Damian away, tug him towards the hallway with the row of chandeliers and kiss him.

And tell him absolutely everything.

She would tell him why La Chandelle wasn't at all appealing tonight. She would tell him why she'd suggested going out to dinner in the first place. She would tell him why things had changed so suddenly.

And why everything could.

Instead, she slunk away. Out of the restaurant. Onward. The best she could do now was hope: hope they could get home, hope she could get out of these heels as soon as she could. And then, Raven would figure out how to tell him tomorrow.

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

"Raven?"

Damian was racing down the stone front steps of the restaurant to meet her at the curb.

"There you are." He was hurriedly slipping a pea coat over his suit jacket and he sounded nearly breathless. "Where did you go?"

"The coat check. Did you get the car?" Her voice sounded small and defeated. "I really, really want to get home..."

"I can see that," He deadpanned. "But that's not what I meant and we both know that." His brown-black brows began to knit together. "You were somewhere else for most of the evening. I know when you slip into your mind fortress and this is different from that. So where did you go, Raven?"

She swallowed and held out her hand for him to take. They walked a few steps in silence, turning towards a side street. The sound of laughter, music, and chatter faded away and for the first time all evening, she felt like she could finally think. Raven exhaled, deciding this was far enough.

"Damian, when I asked about dinner," she began. "I wasn't expecting this... I figured we were going somewhere with a little less wine and a little less fish—less wine cooked into fish..."

He blinked, processing slowly with his hands in his pockets, his head pointed down towards the cobblestone street, coated in a mixture of oil and water. It had to have rained recently. "Well, it's not too late, we can go somewhere else—nothing French, I promise."

He licked his lips before he continued, probably sensing her apprehension. "We can go to that noodle place and ask for two pots of oolong tea instead of the usual one... Or we can just grab tea?" He offered. "But if you're too tired, we can always make it at home. I'll make yours with the biggest, widest mug and saucer we have."

"So you're just...not going to give up on tonight, are you?" Raven murmured, her lavender hair moving as she shook her head from side to side, as if wondering who this man was.

"No, I don't think I will." A smirk started up on his face. "That's the thing about having a fiancée. You can't get rid of me that easily." He tapped her cheek good-naturedly and ghosted over her forehead with his lips. "I'm always going to be here."

"Didn't we...just get engaged?"

"Is that what this is about...?" Her husband-to-be searched every single inch and orifice on her face. "We can slow things down or postpone the wedding for a few months. The last thing I want you is for you to be stressed about this."

"What I mean is..." She ran a hand across her damp forehead. "Gods, I had this whole speech planned—how I was going to tell you..." Raven's unease fell away when she felt warmth radiating in waves, like he was lending her strength.

"Anything," he whispered. "You can tell me anything." He placed his arms on her shoulders.

Raven took a deep breath, her eyes locked on his, and—

"I'm pregnant."

The words froze suspended before them in midair. Damian continued to stare at her, but without blinking. Then, Raven nodded. And then Damian started to nod too.

She couldn't believe she said it aloud; she couldn't believe that it even happened. "I know it should be impossible... And not just that it's too soon."

"You're..." Damian breathed. "You're pregnant."

And he was taking her hands with his own to squeeze them tight. He started to smile—not just smile, he was beaming in a way Raven had only seen once before: when she said yes. This was more than elation, he was in absolute awe of her. He lifted her from the rain-soaked street in a generous hug to sweep her right off her feet.

Damian was holding her, lifting her. Supporting her from below. He was staring up, as his breath streamed sweet steam swirling against the seam of her lips. From somewhere inside blooming outward, was a warmth that no amount of healing or surge of power or strike of hellfire could ever compare.

And he too was giving himself over to this sensation.

With fingers gliding through his hair, eyes welling emotion, she nodded again. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, and drew closer to connect. Deeply, gently, then sweetly, they kissed into the night.

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

Damian feathered his lips over hers, placing her gingerly onto her feet. And he was grinning madly at her. Then, his grin slid down a little. And then a lot.

His mouth opened, like he was about to say something. He started to talk and stopped. Started and stopped.

"The wine—"

"The fish—"

He ran a hand down his face while he replayed the events of tonight. "I'm such a goddamned idiot. I'm so sorry, Raven."

"It was a nice meal. I had a great time. So, I couldn't eat anything or drink anything—so what?" Raven chuckled. Whatever cruel sense of irony there was in the world, it was a wonderful night. "You know, it's actually hilarious in hindsight, and now we have a funny story to tell our friends... A-and our—our—"

She was enveloped by the warmest, safest embrace Damian could manage as he was trembling. He rocked her and held her tight, inhaling deeper and exhaling harder until they both relaxed. "I am sorry. I should have sensed something more was going on."

"Well, neither of us thought this was even possible. Up until three days ago, I didn't know it was," Raven blurted. And it felt so good to blurt around him again. "We live together. I could have said it at breakfast. Or at the movies on Sunday... When we were in the shower together, last night. I'm the idiot. "

"The shower..." he repeated. "So that's why you were a little touchy about your body." She groaned loudly—this was not happening. "Raven, you've got absolutely nothing to worry about," Damian insisted. "And besides, you're not even showing yet."

"That's what you think," she grumbled.

His lips curled up. "Habibti." Raven raised an eyebrow. She knew as well as he did, that he had better choose that next sentence very carefully. "Habibti... you've always had an aura glowing about you, only now it's just going to grow brighter."

"Pfft," Raven muttered. "Right. As I grow bigger and rounder."

"You know what, yes," he scoffed. "You will get bigger and I don't care. For that matter, neither should you." Gingerly tilted her chin towards him. The way he was gazing at her, with unconditional love, understanding. "You'll be just as beautiful—equally exquisite."

Who could ever doubt Damian?

"And you'll be even more sensitive in all the right places." His low voice was filled with the darkest promises of sin. "I can hardly wait."

"You're dangerous," Raven murmured, knowing she was turning pink.

"Dangerous?" His nose traced the curve of her neck, as the skin shivered.

"As if you didn't know," she said flatly. "It's probably how you managed to conceive with a half-demon in the first place."

She felt him chuckle into her skin, then it morphed into something like a groan. "So, I botched dinner... And sex in the shower... I should have drawn you a nice, hot soak in the tub... Gone down on you for an hour at least...gone a few blocks past the park to grab some slices of 99 cent pizza..."

"How did you know about the pizza?" Raven's eyes widened on her flushed face. "Did Tom tell you?" Whenever Raven said she was going to 'feed the pigeons in the park', what it really meant was she was going to cut through the park to grab a slice of the cheapest pizza she could get her hands on.

So much for the code.

"You actually thought that was a secret?" And when Damian rolled his eyes, he looked less worried and more like his usual surly self. "Please. I've seen the napkins and the pathetic excuses for paper plates... Really, I should have known something was up, there were a few more than usual."

Through the ovens of pizza and pregnancy, he knew and he loved her.

And Raven threw herself forward and held him tightly to her. "You're sort of perfect, you know that?" she mumbled into the hard chest, smelling the usual amber and spiced apricot. She lifted her head and he brushed an errant strand of lavender from her eyes. "I don't want to cut tonight short. Actually... I kind of want frozen yogurt."

"Fro-yo it is."

And as they walked, he bent his head towards her. He touched her face and murmured, "I...can't believe you're carrying my child..."

Damian began to kiss her so avidly, so impatiently, they had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. She was moaning and pulling pomegranate and malbec from his lips until they were both breathless.

Damian gave her a final peck and they walked back to the restaurant. It was all such a daze, Raven barely remembered him asking the valet to bring their car around. She made a motion towards the door and she noticed he'd already held the passenger side ajar for her.

"I can still do that myself."

"Hmm..." He stared off into the distance with a vague smile, as though contemplating their future. "You're going to fight me at every turn aren't you?"

"No," Raven said quickly. His eyes flickered faintly with amusement. "Not frozen yogurt—I want ice cream. Real, honest-to-goodness, ice cream made with cream, and all the toppings. Whipped cream, hot fudge..."

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

"Birdie's Diner?"

"Ignore the name, it's a good restaurant. I used to come here all the time, even before we were—" Raven was trying to pull his fingers aside to see his flushed face lit by the bright neon sign. "All diners serve eggs, alright? I'm sure that's all it means."

"And that's the only thing that drew you here?"

He hung his head in defeat before holding the door. "After you."

There were low lamps hanging over the booths and classic rock stringing out of a jukebox in the corner. Raven hadn't been to a diner like this one in well, ever. The hostess handed over two laminated menus and told them to seat themselves. So Raven sat in a red vinyl booth in the back corner, and very discreetly, slipped off her heels.

Instantly, it felt much homier than La Chandelle.

"Raven, we're getting you the best OB in Gotham—that's non-negotiable," Damian was saying. One coffee down and he picked up exactly where he'd left off in the car, driving and planning particulars. "Or Kori can recommend us hers - they're probably accustomed to working with unique cases."

Demonic blood or not, Raven sincerely doubted there was any OB-GYN in the city that wouldn't pass off a patient or two on a colleague, to quite literally, bag a Wayne baby.

The caffeine had fully set in because he was drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the table while he spoke. "It'll cost us another Sunday morning, because you know Kori will want to do an extended brunch when we tell her and Dick the news."

And the second they told her, Raven would promptly conjure up an extra-strength, soundproof barrier around her cellphone to contain the joyous shrieks. And she'd probably have to buy a new phone.

"But it'll be worth it... You know what, it's not too late, I can probably call Dick right now." His left hand darted towards his pocket.

"No. No, you won't." She placed her hand over his. "We'll do it in the morning. Tonight, you're going to sit here with me and eat ice cream, okay?" Then, her ears perked up in a way that Titus would have been proud of. Hearing the sound of a whipped cream dispenser, behind the diner counter, she was almost gleeful. Her ice cream was in transit and was arriving on a round, plastic serving tray.

"Here ya go, sweethearts." A waffle-printed glass dish and two spoons were deposited onto the smooth, scrubbed surface between them. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." She smiled back at the kindly woman in the light blue waitress uniform, with a name tag that read Shirley.

Cookies and cream on a bed of bananas, crushed oreos. Whipped cream and hot fudge. Even one of those radioactive-red cherries on top. And it was absolutely wonderful. She passed Damian one of the long, thin-handled spoons, which they both knew was ill-suited for ice cream. According to Alfred, it was technically for iced tea, but appropriate cutlery was far from her mind. She tapped her spoon to his.

Cheers.

Raven dug in and moaned. In a word it was: heavenly, and far better than she could remember of ice cream. Six more bites and she could just imagine the tip of her spoon about to hit the bottom of her half. That cherry was hers.

"Hey Damian," she nudged his spoon with her own. "Now you're not eating."

"I was thinking..."

"You can think later... You've done more than enough." They would deal with the rest tomorrow. For now, she chose to think of this as a little celebration of the news—just between them.

"Come on, don't let me eat this alone... Sympathy weight starts tonight." She swallowed another spoonful while he glowered at her. And Raven knew full well he'd already had an entire steak earlier. "Don't worry about abs, your aura will just glow brighter."

"Tch—I wonder what genius said that..."

Raven snorted, but didn't argue. In fact, she was absolutely fine with riding Damian's abs—and hard body—straight into the next two trimesters.

"But I have to agree about one thing." Damian drew up his thumb, using it to wipe a smudge of whipped cream from her upper lip. "There is something about real cream..." He held her gaze as he licked his finger slowly.

The blood in Raven's core was warming, the temperature forming liquid fuel for an ache of a different kind. Officially, they had been together for over a year. And this man was now her fiancée. How did he always manage to turn her into some sort of sticky mess?

It had to be unnatural because it was utterly unfair.

Not so subtly, Raven tilted her head at the space next to her. And Damian joined her on the other side of the booth. The diner and the ice cream were so much better with his thigh lined against hers.

"Raven, can I...?" He hesitated, waiting for her approval. He held his hand up to her stomach.

"Of course you can."

Softly, he stroked the skin over her shirt, where the tiny swell would eventually grow. "Raven," he whispered at last, and she opened her eyes. "I want us to take that trip."

"A trip?" Her eyes were so wide only a sliver of purple remained. "A moment ago, you were talking about baby-proofing the apartment." He seemed unfazed. "Nannies? Au pairs? Daycare? What happened to buying every pregnancy and parenting guide our devices will permit? We can't take a trip, wouldn't that be an irresponsible start?"

"We can make time for something important like this," he insisted. "It could be good for you. And for us."

"Why in the name of Azar and all her disciples would this be a good idea?"

"Hear me out... A mother and father-to-be take a trip before the baby actually comes—a baby-moon. That's what they're called," Damian murmured. "I propose we take one, before our lives, and bodies change." He spooned a dollop of whipped cream and slid it between his lips. "What do you think?

"Oh..."

"We don't have to..." He said quickly and dropped the spoon in the dish.

"I think...it could be an interesting idea."

"If you think it's not for us," Damian reached for her and stroked her hair calmly. "I understand."

"No—Damian—we should do this." She searched his eyes. "I want to do this with you."

"Yes." Damian kissed the top of her head. "Just you and me, Raven. We can go anywhere you want."

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bringina · 4 years ago

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The Biology Behind Owl House Magic

I´m a bit anxious tonight and brain won´t keep quiet, so let´s dive into the biology of witches, how magic works and then focus on Eda´s curse via SCIENCE so I can distract myself. Buckle up, because I managed to write a thousand words about this somehow.

We know following: witches can cast varied sort of magic thanks to special organ. Eda gets cursed by her sister, and the very next day she gets turned into the owl beast and then continues to transform sporadically. We do not know how she managed to change back first time, but we know that in show proper Eda´s curse can be affected by light, laughing, make Eda go back to her senses by Luz´s desperate call and so on. We also know that Eda takes potions to slow the curse process down, and we know that Lilith takes half her curse, which renders Eda´s natural magic useless, Lilith is weakened, and both acquire lesser version of the curse. I ask, how is this possible from biological standpoint? ...magic, magical biological standpoint, but I’ll try to keep it close to human biology so I can draw comparisons.

First things first: the magic bile sac is attached to witch´s heart. We can therefore conclude that the magic bile travels through bloodstream. I propose that the magic bile is a special type of hormones. The bile sac is a gland secreting endocrinal magic hormone, which travels via bloodstream and affects specific response target cells just under the witch´s skin. Said target cells are located across entire witch´s body, but are heavily concentrated on hands and fingertips, which is why drawing a circle is easiest way to cast for witches.

As to how casting different spells works, I believe that each spell class (plant, abomination, illusion, elemental and so on) is caused by hormone with subtly different chemical structure. As such, depending on what the witch thinks, different spell comes out. The younger witches have sort of "precursors", like a baby structures for each magic type programmed in their bile sac cells. By honing their skills as well as natural predisposition towards certain set of spell class structures, they can subtly teach their cells how to produce more specific and powerful structures, as well as the amount secreted. When the witch chooses a coven, they´re given a seal. This seal contains substrates that neutralize all other hormonal types of magic except the one the coven is focused on, and by having school systems already push children into specific covens, they´re even easier to neutralize as other magic types aren´t developed enough. The only coven without seals is of course, the Emperor´s coven, which accepts individuals capable and talented enough to create powerful subtypes of magic hormones.

The training wand works in such a way that it takes raw hormonal precursors and subtly changes specific parts of hormonal structure, which results in full spell. It also gives the target cells sort of reverse response, which is then carried back to brain and bile sac cells, hence why using a training wand is best option when learning as hands contain highest amount of target cells. As such the witch´s body receives a sort of helpful nudge in what direction the chemical structure of that spell´s hormone should be changed. Staffs meanwhile don´t give back information, or have anything to do with hormones; they simply amplify magic pumped through them, which is why Luz, a non-witch, can use staff during finale.

The bile sac gland, like many other glands, is affected by emotions, which is how Amity can cast through her feet (elevated response by dancing with her enchanted Grom partner, even if feet have less target cells and are covered by boots), why Eda´s curse first overtakes her after she starts walking away from Lilith (as she´s undoubtedly feeling sad that she won’t be seeing her sister for a while), or why laughter and Luz´s distress have effect on Eda.

Speaking of the curse, I imagine it functions similarly to cancer. It attacks cells of the bile sac, and cancerous curse cells slowly spread while producing mutated magic hormones that cause the target cells on Eda´s skin to send magic inside the body rather than outside, which causes the transformation. Said curse hormones must be harder to produce, so there’s less of them in Eda´s bloodstream, and as such the curse doesn’t occur all the time. If Eda is drained however, her healthy magic hormones are depleted and therefore the curse hormones have easier time accessing her target cells, transforming her. Similarly, if enough time has passed, enough curse hormones gather to activate the curse. The magic potion Eda takes slows down the process of curse hormone secretion, but it can’t stop it. Similarly, it can’t stop the cancer cell duplication, which is why Eda´s potion isn’t effective cure.

How does Lilith´s pain sharing spell work then? This part is the most complicated to work out. Let´s remember that to activate the spell Lilith has to touch Eda´s forehead with her own. What I believe is happening is that Lilith is “magically” sending specific signal via her brain into Eda´s brain and said signal affects both their bile sacs. The large portion of bile sac cells in Eda´s sac shut down completely, and part of Lilith´s cells swap for Eda´s cancerous curse cells.

That way the hormones produced are still functional, but are in much smaller capacity so Eda´s and Lilith´s magical abilities are both impaired, with Eda losing her magic almost completely (she´s still able to draw partial circle, but there´s so little healthy cells remaining their secretion just isn´t powerful enough) while Lilith´s magical ability is weakened since some healthy cells were swapped for curse cells. It is also possible the structure of curse hormones themselves was somehow affected, but we don´t yet know if Eda or Lilith transform in season 2, although it’s quite likely based on Dana shushing Spencer during recent charity stream when he tries to mention something about "Lilith turning into-", which we can now assume was going to be "into a beast".

So there you have it, the biology of Owl House magic, courtesy of two hours of my brain rambling in unholy morning hours.

#the owl house #toh #owl house #owl house theory #the owl house theory #toh theory #this is hella long but im proud of this #bringie talks

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xxanimecoolgirlxx · 3 years ago

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@threateningkahootmusic Prejudice and Fame belongs to them.

Vickie sat at the bar, mindlessly looking at her drink. Another long day at work as a news reporter/ investigative journalist, this time something about a corrupt company. Now normally this wouldn’t be an issue.

Except for the fact that she wished she could legally punch in a couple of individuals teeth without immediately facing assault charges.

Among other things, the company was facing allegations of workplace harassment, discrimination, unequal pay of workers based of sex, and an hostile work environment. And from her experience for working undercover there, it was, indeed, true. In fact, she’d say that the allegations weren’t telling enough! The amount of sexist and racist remarks made at her by staff and management alike would be enough to ensure that no new hires would be daring enough to go there. Even Vickie was surprised at herself for getting this far without snapping at someone. Not that it would’ve made a difference if she did.

All of this evidence through recordings and screenshots would make this seem like an open and shut case, right? Not quite. Even with the damning audio recordings, the camera feed, the multitude of paper documents and such, she knew it wouldn’t be enough for anything to really change. She needed something bigger. She knew that as it stood right now, at the very worse the company would blame a few lowly managers as scapegoats, fire them, and then say that they will do better in the future while knowing good and well that they had no plans on doing anything. Hell, even if they did get any legal repercussions, they could just settle out of court and be done with it. No, Vickie would need something bigger.

Right now she would be doing more research into the company had her work friend not dragged her to this self proclaimed “high end club”. Apparently her friend had been assigned to do an interview to this celebrity, Fame, at least that’s what she hoped his stage name was. She didn’t see a point in drawing needless attention to herself to she opted to stay at the bar and subtly watch from afar. Not like she was dressed to be here anyways, her black knee length form fitting dress was too professional to be in a function like this, her black hair wasn’t styled up to anything fancy and her dark skin wasn’t adorned with any makeup too flashy. It looked like she was at a job interview more than a nightclub. She was more worried about her case than anything else.

“Come on now, I know your defining character quality is being a square, but lighten up a bit, let yourself have some fun.”

Vickie’s eyes wondered over to the ghost that seemingly followed her everywhere, Helena. Seeing that Helena was invincible to everyone but her most of the time, she couldn’t outright face her or talk to her in public without looking odd to say the very least. She raised an eyebrow at the ghost. Like hell she was going to let herself get sloppy drunk and make a complete fool of herself. Maybe that was some other’s tastes to get so blasted that the next morning they don’t know where they were, but it wasn’t Vickie’s taste.

Helena could see the look in Vickie’s eyes

“I know what your thinking. I’m not asking you to behave like an absolute moron. But just chill it. You’re not on the clock right now, you’ll always have time to do this tomorrow. But for the love of god stop worrying yourself.” Helena then crossed her arms

“I promise you if you burn yourself out and pass out from pulling an all nighter again, let me you tell, you will not hear the end of my lectures in the morning.”

Vickie sighed. Although she didn’t say anything, she did make it a point to relax her shoulders and let herself slightly slouch a bit. She finished her drink before ordering a new one when commotion could be heard from the other side of the club behind her. Even with the loud music, Vickie could tell something was going on. Helena looked over and moved closer to see what was going on.

“Oh goddamnit, Prejudice, this is the 5th time this month you’ve crashed the party!” Fame grumbled as Prejudice smirked, snatching a drink out of the hand of Vickie’s coworker.

“Yeah, and I’ll do it again. Besides, I like how you get all p!ssy about it.” Prejudice said as he took a drink from his stolen beverage.

Helena moved back over to Vickie

“Don’t look now, but I think that’s the CEO of that company you’re looking into.” Helena whispered despite knowing she couldn’t be heard by anyone else. Vickie stole a glance to confirm what Helena was saying before looking away just as quickly as to not accidentally get unwanted attention.

“The hell’s he doing here? Shouldn’t he be more worried about saving his company’s face by discrediting the allegations?” She muttered quietly to herself as she took a sip from her Bloody Mary. Helena glanced over

“It looks like him and that other fellow know each other.” Helena said. “I’ll keep watch.” Helena said as she floated over to the crowd. Vickie’s grip on her glass tightened. Maybe this could be the chance she’d been looking for to get solid concrete against the company. Since her coworker, besides from an obvious camera crew, had a recording pen on her, maybe the pen might catch something incriminating, maybe embezzlement, tax fraud, something that really couldn’t be ignored, something that could ruin this business and its corrupt ways.

As she took another swing of her drink, she started noticing the feeling of eyes burning into the back of her head, like someone was staring at her. At first she thought it was Helena, until the ghost floated back over and the feeling didn’t go away.

“Did you catch anything?” Vickie whispered subtly.

“No, but he’s been staring at you. I think? He may be looking at your general area but he’s definitely been looking intensely at the bar area.” Helena said.

Vickie wanted to test that theory. She got up from her chair and walked around, acting as though she was merely stretching. The feeling of being watched didn’t fade no matter where she went. Even well after she sat back down in her chair. Ok, he definitely was staring at her. Did this guy somehow know who she really was, what her goals were? She didn’t think so, she’d done a good job hiding it.

By this point, the amount of people in the club dwindled down a bit, at least in the area she was in. Fame had moved to a different spot of the club and so did a large group of the crowd there. Everyone else around her were either drunk or leaving. Vickie was mid drinking her beverage when she felt someone approaching. Great, just great. She didn’t look over as she just wanted to be left alone. But alas, her luck for the night turned to be Jack sh!t as Prejudice sat down in a chair next to hers at the bar.

Vickie didn’t look over, just remained silent and indifferent as Prejudice pretty much ordered the bartender for some hard liquor. Helena looked like she wanted to intervene but Vickie signaled her not to with some cleverly hidden hand signals the two hand memorized over the course of their friendship/ her being tethered to Vickie. It was quiet for a moment, before Prejudice slammed his shot glass. He glanced over at the bartender.

“I’d suggest you take your fat ginger freak a$$ out of here before you also get a taste of what this little dumb bimbo is going to get.” Prejudice said, in this almost joking way, though she could tell by his voice that He at the same time sounded serious. Either way, it was enough to get the bartender out of there.

Vickie didn’t even have time to get up herself when she felt a hand grab her by the hair and slam her face down onto the counter. She felt her arm being twisted behind her back, the grip getting tighter when she struggled. Helena tried to help, to pull the man off of her but she was swatted away like a fly, which set off all alarms bells in Vickie’s brain. This man clearly wasn’t human.

“Now what do we have here? You know, looking at you, I’d think you’re just another dime a dozen mortal sl/t with less brains than a mutt, it took me a bit to discover what you were actually trying to do.” Prejudice said in casual voice that somehow sounded threatening at the same time. Even then, it was how he said theses things that started grinding Vickie’s gears. He said these things like he was entitled to say them, like it was owed to him.

“You may have fooled my dipsh!t employees, you dumb b!tch, but I’m not exactly as easy to convince. I know you plan on finding whatever evidence you can to ‘ruin’ me or whatever you want to call it. What, you plan on cancelling me? You seem like the type to type essays on Twitter on inequalities or whatever nonsense about equality like anyone will give a damn. At least nobody important will care.” He grinned.

“Oh go f*ck yourself you pompous little sh!t!” Vickie growled. She let out a loud hiss of pain as he twisted her arm more as a result.

“Oh, a little feisty? Good, I’ve been wanting something more entertaining than some obedient little pets. So please, go on. I’m going to break that jaw of yours either way but still, I want to hear more.” Prejudice goated on. She felt his hand slowly leave her hair and travel down to her waist.

“You know, if you really wanted to make yourself useful, doll, than you should stop worrying about whatever job you work in and start worrying about wearing something nice. You dress like a sl/t that acts like they’re someone of any respect. Really you’re not fooling anyone ” Prejudice said, the cockiness in his voice was what sent Vickie off to a boiling peak.

Using the mobility gained by his hand not being holding her head down, she stomped on his foot with her heel, as hard as possible, the man let out a curse but before he could really do much she took a shot glass from the table, spun around and smashed it right in his eye. Sure, this did result in her held arm getting twisted even more and probably dislocated, it gave her the opportunity to get free from his grasp as he stumbled back.

She then took this opportunity to start beating him with pretty much everything and anything in sight, fists, heels, a wine bottle she smashed over his head, chairs, anything in sight. All whilst calling him every name in the book, every swear and curse she could think of, hell, she was pretty sure she set a record. But even all of that didn’t really do much, not when immediately after she was backhanded to the ground when he finally got his footing. She didn’t even have time to recover as he grabbed her by her throat and slammed up against a wall, several times. By the time he stopped her head was spinning and blood was dripping from the back of her head. He then held her up off her feet, hand still firmly on her neck and then he squeezed down, hard.

She desperately scratched at his hand, tried to take gasps of air. But his tight grasp cut off her airways, leaving her attempts useless. Even worse, there didn’t even look like she laid a scratch on him, as any and all injuries or bruises inflicted on him had somehow already healed.

Prejudice’s smirk became wider as he squeezed tighter, his free hand yanking out any remaining glass from his eye.

“God, aren’t you just a fidgety little spazz? Hmm? Did you really think you could fight off a god? Though you’ve been great entertainment so far, it’s been a while since someone’s actually tried to fight me. Good to know not every mortal nowadays are p/ssies.” He spoke.

Vickie could see her world starting to turn dark as Prejudice kept talking

“Let’s just get this part over with. You WILL delete whatever ‘evidence’ you have against my company, and you’ll drop this case. If you don’t, we’ll, I’m sure you don’t have many options here, unless you wanna have a meeting with Death.” He said.

“Then, I want you to meet me in my office as soon as you enter the building. Don’t try quitting now that you won’t be able to do that little expose thing. I can ruin you in so many ways I’m sure your pretty little brain won’t comprehend. It’s alright. You don’t have to think, just do as I say and I won’t have to hurt you.. too much, sweetheart.” That ‘sweetheart’ was said in the most patronizing tone that it would’ve made Vickie said had she not been on the brink of passing out from lack of oxygen.

That was when Prejudice finally dropped Vickie, leaving her on the floor taking greedy gasps for air, her lungs burning from the lack of it. Prejudice just smirked at her once more before checking his watch. He took him longer than he thought. No worries, he didn’t have too much planned for today’s anyways.

Vickie laid there weakly on the floor as Prejudice just walked away, as if he didn’t just do what he just did. Helena by this point finally came too and quickly picked up Vickie, getting her out of the club and into her car.

“Vickie, Vickie. Don’t pass out on me, Vickie just try and stay awake! I’ll get help!” Helena said as she dashed over somewhere as Vickie fought to keep her eyes open before exhaustion finally hit and she felt her eyes close, her body forcing her to rest for the sake of recovery.

#original character #creative writing #tw violence

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pocket-luv101 · 4 years ago

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Summary: Mahiru is a teacher and Kuro is the parent of one of his students. (KuroMahi, Teacher AU)

Mahiru carried a stack of boxes to the school’s track where they were setting up an obstacle course for the sports festival. While the boxes weren’t heavy, they blocked his view slightly. He did his best to look around the boxes so he wouldn’t bump into anyone but it was difficult. Luckily, he knew the school’s layout well and he counted his steps to the entryway.

He reached the double doors but he couldn’t open it since his hands were full. Mahiru turned around and he pushed the door open with his back. He walked backwards until he felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. He realized that he had walked too far back and he was about to fall down the short stairs. Since he didn’t want to damage the supplies in the box, he could only brace himself for the fall.

An arm wrapped around his waist and stopped his fall. He opened his eyes and he found himself in the arms of a handsome man. The man wasn’t a teacher or part of the staff but he recognized him as Kuro. He was the brother of one of his siblings, Hyde. Hyde would often cause trouble and Kuro would pick him up so Mahiru grew to know him well.

Kuro helped Mahiru back onto his feet and he thanked him. “Thanks, Kuro. Are you here for the sports festival?”

“Yeah. Hyde ran off somewhere and I’m searching for him right now. He dragged me here but then ditched me. Troublesome.” He told him with a light groan. “I hope he isn’t causing trouble. Can you help me find him?”

“Of course I’ll help. I need to take these boxes to the field first though. Did you see Hyde with a boy who has black hair and a white streak in it? If you did, I know where they might’ve gone.” Mahiru told him.

“I’m sorry if my brother has been causing you trouble in class. Wrath talked to him about starting fights but he doesn’t listen. He has gotten better since he entered your class though.” He said. His parents had abandoned them when they were kids so Kuro had become a guardian to his younger siblings. It was a struggle to balance a job and taking care of his siblings. He was glad that Mahiru was Hyde’s teacher so he knew he had someone looking out for him while he was working.

“He’s a good kid. I think he starts all those fights because he wants attention so I suggested he start a drama club with his friends. He has been trying to get Licht to join his little club. Oh, Licht is the black haired boy that I mentioned earlier. I’ll tell you about their adventures later. Are you free after school?” He asked.

“Thanks for looking out for my brother. You said that you were taking these boxes to the field. I’ll help you carry them.” Kuro took a few boxes from Mahiru and they walked towards the track. He glanced down at Mahiru in the corner of his eyes and thought of how his soft eyes reflected his personality. “I promised my siblings I would take them out to eat after the sports festival. Do you want to join us?”

“I would love to.” Mahiru nodded. They talked about their different jobs as they walked. “Teaching has been more interesting this year. Hyde likes acting in plays more than sports but he seemed excited for today. He said his brother would be joining the events. I was a little surprised since you said exercise was ‘troublesome’ to you.”

“I can be persuaded to run an obstacle course. Hyde needed a family member to partner with for the race and everyone else was busy.” He said with a shrug. Family had always been important to both of them and Mahiru was glad they shared that value.

“Kuro, focus! You need to pass me the baton properly for the obstacle course!” Hyde whined and repeatedly tugged on his pants. The event would start soon and he wanted to discuss strategies they could use. He looked up at his brother and then followed his gaze to see what had Kuro’s attention. “Why are you staring at my teacher?”

“I wasn’t staring.” He answered and then knelt in front of Hyde so they were eye level. “This festival is for fun so you don’t need to put so much importance on winning. Just do your best.”

“You’re saying that as an excuse because you don’t want to run fast. I care about winning!” Hyde pouted. He subtly glanced to Licht and Kuro noticed the blush his brother had. Did he have his first crush? His suspicion was confirmed when Hyde muttered. “He said he would join my drama club if I can win first place in the obstacle race.”

“Is that what this is about? Fine, I’ll try.” He stood and Hyde immediately tugged his hand to take him to the track. As he walked with Hyde, his eyes met Mahiru’s who smiled back at him. Kuro understood how Hyde felt since a part of him wanted to win the race to impress Mahiru.

Other families were already standing on the starting line. The obstacle course was one of the events where parents could participate with their children. When he was Hyde’s age, their father wouldn’t go to Kuro’s school events. He thought it was important to support his siblings due to that. Hyde excitedly told him about his plan to go through the obstacles and Kuro nodded along with him.

He turned away when he heard Mahiru’s voice over the speaker. “The obstacle course will start soon. Will the participating students please go to the blue line? Their family member must stand on the green line behind them. When I blow the whistle, the parents will pass the baton to the children. Then, they’ll go through the course and tag their partner. Lastly, their guardian will come to me and pick out a paper from this box. Bring the object written to the finish line and you’ll win.”

Mahiru waited until all of the participants were ready before he brought the whistle to his lips. He blew into the whistle and the race started. He watched Kuro run forward and outpace the others. A large part of Mahiru wanted to cheer for Kuro but he stopped himself. As a teacher, he didn’t want to appear biased. He silently cheered when Kuro was the first one to reach the blue line.

With the lead Kuro gave him, Hyde dashed through the hurdles until he made his way around the track. He tagged Kuro’s back but the action resembled a shove. Kuro jogged to the box next to Mahiru and took out a slip of paper. As he read the note, his brows furrowed and Mahiru wondered what his item was. Kuro looked towards him and their eyes met.

“What is it?” Mahiru assumed the paper he pulled said he needed a whistle or something similar.

“I need you.” Kuro took his hand and started to pull him towards the finish line. While Mahiru was confused, he let himself be taken away by Kuro and ran beside him. His hand felt strong and warm around his. They crossed the finish line and a horn blared over them, signalling that they had won.

The race was over but he hadn’t let him go yet. Mahiru didn’t pull his hand away though. He lightly squeezed his hand to make Kuro look down at him. “Congratulations, Kuro. I have to see the paper you drew to make sure you brought the right item first.”

Kuro blushed and took out the slip of paper from his pocket. He placed it in Mahiru’s hand and wondered how he would react to it. A sun was written on the paper. He had always thought that his bright smile resembled the sun so he took him to the finish line. Mahiru’s eyes widened before his face softened into a smile. “When I wrote this, I thought the person would take one of the sun decorations we put up. But I’ll count this. It’s kind of sweet to be called a sun.”

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

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thelordice · 4 years ago

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In Their Shoes

Neither my finest written work (go figure, this is the first thing I’ve written in like seven years that didn’t have to do with phasers and photon torpedoes) nor my longest, this should be more of a... jumping-off point. I might write more later, but I also invite others to expand this AU as well. Assuming this rambling pile of sleep-deprived garbage inspires anybody. Might’ve also slipped in a few obscure references to other episodes here and there.

Paging @godwithwethands @min0uze. Reblog at will!

SG-1 Season 9 Episode 14.5

Previously, on Stargate SG-1: “Stronghold” happened. Go watch it. (also I got Stronghold and Off the Grid confused earlier, probably because I watched literally the entire last half of Season 9 for the first time last night and have yet to sleep lol)

A click, and the briefest hint of static, preceded the all-too-familiar wail of the base alert siren. Chief Harriman’s voice on the intercom, saying what everyone on the base had come to expect from the abrupt call to action. “Unscheduled offworld activation.” The Tau’ri in the commissary snapped to, leaving meals half eaten and chairs in disarray as they rushed off to their posts.

One among them, however, was more calm about the abrupt termination of his meal. Teal’c of Chulak rose calmly once the bustle had made its way out of the room and proceeded to the Control Center. His meatloaf would simply have to wait. As he rounded the corner into the nerve center of Stargate Command, he was joined by his commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell. “Any idea what this is about?” Mitchell asked as they jogged up the stairs.

Teal’c replied in a slightly concerned tone, “None.” When they arrived, Sam Carter had beaten them there, hunched over a computer next to the Chief that had sounded the alert. General Landry stood to their right, slightly back from them, watching the gate.. But the men weren’t late, for before Sam could turn to speak to her teammates, brilliant blue light flashed from behind the gate’s iris. It was a tense moment, but then a hologram materialized on their side of the iris. It took none of the assembled officers any time to identify the caller:

Ba’al.

Teal’c saw several of the guards in the Gate Room exchange looks. He, of course, was not surprised - Ba’al undoubtedly had access to a Sarcophagus, and likely used it after their last encounter. General Landry gripped the microphone for the intercom into the Gate Room and addressed their “visitor”. “What is it, Ba’al? I doubt this is a courtesy call.”

The hologram spoke, with the hollow yet echoing intonation of the Goa’uld: Oh, but it is, General. I have information that would concern you. I wish to speak to Teal’c.”

Landry turned to look at the former First Prime of a false god. They traded raised eyebrows, Mitchell glancing between them. “I suggest we tell him to shove it, sir,” Cameron finally said. He and Teal’c exchanged a knowing look. It had been less than a week since Ba’al had tried to brainwash Teal’c into following him, an event still fresh in both their memories. Teal’c looked back at Landry. “I agree with Colonel Mitchell. It is unlikely that Ba’al has any useful information, and whatever he offers us could well be a falsehood.”

Before Landry could reply, Sam interjected. “Yes, but Ba’al doesn’t do things like this very often. And the last time he did, he was… well, half-honest, at least. I think we should at least hear him out.”

Ever the optimist, Colonel Carter, Teal’c thought to himself. Landry raised both his eyebrows and simply said, “It’s your call, Teal’c. You don’t have to pick up if you don’t want to.” The Jaffa mulled it over for a moment before bowing slightly and starting his short walk to the Gate Room. He had weighed Ba’al’s most recent attempts at manipulation, subterfuge, and brainwashing against the possibility that just this once Ba’al might be genuinely helpful – or, at least, as “genuinely” helpful as he had been on Dakara. But with the Prior threat looming, and with Ba’al having as much to lose from defeat by the Ori as anyone else, Teal’c knew he couldn’t let his… distaste for false gods obstruct the chance at acquiring valuable intelligence.

Reaching the massive bulkhead sealing the Gate Room, Teal’c swiped his security card and opened the door. He paced slowly, deliberately into the room, as if a hunter stalking prey. Ba’al raised his arms wide in greeting, his red and black robe arms hanging from his limbs. That same hollow echo accompanied his words again, setting Teal’c subtly into discomfort. “Ah, Teal’c. I hope there’s no hard feelings over what happened a few days ago.”

“What is it that you want, Ba’al?” Teal’c was having none of this flamboyance.

“I just thought you’d like to hear what one of my spies just reported to me. It concerns you most particularly.” Teal’c simply raised an eyebrow, goading the Goa’uld to get on with it. But Ba’al’s tone became slightly more… somber, serious. “I have just received word that a Prior of the Ori has arrived on Chulak.”

Teal’c’s gut twisted. At first in concern for those on Chulak, then in anger – Ba’al was clearly trying to deceive him. “And why are you telling us this? Why has word of this not come from Bra’tac?”

“You really believe any Jaffa could have learned such news before me? You underestimate me, Teal’c. But if you do not believe me… go to Chulak yourself and discover the truth.” Ba’al slowly grinned in that wicked, almost maniacal way, and the hologram rippled and faded. A moment later, the shriek and whoosh signaled the closing of the wormhole. Teal’c stood in the Gate Room for a moment, given pause by the brief interaction. If Ba’al was lying, this would surely be some kind of a trap. But if this were true… it was a risk Teal’c could not take. He proceeded back to the Control Room and briefed General Landry and the rest of SG-1, Daniel only having arrived in time to see the hologram fade. Ultimately, Teal’c decided it would be wise to first consult Bra’tac on this, and then perhaps bring his mentor with him to Chulak to investigate. General Landry offered to send SG-1 with him, but Teal’c declined. “If Ba’al’s claim is true, and I require assistance, I will signal the SGC.” By the time Teal’c returned to the Embarkation Chamber, Harriman had already dialed Dakara. He wasted no time proceeding up the ramp and through the event horizon.

It had not taken long to find Bra’tac. Indeed, he had been on his way to the Stargate himself, and they met just outside the council hall. “Teal’c,” Bra’tak said in surprise. “I was just coming to see you. We have received word tha-”

“That a Prior is on Chulak.”

Bra’tac seemed momentarily taken aback. “How did you know?”

“Stargate Command received a communique from Ba’al claiming as much. I came to seek your help in investigating this.”

Bra’tac’s brow furrowed. He was clearly as vexed by Ba’al’s actions as Teal’c was. But he did not mince words with this concern. “Then we must proceed to Chulak at once.” Teal’c bowed his head in assent, turned about face, and followed his friend back to the Stargate.

* * *

They arrived on Chulak at midday, the bright sun beating down upon them. The first sign to trouble them was that the Gate was entirely unguarded. There was, however, no signs of struggle. Thetwo wordlessly began to walk toward the city nearby. Not far from the gates, they were intercepted by a Jaffa. “Teal’c, Bra’tac, it is good you have come. The Prior is preaching in the city square.” He took them to the center of the town, where a Prior was indeed standing, shouting verses from the Book of Origin to a captive audience… of zero. The townspeople seemed to proceed with their daily routines as if he weren’t there, save to spare a condescending or angry glance in his direction. This did not seem to bother the Prior, the pale priest simply continued braying his scripture. He stopped, finally, as Teal’c and Bra’tac approached. The Jaffa that had led them brandished his staff and took a position to the right of the elder Jaffa. The Prior turned and asked, “Have you come seeking enlightenment?” The seemingly-frail man held his staff to his right side, seemingly (and undoubtedly) untroubled by the lethal plasma weapon leveled at him.

“We have come seeking answers as to why you are here,” Teal’c replied boldly.

“I have come to spread the truth of Origin to these unbelievers. We have heard that this was where your people started their rebellion against the parasitic false gods, and thought these people might be receptive to the word of the Ori.”

“They do not seem very receptive,” Bra’tac quipped. “Perhaps it is best if you go now, lest you wear out your throat preaching to deaf ears.”

The Prior smiled, his wilted and almost melting-looking skin giving an air of menace to the gesture. “Perhaps they will be more receptive to a demonstration of the power of the true gods to deal with the false.” He raised his staff and then jabbed it back into the ground, the large opal-like gem at its head glowing.

A moment later, a form flew out of a nearby alley. Their brown robes billowed as they were flung through the air by the Prior, wrapping their prone form as they hit the ground and rolled. They climbed hastily to their feet, but kept careful to leave their hood up to obscure their face. But the Prior was having none of that, and a wave of his hand cast down the hood.

It was Ba’al.

At the sight of the former System Lord, the Jaffa that had accompanied Bra’tac and Teal’c pivoted to bring his weapon to bear on the Goa’uld. Several other guards did likewise, and yet more leveled their weapons at the Prior. Thepriest raised his arms and his voice to the crowd. “Behold! The might and justice of the true gods!” His staff flashed again. Several staff weapons opened, ready to fire upon the Prior.

Instead, it was Ba’al who had felt the force of the Prior. He began screaming and convulsing, quickly falling to the ground. He gripped his gut with both hands as he writhed in agony. His eyes flashed yellow once, and then he lay still. Bra’tac moved to examine him. The eldest Jaffa raised his head. “He is alive.”

“What have you done to him?” Teal’c asked the Prior.

The Prior began walking out of the square, heading in the direction of the Gate. “Delivered him unto justice. As his kind did unto you… I have done unto him.” Shortly after he passed Teal’c, he turned back and cried, “I shall return in one day. When I do, I suspect many of you will be willing to follow the correct path.” He turned one final time and walked out of the city.

As he did, Ba’al stirred. As he woke, he groaned, clutching his stomach again. As Bra’tac looked on, Ba’al pushed aside his robes and lifted his shirt to examine what had pained him so much, still panting shallowly from the experience.

Four lines emanated from his belly button in a distinctive X pattern. No Jaffa would fail to recognize it.

It was a symbiote pouch. Just the same as they all had. It was that very distinction that separated them from humans.

It was what made them… and now, apparently, Ba’al, as well… Jaffa.

Bra’tac and Teal’c exchanged concerned looks as the crowd gathered to witniss Ori “justice”. And what a display of such they would get.

* * *

Back at Stargate Command, Teal’c and Bra’tac – joined by Landry and SG-1 - watched from the observation room as Doctor Lam examined her impromptu patient. Lam crossed from the bed to the intercom to report. “If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d say he was born a Jaffa. Symbiote pouch – but, interestingly, no symbiote – plus the weakened immune system and hormonal differences. The only difference between him and a Jaffa is that he seems to also have his original Goa’uld DNA as well. This isn’t the host of Ba’al, it is Ba’al. Just… not a Goa’uld.” The assembled observers traded shocked glances before turning to again look upon the fallen false god. “What’s more,” Lam said, “it’s as if this were a Jaffa that has gone more than a day without a symbiote. If it weren’t for his Goa’uld DNA trying to stave the effects off, he’d be dead by now. I’ve taken the liberty of starting him on tretonin for now.”

“Is he able to speak?” Teal’c inquired.

“Aside from some slightly anomalous brain activity I can’t place yet, yes,” Lam said, “and it seems he wants a word with you and Bra’tac.” The Jaffa rose and moved to enter the medical lab. Ba’al lay on a hospital bed in a white gown, his normal tan appearing noticeably paler. He was still breathing shallowly, and slowly turned his head to look at his visitors. “Heh,” he chuckled weakly, “justice indeed. This… is what it is to be a Jaffa…” He turned his head again to face the ceiling. “I suppose it makes sense. Clever, really, a plan worthy of me. Turn me into a Jaffa to show the people of Chulak that they can cause us to suffer as you have. I would be greatly concerned if I were you, Teal’c – this might just win the hearts of your kinsmen.” He gasped suddenly, squinching his eyes shut and groaning for a moment, but whatever ailed him passed quickly.

“You underestimate our will, brother,” Bra’tac said, the last word dripping – no, soaking – in contemptuous sarcasm. “The minds of the Jaffa are not so easily swayed. Though I admit… seeing a Goa’uld brought so low does give me great satisfaction.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c said. “If it were not for the unique opportunity to study you, I would advise Doctor Lam to let you die.”

“Of course,” Ba’al demurred. “A more fitting punishment for your false gods I doubt you could have concocted yourself.” Another brief attack struck Ba’al, and when it passed he gasped. He shook his head as if to clear it. “So then, before I die, I assume you intend to torture me for information.”

“I believe your current situation to be torture enough,” Teal’c said. “But I will ask a question of you. How is it that you told us of this Prior?” Teal’c had noted that this Ba’al had not been wearing the same clothes as the hologram, and he did not hink Ba’al would have the time or reason to redress himself before he had arrived. Further, the hologram technology Ba’al had used was not present at the Gate on Chulak.

Ba’al chuckled. “Trade secret, Teal’c. Why should I tell you ho-” He was wracked by another convulsion, this one seeming to leave him dazed. Doctor Lam reenterd. “You’ll have to leave, at least until I identify what’s going on with his brain wave patterns.” Teal’c nodded, spared a final glance at Ba’al, and led Bra’tac out.

Back in the observation room, Teal’c confided in his friends. “I fear Ba’al may be correct. To see a false god made into one of us would seem to be true justice to many Jaffa, and the power it would take to affect such a transformation could sway still others.”

Sam commented first. “Well, we know the Priors can affect people’s physiologies – curing diseases, fixing impairments, even raising the dead. Honestly I’m surprised this idea never came to us.”

“And he’s still snake enough to survive until the Jaffa execute him,” Mitchell said. “And you know they will – this is a golden opportunity for a little payback.”

“That is correct, Colonel Mitchell,” Teal’c replied. “For that reason, I suggest we keep Ba’al here until we can find a way to reverse this.”

“Reverse it?” Daniel wondered out loud. “W-wh-why would you want to reverse this?”

“Because otherwise it would seem to be proof of the Ori’s claims,” Bra’tac said. “As much as I relish seeing a Goa’uld defeated so thoroughly… we cannot allow such a small victory to pave the way to a much greater defeat.”

Landry nodded. “Doctor Lam already has a team working on trying to find a way to do just that… but this is way beyond our current medical science. I’m going to contact the Tok’ra and the Asgard, see if they have anything that can help with this. Mitchell, I want you to take SG-3 back to Chulak. Take up positions around the gate, try to prevent the Prior from returning to the city. Sam, Daniel, I’d like you to help Doctor Lam’s team with their research, see if there’s any technology we’ve found – or any knowledge we’ve learned – that can fix this. Teal’c, I think-”

“I will remain here to observe our new… brother,” Teal’c said, cutting Landry off. Teal’c spoke bitterly, angrily, but also subtly… eager, as if excited at the chance to ply Ba’al for information in his compromised state. “Bra’tac return to Chulak with Colonel Mitchell. You must counsel the city leaders to be cautious about these events. Some Jaffa are, unfortunately, more easily convinced than others.” He remembered with sadness what had befallen Gerak only a few weeks before. With no more to be said, the group dispersed to their duties. Teal’c returned to the commissary, ate, and then returned to the medlab justin time for Lam to come to him. “I think we’ve found out what’s happening with Ba’al’s brain… and I think you’ll be interested in seeing this.” She led him to a computer. “Since you last left, he’s had four more convulsions, each longer than the last. His brain scan indicates a massive amount of anomalous activity in the memory centers of the brain, as if it’s trying to process an overload of memories. Of note, during the last convulsion, he started muttering Goa’uld word, things like “kree”. I couldn’t make out all of it, but it’s almost like he was giving orders to someone. But what tipped me off was this.” She tapped a few buttons and highlighted several parts of the brain scan. “These patterns are remarkably similar to those produced by a Galaran memory transfer when it splices new memories into another person.”

“What memories has he been given?”

“I can’t say,” Lam said. “He refuses to go into detail about what he’s seeing. The patterns are still intensifying, but the rate at which they do so is diminishing. I think he’s starting to integrate… whatever he’s remembering.”

The monitor showed another spike as Ba’al convulsed again. This time, he shouted a full phrase in Goa’uld. Lam certainly didn’t seem to understand, but Teal’c did. Ba’al had shouted, “Brothers! Fall back! They are too many!” This, naturally, piqued Teal’c’s curiosity. He approached Ba’al as the convulsion subsided, leaving him panting and disoriented. “To whom are you referring, Ba’al?”

“The forces of… of… what?” Ba’al seemed to be struggling to form coherent sentences. Finally, he sighed in frustration. “I do not understand, Teal’c,” he said. “It is as if I remember things that I have never experienced.”

“Tell me what you are seeing, brother.” Teal’c did not allow himself an upset tone this time. In order to understand what was happening to Ba’al, Teal’c knew he must be patient and suss out the truths.

But instead of mustering a snide remark, Ba’al muttered in a mixture of horror and disbelief. “Battles… bloody fighting… dead Jaffa… bearing the marks of Lord Yu… and Cronus… Of Apophis, Camulus, Heru-Ur, Setesh, Isis, Ba’al, so many… I remember as if it were yesterday, being shot by staff rifles…” He leaned toward Teal’c abruptly. “Save us, brother, before-” he screamed and convulsed again, but when he finally came to again, it was once more Ba’al. But he seemed more subdued now. The careful air of easy superiority was gone, replaced by confusion and more than a small hint of fear. “It… it is as if I am remembering events from the perspective of Jaffa. It does not make sense. How could a Prior implant such memories?”

“I don’t think he did,” Lam interjected, sidling up to the bed. “I’ve been comparing your brain scans to those few we have on record of recently-taken Goa’uld hosts. At first I thought it was similar to the Galaran memory transfer, but now… it almost sounds like racial memory.” As Ba’al convulsed again, she turned to Teal’c and elaborated. “Every Goa’uld is born with the knowledge of all of their ancestors, memory rooted in their very DNA. From what he’s saying… it’s almost as if the Prior’s transformation of him caused his Goa’uld DNA to mix with Jaffa DNA. He may very well be reliving the memories of… generations of Jaffa, alongside a human brain trying to process the entire racial memory of the Goa’uld. Likely another part of the Prior’s “justice”, if I had my bet. I can’t even begin to guess what’s keeping his synapses from overloading from the strain.”

“To not only become a Jaffa, but to relive the generations of crimes perpetrated against us by the Goa’uld…” Teal’c’s mind raced. Surely nothing like this had happened in the past. Now, one of the false gods that had enslaved his people for thousands of years was reliving that enslavement from the eyes of the victims. It was a kind of justice Teal’c never even imagined could happen, and yet here it was.

Had he not known better, he might have momentarily considered thanking the Ori. Instead, this gave him an opportunity. “How long before this process is complete?”

“Based on current trends, his neural pathways should stabilize over the course of the next six hours. Who he’ll be after that… is anyone’s guess.”

Teal’c bowed his head respectfully and rose. “I will watch him from the observation post so that you may continue your work without interference, Doctor Lam.” Lam nodded, and Teal’c left the room.

* * *

Ba’al continued convulsing for four of those six hours, though during the last of those the convulsions seemed to finally weaken. The very last, however, had left Ba’al unconscious for the rest of the time. Teal’c had only just sat back down in the observation room with a mug of coffee from the commissary when Ba’al finally stirred. He reentered the medlab and sat beside the fallen Goa’uld. Ba’al seemed to be back to his usual self, quipping, “Have you enjoyed watching me suffer, Teal’c?”

“Immensely,” Teal’c replied, though this was more snark than truth. Then, in a strange gesture, he offered the coffee to Ba’al. Ba’al’s face wrinkled in confusion. “What is this?”

“A human beverage known as coffee. Many on this world find it helps order one’s mind, particularly after a period of unconsciousness.” Ba’al sniffed the contents of the mug, wrinkling his nose slightly, then sipped it. After he swallowed, he exhaled sharply. “You could have told me it was hot.”

“Extremely,” Teal’c replied. He smiled. “You present a unique opportunity, Ba’al.”

“Yes, I know, the study of such a unique specimen,” Ba’al retorted.

“That is not what I was referring to,” Teal’c replied calmly. “You alone are now in a position to recall the entirety of the Jaffa’s enslavement from both sides. It makes me wonder whether or not it has changed any of your beliefs.”

Ba’al scoffed. “And what makes you think that?”

“You carry the memories of generations of suffering. To the System Lords, we Jaffa were merely tools – expendable pawns to be discarded to suit your whims. Now you also see how the Jaffa felt during all this. Do you not feel their hopelessness, their despair? Are you not overcome by the miseries of millions that you yourself led to their deaths?”

He expected a glib answer, a tongue-in-cheek retort, even a spiteful jab. Instead, Ba’al said… nothing. He stared into the black depths of the mug in his hands, his expression contemplative. Teal’c even thought that for just a moment, regret crossed behind the eyes of the Jaffa before him. Finally, Ba’al sighed. “I would be lying if I said I did not. It is a most unsettling feeling.” He looked at Teal’c. “Why are you doing this? Why do you show this... kindness to me?”

“Because in you, Ba’al, there is hope,” said Teal’c. “you are the first opportunity the Goa’uld have ever had to know this sensation, to see the errors of the System Lords… and to do what you can to remedy the wrongs of the past.”

In truth, Teal’c wanted to hate Ba’al. To spit foul and angry diatribes at the false god, to condemn him for the deaths of so many innocents, to break Ba’al with his own hands. But those first hours watching the former Goa’uld writhing and screaming, however, had not brought him the satisfaction he had expected, and had instead mused at length about this situation. He knew that had this happened nine years prior, he would have gladly embraced Ba’al’s suffering for its own sake. But the Teal’c that had joined the SGC was not the same man that now sat beside Ba’al – he had grown, learned from the Tau’ri (both their fictions and their histories) of the path to true peace: forgiveness. And while he did not know if he could ever forgive a Goa’uld for what they had done to the Jaffa… he also knew that tormenting Ba’al with such things would benefit no one. And, indeed, Ba’al was no longer a Goa’uld, and so to inflict misery on him would not be justice – merely the torture of a fellow Jaffa. If there was to be a new and better future for the Free Jaffa Nation he had helped form, he understood that old wounds would have to be mended. Slowly, in time… but there would never be a better place to start.

Ba’al sat motionless, save to again sip the coffee Teal’c had given him – more cautious of its temperature now – before finally nodding. “There… is truth in what you say, Teal’c. As much as I desire to rail against the very idea, to mock you for proposing it… I remember the suffering. I have seen with my own eyes the kind of suffering I myself inflicted upon my followers, noble warriors that dedicated their lives to… an ultimately unworthy leader. That alone fills me with shame – a feeling no Goa’uld has known since before we took to the stars. The Jaffa have more than earned their freedom.” He shook his head solemnly.

“Then perhaps this time, when you tell the Jaffa of this, when you promise them their freedom… it will be genuine.”

“What do you mean?” Ba’al asked, puzzled.

“When you attempted to brainwash me into your service, you claimed that you would permit the Jaffa to retain their freedom. That was an obvious ruse to-”

“No,” Ba’al said, with more sincerity in his voice than Teal’c had ever heard from him. “That offer was genuine even then.”

This gave Teal’c pause. He had never even once considered that possibility. “What was your intention in doing that?”

Ba’al chuckled. “Not for any noble cause, certainly. It was simply the easiest way to get done what must be done to stop the Ori. Why would I want to waste my time fighting the Jaffa back into slavery while an infinitely more dangerous foe is at our very doorstep? Perhaps in a century or two I may have reneged on our agreement… but to fight the Priors, I could not risk time, effort, and lives subjugating a people that would rather die free.” He chuckled again. “Shal’kek nem’ron, indeed. Perhaps I will be the first Goa’uld… to die truly free.”

“Shal’kek nem’ron indeed… brother.” And for the first time, Teal’c actually meant the appelation.

“Might I ask a favor, Teal’c?”

Teal’c tilted his head.

“I could really rather do with some food, if it’s all the same.” He passed the mug of coffee back to Teal’c. “Though, if you would like to also bring me more of that… coffee, perhaps a bit cooler… I might enjoy that.”

Teal’c bowed, rose, and turned to leave. Just before he exited the room, however, Ba’al called out one last time. “And Teal’c!”

The Jaffa turned to face him.

“One of the memories that kept coming back… I saw Cronus kill your father, and what he did that brought about Cronus’s anger. I know it doesn’t mean much… but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Teal’c stood stunned for a moment before bowing and smiling. “Had Cronus not killed my father, I would never have met Bra’tac, and learned of the dream of free Jaffa. Perhaps… it was for the best.” With that, he turned back and left.

He was almost back to the medlab when he heard the alerts go off. He rushed in, placing the food tray on a nearby table as medics rushed past him to Ba’al. “What is happening?”

“His body is rejecting the tretonin,” Lam said frantically. “His immune system is failing.” The medics rushed to do what they could to stabilize the Jaffa, but it was clear they were fighting a losing battle. Finally, Ba’al yelled over the frantic voices for Teal’c, who came to his side.

“You must fight, brother. If you perish, the hope for real change will perish with you.”

“No, Teal’c,” Ba’al said weakly. He leaned up to Teal’c with much of the last of his strength and whispered in his ear.. “It… will not. This body… is not my original one. I did not… survive with a Sarcophagus. This… is but a clone. Like… the one you killed. And because of… the Goa’uld memory, I am… linked to my other clones. I will… remember.” He drew a single final, raspy breath. “Shal’kek…”

Then the breath left him, and his vitals flatlined. The medics did everything Teal’c had seen them do dozens of times before, but Ba’al – this Ba’al – had passed. In memory of the Jaffa, Teal’c muttered, “nem’ron, brother.”

* * *

Teal’c had just finished his lunch the next day when the alerts balred again “Incoming wormhole,” reported the ever-faithful Chief over the comm. Teal’c, as usual, reported to the Control Room, and a moment later the wormhole flared into existence behind the iris. “Receiving a radio transmission, sir,” Walter reported. “It’s SG-3.” He clicked the comm open.

“SG-3, this is Stargate Command, go ahead,” Landry said.

“General, this is Colonel Mitchell. I think we’ve dealt with Chulak’s little Prior problem.”

“How’d you do that?” Landry asked, surprised.

“Well, sir, I noticed that the area around the gate was pretty rocky. Bra’tac got a band together to dig up a slab big enough to cover the Stargate, used it like an iris. Sure enough, when that Prior tried to come through… well, there wasn’t enough left of him for a matchbox.”

“A most ingenius plan, Colonel Mitchell.”

“Yeah, thought you might like that one, T. Listen, it’ll take us a while to get this big ol’ slab out of the way again, but we should be able to return to the SGC in a couple of hours. How’s our guest?”

“The Jaffa Ba’al is dead,” Landry said. “His body rejected the tretonin we gave him.”

“Shame. He could have been a wellspring of information.”

“Indeed he was, Colonel Mitchell.” In more ways than one, Teal’c added to himself.

“So, what do we tell the people here on Chulak?”

“That the Prior merely used an illusion to make us believe that Ba’al was Jaffa,” Teal’c suggested. He disliked lying to the Jaffa, but Daniel and Sam had proposed the idea and it had seemed prudent. “Between that and his failure to return, I suspect that Chulak will not welcome another Prior.”

“And then we just tell them that we executed Ba’al ourselves. I gotcha.”

“Actually,” Landry said, “I think it better to claim he died attempting to escape. I can imagine a few Jaffa on Chulak getting mighty angry if we were to take the privilege of his execution from them.”

“Yes, sir. Be home in a few hours. Ask the mess hall to have me some nice hot roast beef waiting when we get back, I’m starving.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Colonel. SGC out.” Landry cut the channel, and a moment later the light of the wormhole behind the iris winked out. Sam, who had been beside Daniel – with both behind Teal’c – mused, “I just wish we’d been able to find something to help Ba’al before he died. I doubt any Goa’uld has ever had that kind of insight on the Jaffa.”

“Or ever will again,” Daniel added.

“I am not so certain, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c commented. “Perhaps… if this shoe fit, another Goa’uld may one day wear it again.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam. A passable metaphor from Teal’c? Sam smiled. “Indeed,” she said in her amused way.

She had no idea how right they might be, however, for Teal’c had kept Ba’al’s revelations to himself.

It was, after all, the right way to honor a fallen brother. He wondered, however… how would Ba’al change now that he had experienced this? He doubted if Ba’al would ever fully outwardly express anything… but there was no doubt that there would be change.

As Teal’c left the Control Room to perform his usual duties, he smiled to himself. Their next meeting with Ba’al would be most interesting, indeed.

#Stargate #Stargate SG-1 #SG-1 #Ba'al Redemption AU #hail mary #please don't suck

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edendaphne · 5 years ago

Text

“Discordant Sonata”- Ch. 13

84 years later, I finished the next chapter!

>Read it here on Ao3<

>Read it here on Wattpad<

CHAPTER 13: FANTASIA

Music glossary:

Fantasia - a musical composition with its roots in the art of improvisation. Because of this, it seldom follows the textbook rules of any strict musical form.

(Mood Music: Morceaux de Fantaisie, Prelude in C Sharp Minor (Op. 3 No. 2) - Sergei Rachmaninoff)

One thing that most everyone can agree upon, is that first times are usually pretty nerve-racking. The first day of school. First sports competition. First music recital. First dental procedure. First date. First kiss. First time driving. First time traveling alone.

This “first” was no different. It was nerve-racking, as they normally are.

Except, most “firsts” generally don’t involve the possibility of getting hurt or killed.

Nevertheless, here Chat was, about to embark on another “first”.

This was his and Ladybug’s first time fighting together as a team against his father. Or against… whatever he was at this point.

Ladybug and Chat Noir sprinted and leaped across the rooftops towards the location the Ladyblog’s akuma notification had specified. The city passed them by in a blur as they weaved across buildings with practiced ease.

But that was the only thing that was easy about this situation.

Chat’s insides twisted and turned. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at the moment. Was it excitement to finally be at Ladybug’s side as her ally, as they’d always meant to be? Was it dread that he’d have to face Hawkmoth again since their last confrontation, and almost getting killed? Was it fear that he’d fail to protect his Lady– of being inadequate as a partner? Could he measure up to her expectations?

Was he prepared enough, mentally, physically, emotionally, for this moment?

He took in a shaky breath, attempting to shut off his brain and stop thinking. He needed to focus.

Whether I’m ready or not doesn’t matter; this is happening NOW.

The two heroes landed on the darkened street with a soft thud and quickly scanned the vicinity. Nobody was around; the akuma must have moved elsewhere.

As they began to look around, they noted the distinct lack of… anything. No destruction, no collapsed buildings or cars being demolished. No people, no screaming. There was nothing. Not even light; every single street light was out, and all the buildings’ windows were dark. Chat couldn’t help but feel a biting cold crawling down his whole body as he took in the desolate, eerie settings.

Before they began to scout further, Ladybug reached for Chat’s forearm.

“Hey,” she said softly, brows upturned in concern. “You alright?”

Chat blinked at her. She must’ve noticed the tension in his shoulders, tension he hadn’t realized was there until now. He forced himself to smile, despite his nerves. He had to be strong for her. Like she always was.

“I’m fine,” he replied as evenly as he could. “Just first time jitters.”

She smiled at him, rubbing his arm lightly. “Everything will be fine, Chaton. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

Chat’s chest swelled with affection for his partner, and he placed his own hand on top of hers, squeezing gently. “Yeah. We do,” he replied with a small smile.

With confidence bolstered, the pair continued their hunt for the akuma. They searched the area for clues, but there was nothing to show that there’d been any struggles. The only thing that would even indicate that there was an akuma attack was that, at this hour, the city would normally be bustling with nightlife. But right now, it felt more like a graveyard.

Just then, Chat’s cat ears twitched as his amplified hearing caught some fluctuating air waves in the opposite direction. His head whipped around; they led towards a large plaza. He placed his hand on Ladybug’s shoulder and wordlessly signaled towards the new target. She nodded and followed.

The commotion grew louder as they approached. Swallowing heavily, Chat flexed his hands, extending the retractable claws from his gloved fingertips. His tail unconsciously whipped back and forth, agitated, betraying the façade of calm he was attempting to exude.

As they approached the center, they saw someone: a man lying on the pavement, curled up into a fetal position. The man sobbed quietly, staring blankly at nothing. Ladybug knelt and shook his shoulder, but to no avail.

A choked cry from across the way startled them. A woman knelt low, covering her face with her hands. Her breaths were ragged and heavy, punctuated with the occasional whimper.

“What in the world…?” Ladybug muttered under her breath.

As they wandered, they found more and more people suffering from the same mysterious affliction; none of them responsive to noise, sight, or touch. The oppressive atmosphere was stifling, and Chat could feel his skin getting clammy under his suit.

These were not the sounds that usually accompanied an akuma attack; they were sounds of sheer terror and despair. Whimpering, wailing, screeching. People clawing at the ground, at their surroundings, at themselves.

“This isn’t an ordinary akuma,” he heard Ladybug say, barely loud enough for him to hear. “We need to be careful.”

Chat took in the entire sight, his pupils narrowing into slits as he stared at the bodies strewn throughout the plaza’s grounds. Young, old, rich, poor; this strange condition did not discriminate between its hosts.

“What’s wrong with them?” Chat murmured, indistinct. “It’s almost as if–” His eyebrows furrowed and he could feel his fists begin to tremble. “–as if they’re having a nightmare.”

His stomach churned as icy realization coursed through his veins. He recognized the signs very well, as he’d had to deal with them almost every single night for the past few years.

His head whipped towards Ladybug and he rushed back to her side, body tensed with increased urgency. “They’re trapped inside their own nightmares!” he cried in horror. “We need to help them!!!”

Ladybug opened her mouth to reply, but movement at their peripheral caught her attention. She shoved Chat away and used her momentum to somersault backwards, both of them narrowly dodging a black swirl of energy.

A young woman materialized beside them, dressed in a midnight blue ensemble with stars scattered throughout. A spinning whirlpool that resembled a black hole lay at the center of her torso under an ornate pendant. The long, satin-like, almost sheer train of her dress brushed the ground as she floated. In any other situation, it would have been beautiful. But here, her ghostly form emanated an unsettling emptiness, subtly drawing light towards her as she hovered, so she looked blacker than night itself.

“Give me your miraculous,” she demanded, hand outstretched.

Ladybug collected herself and straightened out her body, rolling her eyes as she began spinning her yo-yo. “Why do they always ask? As if that’s ever worked before.”

She glanced at Chat, expecting that he’d make some sort of follow-up pun or wisecrack, like he always did during any past akuma encounters. But this time, Chat didn’t engage in pleasantries or conversation.

Instead, he lunged at the akuma.

The woman dematerialized as Chat reached her, and he passed straight through her now incorporeal body, almost tripping.

Catching himself, he pivoted around and surged towards the woman again, claws outstretched, trying to grab at her; but again, to no avail. He whipped his staff out of its holster and swung it in a wide arc, missing her again while she chuckled loftily. With a snarl, he turned around and continued to strike, looking for a weak spot as she circled him.

After a few more missed strikes, the akuma became solid again and lifted her arm, palm open, aiming it directly at Chat. His eyes grew wide and he leaped away as she fired, letting out a growl of frustration as the stream of blackness barely missed him. .

Throughout the skirmish, Ladybug studied the villain’s movements, trying to locate the akumatized item as well as a way to render it vulnerable. Once the akuma fired at Chat, Ladybug saw an opening and threw her yo-yo, which wrapped around the woman’s arm. The akuma whipped her head towards Ladybug with an annoyed scowl. She dematerialized yet again and the yo-yo dropped harmlessly to the ground.

“You cannot hurt what cannot be touched, Ladybug,” she stated coolly. “I’m invulnerable to your attacks. Stop looking for weaknesses where there are none.”

“You won’t win. None of you have succeeded, and none of you ever will,” Ladybug replied, voice strong, feet planted in a wide, solid stance.

“Every empire has a downfall; and I am yours. If you won’t hand over your earrings, I’ll take them from you. Or better yet...” she said with a grin that sent a chill skittering down Chat’s spine. “You’ll rip them off your very own earlobes, once they turn into searing hot coals in your upcoming nightmare.”

Chat felt a giant lump form in his throat and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. He fought back the part of him that began to panic. The thought of Ladybug trapped in a nightmare… No. He couldn’t let that happen.

With that, she lifted her hand, aiming at Ladybug. Ladybug readied herself using her yo-yo as a shield. But as the akuma was about to fire, Chat jumped in front of her, effectively blocking her attack. He managed to shove her arm sideways, and the ray hit the side of a building instead.

“Chat! Be careful!” Ladybug yelled.

She frowned. That was reckless. He could have gotten hit, or the shot could have hit a civilian.

Chat didn’t seem to listen, however. He continued to engage with the akuma, always on the offensive, never letting her attention leave him. At this rate, he was going to tire himself out, and fast.

Is he trying to get himself killed?!

Chat continued to bob and weave his way around the akumatized person’s attacks, but gradually started to show signs of slowing. His breaths became hard and ragged, his hair clumping with sweat, his twists and turns no longer holding the grace of a cat as they usually did. Ladybug knew they had to try a different approach or Chat would soon succumb to the akuma’s attacks.

Ladybug blocked a sneak attack that the akuma shot her way, and the akuma’s frustration started to show.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Ladybug. Your horrified shrieks will be music to my ears, and I can’t wait,” the akuma sneered.

“I’m not letting you lay a finger on her,” Chat warned, almost hissing.

“Be silent, traitor,” she spat, not turning her head to look at him.

Chat visibly flinched and recoiled slightly in surprise. Ladybug shot a glance at him, unsure of how he’d react.

However, instead of rising to the bait and attacking in anger, Chat paused. He needed some time to catch his breath. He needed a distraction. And distractions were something he could do very well.

So he cleared his throat, straightening himself to his full height and confidently placed a hand on his hip.

“What, can’t your boss be bothered to insult me himself?” he scoffed, brushing off the snub. “How very typical of him. Where is he right now? Sending akumas out of a bathroom stall or something?” he taunted with a wily grin. “I bet he really misses that dank, ugly lair of his. Tell him to have fun with the repair bill. I wish I could see him try to explain that mess to the building contractors.”

The glowing butterfly mask appeared on the akumatized person’s face, and her expression instantly changed into something else entirely. From bored indifference to irritated disdain. She turned her body around, glaring a thousand daggers at him.

“I see you’re still as childish as ever,” the woman spoke, but it was Hawkmoth speaking through her.

“If you don’t like children , you should’ve thought about that with your other head 18 years ago,” Chat quipped back.

The woman– or rather, Hawkmoth– let out an annoyed groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I should’ve guessed that spending even a few days with your little so-called ‘friend’ would influence your manners. And here I thought you couldn’t do any worse than that ruffian, Nico, or whatever his name was– and yet here we are.” “Hawkmoth” shrugged in exasperation. “But playtime’s over. This is your last chance to return willingly. Otherwise, you’ll force me to do it the hard way.”

“Get used to disappointment. I know I am,” the young man scoffed. “I’m not going back, and you’ll never find me.”

“You won’t survive on your own. You’re too weak. People will take advantage of you, exploit you where you’re most vulnerable. They’ll earn your trust, feed you delicious, honeyed words as they manipulate you, deceive you into giving them everything they want until they suck you dry.” He scoffed, “Ladybug? Believe me, I know what women like her are like.”

Chat’s eyes narrowed and his hands curled into tight fists. He seethed through clenched teeth, “You leave her out of this.”

Hawkmoth ignored him. “She couldn’t care less about you, you know. You need to rely on someone who will protect you.”

“You call attempted murder ‘protecting’ me?!” Chat snarled.

“I only do what is necessary because you're naive and foolish. You need guidance; you need to be told what to do. Just think about it. You ran away and for what? To prove that you can be ‘independent’?” Hawkmoth chuckled darkly. “Your freedom is an illusion. Haven’t you realized that you’re merely obeying a new master now? Still not making your own decisions; just following this girl around like a lost puppy? Because that’s what you are to her. Just a plaything. A pet.”

Chat gulped, throat painfully dry. How dare his father speak to him this way?! Ladybug’s pet?? She would never think that. She wouldn’t...

He wanted desperately to argue back, but tendrils of doubt clawed around his throat, and whatever retort he might have had was stuck behind his tongue.

Across the way, Ladybug bristled with a sharp huff. “Leave him alone, you heartless jerk!!” she snapped. “How can you say such horrible things to your own flesh and blood!? Chat Noir is stronger than you could ever know!!”

“She’s wrong,” Hawkmoth glowered at Chat through the akuma’s eyes, the latter not turning their head to acknowledge Ladybug’s presence. “You are weak. Spineless. A coward who can’t handle when things aren’t easy and life doesn’t just hand over what you want. You’re a quitter.” The akuma narrowed her eyes at him, mirroring the look currently on Hawkmoth’s face. “Your mother would be so ashamed of you,” he hissed.

Chat’s face twisted into one of pure rage. The ice in his veins evaporated into roaring flames, and he couldn’t contain the fury that boiled in his chest.

“Don’t you DARE talk about mom! You don’t deserve that right! You don’t deserve her!” he exploded.

“I’m not the one who abandoned her, if you’ll recall,” Hawkmoth retorted.

“His mother...?” Ladybug muttered absently, unintentionally drawing their attention.

Hawkmoth sneered, nodding the akuma’s head towards Ladybug. “And what does she think about all this? Did she readily forgive you, and understand why she’s been dragged into this conflict for all these years? Did she accept you even after finding out how utterly selfish you’ve been?”

Ladybug looked at Chat in confusion. He gaped at her, looking like he was about to get sick to his stomach.

“Oh... I see,” Hawkmoth chuckled, a self-satisfied grin slithering across the akuma’s face. “You haven’t even told her, have you?” he mocked. “Maybe I was wrong. I guess you don’t trust her, after all.”

Chat’s eyes blew wide and he stammered in protest. “What–?! NO! That’s not…!”

“That’s good,” Hawkmoth interrupted, voice hardening once more. “You can’t trust her. You can’t trust anyone outside of your family. Your secrets are too great, too terrible. Nobody would ever forgive you.”

Despite the apprehension and uncertainty hanging between them, Ladybug pushed aside the uncomfortable nagging feeling that pricked at her insides and continued to argue.

“Stop it!!” she yelled. “Chat’s business is his own. I don’t need to know all the details of his personal life. I just want to help him, unlike you!”

“She’s lying; she’s always lied. You can’t trust this conniving shrew.”

Ladybug’s eyes popped wide open. “ Shrew?! Why, you big—!!”

“She doesn’t want to help you,” Hawkmoth continued. “She just wants your miraculous. Deep down you already know: you know that she’ll throw you away the moment she gets ahold of your ring, because without it, you’re useless to her. Without it, you’re useless to anyone. ”

“Th-that’s not true!” Chat yelled back.

But Ladybug noticed how he’d hesitated, could sense the fear in his voice; the fear that his father had used to control and abuse him all those years. The fear that gripped him so deeply, so tightly, so thoroughly, that it caused him to falter and tremble even now, despite Hawkmoth not even being physically present.

“Stop talking about him like he’s a possession!” she cried. “I don’t own him, and neither do you!”

Hawkmoth ignored her, as if she were no more than a tiny harmless insect, noisily buzzing around them, and turned to address Chat again.

“You know I’m right,” he huffed arrogantly. “You mean nothing to her because you are nothing. She’ll abandon you the moment she finds out who you really are. She’ll hate you.”

Chat’s gaze fell to the ground, self-loathing evident in his features and posture, which continued to wither and shrink the longer Hawkmoth was allowed to speak.

“Would you kindly shut the hell up?!” Ladybug roared, throwing her yo-yo at the akuma’s currently solid form.

The akuma dodged, body swerving in a jerky, unnatural motion, the glowing purple mask ever present on her face.

“You can’t ever tell her who you are,” Hawkmoth continued. “No one could ever possibly understand you. Only I do. This flatterer is just using you, seducing you with her words to gain your trust.”

“ Seducing?? You son of a—!” She threw her yo-yo again, missing once more, the desire to shut him up overriding her attempts at accuracy. She knew he was trying to make her angry, but damn it, it was working.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how sweet and charming she acts around you, batting her eyelashes at you, cozying up to you. Isn’t it obvious that what she’s after isn’t you? Nobody would want you.”

“S-stop…” Chat protested weakly.

“You can try to deny it, but you’ll discover the truth for yourself soon enough. And once you realize that you’ve made a mistake, I’ll be waiting for you to return. Because out there, you’re all alone. But if you come back, you’ll still have me... and your mother.”

“STOP IT!! QUIT HURTING HIM!!!” Ladybug screamed, shrill and loud enough to draw the attention from both Hawkmoth and Chat.

Her whole body shook, fists clenched painfully tight, and she fought against the pinpricks of tears that threatened to form in her eyes. She took a couple of quaking, steadying breaths.

“You say he’s weak, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” Her posture straightened and she inhaled sharply, taking a step forward. “The one who’s alone here is you. That’s your big secret. That’s why you want him back. You know you can’t win on your own. You need him. Chat is stronger, more capable, and more important than you’ll ever admit. Because if you did, then you’d have to accept... that he’s the one who doesn’t need you . And for all these years, you’ve been trying to keep him from figuring that out. But he’s not alone. Not anymore.”

All was silent for several seconds. Chat stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown as tall as a skyscraper, while the akuma glowered at her, as if she could strike her down with malicious thoughts alone.

Seconds ticked on until Hawkmoth’s sharp voice cut through the silence, hissing, “We’ll see who’s the one left alone after all this. You’ll regret ever standing in my way.”

Then the butterfly mask disappeared.

Before anyone could speak or react, the akuma raised her arms and fired her attack towards the two.

Ladybug and Chat scrambled and dove out of the way, not expecting such an abrupt end to their conversation.

The akuma continued to shoot at both, but the ferocity of her attacks was focused on Ladybug, the latter fighting desperately to stay ahead of the beams of darkness that shot one after another in quick sequence.

To derail any further troublesome interference from Chat, the akuma switched tactics. She gripped the front of a nearby news van, her hands leaving deep gouges where her fingers dug into the metal. With a sharp yank, the akuma twisted her body around, using her momentum to lift and throw the van down the street.

Ladybug’s eyes followed the trajectory of the vehicle and her stomach dropped; a group of huddled, fearful civilians who weren’t under the nightmare spell had been hiding under some benches, and they wouldn’t be able to escape in time; they were going to be crushed. They shrieked helplessly as the van flew towards them.

Chat gasped in horror, but reacted automatically. He turned on his heel and sprinted on all fours to try to reach the group in time.

Ladybug also made to move after the van, but the akuma didn’t allow her to run off, shooting at the spot where Ladybug was about to step.

“Not so fast, you little pest,” she crooned with a menacing grin. “Now you and I can finally spend some quality time together. Hawkmoth promised me an extra nice reward for making your dreams particularly agonizing.”

With Chat no longer present, the akuma could now double on her efforts to take Ladybug down. Ladybug leaped and dodged desperately, her energy steadily depleting, quickly becoming more and more winded with every second that passed. The akuma walked them towards a tall building with no sharp ledges or windowsills; meaning there was nothing for Ladybug’s yo-yo to grab onto to escape. Cornered, she backed up against the wall, panting heavily, desperately searching for a way out.

“Lucky charm!”

She held out her hands and caught a tiny, round lightbulb. Her eyes darted around, looking for anything that she could use. But there was nothing.

The akuma, who called herself “Night Terror,” raised her palm and aimed it at Ladybug’s head.

“Your luck’s run out, Ladybug. You can’t light your way out of this darkness.” The black swirling energy emerged from her hand once again. “Sweet dreams,” she lilted darkly, and she fired.

Ladybug winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

And then there was nothing.

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

ACK, SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER!!! >o>;;;; DON’T KILL ME PLZ

BUT!!! I'll be posting the next chapter next week, since it's almost finished!! :D

In the meantime, please feast your eyes on this gorgeous art that I commissioned from Khywae!!!

#Discordant Sonata #Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #fanfiction #Eden writes

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- We’ve spent way too much time in Greece, so have this time jump, sorry not sorry. This was so bad, I can’t even.) (Chapter Summary- One month after Greece, Y/n and Keanu have fallen out of contact, but one night spent in separate states can change things.)

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter4 Chapter5 Chapter6 Chapter7

Warnings- SMUT//NSFW-> masturbation/co-masturbation, sexting/phone sex. (As you can see, this series is just an excuse for me to write Keanu porn.)

Chapter 8

One month Later Greece had been a month ago. It had also been a month since Y/n last saw Keanu; before they had parted ways, he had told her he’d be filming for a while New York. Despite having exchanged numbers, the pair hadn’t made plans to see each other again and they hadn’t even stayed in contact. As a result, Y/n had passed off their steamy week as nothing more than a fling and had gone back to her life; working and going out with Jillian when she could, leaving with whoever had caught her attention.

Admittedly none had come close to being as skilled as Keanu, though one came close. There was just something about Keanu hands on her, his quiet confidence and they way he could take control with out Y/n even realizing it. Part of her missed him. Okay, most of her missed him. But alas, there was nothing she could do about it, he was in New York and hadn’t even sent as much as a text or left a voicemail.

Y/n was at her parent’s place, home alone, well, not really alone considering that most of the staff was still there. Clad only in a pair of skimpy shorts and a silk camisole; she laid a top fluffy creamish-yellowish sheets that contrasted perfectly with the dark wood of her carved bedframe. Next to Y/n was her phone and the remote for the television that had been playing one of her favorite movies. Occasionally, she’d take a sip from her glass of Rosé and flip through her social media. Jillian had asked her to go out that night; she and Catharine, the only other one from their group that still lived in Los Angeles, were heading to a popular spot at Sunset Boulevard for drinks. But it was only Wednesday and Y/n had an early meeting the next morning. Besides, she was supposed to be packing.

Stacked, against the walls were several half packed boxes, some with clothes, other with books, or beauty products and other little trinkets. Y/n was carded to move out from her parents house to her own place in Bel Air within the next moth, though by the rate she was packing at, she might be there for another two. The separation was merely a ten minute drive, still Y/n craved privacy and couldn’t wait till she as living at a place where she wouldn’t run into her parents making out in the kitchen.

With a huff, Y/n glanced at the brown cardboard boxes, briefly debating turning off the television and try to get some of it done. Though, the thought was fleeting when next to her, her face down cell vibrated, signaling and incoming text.

“Hey,” was all it read; three simple letters from a formerly MIA Keanu.

Scrunching her nose, she eyed the screen suspiciously, typing in reply, “Hi.”

Three little ellipses bounced in their place as Keanu typed his reply, “What’s up?”

The whole thing felt all too casual for two people who hadn’t seen each other in a month, but still, Y/n entertained him, it couldn’t hurt, right? “Nothing, just in bed, watching T.V.,” immediately after she tapped the little ‘send’ arrow, Y/n sent another, though shorter, message, “You?”

“In bed?” Keanu sent, along with a winking face, completely ignoring her question, “All alone?”

So that’s what it was about.

Smiling slyly, Y/n scoffed, “Yupp. All alone.....” She followed it up with a frown.

Keanu’s response came a few seconds later, “Poor girl,” he sent and Y/n could almost imagine the drop in his voice if he were right there, saying it. A couple others came in after that; first; “Too bad I’m not there,” and then, “Why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing and we can pretend that I am?”

In the mood the tease, Y/n simply offered, “Nothing much, just shorts and a camisole.”

Keanu’s only response was a little yellow face with a down-turned, drawn on lip.

“What?” She giggled as she sent it, knowing what he had wanted in the first place.

“That’s not enough,” Keanu texted, “Send me a picture baby.”

Y/n took a minute to contemplate his request, eventually giving in. Hastily, she readjusted her top, pulling it down so the lace edging would rest right over her nipples. Then, she shoved the duvet down a bit, so her legs would be on display. Finding the right angle took a hot minute, but Y/n somehow managed to get the perfect picture in about ten minutes, capturing everything from below her neck to just above her knees.

After she sent the picture, Y/n let the phone fall to the sheets, grabbing up her glass and taking slow sips as she awaited Keanu’s reaction.

The folder that held his script laid, discarded on the coffee table in the living room of Keanu’s Brooklyn condo. He was sprawled on the sofa, phone in his lap as he took a swing of his beer. He had intended to spend his night off reading through his lines, preparing for his next scene, but somehow, his thoughts had travelled to Y/n. They hadn’t been in touch since they parted ways after the end of her week in Greece. Keanu didn’t know why he hadn’t called, sometimes he had wanted to, but in the end something else would come up, and he’d just push the idea aside.

He had been caught up with filming anyway; too busy for otherwise, at least that’s what he told himself. Keanu had stayed away, but that night, when a random thought of Y/n popped up in his head, his mind racing back to hours spent with her in his hotel room in Greece, he couldn’t help but itch for some kind of contact with her. His intentions were crude, selfish and sinful, but still, like an immature asshole, he texted Y/n at near midnight, her time, hoping that she was still up.

Going into it, Keanu didn’t even know what he should have expected, for all he knew, she could just tell him to go to hell, though, when his messages grew subtly suggestive, Y/n didn’t seem to mind.

He had just asked her to send a picture and while she had read the text, nothing else came through. For a brief moment, Keanu figured that he had upset her with too much too soon, though, when she finally replied, he was far from disappointed.

Setting the amber tinted bottle down next to his open script, he opened her message, smiling at what she had sent, feeling himself stir at the sight of her. Like she had told him, Y/n really was dressed in shorts and a camisole, though the racy picture was far better than her purposefully vague description. The ‘shorts’ fit her more like boyshort panties; grey cotton with darker bands of broad lace at the legs and waist band. From the way she had laid, he could see the curve of her perfect ass and he so badly wanted to squeeze and knead the flesh, maybe while she sat facing him in his lap. Y/n’s fuchsia pink, silk camisole loosely hugged her body, tighter around the area of her plump breasts. The ‘v’ of black lace trimming resting on low on the swell of her cleavage and the teasing protrusions of her nipples just below it easily catching Keanu’s attention.

Absently, Keanu stroked himself through his sweats, already semi-hard from just seeing her like that. Quickly, he typed a one handed reply, “So fucking sexy. If only I were there.....”

Almost immediately after, Y/n sent back, “I thought we were pretending that you were?” And before Keanu could think of a response, Y/n texted again, “Show me how sexy you think I am.”

Huffing a chuckle, Keanu felt almost ridiculous; taking a picture of the tent in his sweat pants. Still, he sent the picture and after a couple beats, Y/n asked, “All that for me?”

“You have no idea sweetheart,” Keanu typed, “There’s so much I want to do with that pretty little pussy.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/n challenged, “What would you start with?”

“Tasting it,” Keanu smirked as the message went through. He could tell he had her full attention by then; his texts were read instantly and her replies were quick. “Getting you out of those panties and running my tongue up you’re cunt.”

Y/n involuntarily pressed her thighs together. Sexting had never had that kind of tingling effect on her, and if it ever did, it certainly wasn't that soon. Maybe, it was because Y/n could almost imagine Keanu with his head between her legs, eating her out until she came all over his face. Or maybe it was because he had given her enough vivid memories to work with during their week in Greece. Whatever the reason, it had Y/n ‘s fingers creeping down her body, gently rubbing herself through the cotton of her panties, the fabric in the center slowly damping.

“Too bad you’re so far away,” Y/n actually pouted as she sent the text, adding; “I’m already so went for you. For your tongue, and your cock”

For the first time since their conversation had started, Keanu’s response was delayed; three little dots in the blue bubble appearing and reappearing before they disappeared and then, he left her on seen. With a huff, Y/n flopped into a laying position, annoyed. Though it didn’t last long as her phone lit up, ringing as Keanu’s name flashed across the screen.

“Keanu,” she breathed, her voice husky, “Texting’s not enough?”

“I hate texting,” he grunted, “Now; put me on speaker, take off your panties and touch yourself,” Keanu demanded roughly.

“Shouldn’t I lock the door?” The chances of Y/n being interrupted were slim, her parents weren’t in the country and the staff knew better than to barge into her bedroom unannounced. Still one could never be too careful.

“You should, but hurry up sweetheart,” As Y/n shuffled off her bed, padding barefoot towards the doors of her room, Keanu kept talking on his end, “You looked so fucking hot in that picture; you have no idea how much I wish I could be there, to feel that ass in my hands, and bury my face in your tits.”

Heat rose to Y/n’s cheeks, reddening her cheeks as she turned the gold colored lock, a distinct snap signaling that the door could no longer be opened. “Yeah? I wish you were here so you could ruin my cunt with your cock. I’ve missed your cock,” she grinned mischievously, getting out of her underwear before sliding back into bed. Briefly, Y/n turned on her side, tapping the screen, putting Keanu’s call on speaker, “I’m back,” she announced, eager for more instructions.

“Good,” she could hear Keanu’s smirk, and his voice came loud and clear from the phone laying on the pillow next to her. She could hear him shifting around, adjusting himself as he repeated, “Now, touch yourself, start off nice and slow, with two fingers.”

Reaching between her legs, her nails raking her still clothed abdomen on its way there, Y/n made a ‘v’ with her index and her middle finger, rubbing gently until the lingering twinge of arousal intensified and growing moisture helped her fingers moved easily.

Keanu’s breathing was audible; rapid and shallow and Y/n wished she was there with his, able to see how he looked with his hand circled around his length, pumping at a rough pace.

Moaning quietly, Y/n’s free hand slipped under her top, shifting between palming her right breast and teasing her nipple. Her offending hand slid lower and Y/n eased two digits into her tightness, sighing frustratedly, knowing that the feeling was nothing compared to the one that accompanied Keanu being deep inside her. “How does it feel baby? Do you wish it were my cock instead?”

“Yes,” Y/n whined, her thumb occasionally brushing her cilt as she added a third finger moving in and out of her, “Fuck, yes!” She hissed loudly.

With her eyes screwed shut; Y/n’s imagination worked in over time; trying to convince her body that Keanu was there; on top of her, harsh thrusts pushing her frame into the mattress, his throat grunts and groan coming from the phone actually close to her ear, his hot breath fanning her cheek as he fondled her breasts.

“Ke....” she moaned after a while, “I’m close.”

Growling, Keanu hastily commanded, “Do it baby, cum for me.”

It took a bit more work, but eventually, Y/n’s orgasm was leaking out onto her fingers, during probably her most anti-climatic release ever. It was over before she could even really enjoy it and in the end, Y/n couldn’t help but feel at least a little disappointed. It wasn’t terrible, but she was sure that if Keanu was actually there, it would have been much more enjoyable.

Keanu didn’t seem much more enthused when his breathing grew ragged and he came with a frustrated grunt.

Settling, Y/n turned on her side staring at her phone, “That was......” There were no words.

“Yeah....” Keanu managed, blowing a breath, he couldn’t really recall the last time he had had such unsatisfying sex. Though, he guessed it didn’t really count, considering it was actually sex with himself featuring Y/n. Leaning his head back on the upholstered arm of the long sofa, Keanu sighed as he listen to Y/n’s steady breathing.

Slowly, an idea started turning in his head and Keanu sat up abruptly, “Y/n, I have to go.”

She made a whining noise in her throat, scoffing, “Is this the phone-sex equivalent to ‘wam bam thank you ma’am’?”

Chuckling, Keanu started cleaning himself using tissues from the box on the end table behind them, “It’s not, don’t worry. But I really need to get going. Talk soon sweetheart,” and before Y/n could even say goodnight, Keanu was hanging up.

Sitting up, Keanu pulled himself, and his pants, together and then snatched his phone up again. Scrolling until he found the contact he had been searching for, he hit call and waited until she answered, “Amanda,” he greeted curtly, “Sorry for waking you,” he was actually surprised that she was asleep, considering that it was only nearing eleven pm there. Then again, he supposed that not everyone was wide awake at that time looking for a quick phone fuck.

“Ke-” She quickly caught herself, sounding groggy and half asleep, “Mr. Reeves, what can I do for you?”

“I need you to get me on tomorrow’s earliest flight to Los Angeles. Can you do that?” There was an urgency in his tone that seemed to wake her even further.

It took her a minute, but Amanda eventually answered, “I think so. But you’re due on set tomorrow, are you sure you want to just fly out like that?”

“I have to,” he lied easily, his logic out ruled by his need to see Y/n, to make up for that night, “Something just came up.”

Realizing that her boss wasn’t going to get into it, Amanda just acknowledged her understanding, “Okay. I’ll go book the flight not and send you the details. Should I arrange for a car to pick you up tomorrow and then after your flight.”

“Yeah,” he huffed, walking towards his bedroom.

“Is that all Mr. Reeves?” Already, Keanu could hear the keys on her laptop making little clicking noises, signaling that Amanda had already gotten to work.

“It is. Thank Amanda,” Keanu offered, moving to refill a duffle bag that he had discarded in the corner of the room upon his arrival, “Goodnight.”

Hanging up, Keanu tossed the phone onto the bed, sighing in relief; by midday Thursday, he should be in Los Angeles, with Y/n.

**********

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @a-really-bi-girl @paanchu786 @baphometwolf666

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