#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
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well i think operation: draw natori during a deteriorating cat kingdom meeting is off to a great start
#that's all of them#masha's art#squints#i just noticed i didn't 'shade' in his undereye markings#he has a running tab of corrections in his head as the king begins his speech#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#the cat returns
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physics and english teacher love affair
pairing: ps5!peter parker x fem!reader
wc: 1.5k
warnings: none. squeaky clean, just happy fluff
summary: those two teachers that students are always interested in their relationship status.
A/N: guess this could be for any spidey, but iâm just really falling for ps5 peter and thereâs like a hand full of fics for him. not fair!
masterlist / peter parker
working at the same high school with your boyfriend is harder than it looks. the two of you try to stay professional during schooling hours, not needing the staff or students in your business. but hearing miles tell you and peter, âpeople are very invested in your interactions,â made both of you realize you werenât very good at keeping a low profile.
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instance 1
âokayâŠjaime! your take on the dream sequence. what does it tell you?â looking to the male student near the back. he was dozing off a bit earlier so this was a wake-up call.
he floundered a bit, âuh, uhâŠthe dream sequenceâŠitâs a- a dream?â light giggles filled the classroom at the foolish answer.
a gentle sigh from your lips, âyes, jaime. but do you see any significance to our story?â being patient with him as he flipped through his book and packet, âuhâŠâ
and before he could joke or stall, your door opened drawing all eyes to the popping in head. âsorry for interrupting,â peter apologized to the students then you. â
a wavering smile. âitâs fine. jaime,â the boy looked startled, âa few minutes to find an answer and then give me something. please.â
you looked over to peter again and waved him in. the door closed with a soft clink behind him, his steps thudded lightly against the linoleum tile. both of you exchanged delicate smiles as peter sat on the edge of your desk.
âwhatâs the occasion?â whispering low since his heightened hearing will pick you up. both of you tried to stay away from each otherâs classrooms as much as possible, but the two of you were magnets, always attracted to each other.
peter shrugged, ânothing, just thought you would like to see me.â a playful tilt of his head.
a twitch of your lip, âand i thought we would only do that during our planning period.â subtly knocking your knuckles against his thigh. peter flashed a smile, âwell, i also got you something, from our favorite bakery. if you want-â
âyes!â voice an excited yelp. the kids chattering came to a stop at your raised cry. you cleared your throat, âsorry. a few more minutes.â and they happily returned their gossip.
peter chuckled, âa little hurt you had more of a reaction for pastries than your awesome boyfriend.â you rolled your eyes, âwell at work youâre my friendly co-worker.â âew, gross.â
teeth biting into your bottom lip to stop a gleeful smile you made grabby hands for your treats. peter teasingly rolled his eyes while reaching into his backpack for your present. you had to hold your squeal in at the muffin and donut, mouth salivating at the sweet smell.
âi should head out. donât want to stop your lesson.â making a move off your desk. you stopped him with a hand wrapped on his wrist, âwait, lean forward a bit.â
peter furrowed his brows as you urged him close, you ignored the dozen of eyes watching you both.
grabbing your lesson plan packet you covered both lower halves from curious eyes. âi love you. thank you for the sweets.â then blew peter an air kiss.
his cheeks pinked quickly and you cooed internally. peter sent a kiss back before swinging his bag onto his shoulders and waving goodbye to your students.
when he left the room you clapped your hands to signal order back. âokay, jaime. figure out an answer?â
âis mr. parker your boyfriend?â a girl, ashley, blurted out.
the class froze along with you. you took a moment to take stock of the abruptness before replying, âitâs rude to blurt out questions and second, no he isnât.â heart cracking a little at the white lie, âbut thatâs none of your business, ashley.â
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instance 2
the day before christmas break peter decided to play the class home alone. kids either watching the movie, chatting with friends, playing card games from out of nowhere, or just napping away the last hour of the school day.
peter and miles were sat at his desk, talking about the latest on spider-man. miles was in the middle of talking about a gang bust from the other night when multiple students said, âhi, mrs. l/n.â
peter and miles stopped talking to see you enter the classroom, waving to a few students who had seen you earlier in the day.
you walk up to peterâs cluttered desk, âhi boys.â stealing his rolling stool so you can join them. in the dark peter loop his right arm behind your back before pulling you in close, lips spreading into wide love struck smiles.
âhowâs my best girl?â
a content sigh, âso excited for a week off. canât wait to do coupley holiday stuff and also celebrate hanukkah with you. miles,â turning to the junior, âany plans with your time off?â
miles talked about how he was gonna visit haileyâs family for the first time. âreally nervous, donât want to mess things up.â
âyou wonât, theyâll love you.â washing away his worries as peterâs fingers drummed on your waist.
âyour great with parents and plus youâve gotten a lot better at your asl. earn you brownie points.â peter affectionately punched milesâs bicep.
âwhat was mayâs first impression on you?â miles turned the conversation around.
you perked up as the memory flashes to mind. you glance at peter and he has a look on his face, already knowing what youâll say.
âwell may opened the door and as i was introducing myself she interrupted with âoh! you must be y/n. peter canât keep your name out his mouth for longer than two minutes. iâve timed it. that boy is deeply in love with you, just donât tell him iâve said that, heâll be a blubbering mess.â and i didnât tell him until he said i love you first.â
peter tucked his chin to his chest hiding away his flushed cheeks while miles covered his laughter.
you carded fingers through peterâs growing hair before leaving a peck on his cheek. âiâm gonna pack my things then come back. enjoy your break miles.â
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instance 3
âmr. parker and ms. l/n are definitely a thing.â
miles heard the charter from across the lunch room at the mention of your names. he tried to look distracted with his homework to keep listening in.
âand whatâs your proof this time?â a boy asked the girl.
âwell one, i saw them leaving together when i had to stay late to help mr. johnson. they were laughing and smiling in that love sick way. also could totally tell they wanted to hold hands when they kept bumping them. and second, i saw them at the subway station-â
âso you stalked them?â a girl interrupted the retelling.
the storyteller sighed, âno i just happen to take the subway, like most of new york does. anyway, i donât take the same train as them but i walked past them and they were now holding hands and thenâŠâ taking a dramatic pause before almost squealing, âthey kissed!â
a bunch of girls joined in the yells and a few boys were like âholy shit!â and others like âwhatever.â
miles stopped listening and just smirked down at his homework ready to tell peter this news.
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instance 4 the final
you know the nosey students are gonna have a field day if they spot the new jewelry on your finger. a huge milestone has been made on a simple thursday during spring break.
âokay class. welcome back! if anyone wants to share a quick story about their break just raise your hand.â a couple shot up at lightning speed and then some more slowly.
you squint your eyes while humming, âemma. what did you do?â she went on a quick spiel about visiting her motherâs family in atlanta, also how she managed to snag tickets for a spa concert at the box office.
âgirl iâm jealous. i wish i could see sza. okay⊠jaden! whatâd you do?â he said he just stayed in the city and worked, hung out with his friends on his days off.
âalready getting a taste of adult life. well iâm glad you made time to relax. uh final one is⊠ashley. how did you spend your break?â
âoh, nothing special. i just have a question for you and the new ring on your finger.â a sneaky smile appeared, exactly what you wanted. sheâs been the most observant on your relationship.
âyou may ask.â folding your hands so the stone reflected a bit of light.
âdid mr. parker propose? is he your fiancĂ© now?â and most of the girls in the room were practically vibrating in anticipation.
you smiled down the ring, fiddling with the band. you looked up and said calmly, âyes. mr. parker is my fiancĂ©.â
and you could bet that peter heard all the commotion of your room from down the hall, already preparing for nosey teens to ask him a similar question.
both of you were just glad to proudly say the other was yours.
turns out working at the same high school as your fiancĂ© isnât gonna be so bad after all.
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#peter parker#peter parker x you#peter parker fluff#peter parker fic#peter parker imagine#peter parker x female reader#peter parker x reader#peter parker ps5#ps5!peter parker#teacher peter parker#marvel x reader#marvel fluff#marvel fanfiction#spiderman marvel#marvel imagine#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter x reader#the amazing spider-man#insomniac spider man
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đźđđđ đđđđđ | ÆÉŠÖ 4: ÉÉŐĄÇÊÉ


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        Eighty years. That's how long I've been trapped in this monotonous cycleâthe endless repetition of high school classes, surrounded by hormonal teenagers five days a week, seven hours a day. It was my personal hell, a cruel joke, a penance for sins I couldn't erase.
The constant buzz of thoughts was unbearable. Every single mind, every fleeting, primitive, disgusting thought echoed in my head like an endless loop. Whoever thought it was a good idea for a mind-reading vampire with a thirst for blood to be stuck around teenagers clearly made questionable life choices.
Today was like any other day. Students shouted, lockers slammed, and footsteps echoed down the halls. The only ripple in this tiresome predictability was the buzz about a new girl from Phoenix, Arizona. Just another ordinary human, nothing exciting. The novelty of her presence was like giving a toddler a shiny new toyâtemporary, pointless.
From what I gathered, she was pale, thin, fragile-looking, with long dark hair. You'd expect someone from Arizona to be tan, maybe sporty, blonde even. But I didn't care. I already had to endure the exhausting presence of Rosalieâone of her was more than enough.
The downside of my ability was the inability to fully shut it off. Carlisle helped me manage it, taught me to filter out the noise, but it was always thereâa constant hum in the background. I hated invading people's privacy, especially my family's, though they were used to it by now.
Rosalie's mind was predictably self-absorbed, fixated on her own reflection in someone's glasses. She admired her golden hair, perfect hourglass figure, and flawless beauty, always comparing herself to an impossible standard where no one else measured upânot even us. Her thoughts were like reading the same paragraph in a book over and over again.
Emmett, on the other hand, was a refreshing contrast. His carefree mind was simple, filled with frustration over losing a wrestling match to Jasper. It was amusing, really. Emmett was the type who wore his thoughts on his sleeveânothing felt intrusive when reading his mind. His brain was like a clear lake, no hidden depths, just straightforward thoughts.
Then there was Jasper, struggling to maintain control. His mind was a battlefield, filled with the emotions of every student, teacher, and staff member. The constant barrage of hormonal teenagers didn't help. His thirst was a tightrope, and one wrong step could unravel everything.
Edward. Alice's voice rang out in my head, as clear as if she'd spoken aloud. We had a bond, a connection deeper than words. She was like a little sister, her cheerful demeanor a rare light in the darkness.
How's he holding up? Is there any danger? she asked, concern lacing her thoughts. She worried for Jasperâthey were mates, after all. Her calm presence always grounded him, a soothing balm for his empathic turmoil.
I glanced at Jasper. He sat unnervingly still, like a statue. His mind was a chaotic swirl of emotions, not his own, but those around him. He was drowning in them, trying to keep control.
Unlike Jasper's rigid composure, the rest of us performed little human ticksâtapping pencils, shifting in our seatsâanything to blend in. Wolves in sheep's clothing, hiding in plain sight.
I subtly shook my head, my gaze fixed on a crack in the wall, signaling to Alice that Jasper was holding on... for now.
Thank you, Edward. she thought warmly.
I couldn't respond mentallyâmind-reading didn't work both ways. But she knew I welcomed her gratitude. It had been two weeks since we last fed, and the hunger gnawed at all of us, making the simplest days feel like an uphill battle. Jasper had it the hardest. He was the newest to our coven, the freshest to this so-called "vegetarian" lifestyle. Every second was a test of his willpower, and one mistake could cost us everything.
As Jasper struggled, I heard my name.
"Edward."
It was a reflex. I turned at the sound of my name being called, only to see Jessica talking to the new girl. I quickly looked away, uninterested in the conversation.
Of course, she's already crushing on the Cullens. I heard the thought in Jessica Stanley's mind. I remembered her incessant chatter. It was a relief when she finally stopped fixating on me after I rejected her. Now, she was obsessed with Mike Newton, the school's golden boyâpopular and oblivious.
Isabellaâthat was the new girl's nameâdiverted Jessica's attention to us and started asking about the seating arrangements. Jessica continued talking, and I let my mind drift.
"And then there's that tableâthe Cullens," Jessica whispered, as if we couldn't hear her. But we did. We didn't care what they thought, as long as they stayed away from us.
Jessica went on, making absurd comments about us, saying that we were all living together like some kind of incestuous family. I rolled my eyes.
I tried to block her chatter out, but it was driving me mad.
"Jessica Stanley is giving the new Swan girl all the dirty laundry on the Cullen clan," I murmured to Emmett for distraction.
He chuckled softly.Â
"It's rather unimaginative. Just the barest hint of scandal. Not an ounce of horror. I'm a little disappointed."
What about the new girl? he asked. Is she disappointed by the gossip as well?
I tuned into Isabella's thoughts, hoping to hear her reaction to Jessica's storyâwhat she thought of us. After all, it was my responsibility to protect the family, to know when someone was suspicious of us.
Jessica started talking about me.
"He doesn't date," Jessica whispered, conspiratorially. "No one's good enough for him, or something."
I couldn't help but smirk. As I listened to Isabella's thoughts, though, I realized something was wrong. There was nothing. No thoughts at all. It was like she was a blank slate, a living ghost.
Isabella turned slowly, meeting my gaze, and I saw her eyesâocean eyes. I recognized her face, not from seeing her in person, but from seeing it in the memories of others. The new girl, Isabella Swan, daughter of the town's chief of police.
But instead of intrigue, her expression was filled with horror and concernâas if she were screaming, but her mind emitted no sound. The noise in my head faded, muffled as if under sheets. I was confused. And then I looked away.
"We should go," I whispered to Alice. She stood up and led the way, but not before giving Isabella a wink. I couldn't understand why. Did Alice see something in a vision while I was in Isabella's mind? Was my power malfunctioning?
We all tossed our uneaten food in the trash. I was still unsettled by what had happened.
"So, is the new girl afraid of us yet?" Emmett asked, trying to lighten the mood.
I just shrugged. This was an unnatural occurrence. I, a vampire who could read minds, couldn't get a read on her. Emmett didn't press. He wasn't interested in the topic anymore. The bell rang, and we headed to our respective classes.
As I sat in Mr. Banner's class, waiting for the bell to ring, my eyes couldn't help but follow Angela Weber as she walked in, carrying a bundle of Isabella Swan's books and a nurse's note. My curiosity about the new girl was growing, especially since I couldn't hear a single thought from her. Not a single whisper in my mind, not a ripple of emotion. And that, more than anything, intrigued me.
With my heightened hearing, I overheard their conversationâeach word cutting through the air, feeding my growing unease.
"Mr. Banner, Isabella wasn't able to come to class today," Angela's voice was soft, laced with concern. "She said she wasn't feeling well after lunch. The nurse gave me this pass for her."
Mr. Banner's response was casual, but there was something about it that struck me as odd. "Thank you, Ms. Weber. Please give this to her when you see her."
"Of course, Mr. Banner. Thank you."
I could feel my mind racing. What happened at lunch? Had it been because of me? She had looked terrified when she saw me. Did she know who we were? Could she somehow sense what I am? No, she was new. She couldn't possibly know. But then... why couldn't I read her thoughts?
Before I could spiral further into my confusion, a thought drifted into my mind, breaking through my worries.
Poor Bella, Mike thought, his tone almost sympathetic. She must've had food poisoning. I hope she feels better soon. Maybe after class, I can go check on her, see if she's okay. It's probably a good thing she's not here today though. If she were, she'd have to sit next to Cullen.
I scoffed, my chest tightening. Food poisoning? How could she have food poisoning if she barely ate? Something wasn't right. I was certain of it.
I forced myself to focus on Mr. Banner as he began the lesson, but my thoughts were a mess. My mind kept circling back to Isabella. She was too... different. Something about her felt like a riddle I couldn't solve, and the longer I stared at her, the more desperate I became to understand.
When the bell finally rang, I didn't wait. I shot out of the classroom, needing to get away. The scent of human blood was everywhere, tempting me, torturing me. My thirst for it clawed at me, but as I stepped into the hall, I was hit by an intoxicatingly sweet scentâher scent. Isabella Swan.
My throat throbbed.
Why her? Why did it have to be her?
I was angry, frustrated, and overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. I tried to push through, but as I looked at her, my mind began to betray me. Her deep, ocean eyes locked onto mine, and all I could think about was sinking my fangs into her delicate skin. My vision blurred as I imagined her bloodâso rich, so warm. The need was so primal, so powerful that I could barely breathe. I could already feel my fangs aching. I couldn't stop imagining them sinking into her soft, delicate skin. But then the reality of it hit meâthere were witnesses. A hallway full of them. Every student in this school would be a witness. And I would have no choice but to kill every single one of them.
But I couldn't. Not here. Not now. If I did, the entire school would know. I'd have to kill every single witness, every student in the hallway. I'd leave nothing but destruction in my wake. The thought sickened me. I couldn't let it happen. If I killed her here, in front of all these people, her blood would be cold. It would spill, staining the floorâher blood would be wasted. And that image, that idea, disgusted me.
I turned away, gripping my breath as if it were the only thing keeping me from losing control. I covered my nose, trying to block out the intoxicating scent, but it was no use. The hunger burned through my veins, leaving me on the edge of madness.
What was wrong with me? This was supposed to be nothing, just another human. Yet she was different. She was dangerous in a way I couldn't even begin to explain.
I needed to get out, fast. I couldn't endure this. The fire inside me, the thirst, it was unbearable.
This is bad. Really bad.
If this was how I reacted after only a few seconds of being near her, how would I handle being around her for an hour in class? The thought alone made my skin burn with the desire to flee. The hunger was like a wildfire, uncontrollable and consuming. The only way to quench it would be to drain herâto drain Isabella Swan of her life. But I couldn't. I wouldn't.
I left, my steps quick and desperate, heading straight for the office. Maybe I could distract myself, maybeâjust maybeâfinding a reason to focus on something else would give me peace.
When I reached the office, Ms. Cope greeted me, her flustered expression making me feel even more uncomfortable than usual.
"Ms. Cope?" I muttered, my voice cold and clipped.
"Oh?" she gasped, a flush creeping up her neck. She adjusted her glasses nervously, trying to compose herself. Silly, she thought, he's almost young enough to be my son.
"Hello, Edward. What can I do for you?"
I leaned in, giving her a smile that I knew would make her fluster. It was easy. Too easy. She thought I was charming, but I knew better. She was too young to even understand the centuries I'd lived. But I didn't care. I needed an excuse to leave.
"I was wondering if you could help me with my schedule," I said, trying to sound casual, though the tension in my body was palpable.
"Of course, Edward. How can I help?" she asked, her eyes wide behind her glasses.
Too young, too young, she thought distractedly as her gaze lingered on me.
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to growl in frustration. I was getting nowhere. I needed to move on. The thought of Isabella was making me lose my patience.
"I was thinking of switching from Biology to a senior-level science class. Maybe physics?"
"Is there a problem with Mr. Banner?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"Not at all," I said, forcing a smile. "It's just that I've already studied all this material."
As the conversation dragged on, I could feel my patience wearing thin. No matter how hard I tried to escape, she was always there. Isabella Swanâher scent, her presenceâit was like a poison I couldn't get rid of. I was cursed.
Then, as if the universe wanted to remind me of my fate, my eyes were drawn to the door. And there she was. Isabella.
My entire body tensed. She was standing there, looking... shocked. I could feel the hunger inside me rise to the surface, raw and untamed. I could see it nowâher blood, pulsing beneath her skin, so close I could almost taste it.
My fangs were aching, and my hands trembled with the desire to sink them into her soft skin. I could end both of their lives here and nowâtwo lives instead of the entire school. I could smash Ms. Cope's head into the computer in front of her, let the blood pool on the desk, then speed toward Isabella and drain her before she even knew what was happening.
I could end this. Right now. Both of them. Ms. Cope. Isabella. No one would know. It would be quick. Clean. But I stopped myself. I couldn't. IÂ wouldn't.
I turned to Ms. Cope, my voice barely a whisper. "Never mind. I can see it's impossible. Thank you for your help."
Without another word, I turned and left, vanishing down the hall as quickly as I could with the weight of the world on my shoulders. My mind was a storm of anger, confusion, and desire.
Curse Isabella Swan.
Curse my unnatural existence.
Curse everything.
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Part 2 to the Rastapopoulos timeline post. I call these two the "Ironic End" and the "Bad End":
Ironic end: After the events of Flight 714 to Sydney, an amnesiac traveller wakes up on the beach of a tropical island. The locals take him in, and they figure out just enough to know he's probably from the Mediterranean; maybe he fell off a migrant ship, but there haven't been any travelling worker ships in the area recently. Eventually, he puts together some kind of new name, and begins working at the docks to make a living. He's drawn to a handful of things - ships and new movies, mainly - but nothing clear ever comes through. He lives the last years of his life as a short-tempered but nice-enough port foreman who mostly keeps to himself outside of work. His coworkers in town mourn him, but over time, he just fades away into the rest of the island's history.
Bad end: Playing yet another role, and likely having gone through some degree of ego death, "Endaddine Akass" emerges in the tropics as a spiritual advisor and art collector. His "practices" are mostly just a mishmash of Christianity, Islam, Daoism, and Rastafarianism. He gets underground plastic surgery to subtly alter his face just enough to be able to appear in the media without someone recognizing mugshots from his "past life". Rastapopoulos has found a new way to worm his way into the public zeitgeist, and all it took was completely sacrificing his identity and his dignity. This design came about while talking with ProfCal...his Alph-Art version would take place during the late 1930s-early 40s, and it got me thinking about a period-accurate Endaddine Akass. I adapted a number of details from Herge's speculative design, most notably the faux third eye, and the sort-of Magen David at the top of his staff. I can tell it's not meant to outright signal Judaism; I see it as an example of 20th Century western esoterism's rampant cultural appropriation (i.e. he'd probably try to claim it's a hexagram symbolizing elements, or something), plus, it's regionally accurate: the Magen David is an important piece of iconography in Rastafarianism. It was a very new religion in the late 1930s, which would make Akass fairly predatory for stealing aspects of Rastafarian imagery. (We also considered him pretending to be White Jamaican, accent and all, which would go to show how far "Akass" is willing to humiliate his old self just to live as a debutante. Have you ever heard Steven Seagal pretend to be Jamaican? That's what we're dealing with here)
Regardless of the ending you choose to follow, I still tried to make either of them relatively within Herge's writing style. He was fond of using big finales, and themes of karma and turnabout, so I considered both of these when pondering Rastapopoulos's fate at the end of the Tintin series. (I have thought way too much about Rastapopoulos, I know. The shmuck haunts me like an awful poltergeist ^^;)
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The sun hung high in the clouds, shimmering like a diamond on the turquoise surface of the indoor hotel pool. My brother, Owen, and I had been cooped up in our room for most of the day, and boredom had driven us to the pool, a vast expanse of shimmering water framed by vibrant green plants and luxurious lounge chairs. I couldn't resist the draw of the water, especially after a long car ride to this idyllic holiday destination.
âCome on, Phil! Jump in!â Owen announced, his enthusiasm infectious as he adjusted his baseball cap. He wore a printed grey T-shirt that clung to his form, short sleeves rolled up, revealing his lean arms. His blue jeans hugged his legs, soaked straight through as he had already made a few playful dives into the pool. Even from the edge, I could see droplets swirling off him like tiny diamonds in the air.
I stood at the edge, hesitating. I tugged at the hem of my signal green sweatshirt, the fabric warm and slightly damp from the humidity in the area. I had thought it wise to keep it on, not realizing that the whole point of coming to the pool was to soak up the thrill of the water. My jeans, fitted and slightly distressed at the knees, felt comfortable but heavy as the warmth of the sun lured me closer to the waterâs edge.
âFine!â I called out, unable to resist any longer. I was usually the cautious one, but today the playful spirit of my brother was enough to lift my inhibitions. I took a running start and leaped into the water, feeling the cool embrace wrap around me like a refreshing blanket.
The shock was exhilarating. The moment I hit the water, it enveloped me completely, pulling me into its embrace, my heart racing, drowning out the laughter and splashes around me. I came up for air, hair slicked back and droplets glistening on my skin like jewels. I shook my head, flinging water away, and looked to see Owen laughing heartily at my splashing.
We spent the next hour playing games in the water, racing each other and torpedoing across the surface. I loved that feelingâweightless, energized, carefree. My sweatshirt clung to my torso, the fabric soaked and streamlined, while my jeans embraced my legs, pulling them down subtly as they absorbed the water. With each movement, I felt the tug of the fabric against my skin, a reminder of the outside world that seemed to dissolve into laughter and bliss.
There was something hypnotic about the repetitive rhythm of splashing water and our playful banter, but it wasnât long before a sudden chill ran down my spine. I turned towards the edge of the pool, the scenery before me suddenly seeming foreign and surreal. The gleam of the tiles on the wall caught my eye, reflecting the fluorescent lights above, and then I spotted them.
A group of hotel staff had gathered at the far end of the pool area, chatting and laughing. They looked like they were supposed to be on break, but now their eyes were trained on Owen and me. I felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness wash over me, and I instinctively pulled at the hem of my soaked sweatshirtâfruitless, of course, as it provided very little coverage against the wetness.
Owen, ever the brazen one, raised his hands. âHey, everyone! Come join us!â he shouted, splashing water toward the group in a playful, heartily offensive gesture. I could see a couple of heads turning toward us, laughter mixing with the sound of splashing water.
âStop it, Owen!â I shouted, half-embarrassed and half-amused. âTheyâre not going to jump in with us!â
Just as he turned to catch my eye, a loud slap echoed off the cool tile walls. A young-aged man in swim trunks and polo shirt stood just outside the pool area, arms crossed, his expression a blend of mock amusement and disapproval.
âAre you boys trying to start an impromptu swim party?â he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Behind him, the rest of the staff chuckled, clearly amused but also somewhat annoyed. There was something delightfully mischievous about the exchange, and I could feel my cheeks warming.
Owen surged towards the edge, climbing out of the water and dripping with confidence. âAbsolutely! What do you guys say? We can have a blast! No costumes required!â
The laughter from the staff was infectious, and even I found myself chuckling as I swam closer to Owen, water streaming off the sleeves of my sweatshirt, the fabric dragging me down with its weight. But the chill of the situationâthe realization weâd captured attention and might have crossed an unspoken boundaryâsent a wave of uncertainty through me.
As I made my way out of the water, droplets cascaded off my body, the wet clothes clinging to my skin, making every step an exercise in embarrassment. The fabric of my jeans molded perfectly to my legs, outlining every contour, and the sweatshirt, now completely soaked, felt several sizes smaller.
âWhoa, dude!â one of the hotel staff said, looking unabashedly at me, eyes widening in surprise mixed with amusement. âYou both really went all-in, huh?â
âWe just had a little fun,â Owen replied, unabashed, as he struck a faux model pose, showcasing his own soaked attire. His t-shirt clung tightly, hugging his chest, while the jeans hung low, water pooling at his feet. The carefree vibe both of us projected took the edge off the embarrassment.
âNext time weâll make sure to wear some appropriate swimwear!â I added hastily, hoping to defuse any lingering tension. The laughter spread, breaking down the remaining walls of uncertainty, and I began to feel buoyed by the light-hearted energy surrounding us.
The laughter continued to ripple through the pool area, each passing moment turning my earlier embarrassment into a cherished memory. The sunlight spilling in from the large windows bathed us all in warmth, and for the rest of the afternoon, Owen and I laughed and played, splashes echoing amid playful taunts and camaraderie.
As I looked towards my brother, a sense of gratefulness washed over me. This little holiday was turning into something far more than I had anticipatedâa bonding experience with my brother that I knew I would cherish long after the wet clothes had dried.
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HANDS ON YOU â 004
IN WHICH; ILAND 2 happened and you debuted first place as the leader of LUMIĂRE. Having been told that your group is involved in a lore crossover with ENHYPEN, you navigate work, friendship, and love while trying to make it in an industry filled with animosity and condemnation. When life throws you lemons, you gotta make lemonades chuck it right back!
smau + written (0.5k words)
â„ïœ„âą chapter 4 â dog-eaterâŠ?
"I can't believe you got lost searching for a vending machine," Minjung-unnie hurriedly drags Mai over to where we are in the waiting area. "I'm sorry! I just really need some sugar intake," Mai sheepishly scratches the back of her neck, visibly apologetic for making her members wait. You can tell that everyone is on edge, and rightfully so, considering the intense training that all of you have put into preparing for this moment.
You notice Mai shifting uncomfortably in her stage outfit, presumably affected by the tension that has somehow permeated the atmosphere of the girls. âItâs okay, just donât run off by yourself again yeah?â You placed a reassuring pat on her shoulder, and Mai gratefully deflates into your touch.
"How do you look... fine? I'm literally about to throw up." Yuna turns to look at you, her voice barely above a whisper but instead of replying to her, you shot Yuna a teasing smile only to have her jokingly roll her eyes at you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous, you dreamt of this moment for as long as you have been training for it, imagining yourself confidently answering questions with poise and charm.
Now, facing the reality of being in the spotlight, a mix of excitement and anxiety consumes you. Even with a meticulously memorised script from yesterday, you can't help but feel the churning in your stomach, finding solace in having skipped lunch that day.
The corridors echo with the hurried footsteps of the production staff, their voices mingling with the hum of electronic equipment. You watch as Sunghoon and Wonyoung meticulously rehearse their lines, ensuring they are well-prepared for any anomalies that may occur.
Your heart nearly drops to the pits of your stomach when the production staff directs you and your group to make your way onto the tiny platform they have squeezed into the box set. Subtly, you share a smile with Sunghoon as you walk past him up the steps. "Nervous?" he asks, noticing your trembling hands. You nod in response.
"Don't be, just stick to the script and you'll do amazing."
"Not if I have the tendency to somehow screw things up."
"You're being dramatic," Ray sarcastically cuts into your conversation but call it leader instincts or whatever, you just know she's probably the most freaked out one among the rest of you. Proven right, when you feel her fingers finding their way up your arm, tugging onto them.
"You got this Ray, no sweat." You jokingly dig your fingers into the sides of her ribcage and you giggle as she shoots you a warning glare, âI'll eat your dog alive." She threatens and you swear you caught an offended gasp escaping from both Sunghoon's and Wonyoung's lips.
"Please excuse her, I swear she's not a dog-eater." Sunghoon laughs as he watches you desperately trying to explain the questionable humour your bandmate held, and Wonyoung subtly giggles behind her cue cards. You mentally curse Ray in your head for once again having no filter when you hear the director signal for all of you to stand by.
With a steady voice, you begin to deliver your lines, relying on the script that you had so diligently memorized. Occasionally, you catch glimpses of the production crew's reactions, their smiles, and nods of approval driving the initial jitters to give way to growing confidence, buoyed by the energy of the moment.
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authors note: iâll try my best to not include as much written portions in this smau but weâll see đ
taglist! open @softiehee @annoyingbitch83 @hoon0logy
#enhypen#iland#belift#hybe#heeseung#jungwon#sunoo#sunghoon#enha#jay#jakesim#nishimura riki#smau#idol au#heeseung x reader#heeseung smau#enhypen fluff#enhypen social media au#enhypen smau#tfwy handsonyou#jake sim#enhypen angst#jake#enha smau#kpop smau
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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 wouldâve 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. âYou know, for an ambulance driver, you drive like youâre trying to kill me.â
âI would never.â He gasped falsely, and you continued trying to tie up your laces, before swapping over to the other foot, and doing that one too. âI promise, I would never hurt you.â
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.
âOh, câmon, youâre seriously going to keep pretending like something wasnât happening there?â
âIâm not pretending, because nothing was happening!â 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 youâd been called to.
âI know my best friend, okay? And I like to think that Iâm getting to know you, too.â His words held a slightly teasing air to them, woven into his tone subtly, and you sighed at him.
âYouâve been saying this for a week now, but nothing happened!â 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. âWe were talking about the argument, and agreeing to start over, without bitching at one another, I thought youâd be happy about it!â
âSo, where did holding hands factor into that equation?â
âWe werenât holding hands! We were shaking hands!â 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. âIt was just some stupid thing we did. Like, reintroducing ourselves, or whatever. Starting again.â
âAnd 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.â 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; âShaking hands, my arse.â
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. âThe only things you were seeing is what youâve made up inside your head.â
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 werenât 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 didnât 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. âOh, yeah, Iâm totally seeing things.â
âIt was just a smile. Will you drop it? Weâre friends.â 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 werenât exactly sure, because if the elevator was on the ground floor, it wasnât 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.
âOh, God, Iâm so glad youâre here.â 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.
âThe elevator itself is stuck at the twelfth floor.â
âItâs not a problem, we can just pry the door open and bring everyone out.â 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 whoâd 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. âThatâs the problem, you canât get at the elevator from the twelfth floor.â
âWhat does that mean, exactly?â
âThis 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.â 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.
âWhatâs happening?â
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 partnerâs instructions to bring his heart rate back down. âThe elevator is trapped on the twelfth floor, but the closest entrance to it is the twenty-fifth?â
âDid you just say the twenty-fifth floor?â A strike of cold fear ran through you, the math being done in your mind within an instance, and you swallowed thickly. âHow far did it drop from?â
âIt got stuck around about the fifteenth floor and dropped about three floors, not too bad, couldaâ been worse. The brakes kicked in, but theyâre not holding up so good.â 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, Â 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. Â âWe should head outside, we probably want to grab some emergency stuff, a board, maybe, the stretcher for sure. Three neck braces, and a monitor.â
âWe can call it in while weâre out there, just in case they need to head over to Med.â
âOkay.â 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. âYeah. Youâre right. Boards, stretcher, all that, letâs go.â
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 didnât 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.
âSeriously, whatâs up with you?â
You turned to look at your partner, realising youâd 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. âNothing, just a bit apprehensive, I suppose.â
âFor what?â
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. âOh, I donât know. Maybe itâs just the abseiling down into the abyss of an elevator shaft thatâs freaking me out.â
âWell, itâs a good thing you donât have to do it then, huh?â 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. âItâs my turn, right? You took the plunge last time, so itâs only fair I go this time.â
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.
âItâs my turn.â
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. âWe both know Iâm the one going down there.â
âItâs not fair, it shouldnât have to be you. My physiotherapist cleared me; I can do it.â He sighed, flexing the knee of his injured leg subconsciously, and you chuckled a little, squeezing his arm softly.
âJust 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?â
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. âYou know I love you, right?â
âYouâve known me for, like, four months.â
âOuch, the harsh sting of rejection.â 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 didnât 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 werenât 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.
âYouâre gonnaâ want to lose the backpack, for now, weâre wearing full-body harnesses.â
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 youâd 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 Thomasâ 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.
âStruggling a little, there?â
âJust a bit.â 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. âTight enough?â
âMhm..â You swallowed thickly, head nodding on a secondâs 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. âYou did that on purpose.â
âWhat can I say? Youâre just falling for me already.â
âI think I want to go back to hating you.â 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. âIâm not feeling so good about this whole height thing.â
âYouâve already down this once, youâve got it this time, too.â
It was supposed to be reassuring, and you felt him come up to stand beside you, but you only scoffed, shaking your head. âThomas, that was, like, fifteen feet down. This is more like one hundred feet.â
âItâs one hundred and thirty, actually.â 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. âI donât know why I said that, it didnât help, at all.
âNo, it didnât.â
âI admire you, though.â 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. âI know youâre scared, and youâre doing this for Newt to save him the pain. I think thatâs really brave.â
âI suppose so..â 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.
âThey wonât let anything happen to you, alright?â Your attention was drawn back to Thomas, and as you looked up at him, he offered a smile. âJust keep your eyes on me, alright? Weâre just going to walk backwards slowly, keep your eyes on me, and as we go over the edge, keep your feet on the ground.â
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. âHey, hey, câmon! Look at me, eyes on me, remember?â
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.
âJust look at me, okay? Youâve got this.â
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.
âYouâre doing so good.â 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.
âWhoa, whoa, relax. Itâs alright, just needed some light.â 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. âLook how close we are, youâve come so far, look at that.â
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.
âDo you remember what you said to me the day you ran into that burning building?â
âNot really. I remember a lot of yelling, that's about it.â 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.
âWell, 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.â You huffed, the joke heâd 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. âWeâre going to go and save some lives, youâre going to save some lives, and Iâm just here to help you. You need to be brave for me, okay?â
âOkay.â
âYeah?â 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. âWhen we get down there, itâs 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 Iâll go down first. Iâll help you inside, but the rope is going to go slack, because theyâre going to give you enough space to move around. You think you can handle that?â
âI can do it. Iâll be okay.â 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 â12â 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 youâd 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.
âNot a lot to work with.â
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. âRopes are one hundred and fifty feet, but they need at least ten foot of rope to work with up there, and weâre close to a hundred and fifty feet down.â
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.
âHey, sweetheart, itâs alright. Weâre going to get you out of here, okay?â You watched, the ay her face peeled back form recessed into her motherâs shoulder, tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, but the badge on Thomasâ 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.
âLegs first, Iâve got you, just drop down.â
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 theyâd 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.
âI told you, I got you.â
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. âOkay, let's get you all checked out, huh?â
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 heâd be alright to wait until his family was checked out.
âOkay, 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?â 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. âYouâre doing so good! Youâre even braver than I am!â
âI cried a lot, Iâm not brave.â
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. âThatâs okay, I wanted to cry on the way down here, too. But, you see the firefighter behind me?â She glanced over your shoulder, her eyes flicking over him for a second, before she nodded. âHeâs great at this, heâs the bravest, and heâs going to get you back up to the top, okay? Heâll help you put a harness on, and then youâre going to do some climbing, think you can do that?â
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.
âHow are you feeling? Any unusual headaches, blurred vision, whiplash?â She shook her head whispering her ânoâ on a hoarse through, and you felt awful for what sheâd 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. âHow about the baby, anything you want to ask?â
âNo, I know my little one is alright.â 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. âHeâs doing just fine. If anything, heâs mad he didnât get his lunch yet, we had reservations that weâve missed.â
âWell, youâve got a little fighter in there, huh?â
âYou can say that again.â She teased, wrapping herself back up warmly, and you did a quick scan over what of her you could see.
âMy boy is going to be a football star with energy like that.â 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;
âWeâre not going to be able to get her in a harness. Youâre going to have to climb back up on your own with the mother and the girl, and come back to me with the harnesses.â
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.
âNo, I think you have to be the one to go.â
He shook his head, a frown taking over his lips. âNo, no, absolutely not. I canât leave you down here witho-â 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. âYouâre terrified, though.â
âI know, but Iâm saving lives, remember?â 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. âHe needs medical attention, and you need to take the girl and the mother back up. Iâll wait right here, and you just get back to me as soon as you can.â
âI donât want to leave you here alone.â
âIâll be fine, I swear.â He didnât 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. âI got this.â
âI know you do, but that doesnât mean I have to like it.â
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.
Thomasâ 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.
âIâll be back for you real soon, alright?â
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. âDonât worry, kiddo, Iâm just as scared as you are.â
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.
âSorry, your hands are cold.â
âYouâre lethal, do you know that?â 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. âNo more noises like that unless youâre in pain, or you know something wrong, alright?â
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 didnât 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 wasnât 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.
âSkin wound, nothing too serious. Iâll get it cleaned up for you, wonât even need stitches. Looks way worse than it is.â
âStings like a bitch, though.â
âWell, youâre not going to like this, then.â 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. âIâm sorry, Mr, uh..â
âYou can just call me Clint.â
âIâm sorry, Clint. Itâs not all that fun, but itâs a hell of a lot worse than a skin infection, thatâs for sure. Youâd hate it if this thing got gross and had to be scraped clean.â He grimaced a little at the idea, and you knew the feeling. On more than one occasion, youâd 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. âAll done, now, okay?â
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 âthanksâ 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 youâd 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.
âThomas?â
âYep, thatâs me.â 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. âHowâs he lookinâ in there? He going to be able to get in a harness?â
âItâs not ideal, but I think if we climb carefully, weâll be just fine.â Your voice cracked a little with the sudden shout, but you offered the man a small smile, turning to look at him. âWeâre good, right. Clint?â
âWeâre great, kiddo.â He mumbled, holding up a weak hand with a thumb stuck up, and you grinned, a reassuring nod for both of you.
âGlad to hear it.â 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. âYouâve both done real good today, weâre 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.â
âUh, come out as in on top of the elevator?â
âCan you handle that? Iâm only two or three floors away, but if you can get yourself roped up first, itâll save a lot of time.â It made sense, it was logical, and you didnât 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.
âI can do it.â
He gave some kind of reply, something you didnât 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 Thomasâ 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 wasnât 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.
âWhat did you just do?â
âI tried to climb out?â 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.
âDonât move, okay? Donât move even a step!â
âIâm not! I donât think I could, even if I wanted to at this point!â There was a shake in your voice, nausea filling you once again and your entire body was tensed painfully tight, fear taking over again. âWhatâs happening?â
âIt shifted. The movements made it come loose, but it's alright.â 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. âJust stay real still, and itâs going to be just fine.â
âOkay.â 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. âWeâre okay. Weâll be fine.â
âYes, we will.â 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. âThomas?â
âItâs moving again, Iâm ri-â
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 youâd already applied a neck brace to the man, keeping him safe there, and he lay out, staring up at the dimly flickering lights.
âThomas?â 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. âLieutenant?â
âOh, thank fucking God. Are you okay?â 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.
âWeâre both still in one piece.â 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. âHow far did we drop?â
âUh..â He paused, the lights flashing around the tunnel for a moment, before it was disappearing again. âYouâre somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor.â
âOkay, how long until you get to us?â
âI canât.â 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. âThe ropes canât get that far down. âMinho 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. Weâre going to have to pull down the wall, okay? Theyâre already on their way.â
âWhat am I supposed to do?â
âJust hold on, and be brave. Can you do that? For me?â You absolutely could not, everything inside of you was rattled and terrified, and you were barely holding it together, but you didnât want him panicking either, and so you held the trembling in your body off long enough to give him a smooth response;
âYeah. Iâll manage. Just hurry, okay?â
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. âIâm already on my way to come and get you, I promise.â
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 didnât 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 youâd 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 didnât 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.
âIâm so sorry.â 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 youâd 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 Chuckâs 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.
âWeâre okay, Chuck. You guys planning to get these doors open for us soon?â
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. âSoon enough for you?â
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. âDonât do that to yourself, Newt.â
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 Newtâs hand away, just in case, squeezing it before letting go.
âJust so you know, I love you, too. Youâre the best friend, like, ever. Even if sometimes I hate it.â 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. âIâm going to need the board, and you need to be ready to go. As soon as heâs out, get to the amboâ, okay?â
âYouâll call once youâre out too, right? So I know youâre okay?â
âYeah, I will.â 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.
âOkay, thereâs normally two of us for this, so Iâm going to need your help here, okay?â 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. âIâm going to roll you, and I need you to tense up, hold it for as long as you can, and Iâll push the board under you, then, when you roll back, try to shuffle onto it, okay?â
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. âYou ever been crowd surfing, Clint?â
âCanât say that I have.â
âWell, thereâs a first time for everything.â 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.
âYou need to get out, like, now.â
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. âOh, fuck it.â
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 Thomasâ, 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.
âTold you I was coming to get you.â
You could only laugh, a pathetic sound that barely made itself known in response to the words heâd whispered in your ears, but it didnât matter, because you were soon being pulled back, Thomasâ 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.
âYou scared the shit outtaâ me.â
âYeah, I wasnât all that fond of the experience, either.â 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 couldnât 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 youâd 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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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 itâs peak by the time you found her...Ashoka Tano.Â
Warnings: Lots of angst ahead, semi-unhappy ending,
A/N - Iâm doing a major time skip cause *tension*. Also, I didnât really have any ideas except for lots of squabbling between the reader and Mando so hereâs the result.Â
âWanna explain why youâve been ignoring me?â the modulated voice speaks up from beside you.Â
âNot particularly,âÂ
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 Dinâs clan. It was obvious his feelings had changed.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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 nameâs familiarity resounded within you, memories of the name being passed around during your time on Mandalore.Â
âYou stay out here with the Child,â Mando says gruffly. âIâll see if I can find the Jediâs whereabouts,âÂ
âYouâre seriously benching me?â you hiss.Â
âNo, youâre protecting the kid,âÂ
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.Â
âSorry, buddy, no frogs here.â you sigh, leaning your forearms against your knees.Â
It didnât 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. Youâre smart, staying close to the duo so you donât 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 didnât 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.Â
âDin?â you yell into the air.Â
âI only see a few beasts to the North,â
âNo, that canât be i-â
Yeah, that definitely wasnât 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, itâs smell nearly making you gag as you brace yourself with the Earth.Â
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 Jediâs next hit, one that certainly would have killed you. As girly as it was, your heart fluttered at the protective move.Â
Swinging out of the way, you protect the Child with the small knife as the Mandalorian and the Jedi come to a truce.Â
âBo-Katan sent me!â you hear Din yell, his blaster ready.
Slowly, she disengages, her hood falling gracefully towards her shoulders, looking at you and the Child.Â
âI hope itâs about him,â
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 couldnât help but admire.Â
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 wouldnât even leave a scar. But the fear in Dinâs voice would leave a scar upon your memory.Â
âWhy didnât you tell me you were hurt?â he mumbles quietly.Â
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.Â
âDidnât think you would care,âÂ
âCya-â
âYou donât get to fucking call me that. Not after ignoring me this entire time.âÂ
âLet me explain...â
âYou should have weeks ago...â you mumble.Â
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.Â
She takes you to a more comfortable plateau, the trees offering safety, something you didnât expect this deep in the wilderness. You sit beside the kid, gently scratching the space between his ears, earning a coo in return.Â
âWere you two speaking back there?â Din questions.Â
âIn a way,â Ashoka responds. âGrogu and I can hear each others thoughts.â
âGrogu?â you and Din ask in unison. The poor thing didnât know who to look at first, making you chuckle softly.Â
âIt must be nice to hear your real name again, huh?â you whisper softly while peering down at him.Â
You listen quietly to Groguâs 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.Â
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.Â
It was early when Ashoka had risen you, the Child void of your chest, instead in Dinâs arms. Your gaze quickly averts away from him, opting instead to follow Ashoka.Â
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.Â
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.Â
âHe doesnât understand.â Din interjects.Â
âOh jeez...â you mumble, already sensing the long day ahead of.Â
âHe does,â Ashoka reassures, stepping closer to the youngling. âHeâs hidden his abilities to survive over the years. Letâs try something else. Come over here.â
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, Groguâs upset builds also. He softly whimpers at the sight of you two, refusing to make any eye contact.Â
âFor this to work, you both need to be in harmony. Not fighting whatver lovers quarrel has settled upon you.â Ashoka says frankly.Â
âWeâre fine...â you say, your voice void of any emotion.Â
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.Â
âWe need to figure this out, for the kid,â Din says.Â
âYeah, and only for the kid,â you scoff.Â
âWhat is with you lately?! What have I done that is so wrong!âÂ
âWhere do I kriffing start Din?!â
âHow have I mistreated you?â
âItâs not mistreatment! Itâs the lack of said treatment...â
âDank Farrik!â he exclaims, his hands flying in the air. âWill you just spit it out already!âÂ
âFine! Youâve treated me like every other bounty youâve dragged into the ship ever since our escape from Nevarro.â
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.Â
âWhat I said back there...I never shouldâve said it. I never shouldâve kissed you like that,â
Your jaw clenches, your arms grip your own body tighter then before.Â
âAre you saying...â
âIts not true, what I said. Weâre just partners.âÂ
With a scoff and a quiet sniffle, you canât 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.Â
âJust partners in crime, right?â you spit at him, turning away from the man that you knew you still loved.Â
A harsh sigh pushes through his encoder, his hands falling at his hips in frustration.Â
âIâll pretend to be normal around the kid. But once heâs back with a Jedi, youâre dropping me off at the nearest planet.âÂ
You wipe a stray tear away before walking off in silence.Â
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#mandalorian#the mandalorian#mandalorianxreader#mandalorianimagine#mando#mando x reader#mando x you#mando imagine#din#djarin#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin imagine#din djaren fanfiction#the mandolorian#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian imagine#mandolorian x reader#partners in crime
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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 wouldnât 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, sheâd say that the allegations werenât 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 wouldâve 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 wouldnât 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 âhigh end clubâ. Apparently her friend had been assigned to do an interview to this celebrity, Fame, at least thatâs what she hoped his stage name was. She didnât 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 wasnât styled up to anything fancy and her dark skin wasnât 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.
âCome on now, I know your defining character quality is being a square, but lighten up a bit, let yourself have some fun.â
Vickieâs 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 couldnât 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 otherâs tastes to get so blasted that the next morning they donât know where they were, but it wasnât Vickieâs taste.
Helena could see the look in Vickieâs eyes
âI know what your thinking. Iâm not asking you to behave like an absolute moron. But just chill it. Youâre not on the clock right now, youâll always have time to do this tomorrow. But for the love of god stop worrying yourself.â Helena then crossed her arms
âI 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.â
Vickie sighed. Although she didnât 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.
âOh goddamnit, Prejudice, this is the 5th time this month youâve crashed the party!â Fame grumbled as Prejudice smirked, snatching a drink out of the hand of Vickieâs coworker.
âYeah, and Iâll do it again. Besides, I like how you get all p!ssy about it.â Prejudice said as he took a drink from his stolen beverage.
Helena moved back over to Vickie
âDonât look now, but I think thatâs the CEO of that company youâre looking into.â Helena whispered despite knowing she couldnât 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.
âThe hellâs he doing here? Shouldnât he be more worried about saving his companyâs face by discrediting the allegations?â She muttered quietly to herself as she took a sip from her Bloody Mary. Helena glanced over
âIt looks like him and that other fellow know each other.â Helena said. âIâll keep watch.â Helena said as she floated over to the crowd. Vickieâs grip on her glass tightened. Maybe this could be the chance sheâd 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 couldnât 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 didnât go away.
âDid you catch anything?â Vickie whispered subtly.
âNo, but heâs been staring at you. I think? He may be looking at your general area but heâs definitely been looking intensely at the bar area.â 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 didnât 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 didnât think so, sheâd 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 didnât 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 didnât 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.
âIâd 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.â 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 didnât 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 Vickieâs brain. This man clearly wasnât human.
âNow what do we have here? You know, looking at you, Iâd think youâre 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.â 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 Vickieâs gears. He said these things like he was entitled to say them, like it was owed to him.
âYou may have fooled my dipsh!t employees, you dumb b!tch, but Iâm not exactly as easy to convince. I know you plan on finding whatever evidence you can to âruinâ 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.â He grinned.
âOh go f*ck yourself you pompous little sh!t!â Vickie growled. She let out a loud hiss of pain as he twisted her arm more as a result.
âOh, a little feisty? Good, Iâve been wanting something more entertaining than some obedient little pets. So please, go on. Iâm going to break that jaw of yours either way but still, I want to hear more.â Prejudice goated on. She felt his hand slowly leave her hair and travel down to her waist.
âYou 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 theyâre someone of any respect. Really youâre not fooling anyone â 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 didnât really do much, not when immediately after she was backhanded to the ground when he finally got his footing. She didnât 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 didnât even look like she laid a scratch on him, as any and all injuries or bruises inflicted on him had somehow already healed.
Prejudiceâs smirk became wider as he squeezed tighter, his free hand yanking out any remaining glass from his eye.
âGod, arenât you just a fidgety little spazz? Hmm? Did you really think you could fight off a god? Though youâve been great entertainment so far, itâs been a while since someoneâs actually tried to fight me. Good to know not every mortal nowadays are p/ssies.â He spoke.
Vickie could see her world starting to turn dark as Prejudice kept talking
âLetâs just get this part over with. You WILL delete whatever âevidenceâ you have against my company, and youâll drop this case. If you donât, weâll, Iâm sure you donât have many options here, unless you wanna have a meeting with Death.â He said.
âThen, I want you to meet me in my office as soon as you enter the building. Donât try quitting now that you wonât be able to do that little expose thing. I can ruin you in so many ways Iâm sure your pretty little brain wonât comprehend. Itâs alright. You donât have to think, just do as I say and I wonât have to hurt you.. too much, sweetheart.â That âsweetheartâ was said in the most patronizing tone that it wouldâve 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 didnât have too much planned for todayâs anyways.
Vickie laid there weakly on the floor as Prejudice just walked away, as if he didnât 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.
âVickie, Vickie. Donât pass out on me, Vickie just try and stay awake! Iâll get help!â 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.
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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 schoolâs track where they were setting up an obstacle course for the sports festival. While the boxes werenât heavy, they blocked his view slightly. He did his best to look around the boxes so he wouldnât bump into anyone but it was difficult. Luckily, he knew the schoolâs layout well and he counted his steps to the entryway.
He reached the double doors but he couldnât 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 didnât 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 wasnât 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. âThanks, Kuro. Are you here for the sports festival?â
âYeah. Hyde ran off somewhere and Iâm searching for him right now. He dragged me here but then ditched me. Troublesome.â He told him with a light groan. âI hope he isnât causing trouble. Can you help me find him?â
âOf course Iâll 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 mightâve gone.â Mahiru told him.
âIâm sorry if my brother has been causing you trouble in class. Wrath talked to him about starting fights but he doesnât listen. He has gotten better since he entered your class though.â 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 Hydeâs teacher so he knew he had someone looking out for him while he was working.
âHeâs 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. Iâll tell you about their adventures later. Are you free after school?â He asked.
âThanks for looking out for my brother. You said that you were taking these boxes to the field. Iâll help you carry them.â 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. âI promised my siblings I would take them out to eat after the sports festival. Do you want to join us?â
âI would love to.â Mahiru nodded. They talked about their different jobs as they walked. âTeaching 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 âtroublesomeâ to you.â
âI can be persuaded to run an obstacle course. Hyde needed a family member to partner with for the race and everyone else was busy.â He said with a shrug. Family had always been important to both of them and Mahiru was glad they shared that value.
âKuro, focus! You need to pass me the baton properly for the obstacle course!â 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 Kuroâs attention. âWhy are you staring at my teacher?â
âI wasnât staring.â He answered and then knelt in front of Hyde so they were eye level. âThis festival is for fun so you donât need to put so much importance on winning. Just do your best.â
âYouâre saying that as an excuse because you donât want to run fast. I care about winning!â 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. âHe said he would join my drama club if I can win first place in the obstacle race.â
âIs that what this is about? Fine, Iâll try.â He stood and Hyde immediately tugged his hand to take him to the track. As he walked with Hyde, his eyes met Mahiruâs 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 Hydeâs age, their father wouldnât go to Kuroâs 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 Mahiruâs voice over the speaker. âThe 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, theyâll 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 youâll win.â
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 didnât 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 Kuroâs 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.
âWhat is it?â Mahiru assumed the paper he pulled said he needed a whistle or something similar.
âI need you.â 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 hadnât let him go yet. Mahiru didnât pull his hand away though. He lightly squeezed his hand to make Kuro look down at him. âCongratulations, Kuro. I have to see the paper you drew to make sure you brought the right item first.â
Kuro blushed and took out the slip of paper from his pocket. He placed it in Mahiruâs 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. Mahiruâs eyes widened before his face softened into a smile. âWhen I wrote this, I thought the person would take one of the sun decorations we put up. But Iâll count this. Itâs kind of sweet to be called a sun.â
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In Their Shoes
Neither my finest written work (go figure, this is the first thing Iâve written in like seven years that didnât 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. Mightâve 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: âStrongholdâ 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 Harrimanâs voice on the intercom, saying what everyone on the base had come to expect from the abrupt call to action. âUnscheduled offworld activation.â The Tauâri 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. Tealâc 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. âAny idea what this is about?â Mitchell asked as they jogged up the stairs.
Tealâc replied in a slightly concerned tone, âNone.â 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 werenât late, for before Sam could turn to speak to her teammates, brilliant blue light flashed from behind the gateâs 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:
Baâal.
Tealâc saw several of the guards in the Gate Room exchange looks. He, of course, was not surprised - Baâal 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 âvisitorâ. âWhat is it, Baâal? I doubt this is a courtesy call.â
The hologram spoke, with the hollow yet echoing intonation of the Goaâuld: Oh, but it is, General. I have information that would concern you. I wish to speak to Tealâc.â
Landry turned to look at the former First Prime of a false god. They traded raised eyebrows, Mitchell glancing between them. âI suggest we tell him to shove it, sir,â Cameron finally said. He and Tealâc exchanged a knowing look. It had been less than a week since Baâal had tried to brainwash Tealâc into following him, an event still fresh in both their memories. Tealâc looked back at Landry. âI agree with Colonel Mitchell. It is unlikely that Baâal has any useful information, and whatever he offers us could well be a falsehood.â
Before Landry could reply, Sam interjected. âYes, but Baâal doesnât 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.â
Ever the optimist, Colonel Carter, Tealâc thought to himself. Landry raised both his eyebrows and simply said, âItâs your call, Tealâc. You donât have to pick up if you donât want to.â The Jaffa mulled it over for a moment before bowing slightly and starting his short walk to the Gate Room. He had weighed Baâalâs most recent attempts at manipulation, subterfuge, and brainwashing against the possibility that just this once Baâal might be genuinely helpful â or, at least, as âgenuinelyâ helpful as he had been on Dakara. But with the Prior threat looming, and with Baâal having as much to lose from defeat by the Ori as anyone else, Tealâc knew he couldnât let his⊠distaste for false gods obstruct the chance at acquiring valuable intelligence.
Reaching the massive bulkhead sealing the Gate Room, Tealâc swiped his security card and opened the door. He paced slowly, deliberately into the room, as if a hunter stalking prey. Baâal 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 Tealâc subtly  into discomfort. âAh, Tealâc. I hope thereâs no hard feelings over what happened a few days ago.â
âWhat is it that you want, Baâal?â Tealâc was having none of this flamboyance.
âI just thought youâd like to hear what one of my spies just reported to me. It concerns you most particularly.â Tealâc simply raised an eyebrow, goading the Goaâuld to get on with it. But Baâalâs tone became slightly more⊠somber, serious. âI have just received word that a Prior of the Ori has arrived on Chulak.â
Tealâcâs gut twisted. At first in concern for those on Chulak, then in anger â Baâal was clearly trying to deceive him. âAnd why are you telling us this? Why has word of this not come from Braâtac?â
âYou really believe any Jaffa could have learned such news before me? You underestimate me, Tealâc. But if you do not believe me⊠go to Chulak yourself and discover the truth.â Baâal 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. Tealâc stood in the Gate Room for a moment, given pause by the brief interaction. If Baâal was lying, this would surely be some kind of a trap. But if this were true⊠it was a risk Tealâc 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, Tealâc decided it would be wise to first consult Braâtac on this, and then perhaps bring his mentor with him to Chulak to investigate. General Landry offered to send SG-1 with him, but Tealâc declined. âIf Baâalâs claim is true, and I require assistance, I will signal the SGC.â By the time Tealâc 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 Braâtac. Indeed, he had been on his way to the Stargate himself, and they met just outside the council hall. âTealâc,â Braâtak said in surprise. âI was just coming to see you. We have received word tha-â
âThat a Prior is on Chulak.â
Braâtac seemed momentarily taken aback. âHow did you know?â
âStargate Command received a communique from Baâal claiming as much. I came to seek your help in investigating this.â
Braâtacâs brow furrowed. He was clearly as vexed by Baâalâs actions as Tealâc was. But he did not mince words with this concern. âThen we must proceed to Chulak at once.â Tealâc 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. âTealâc, Braâtac, it is good you have come. The Prior is preaching in the city square.â 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 werenât 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 Tealâc and Braâtac 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, âHave you come seeking enlightenment?â The seemingly-frail man held his staff to his right side, seemingly (and undoubtedly) untroubled by the lethal plasma weapon leveled at him.
âWe have come seeking answers as to why you are here,â Tealâc replied boldly.
âI 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.â
âThey do not seem very receptive,â Braâtac quipped. âPerhaps it is best if you go now, lest you wear out your throat preaching to deaf ears.â
The Prior smiled, his wilted and almost melting-looking skin giving an air of menace to the gesture. âPerhaps they will be more receptive to a demonstration of the power of the true gods to deal with the false.â 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 Baâal.
At the sight of the former System Lord, the Jaffa that had accompanied Braâtac and Tealâc pivoted to bring his weapon to bear on the Goaâuld. Several other guards did likewise, and yet more leveled their weapons at the Prior. Thepriest raised his arms and his voice to the crowd. âBehold! The might and justice of the true gods!â His staff flashed again. Several staff weapons opened, ready to fire upon the Prior.
Instead, it was Baâal 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. Braâtac moved to examine him. The eldest Jaffa raised his head. âHe is alive.â
âWhat have you done to him?â Tealâc asked the Prior.
The Prior began walking out of the square, heading in the direction of the Gate. âDelivered him unto justice. As his kind did unto you⊠I have done unto him.â Shortly after he passed Tealâc, he turned back and cried, âI shall return in one day. When I do, I suspect many of you will be willing to follow the correct path.â He turned one final time and walked out of the city.
As he did, Baâal stirred. As he woke, he groaned, clutching his stomach again. As Braâtac looked on, Baâal 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, Baâal, as well⊠Jaffa.
Braâtac and Tealâc exchanged concerned looks as the crowd gathered to witniss Ori âjusticeâ. And what a display of such they would get.
* * *
Back at Stargate Command, Tealâc and Braâtac â 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. âIf I didnât know better,â she said, âIâd say he was born a Jaffa. Symbiote pouch â but, interestingly, no symbiote â 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 Goaâuld DNA as well. This isnât the host of Baâal, it is Baâal. Just⊠not a Goaâuld.â The assembled observers traded shocked glances before turning to again look upon the fallen false god. âWhatâs more,â Lam said, âitâs as if this were a Jaffa that has gone more than a day without a symbiote. If it werenât for his Goaâuld DNA trying to stave the effects off, heâd be dead by now. Iâve taken the liberty of starting him on tretonin for now.â
âIs he able to speak?â Tealâc inquired.
âAside from some slightly anomalous brain activity I canât place yet, yes,â Lam said, âand it seems he wants a word with you and Braâtac.â The Jaffa rose and moved to enter the medical lab. Baâal 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. âHeh,â he chuckled weakly, âjustice indeed. This⊠is what it is to be a JaffaâŠâ He turned his head again to face the ceiling. âI 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, Tealâc â this might just win the hearts of your kinsmen.â He gasped suddenly, squinching his eyes shut and groaning for a moment, but whatever ailed him passed quickly.
âYou underestimate our will, brother,â Braâtac said, the last word dripping â no, soaking â in contemptuous sarcasm. âThe minds of the Jaffa are not so easily swayed. Though I admit⊠seeing a Goaâuld brought so low does give me great satisfaction.â
âIndeed,â Tealâc said. âIf it were not for the unique opportunity to study you, I would advise Doctor Lam to let you die.â
âOf course,â Baâal demurred. âA more fitting punishment for your false gods I doubt you could have concocted yourself.â Another brief attack struck Baâal, and when it passed he gasped. He shook his head as if to clear it. âSo then, before I die, I assume you intend to torture me for information.â
âI believe your current situation to be torture enough,â Tealâc said. âBut I will ask a question of you. How is it that you told us of this Prior?â Tealâc had noted that this Baâal had not been wearing the same clothes as the hologram, and he did not hink Baâal would have the time or reason to redress himself before he had arrived. Further, the hologram technology Baâal had used was not present at the Gate on Chulak.
Baâal chuckled. âTrade secret, Tealâc. Why should I tell you ho-â He was wracked by another convulsion, this one seeming to leave him dazed. Doctor Lam reenterd. âYouâll have to leave, at least until I identify whatâs going on with his brain wave patterns.â Tealâc nodded, spared a final glance at Baâal, and led Braâtac out.
Back in the observation room, Tealâc confided in his friends. âI fear Baâal 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.â
Sam commented first. âWell, we know the Priors can affect peopleâs physiologies â curing diseases, fixing impairments, even raising the dead. Honestly Iâm surprised this idea never came to us.â
âAnd heâs still snake enough to survive until the Jaffa execute him,â Mitchell said. âAnd you know they will â this is a golden opportunity for a little payback.â
âThat is correct, Colonel Mitchell,â Tealâc replied. âFor that reason, I suggest we keep Baâal here until we can find a way to reverse this.â
âReverse it?â Daniel wondered out loud. âW-wh-why would you want to reverse this?â
âBecause otherwise it would seem to be proof of the Oriâs claims,â Braâtac said. âAs much as I relish seeing a Goaâuld defeated so thoroughly⊠we cannot allow such a small victory to pave the way to a much greater defeat.â
Landry nodded. âDoctor 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. Iâm going to contact the Tokâra 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, Iâd like you to help Doctor Lamâs team with their research, see if thereâs any technology weâve found â or any knowledge weâve learned â that can fix this. Tealâc, I think-â
âI will remain here to observe our new⊠brother,â Tealâc said, cutting Landry off. Tealâc spoke bitterly, angrily, but also subtly⊠eager, as if excited at the chance to ply Baâal for information in his compromised state. âBraâtac 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.â 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. Tealâc returned to the commissary, ate, and then returned to the medlab justin time for Lam to come to him. âI think weâve found out whatâs happening with Baâalâs brain⊠and I think youâll be interested in seeing this.â She led him to a computer. âSince you last left, heâs 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 itâs trying to process an overload of memories. Of note, during the last convulsion, he started muttering Goaâuld word, things like âkreeâ. I couldnât make out all of it, but itâs almost like he was giving orders to someone. But what tipped me off was this.â She tapped a few buttons and highlighted several parts of the brain scan. âThese patterns are remarkably similar to those produced by a Galaran memory transfer when it splices new memories into another person.â
âWhat memories has he been given?â
âI canât say,â Lam said. âHe refuses to go into detail about what heâs seeing. The patterns are still intensifying, but the rate at which they do so is diminishing. I think heâs starting to integrate⊠whatever heâs remembering.â
The monitor showed another spike as Baâal convulsed again. This time, he shouted a full phrase in Goaâuld. Lam certainly didnât seem to understand, but Tealâc did. Baâal had shouted, âBrothers! Fall back! They are too many!â This, naturally, piqued Tealâcâs curiosity. He approached Baâal as the convulsion subsided, leaving him panting and disoriented. âTo whom are you referring, Baâal?â
âThe forces of⊠of⊠what?â Baâal seemed to be struggling to form coherent sentences. Finally, he sighed in frustration. âI do not understand, Tealâc,â he said. âIt is as if I remember things that I have never experienced.â
âTell me what you are seeing, brother.â Tealâc did not allow himself an upset tone this time. In order to understand what was happening to Baâal, Tealâc knew he must be patient and suss out the truths.
But instead of mustering a snide remark, Baâal muttered in a mixture of horror and disbelief. âBattles⊠bloody fighting⊠dead Jaffa⊠bearing the marks of Lord Yu⊠and Cronus⊠Of Apophis, Camulus, Heru-Ur, Setesh, Isis, Baâal, so many⊠I remember as if it were yesterday, being shot by staff riflesâŠâ He leaned toward Tealâc abruptly.  âSave us, brother, before-â he screamed and convulsed again, but when he finally came to again, it was once more Baâal. 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. âIt⊠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?â
âI donât think he did,â Lam interjected, sidling up to the bed. âIâve been comparing your brain scans to those few we have on record of recently-taken Goaâuld hosts. At first I thought it was similar to the Galaran memory transfer, but now⊠it almost sounds like racial memory.â As Baâal convulsed again, she turned to Tealâc and elaborated. âEvery Goaâuld is born with the knowledge of all of their ancestors, memory rooted in their very DNA. From what heâs saying⊠itâs almost as if the Priorâs transformation of him caused his Goaâuld 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 Goaâuld. Likely another part of the Priorâs âjusticeâ, if I had my bet. I canât even begin to guess whatâs keeping his synapses from overloading from the strain.â
âTo not only become a Jaffa, but to relive the generations of crimes perpetrated against us by the GoaâuldâŠâ Tealâcâs 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 Tealâc 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. âHow long before this process is complete?â
âBased on current trends, his neural pathways should stabilize over the course of the next six hours. Who heâll be after that⊠is anyoneâs guess.â
Tealâc bowed his head respectfully and rose. âI will watch him from the observation post so that you may continue your work without interference, Doctor Lam.â Lam nodded, and Tealâc left the room.
* * *
Baâal 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 Baâal unconscious for the rest of the time. Tealâc had only just sat back down in the observation room with a mug of coffee from the commissary when Baâal finally stirred. He reentered the medlab and sat beside the fallen Goaâuld. Baâal seemed to be back to his usual self, quipping, âHave you enjoyed watching me suffer, Tealâc?â
âImmensely,â Tealâc replied, though this was more snark than truth. Then, in a strange gesture, he offered the coffee to Baâal. Baâalâs face wrinkled in confusion. âWhat is this?â
âA human beverage known as coffee. Many on this world find it helps order oneâs mind, particularly after a period of unconsciousness.â Baâal sniffed the contents of the mug, wrinkling his nose slightly, then sipped it. After he swallowed, he exhaled sharply. âYou could have told me it was hot.â
âExtremely,â Tealâc replied. He smiled. âYou present a unique opportunity, Baâal.â
âYes, I know, the study of such a unique specimen,â Baâal retorted.
âThat is not what I was referring to,â Tealâc replied calmly. âYou alone are now in a position to recall the entirety of the Jaffaâs enslavement from both sides. It makes me wonder whether or not it has changed any of your beliefs.â
Baâal scoffed. âAnd what makes you think that?â
âYou carry the memories of generations of suffering. To the System Lords, we Jaffa were merely tools â 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?â
He expected a glib answer, a tongue-in-cheek retort, even a spiteful jab. Instead, Baâal said⊠nothing. He stared into the black depths of the mug in his hands, his expression contemplative. Tealâc even thought that for just a moment, regret crossed behind the eyes of the Jaffa before him. Finally, Baâal sighed. âI would be lying if I said I did not. It is a most unsettling feeling.â He looked at Tealâc. âWhy are you doing this? Why do you show this... kindness to me?â
âBecause in you, Baâal, there is hope,â said Tealâc. âyou are the first opportunity the Goaâuld 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.â
In truth, Tealâc wanted to hate Baâal. To spit foul and angry diatribes at the false god, to condemn him for the deaths of so many innocents, to break Baâal with his own hands. But those first hours watching the former Goaâuld 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 Baâalâs suffering for its own sake. But the Tealâc that had joined the SGC was not the same man that now sat beside Baâal â he had grown, learned from the Tauâri (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 Goaâuld for what they had done to the Jaffa⊠he also knew that tormenting Baâal with such things would benefit no one. And, indeed, Baâal was no longer a Goaâuld, and so to inflict misery on him would not be justice â 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.
Baâal sat motionless, save to again sip the coffee Tealâc had given him â more cautious of its temperature now â before finally nodding. âThere⊠is truth in what you say, Tealâc. 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 â a feeling no Goaâuld has known since before we took to the stars. The Jaffa have more than earned their freedom.â He shook his head solemnly.
âThen perhaps this time, when you tell the Jaffa of this, when you promise them their freedom⊠it will be genuine.â
âWhat do you mean?â Baâal asked, puzzled.
âWhen 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-â
âNo,â Baâal said, with more sincerity in his voice than Tealâc had ever heard from him. âThat offer was genuine even then.â
This gave Tealâc pause. He had never even once considered that possibility. âWhat was your intention in doing that?â
Baâal chuckled. âNot 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.â He chuckled again. âShalâkek nemâron, indeed. Perhaps I will be the first Goaâuld⊠to die truly free.â
âShalâkek nemâron indeed⊠brother.â And for the first time, Tealâc actually meant the appelation.
âMight I ask a favor, Tealâc?â
Tealâc tilted his head.
âI could really rather do with some food, if itâs all the same.â He passed the mug of coffee back to Tealâc. âThough, if you would like to also bring me more of that⊠coffee, perhaps a bit cooler⊠I might enjoy that.â
Tealâc bowed, rose, and turned to leave. Just before he exited the room, however, Baâal called out one last time. âAnd Tealâc!â
The Jaffa turned to face him.
âOne of the memories that kept coming back⊠I saw Cronus kill your father, and what he did that brought about Cronusâs anger. I know it doesnât mean much⊠but for what itâs worth, Iâm sorry.â
Tealâc stood stunned for a moment before bowing and smiling. âHad Cronus not killed my father, I would never have met Braâtac, and learned of the dream of free Jaffa. Perhaps⊠it was for the best.â 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 Baâal. âWhat is happening?â
âHis body is rejecting the tretonin,â Lam said frantically. âHis immune system is failing.â The medics rushed to do what they could to stabilize the Jaffa, but it was clear they were fighting a losing battle. Finally, Baâal yelled over the frantic voices for Tealâc, who came to his side.
âYou must fight, brother. If you perish, the hope for real change will perish with you.â
âNo, Tealâc,â Baâal said weakly. He leaned up to Tealâc with much of the last of his strength and whispered in his ear.. âIt⊠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 Goaâuld memory, I am⊠linked to my other clones. I will⊠remember.â He drew a single final, raspy breath. âShalâkekâŠâ
Then the breath left him, and his vitals flatlined. The medics did everything Tealâc had seen them do dozens of times before, but Baâal â this Baâal â had passed. In memory of the Jaffa, Tealâc muttered, ânemâron, brother.â
* * *
Tealâc had just finished his lunch the next day when the alerts balred again âIncoming wormhole,â reported the ever-faithful Chief over the comm. Tealâc, as usual, reported to the Control Room, and a moment later the wormhole flared into existence behind the iris. âReceiving a radio transmission, sir,â Walter reported. âItâs SG-3.â He clicked the comm open.
âSG-3, this is Stargate Command, go ahead,â Landry said.
âGeneral, this is Colonel Mitchell. I think weâve dealt with Chulakâs little Prior problem.â
âHowâd you do that?â Landry asked, surprised.
âWell, sir, I noticed that the area around the gate was pretty rocky. Braâtac 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 wasnât enough left of him for a matchbox.â
âA most ingenius plan, Colonel Mitchell.â
âYeah, thought you might like that one, T. Listen, itâll take us a while to get this big olâ slab out of the way again, but we should be able to return to the SGC in a couple of hours. Howâs our guest?â
âThe Jaffa Baâal is dead,â Landry said. âHis body rejected the tretonin we gave him.â
âShame. He could have been a wellspring of information.â
âIndeed he was, Colonel Mitchell.â In more ways than one, Tealâc added to himself.
âSo, what do we tell the people here on Chulak?â
âThat the Prior merely used an illusion to make us believe that Baâal was Jaffa,â Tealâc suggested. He disliked lying to the Jaffa, but Daniel and Sam had proposed the idea and it had seemed prudent. âBetween that and his failure to return, I suspect that Chulak will not welcome another Prior.â
âAnd then we just tell them that we executed Baâal ourselves. I gotcha.â
âActually,â Landry said, âI 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.â
âYes, sir. Be home in a few hours. Ask the mess hall to have me some nice hot roast beef waiting when we get back, Iâm starving.â
âIâll see what I can do, Colonel. SGC out.â Landry cut the channel, and a moment later the light of the wormhole behind the iris winked out. Sam, who had been beside Daniel â with both behind Tealâc â mused, âI just wish weâd been able to find something to help Baâal before he died. I doubt any Goaâuld has ever had that kind of insight on the Jaffa.â
âOr ever will again,â Daniel added.
âI am not so certain, Daniel Jackson,â Tealâc commented. âPerhaps⊠if this shoe fit, another Goaâuld may one day wear it again.â
Daniel raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam. A passable metaphor from Tealâc? Sam smiled. âIndeed,â she said in her amused way.
She had no idea how right they might be, however, for Tealâc had kept Baâalâs revelations to himself.
It was, after all, the right way to honor a fallen brother. He wondered, however⊠how would Baâal change now that he had experienced this? He doubted if Baâal would ever fully outwardly express anything⊠but there was no doubt that there would be change.
As Tealâc left the Control Room to perform his usual duties, he smiled to himself. Their next meeting with Baâal would be most interesting, indeed.
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âDiscordant Sonataâ- 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 âfirstâ was no different. It was nerve-racking, as they normally are.
Except, most âfirstsâ generally donât involve the possibility of getting hurt or killed.
Nevertheless, here Chat was, about to embark on another âfirstâ.
This was his and Ladybugâs 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 Ladyblogâs 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.
Chatâs insides twisted and turned. He wasnât sure what he was feeling at the moment. Was it excitement to finally be at Ladybugâs side as her ally, as theyâd always meant to be? Was it dread that heâd have to face Hawkmoth again since their last confrontation, and almost getting killed? Was it fear that heâd fail to protect his Ladyâ 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 Iâm ready or not doesnât 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 buildingsâ windows were dark. Chat couldnât 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 Chatâs forearm.
âHey,â she said softly, brows upturned in concern. âYou alright?â
Chat blinked at her. She mustâve noticed the tension in his shoulders, tension he hadnât realized was there until now. He forced himself to smile, despite his nerves. He had to be strong for her. Like she always was.
âIâm fine,â he replied as evenly as he could. âJust first time jitters.â
She smiled at him, rubbing his arm lightly. âEverything will be fine, Chaton. Weâve got each otherâs backs.â
Chatâs chest swelled with affection for his partner, and he placed his own hand on top of hers, squeezing gently. âYeah. We do,â 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 thereâd 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, Chatâs 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 Ladybugâs 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.
âWhat in the worldâŠ?â 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.
âThis isnât an ordinary akuma,â he heard Ladybug say, barely loud enough for him to hear. âWe need to be careful.â
Chat took in the entire sight, his pupils narrowing into slits as he stared at the bodies strewn throughout the plazaâs grounds. Young, old, rich, poor; this strange condition did not discriminate between its hosts.
âWhatâs wrong with them?â Chat murmured, indistinct. âItâs almost as ifââ His eyebrows furrowed and he could feel his fists begin to tremble. ââas if theyâre having a nightmare.â
His stomach churned as icy realization coursed through his veins. He recognized the signs very well, as heâd 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. âTheyâre trapped inside their own nightmares!â he cried in horror. âWe need to help them!!!â
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.
âGive me your miraculous,â she demanded, hand outstretched.
Ladybug collected herself and straightened out her body, rolling her eyes as she began spinning her yo-yo. âWhy do they always ask? As if thatâs ever worked before.â
She glanced at Chat, expecting that heâd make some sort of follow-up pun or wisecrack, like he always did during any past akuma encounters. But this time, Chat didnât 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 villainâs 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 womanâs 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.
âYou cannot hurt what cannot be touched, Ladybug,â she stated coolly. âIâm invulnerable to your attacks. Stop looking for weaknesses where there are none.â
âYou wonât win. None of you have succeeded, and none of you ever will,â Ladybug replied, voice strong, feet planted in a wide, solid stance.
âEvery empire has a downfall; and I am yours. If you wonât hand over your earrings, Iâll take them from you. Or better yet...â she said with a grin that sent a chill skittering down Chatâs spine. âYouâll rip them off your very own earlobes, once they turn into searing hot coals in your upcoming nightmare.â
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 couldnât 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.
âChat! Be careful!â Ladybug yelled.
She frowned. That was reckless. He could have gotten hit, or the shot could have hit a civilian.
Chat didnât 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 personâs 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 akumaâs attacks.
Ladybug blocked a sneak attack that the akuma shot her way, and the akumaâs frustration started to show.
âYou canât avoid me forever, Ladybug. Your horrified shrieks will be music to my ears, and I canât wait,â the akuma sneered.
âIâm not letting you lay a finger on her,â Chat warned, almost hissing.
âBe silent, traitor,â 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 heâd 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.
âWhat, canât your boss be bothered to insult me himself?â he scoffed, brushing off the snub. âHow very typical of him. Where is he right now? Sending akumas out of a bathroom stall or something?â he taunted with a wily grin. âI 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.â
The glowing butterfly mask appeared on the akumatized personâs 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.
âI see youâre still as childish as ever,â the woman spoke, but it was Hawkmoth speaking through her.
âIf you donât like children , you shouldâve thought about that with your other head 18 years ago,â Chat quipped back.
The womanâ or rather, Hawkmothâ let out an annoyed groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. âI shouldâve guessed that spending even a few days with your little so-called âfriendâ would influence your manners. And here I thought you couldnât do any worse than that ruffian, Nico, or whatever his name wasâ and yet here we are.â âHawkmothâ shrugged in exasperation. âBut playtimeâs over. This is your last chance to return willingly. Otherwise, youâll force me to do it the hard way.â
âGet used to disappointment. I know I am,â the young man scoffed. âIâm not going back, and youâll never find me.â
âYou wonât survive on your own. Youâre too weak. People will take advantage of you, exploit you where youâre most vulnerable. Theyâll 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.â He scoffed, âLadybug? Believe me, I know what women like her are like.â
Chatâs eyes narrowed and his hands curled into tight fists. He seethed through clenched teeth, âYou leave her out of this.â
Hawkmoth ignored him. âShe couldnât care less about you, you know. You need to rely on someone who will protect you.â
âYou call attempted murder âprotectingâ me?!â Chat snarled.
âI 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 âindependentâ?â Hawkmoth chuckled darkly. âYour freedom is an illusion. Havenât you realized that youâre merely obeying a new master now? Still not making your own decisions; just following this girl around like a lost puppy? Because thatâs what you are to her. Just a plaything. A pet.â
Chat gulped, throat painfully dry. How dare his father speak to him this way?! Ladybugâs pet?? She would never think that. She wouldnât...
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. âLeave him alone, you heartless jerk!!â she snapped. âHow can you say such horrible things to your own flesh and blood!? Chat Noir is stronger than you could ever know!!â
âSheâs wrong,â Hawkmoth glowered at Chat through the akumaâs eyes, the latter not turning their head to acknowledge Ladybugâs presence. âYou are weak. Spineless. A coward who canât handle when things arenât easy and life doesnât just hand over what you want. Youâre a quitter.â The akuma narrowed her eyes at him, mirroring the look currently on Hawkmothâs face. âYour mother would be so ashamed of you,â he hissed.
Chatâs face twisted into one of pure rage. The ice in his veins evaporated into roaring flames, and he couldnât contain the fury that boiled in his chest.
âDonât you DARE talk about mom! You donât deserve that right! You donât deserve her!â he exploded.
âIâm not the one who abandoned her, if youâll recall,â Hawkmoth retorted.
âHis mother...?â Ladybug muttered absently, unintentionally drawing their attention.
Hawkmoth sneered, nodding the akumaâs head towards Ladybug. âAnd what does she think about all this? Did she readily forgive you, and understand why sheâs been dragged into this conflict for all these years? Did she accept you even after finding out how utterly selfish youâve been?â
Ladybug looked at Chat in confusion. He gaped at her, looking like he was about to get sick to his stomach.
âOh... I see,â Hawkmoth chuckled, a self-satisfied grin slithering across the akumaâs face. âYou havenât even told her, have you?â he mocked. âMaybe I was wrong. I guess you donât trust her, after all.â
Chatâs eyes blew wide and he stammered in protest. âWhatâ?! NO! Thatâs notâŠ!â
âThatâs good,â Hawkmoth interrupted, voice hardening once more. âYou canât trust her. You canât trust anyone outside of your family. Your secrets are too great, too terrible. Nobody would ever forgive you.â
Despite the apprehension and uncertainty hanging between them, Ladybug pushed aside the uncomfortable nagging feeling that pricked at her insides and continued to argue.
âStop it!!â she yelled. âChatâs business is his own. I donât need to know all the details of his personal life. I just want to help him, unlike you!â
âSheâs lying; sheâs always lied. You canât trust this conniving shrew.â
Ladybugâs eyes popped wide open. â Shrew?! Why, you bigâ!!â
âShe doesnât want to help you,â Hawkmoth continued. âShe just wants your miraculous. Deep down you already know: you know that sheâll throw you away the moment she gets ahold of your ring, because without it, youâre useless to her. Without it, youâre useless to anyone. â
âTh-thatâs not true!â Chat yelled back.
But Ladybug noticed how heâd 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.
âStop talking about him like heâs a possession!â she cried. âI donât own him, and neither do you!â
Hawkmoth ignored her, as if she were no more than a tiny harmless insect, noisily buzzing around them, and turned to address Chat again.
âYou know Iâm right,â he huffed arrogantly. âYou mean nothing to her because you are nothing. Sheâll abandon you the moment she finds out who you really are. Sheâll hate you.â
Chatâs 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.
âWould you kindly shut the hell up?!â Ladybug roared, throwing her yo-yo at the akumaâs currently solid form.
The akuma dodged, body swerving in a jerky, unnatural motion, the glowing purple mask ever present on her face.
âYou canât ever tell her who you are,â Hawkmoth continued. âNo one could ever possibly understand you. Only I do. This flatterer is just using you, seducing you with her words to gain your trust.â
â Seducing?? You son of aâ!â 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.
âDonât tell me you havenât noticed how sweet and charming she acts around you, batting her eyelashes at you, cozying up to you. Isnât it obvious that what sheâs after isnât you? Nobody would want you.â
âS-stopâŠâ Chat protested weakly.
âYou can try to deny it, but youâll discover the truth for yourself soon enough. And once you realize that youâve made a mistake, Iâll be waiting for you to return. Because out there, youâre all alone. But if you come back, youâll still have me... and your mother.â
âSTOP IT!! QUIT HURTING HIM!!!â 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.
âYou say heâs weak, but you couldnât be more wrong.â Her posture straightened and she inhaled sharply, taking a step forward. âThe one whoâs alone here is you. Thatâs your big secret. Thatâs why you want him back. You know you canât win on your own. You need him. Chat is stronger, more capable, and more important than youâll ever admit. Because if you did, then youâd have to accept... that heâs the one who doesnât need you . And for all these years, youâve been trying to keep him from figuring that out. But heâs not alone. Not anymore.â
All was silent for several seconds. Chat stared at her as if sheâd 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 Hawkmothâs sharp voice cut through the silence, hissing, âWeâll see whoâs the one left alone after all this. Youâll regret ever standing in my way.â
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.
Ladybugâs eyes followed the trajectory of the vehicle and her stomach dropped; a group of huddled, fearful civilians who werenât under the nightmare spell had been hiding under some benches, and they wouldnât 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 didnât allow her to run off, shooting at the spot where Ladybug was about to step.
âNot so fast, you little pest,â she crooned with a menacing grin. âNow you and I can finally spend some quality time together. Hawkmoth promised me an extra nice reward for making your dreams particularly agonizing.â
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 Ladybugâs yo-yo to grab onto to escape. Cornered, she backed up against the wall, panting heavily, desperately searching for a way out.
âLucky charm!â
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 âNight Terror,â raised her palm and aimed it at Ladybugâs head.
âYour luckâs run out, Ladybug. You canât light your way out of this darkness.â The black swirling energy emerged from her hand once again. âSweet dreams,â she lilted darkly, and she fired.
Ladybug winced and squeezed her eyes shut.
And then there was nothing.
----------------
ACK, SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER!!! >o>;;;; DONâT 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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Lullaby
Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- Weâve spent way too much time in Greece, so have this time jump, sorry not sorry. This was so bad, I canât 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.)
Chapter1Â Chapter2Â Chapter3Â Chapter4Â Chapter5Â Chapter6Â Chapter7 Â
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 heâd be filming for a while New York. Despite having exchanged numbers, the pair hadnât made plans to see each other again and they hadnât 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.Â
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 hadnât even sent as much as a text or left a voicemail.Â
Y/n was at her parentâs 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, sheâd take a sip from her glass of RosĂ© 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.Â
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 couldnât wait till she as living at a place where she wouldnât 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.Â
âHey,â was all it read; three simple letters from a formerly MIA Keanu.Â
Scrunching her nose, she eyed the screen suspiciously, typing in reply, âHi.â
Three little ellipses bounced in their place as Keanu typed his reply, âWhatâs up?â
The whole thing felt all too casual for two people who hadnât seen each other in a month, but still, Y/n entertained him, it couldnât hurt, right? âNothing, just in bed, watching T.V.,â immediately after she tapped the little âsendâ arrow, Y/n sent another, though shorter, message, âYou?â
âIn bed?â Keanu sent, along with a winking face, completely ignoring her question, âAll alone?â
So thatâs what it was about.
Smiling slyly, Y/n scoffed, âYupp. All alone.....â She followed it up with a frown.
Keanuâs response came a few seconds later, âPoor girl,â 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; âToo bad Iâm not there,â and then, âWhy donât you tell me what youâre wearing and we can pretend that I am?â
In the mood the tease, Y/n simply offered, âNothing much, just shorts and a camisole.â
Keanuâs only response was a little yellow face with a down-turned, drawn on lip.
âWhat?â She giggled as she sent it, knowing what he had wanted in the first place.
âThatâs not enough,â Keanu texted, âSend me a picture baby.â
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.Â
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 Keanuâs reaction.Â

The folder that held his script laid, discarded on the coffee table in the living room of Keanuâs 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 hadnât been in touch since they parted ways after the end of her week in Greece. Keanu didnât know why he hadnât called, sometimes he had wanted to, but in the end something else would come up, and heâd just push the idea aside.
He had been caught up with filming anyway; too busy for otherwise, at least thatâs 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 couldnât 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.Â
Going into it, Keanu didnât 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 didnât seem to mind.Â
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.Â
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 âshortsâ 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/nâs fuchsia pink, silk camisole loosely hugged her body, tighter around the area of her plump breasts. The âvâ 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 Keanuâs attention.
Absently, Keanu stroked himself through his sweats, already semi-hard from just seeing her like that. Quickly, he typed a one handed reply, âSo fucking sexy. If only I were there.....â
Almost immediately after, Y/n sent back, âI thought we were pretending that you were?â And before Keanu could think of a response, Y/n texted again, âShow me how sexy you think I am.â
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, âAll that for me?âÂ
âYou have no idea sweetheart,â Keanu typed, âThereâs so much I want to do with that pretty little pussy.â
âOh yeah?â Y/n challenged, âWhat would you start with?â
âTasting it,â 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. âGetting you out of those panties and running my tongue up youâre cunt.â

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 âs fingers creeping down her body, gently rubbing herself through the cotton of her panties, the fabric in the center slowly damping.Â
âToo bad youâre so far away,â Y/n actually pouted as she sent the text, adding;Â âIâm already so went for you. For your tongue, and your cockâ
For the first time since their conversation had started, Keanuâs 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 didnât last long as her phone lit up, ringing as Keanuâs name flashed across the screen.
âKeanu,â she breathed, her voice husky, âTextingâs not enough?â
âI hate texting,â he grunted, âNow; put me on speaker, take off your panties and touch yourself,â Keanu demanded roughly.
âShouldnât I lock the door?â The chances of Y/n being interrupted were slim, her parents werenât in the country and the staff knew better than to barge into her bedroom unannounced. Still one could never be too careful.
âYou should, but hurry up sweetheart,â As Y/n shuffled off her bed, padding barefoot towards the doors of her room, Keanu kept talking on his end, âYou 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.â
Heat rose to Y/nâs cheeks, reddening her cheeks as she turned the gold colored lock, a distinct snap signaling that the door could no longer be opened. âYeah? I wish you were here so you could ruin my cunt with your cock. Iâve missed your cock,â she grinned mischievously, getting out of her underwear before sliding back into bed. Briefly, Y/n turned on her side, tapping the screen, putting Keanuâs call on speaker, âIâm back,â she announced, eager for more instructions.Â
âGood,â she could hear Keanuâs 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, âNow, touch yourself, start off nice and slow, with two fingers.â
Reaching between her legs, her nails raking her still clothed abdomen on its way there, Y/n made a âvâ with her index and her middle finger, rubbing gently until the lingering twinge of arousal intensified and growing moisture helped her fingers moved easily.
Keanuâs 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/nâs 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. âHow does it feel baby? Do you wish it were my cock instead?â
âYes,â Y/n whined, her thumb occasionally brushing her cilt as she added a third finger moving in and out of her, âFuck, yes!â She hissed loudly.
With her eyes screwed shut; Y/nâs 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.
âKe....â she moaned after a while, âIâm close.â
Growling, Keanu hastily commanded, âDo it baby, cum for me.â
It took a bit more work, but eventually, Y/nâs 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 couldnât help but feel at least a little disappointed. It wasnât terrible, but she was sure that if Keanu was actually there, it would have been much more enjoyable.
Keanu didnât 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, âThat was......â There were no words.

âYeah....â Keanu managed, blowing a breath, he couldnât really recall the last time he had had such unsatisfying sex. Though, he guessed it didnât 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/nâs steady breathing.
Slowly, an idea started turning in his head and Keanu sat up abruptly, âY/n, I have to go.â
She made a whining noise in her throat, scoffing, âIs this the phone-sex equivalent to âwam bam thank you maâamâ?â
Chuckling, Keanu started cleaning himself using tissues from the box on the end table behind them, âItâs not, donât worry. But I really need to get going. Talk soon sweetheart,â 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, âAmanda,â he greeted curtly, âSorry for waking you,â 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.
âKe-â She quickly caught herself, sounding groggy and half asleep, âMr. Reeves, what can I do for you?â
âI need you to get me on tomorrowâs earliest flight to Los Angeles. Can you do that?â There was an urgency in his tone that seemed to wake her even further.
It took her a minute, but Amanda eventually answered, âI think so. But youâre due on set tomorrow, are you sure you want to just fly out like that?â
âI have to,â he lied easily, his logic out ruled by his need to see Y/n, to make up for that night, âSomething just came up.â
Realizing that her boss wasnât going to get into it, Amanda just acknowledged her understanding, âOkay. Iâll 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.â
âYeah,â he huffed, walking towards his bedroom.
âIs that all Mr. Reeves?â Already, Keanu could hear the keys on her laptop making little clicking noises, signaling that Amanda had already gotten to work.
âIt is. Thank Amanda,â Keanu offered, moving to refill a duffle bag that he had discarded in the corner of the room upon his arrival, âGoodnight.â
Hanging up, Keanu tossed the phone onto the bed, sighing in relief; by midday Thursday, he should be in Los Angeles, with Y/n.Â
**********
Tagging- @harrisongslimitedâ @a-really-bi-girlâ @paanchu786â @baphometwolf666
#Keanu reeves#Keanu reeves x reader#Keanu reeves x you#john wick x reader#john wick x you#john wick#Keanu reeves fanfic#Keanu reeves fanfiction#john wick fanfiction#john wick fanfic#ff#fanfic#fanfiction#lullaby#lullaby chapter 8#chaptered fic#series#Keanu reeves series#john wick series
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SALEM - Ch. 10
SAVED WORK
Summary:Â In all the centuries of your existence, you had never been dragged out of hiding by another god, put in a superhero team and forced to save the universe. But it seems your luck has run out.
_____________
10 Days Left
The longer you were gone, the worse Peter felt.
It had only been half a week, but he had already skipped a day of school. Tony said he was working on some sort of tracker for you, focusing on your abilities and the power you gave off. But Peter knew thatâs harder than Tony made it sound. Unfortunately, if you were in Tartarus, the same place as your siblings with similar abilities it was like trying to find a needle in a bunch of other needles. And the quinjet prototype, wherever it was, wasnât giving off a signal, so Tonyâs efforts to track it had all been futile.
Peter was trying to do school work. Keyword trying. He couldnât focus and was sketching plans for a new kind of tracking device. It was basic, something Tony wouldâve scrapped in a second normally, and although he was sure that Tony was so desperate heâd take anything, Peter kept the idea to himself.
It was small, and a bit complicated. The basic idea was that if he just found Tartarus, he could track you from there. Sure, he didnât know how big hell itself was, or where you were in it. But hey, it would let them now where in the universe you were. He kept sketching, and over the course of that day, he may or may not have stolen a small amount of material from Bruceâs lab. Bruce and Tony spent most of their time in Tonyâs lab, so maybe he wouldnât catch on quite yet.
The small sketch was almost done. He was writing on his science textbook, the same one he was supposed to be studying right now. But he wasnât planning on going to school tomorrow. 10 days until you got back. He hoped. He didnât know if he could wait longer than 10. And you left that note behind. One he had tried to open himself, even though it never worked. If you werenât back, did that mean you were dead?
He shook the thought out of his head. He couldnât think about that right now, not when he was doing something important. Especially not when he was doing something this important.
He finished writing out an equation or two, trying to figure out how much power he would actually need for this thing to work. It definitely didnât look pretty. It didnât have Tonyâs style, or the elegance of everything he created. But for once, he didnât think about that. He didnât really care what Tony would have to say about it. It might work. Thatâs all he needed.
***
That voice.
You know that voice.
That deep sound that sent a shiver down your spine. The temperature lowered, and you could feel Lokiâs grip around you tighten as you turned around.
âSister, dear.â He said. âWas that really necessary?â His voice crackled and popped, like lava bubbling below the very rock you stood on.
Oh.
Oh.
Doom. She meant Doom.
He walked closer to you and Loki stepped to your side. Your brother stepped closer. You could see ice creep along the floor, stretching toward you. You turned to Loki who was entirely unphased by the change in temperature.
âLoki, we have to fight him too.â You said. Itâs not like you were excited, but he wasnât a good guy. He just wasnât. You were certain Loki could sense the hesitation in your voice. It was more of an attempt to convince yourself you needed to fight, rather than share the information.
âIf youâre fighting, Iâm fighting too.â He replied. You werenât expecting him to leave. But you didnât think his answer would be so confident. You glanced towards the still wrapped wound on his torso, but nodded and jumped forward, swinging downwards with your staffâs blade.
âAs kind as that is, you have much more important problems.â
Doom himself. Moros. Your older brother (unfortunately). Not a kind man. Quite an intimidating one actually. You could hardly make out his face, you never could. He was taller than you. Much taller. Accompanied by a large axe on his back.
âMoros what are you doing?â
You could feel Lokiâs hand on your shoulder, a small unspoken sign. Itâs okay. You needed that about now.
âWhat Iâm meant to do. We have a purpose, sister. Our motherâs purpose is to create darkness just like Ker is meant to kill. You are meant to fight, just like your friend is meant to lie. I am meant to destroy. And destroy I will.â
Moros seemed to pause a bit, almost waiting for your reaction. He wasnât one to attack you with one swipe. Heâd kill you much slower than that.
You felt Loki directly behind you.
âI hate to say it, but I donât know if we can win this fight.â He said, manifesting both his daggers at once. He was right. You may be a war god, but Doom doesnât exactly go down easy. And, much worse, if he came to fight you single handedly, does he think he can win?
And if he thinks he can win⊠what trick is he planning to pull?
Loki started speaking before you could express your concern. âI know you wonât like this. I know you want to prove children of Nyx arenât evil, but I think there are exceptions to that rule.â You considered what he was saying. There may be no way out of this one.
âIf we even win,â Loki continued, âwhich I find rather unlikely. Weâll have to kill him.â
You shook your head. âThere are other ways, Loki.â You couldnât let two people die today, especially not by your hands.
He sighed, stepping next to you and preparing for the fight ahead.
Moros reached for his axe, swinging it down hard and cracking the rock below you. Steam seeped out from below the crack, clouding the metal of his axe. He moved out of the way as the steam spread a bit.
You looked around at your surroundings, not much of anything. Nothing to grab or hide behind, so, you opted to draw your weapon, a bladed staff. Looking from your staff, which was a bit shorter than you over to Morosâ axe, one that had to be at least as tall as him was slightly worrying.
He took his first swing, charging toward you and swinging into your side. You dodged out of the way, barely avoiding slamming into Loki. Loki took that opportunity to run towards Moros and you followed him, trying your best to talk to Moros.
âWe donât have to be the bad guys. We can just exist. Earth is nice and about 70% of Earthâs population would appreciate if you didnât kill them.â
He seemed slightly confused before shaking his head. âWe have a purpose. This is mine. This is the start of something beautiful, sister. Something dangerous.â
He took another swing at you and you jumped back. Loki ran around him, landing on his other side and taking a swing at Moros. The second Loki moved you saw him grip his side as subtly as he could. He couldnât keep the fighting up, not while wounded like that, so you ran to his side.
You grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you so you could talk quickly before Moros decided to swing again. âJust distract him, you canât keep swinging with a wound like that.â
He opened his mouth to protest, but the sudden jerk of your arm pulling him out of Morosâ way made him reconsider. He nodded, jumping towards Moros and dodging at the last minute.
You took the opportunity to try and knock Moros off his feet, Swinging your staff into his leg. With Lokiâs distraction, you managed to land that blow. You saw the pitch black blood slowly roll down his calf, before disappearing completely. The wound disappeared faster than it shouldâve made you stare at it for just a second too long. He knocked you back and you struggled to stay on your feet.
âWas killing her really necessary?â He said. You felt Lokiâs hand on your shoulder. You couldnât see him, but you understood the message, itâs okay.
In all honesty, Kerâs death hadnât processed. You were sort of expecting her to pop back up and try to fight you again. But when gods kill gods⊠those gods stay dead.
âYou couldâve taken her back to that planet with you. Maybe just injured her. But death was your first thought.â
You didnât kill her. You know you didnât kill her. She did that to herself. But thereâs still that small nagging voice in the back of your head, you could have stopped her. Stopped her easily. A thought you really didnât like. Lokiâs grip on your shoulder tightened, with the same message.
***
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4
Summary - Domitille has her first week at the castle and begins to take a liking to our dark dungeon bat.
Content - Sexually suggestive content. Slow burn. Thoughts in italics. Switching POV between characters. AU HP universe.
All themes and characters excluding OC belong to JK Rowling.
Domitille Moves In...
Domitille had been given a week to move into her new chambers, meet the staff, prepare her lessons and generally settle in. She was being housed in the second floor chambers which had a beautiful view of the lake from her window.
She had since learned that Professor Snape was the only staff member to reside in the dungeon chambers and nobody questioned it.
She had finished setting up her bedroom when she heard a tap at the door.
âDomitille?â
âAhh! Headmistress! Good to see you againâ
âPlease, please call me Minerva! Just thought I would let you know that dinner is about to commence in the great hallâ she said with a smile.
âOh wonderful, thank you Minerva, Iâll be right there!â
Domitille arrived at the great hall, she observed four exceptionally long tables and benches and at the head of the room was another long table facing the back of the room. Teachers table she had assumed.
Minerva hurried over and signalled to a chair on the teachers table âDomitille, I thought you might like to sit here, Severus sits in that seat usually and I thought you might like to be with a familiar faceâ.
Snape will love this. âYes that would be lovely, we had a good chat when he showed me around!â And she took her seat.
Pupils and teachers came into the hall in dribs and drabs but Domitille was looking out for the distinctive jet black hair of a certain professor.
She loved the tables at Hogwarts, the way every food imaginable was laid out ready for you to devour. The plates refilling in front of your eyes. For Domitille, this meant endless chocolate strawberries, banoffee pie and even GĂąteau mille crĂȘpes. There had even been palmiers at breakfast!
She bit into a particularly large chocolate strawberry as Professor Snape entered the great hall. She watched his dark eyes scanning the house tables looking for mischief, until his gaze met hers. She couldn't read his expression, he looked conflicted.
As he walked to the teacher's table she held his gaze and slowly licked the warm chocolate from her lips.
"Miss Bisset," he said as he took his seat.
"Severus," she replied breathily.
He sat in stoney silence as he put a small helping of beef stew into his bowl, pointing his wand at his goblet so that it filled halfway with red wine.
âWine?â He offered very blankly and gesturing his wand towards her goblet. She assumed this was his version of polite.
âNo, no but thank you professor, hard day?â She asked as she observed Severus rubbing the bridge of his nose.
âHmmâ he simply responded.
She watched him for a moment, his hair was very shiny, how does he get that so glossy? she wondered. She caught a scent from his hair, it smelled of a thousand herbs, of fougere and peppermint. Must be the potions. She studied his face, his messy raven hair fell to his chin, his skin was so pale and showing a slight shadow from black stubble. At this point she was resting her chin on the back of her hand, unaware at this point that she was now staring. He obviously felt her gaze as he turned and caught her eye.
âSomething the matter, Miss Bisset?â He enquired.
âNo! Nothing, sorry! Daydreamingâ she chuckled.
He squinted and had a somewhat questioning look on his face but quickly turned his attention back to the students.
She was so intrigued by this man. She needed to know more, Actions speak louder than words she spoke internally. She would try to gauge his body language, what would his response be to my touch? Domitille was feeling playful again. She crossed her legs under the table, deliberately nudging his leg. He stiffened.
âOops!â She chuckled âlook at me invading your personal space already! Apologies professor!â
He furrowed his brow and side eyed her. Her dinner had caught his eye, is he judging me for having so much chocolate?
âChocolate. For dinner Miss Bisset?â He drew his words out long.
âOuiâ she responded playfully. âA life without chocolate is a life not livedâ this she sincerely meant. âYou donât indulge Professor?â She asked as she picked up a strawberry and brought it to her lips. Now she had his attention.
She parted her crimson lips and ran her tongue over the tip of the single red berry, then very lightly sucked on the end of it. It was lightly sprinkled with icing sugar, leaving a frosty residue on her painted lips, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip.
The hypnotised professor snapped himself out of his stupor â...are you actually going to eat that?â
There we go she thought smugly that should stay with him for a few hours.
(Snape POV)
Watching the new teacher subtly mouth the piece of fruit made him shift in his seat. Say something! â...are you actually going to eat that?â
Domitille smiled sweetly at him, took a little bite and placed the strawberry back on her plate.
Was that deliberate? He thought as he strode back to his chambers. Either way, the image was burned into his brain.
Severus Snape had a gift he rarely used these days, he could read people's thoughts. Curiosity had almost gotten the better of him, he wanted to know what Domitilles motivation was...
(GIF not ours, credit to creator)
#snape smut#harry potter preference#snape x oc#snape fanfic#snape fanfiction#severus snape#snape#slow burn#slow build#shamelesssmut
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