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wordsfromthesol · 3 years ago

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The Set-Up

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @anousiemay @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: You are Dinah's younger sister. Word Count: 2,410 A/N: I know it’s been awhile so if anyone wants on/off a taglist just let me know!

"Alright, Roy, you got me here. What's so important?" You called out as you stumbled into what the Outlaws deemed a safehouse. Their standards were pretty low.

"We needed a fourth, okay! Go get Jason and I'll brief everyone." Roy hurried you out of the room that he and Kory were already set up in. You sauntered up to the closed door and knocked.

"Jason, you decent?" You shouted as your fist rapped against the wood.

"Well I'm not morally decent, but I'm wearing pants if that's what you're asking. Though I can be without pants if that's what you prefer --" Jason's voice trailed off as he swung open the door and was met with your face. Clearly, he figured the person on the other side would be Roy or Kory. His face slightly reddened as he reached back and grabbed a shirt.

"I mean…maybe not right now. Roy needs to go over the mission with us." You winked at his obvious embarrassment before trotting off in the direction you came from. Jason quickly caught up with you.

"I…uh…I didn't know Roy asked you for help."

"Yeah he didn't really tell me much. Just that you guys needed a fourth. Not sure why he thinks I'll make that much of a difference.

"Guess we should go find out." Jason raced past you, hoping to avoid further embarrassment, but stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the living room. Roy and Kory were both staring at him, trying to hold back fits of laughter. "What is this all-important mission Y/N was recruited on?" He asked in an attempt to redirect their attention. You walked in behind Jason just in time to get the answer.

"Not really all-important…" Roy's voice reeked of mischief, "just better to have four than three. Then we can do two teams."

"You do know that I have my own agenda. I'm not just sitting around waiting for your call."

"Oh Y/N/N! Don't think of it like that, I practically begged him to ask you. I seriously need some more girl time." Kory piped in to release some of the building tension.

"Uh-huh, sure. Roy, what are we doing?"

"Right. Human trafficking, finally got a hit on this group. Think it's their main smuggling port. There are two docks to check, so two teams. See, I do have a plan. Kinda…"

"Hm mm" you mumbled, still not fully believing him, but you let him continue anyways. You didn't fly out here for nothing.

Hours had passed and the four of you sat near the docks, waiting for the cover of nightfall. The smugglers, however, did not. You grabbed Jason's arm and began running towards the dock as soon as you saw a boat pulling into the harbor.

"What are you doing?" Jason mumbled as he ran to keep up with you.

"Are you blind? There's a container ship pulling into the docks. The dock that Roy told us to watch."

"The sun is still setting. There's no way they'd be that stupid." He tried to reason with you, but your pace didn't slow.

"Maybe they just paid the right people. Or killed them." You retorted though the timing was eerily suspicious. Both of you came to a halt when you only saw four guys. Sure, they had guns…but it definitely wasn't enough to warrant extra help. You glanced over at Jason in utter disbelief. "You want me to sit this one out or…"

"Let's just get it over with." Jason was clearly just as agitated as you were. The "battle" lasted only a few seconds and your trip back to the rendezvous spot was completed in utter silence.

"So…Roy. Why the fuck was I needed here?" Holding nothing back, you cried out as soon as you saw his red costume appear in the distance.

"Woah, hold up there. Must've gotten some bad intel. It happens. Better safe than sorry."

"Yeah well next time be sure. I do have my own cases and crime rings to dismantle." You walked off in a huff, determined to find your own way back. You didn't know what exactly Roy was up to, but you knew you wouldn't like it.

Months passed since the pointless mission with the Outlaws. You had gotten back to Miami, your home for the time being as you investigated a new drug trade route coming up from South America. Finally, you had made some progress, only said progress led to you being pinned down behind some wooden barrels.

"These aren't going to last long," you mumbled as you dialed Kory on your phone. No answer. "Fuck." Roy was next.

"Y/N, can this wait --" You hear the wind get pushed out of him just as the sentence finished.

"Hm not really. Kinda been pissing off the wrong people and now I'm pinned down."

"Fuck." Roy mumbled as he threw a punch towards the jaw of the unsuspecting thug.

"I tried Kory, but -- shit…" You watched as the barrels splintered around you.

"Off-world. I'm patching in Jas --" Roy stopped a syllable short, you assumed dodging his own bullets. You didn't wait for him to finish.

"Yeah look. I'm in Miami." You heard Jason mumble your name but continued on. You didn't know how much longer you would have. "Pretty sure they'll take me alive. Heard through the grapevine the boss wants the honors himself." You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt a bullet pierce through your shoulder. You took a few steadying breaths before continuing. "I have a tracer in my mask. I'll try to keep it on as long as I can. If you can't track it for some reason, call my sister." You didn't hang up the call before slowly raising your hands above the splintered barrels. "Take me to your leader," you exclaimed in your best alien impression, all while trying not to laugh.

"Do you think this is a game?!" One of the thugs screamed at you as they inched closer. You just shrugged, waiting to either be killed or taken. "Well grab her, idiots!" Two men hesitantly walked towards you, guns still drawn.

"Should I tie myself up? Would that be easier?" At this point, your sarcasm was the only thing keeping you sane. Finally, they got within striking distance and everything went black.

"Y/N? What's happening?!" Jason frantically began calling out your name as he was met with silence. Roy eventually spoke up.

"Jason. I hope you're on your way. I'll meet up with you as soon as I can, but I need to get ahold of Dinah first." Roy had no idea what he was going to say to her.

"Even in the jet, it's going to take 2 hours to get there…" The reality of the situation set it. "But I'm taking off now." Jason tried to push the horrific thoughts from his mind.

You woke up tied to a wooden chair. Not surprising.

"So, where's the boss?" You forced the words out, willing yourself into consciousness.

"Don't worry girlie, he's on his way…though I suppose there's nothing wrong with having a little fun first." The goon smirked as he flipped a knife in his hands.

"Well, you wouldn't want to damage the merchandise." You could tell he wasn't sold, so you continued. "I mean I'm dead either way, right? Wouldn't want you to risk your life as well…" He just stared blankly at you while the gears turned in his mind. Finally, he let out an exasperated huff and turned his back to you. At least you were able to buy yourself a little more time. Though you had a feeling it still wouldn't be enough. As your head began spinning, you looked down at your shoulder. The blood was still pouring out of the wound. "Of course…" you mumbled as the dizziness intensified. You were going to have to think of something quickly.

"So, how'd you get stuck with this job? Or are you just some disposable errand boy who got lucky?" You began antagonizing him as you attempted to saw through the ropes with the small blade that discharged out of your gloves.

"Lucky?" He turned towards you with a villainous look plastered across his face. He sauntered towards you and placed his hands on either side of the chair. "I've been following you. I know your patterns. When you strike. That ambush was calculated and planned. Boss sent me 'cuz he knew I'd get the job done." Before he could push himself up from the chair, you launched forward, ramming your head into his. As he crashed to the floor, another burly man rushed into the room. You managed to free one of your legs just in time. As he stumbled backward you bent down in an attempt to free your other leg. The man lunged at you again. Pulling the other leg free, you circle around and hurled the chair at him. You let out a huge sigh of relief and slid to the floor as he landed atop the first assailant.

Jason watched as men patrolled around the building. Just as he was about to move Roy's voice came over the comm, "Have you found her? What's the situation? I'm still an hour out."

"I found her. They have four guards patrolling. Heavily armed. I found an opening."

"Four patrolling…you can't get any intel about who's inside? I think you should wait for me to get there." Roy already knew there was no hope of that.

"We may not have a chance if I wait. I'm going in."

Jason heard his best friend sigh, before eventually relenting. "Keep me updated. I'll be there when I can." Jason saw his opening coming up again. He moved quickly and quietly, sliding into the open door. He took in his surroundings, trying to not alert anyone of his presence unless absolutely necessary. He didn't want to give any of them a reason to shoot you…that is, if you were still alive. As he rounded the corner, he came face to face with a brutish man. Jason launched himself forward, knocking them both to the ground as he muffled the goon's mouth with his hand and encapsulated his neck. It only took a few seconds before the guard was out cold and Jason continued lurching down the hallway. He stopped short of a closed door. Jason took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side.

You were jolted awake a few moments later and looked around to find the two men still unconscious on the ground. Crawling over, you pulled at one of their jackets and cut off a long piece. It took the last bit of your energy to tie it around your still bleeding shoulder. As your eyes began to flutter closed once again, they shot open at the sound of the door opening. You forced your head upwards and let out a faint chuckle at the familiar Red Hood that looked down at you.

"Solis!" Jason's eyes went wide as he saw the amount of blood in the room. "Shit alright. I need you to stay awake, okay?" You nodded and forced your eyes open as Jason dove down beside you, properly retying the fabric around your shoulder. Jason stared at you for a few moments before pushing himself up and firing a single shot down the hallway. You watched intently as the goons came running in, Jason plowing through them in a matter of minutes. Jason scooped you up, not bothering to try and gather any further information from you.

You woke up in a bed in an unfamiliar room. Your brain began piecing together the events. Jason had come to get you, then put you in a car, brought you here, sewed up the wound…you wondered how long you'd been asleep. The door creaked open and you saw both Roy and Jason standing in its frame.

"You're awake! Thank fuck, D would've killed me!" Roy rushed over and embraced you.

"Yeah probably…" You were speaking to Roy, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jason. There was something there, unspoken, that you couldn't remember. What had happened? How long had you been asleep? As if reading your mind, Jason spoke up.

"It's only been 12 hours," he watched your eyes go wide. "Before you freak out, you lost a lot of blood and were barely hanging on to consciousness. 12 hours is not that many. You'll still be weak." Jason began to step towards you but hesitated. Roy immediately noticed the awkwardness his presence brought.

"Imma just…I'll go get us some food…or something." Roy pointed towards the door and rushed out.

"I feel like I'm missing something."

"No…I just. I was worried." You leered at him, knowing that was not what you were missing. You carefully sat up and swung your legs over the bed, determined to get to the bottom of whatever feeling this was. Once you attempted to stand, Jason was at your side in a fraction of a second. "I just said you would be weak…" he mumbled out.

"Well I have to go to the bathroom and you aren't giving me answers anyways." You tried to push him away. It unsurprisingly did not work.

"How long have I known you? For once, just stop being so damn stubborn!" He grabbed your shoulders, in an effort to steady both of you.

"I dunno like 8 years…" you grumbled out, unsure if the question was meant to be answered.

"Yeah well for 7 and a half of those I've loved you. And it just hit me that you could die…hell I could I die, and you wouldn't know." His hands traced down your arms and collapsed at his side. "I guess that just broke me, okay? Are you happy now?!" The anger in his voice rose.

"So how about those pants now?" You smirked, trailing your eyes over his body. Jason's eyes lit up as he began to laugh, recalling the situation from months prior.

"Maybe not right now…let's wait until you can stand on your own."

"JUST KISS HER ALREADY GOD DAMMIT!" Roy screamed from the doorway. Neither of you knew how long he'd been there, but that didn't deter Jason. His lips smashed into yours while his arms enveloped you.

"FUCKING FINALLY!" Roy screamed as he threw his hands up in the air.

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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smoke and fire (8b)

word count; 9699

summary; following the events of a call, you pick up some out-of-hours work, and thomas comes along for the journey.

notes; y’all are gonna’ love this one.

warnings; arson, heavy drug use references, mild reference to animal abuse.

The firetrucks ahead of you were loud, sirens and flashing lights, the horn going continually as traffic swerved to the side, and Newt did his best to keep up with them, following in their wake as they opened up the traffic into clear paths to move through. Finally getting your seatbelt done up, you huffed a little, pushing strands of hair back out of your face and behind your ears. Luckily for you all, the call was on the edges of the city, not the centre, and so the roads were widening out and weren’t nearly as crowded as you began to near your scene.

Clouds of smoke, thick and grey, rising up from a small warehouse that was on the edges of a house, and there were crowds gathered around, ones that weren’t unfamiliar to you, some faces you vaguely recognised from seeing them briefly pass by in the crowds when you’d first met Aaron. As the truck came to a stop Newt lifted a hand to rub over his jaw, attention on the crowds that had gathered around.

“One of us can go inside, one of us should stay with the truck.” He twisted to look at you, the firemen already gearing up as Thomas assessed the scene, and Gally walked around to the edge of the building, following the wires linking up to the house. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Deal.” You placed your palm out flat, matching his, and banging your fist against it for a second, before laying your hand flat, and cursing as he took on a form of only two fingers sticking out. “You always go rock! Screw you!”

He smirked, shrugging a little as you pouted. “You always go paper; I learned and changed tactic.”

“You suck.” You groaned, climbing into the back to retrieve your go-bag from one of the cupboards, taking a look at it, but realising that you were more likely only going to need a roll of bandages and some gauze, quick sources to send them out to Newt, advice on what they were going to need.

You had your suspicions about what you were seeing, and from the second your partner cracked his door open, you knew your thoughts had been confirmed, because the smell of it was enough to make you cough a little, dry and crisp in the air as you inhaled, and you understood now why the firemen were already wearing their masks, even when just standing outside. Blue flashing lights and muted sirens signalled the arrival of the police, beginning to break up the crowds and start backing people away, and you didn’t envy the job that they had going on.

Hopping down from the back of the truck and making sure to lock it up tight to protect Newt, as he stood carefully in the doorway talking to Minho about the procedures that would be taking place, you wandered away toward where Chuck was standing by Gally’s side at the Squad truck, the two Lieutenant’s trying to develop a plan. As you walked, you couldn't help but look over the scenes, searching for that familiar face, and smiling a little when the boy you’d grown fond of was absent from the scene, encouraging you to believe that he was alright, and escaping this lifestyle.

You bumped your elbow into Chuck’s as you arrived at his side, nose wrinkling a little as the strong smell of marijuana was even stronger from here, and he turned to look at you, smoking a little as he saw you.

“Newt figures it’d be best for one of us to go in, and send out anyone inside for quick medical advice, it’ll speed it up, having a van full of drugs parked up here is pretty risky.” You nodded over your shoulder, and Thomas licked over his lower lip, nodding his head as he tried to clear his thoughts.

“That someone you, then?” The man with dirty-blond hair was staring down at you, and you dipped your head in a nod. “Thomas’ll get you all hooked up, and Squad is going on, Truck is going to start trying to put out some of these flames, and cut the power inside.” He patted Chuck on the shoulder, before the young boy was waving at you, and the Lieutenant you were left with turned to the vehicle he commanded, opening up one of the hatches.

“It’s going to be really smoky in there, so try and keep your eyes on me, okay?” you nodded your head, dropping your back to the ground as you accepted the jacket that Thomas was holding out to you, tugging it over your shoulders, but not bothering to fasten it up just yet. A pair of pants followed, and you pulled them on over the top of your uniform trousers, adjusting them around your waist with the little toggle, and zipping up the heavy-duty jacket to protect yourself, already beginning to feel overheated. “If you lose sight of me, just start flashing this torch on your shoulder, and I’ll come find you, alright? You won’t be able to see much more than a few metres in front of yourself.”

He lifted your hand up, palm closing over the top of your own, and making sure you could feel the large button on the side under the tip of your finger, waiting for you to confirm it, before letting go.

Toeing off your shoes, you left them in a mismatched set by one of the wheels, and taking the boots from Thomas that he offered you. Sitting on the floor to put them on, you adjusted them on your feet, gasping a little at the fit.

“These boots fit my feet!”

He glanced down at you, smirking a little, and nodding his head. “I know, I ordered a pair of boots that were the right size for you a few weeks ago, so that you don’t trip as much wearing the men’s boots. Brenda chewed my ear off about you not having any.” You beamed, lacing them up tightly and tucking the laces inside of the shoes securely, before taking the hands Thomas had outstretched to you, and letting him pull you back up to your feet.

“They’re really comfortable. Much better.”

“I’m glad.” He held out a glove for you, letting you slip your fingers into it and fastening it tightly around your wrist at the toggle, before tucking it under the edge of the sleeve. He repeated it with the other hand, tightening it at your wrist and tucking it into the sleeve, and you were almost entirely suited up. “You’re going to have a lot on your back with the oxygen tank and your bag, you gonna’ be okay?”

You took the tank for him, the weight of it straining your arms little, but you adjusted it over your shoulders, a mask following it, and you gripped it in your hand, using the other to retrieve your medkit. “I’ll be alright, as long as we aren’t in there for too long.” It was a struggle for you to get it over the top of the tank, and Thomas chuckled as he watched you go, before finally, you had it adjusted, and you just hoped there was always going to be somewhere near you if you needed something from inside, instead of having to take it on and off.

“It’s my aim to get us in and out as quickly as possible. There’s going to be a lot of flammables in there, and the police are going to need to go in and gather evidence, Minho’s our resident arson expert, so he’ll stay behind and help check whether it’s an accident or not, but we need to sweep for anyone in there.”

“You think there will be?”

“Honestly?” He looked at the building, placing a helmet onto your head as soon as you had adjusted your mask, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t. Normally when this happens, people are more eager to just run, and try to tend to the wounds themselves. They don’t want to stick around and be arrested, but we have to check, in case they’re unconscious.”

He pulled his mask down over his own head, placing a hand on your upper arm once his helmet was on, a loose hold as he guided you toward the house, his grip slipping down to your forearm instead, and once he was approaching the door, the rest of truck already waiting there, he let you go. They positioned themselves on either side of the door, and you copied those motions, moving to stand next to Fry.

Thomas turned his back to the door, looking over the crew, and giving them all a nod. Raising his foot and kicking hard backwards, the wood around the door splintered, flying open into a horror scene of flames and smoke, which rapidly curled out around him as he paced forwards to avoid the heat.

He had been correct, you could barely see inside of the doorway, grey and orange filling your sights, and you paused, watching as the smoke seemed to swallow up every firefighter that walked inside. Thomas was left standing next to you, seeming to sense your hesitation, and he reached across to turn on the torch on your shoulder, lighting it up as his own followed, before he was giving you a nod, and encouraging you into the house.

You followed closely behind him, the sound of your own breathing within the mask filling your ears, heart racing, and you felt as though you were in some kind of sci-fi movie, stepping into an alternate reality as only three feet into the smoke, the light from the outside world was blocked out, darkness taking over, only lit up by the torches. It took you a moment to adjust, admiring how the rest of the Squad team managed to jump straight into action, adjusting to it without restraint.

Much before this house, you had never been inside of a burning building before, the teams you’d worked with never seemed to flow this well, or perhaps they did and you’d just never stuck around long enough to notice, but with your house and crew, it felt like a well-oiled machine, everyone having their place to make things work, and you swelled with pride and being an integral part of the functioning.

You were simply left to follow Thomas around, pausing each time he stopped to speak into the radio on his shoulder as he reported to the other teams, and you bumped into him every time he came to a sudden stop. There was evidence that this room had only recently been in use; phones left behind, mugs of tea and the remnants of charred papers that had been left out.

Melted plastic, warped furniture and charred walls, the fire glowing brightly, even through the clouds of smoke. Glass shattered at the windows around you as the team outside broke them to begin spraying water inside, attempting to cool down the heat inside, and you were sure you’d walked several laps of the downstairs as it finally came up clear. Your eyes were just beginning to adjust, to make out more than just shapes, but to actually come into focus, blurry and controlled mess clearing up to offer you a picture of the room.

Thomas paused, talking into the radio as he told his team to begin backing out, promising to do the final sweep, and you watch the various other dull lights in the room begin to flicker away as they filtered out of the building around you. Glancing around, you scuffled your toes against the floor, kicking at a piece of rubble, and you paused as you watched some of the dust a little further up move.

You blinked, staring at pieces of fallen scrap metal around a table, trying to focus back on it, and there was no movement this time. You were almost ready to give up, turning your head away, before there was a brief hint of movement once again, and you sighed. Thomas was still standing still, his back to you, and you took only a few steps away from him, trying to navigate through the flames to get a clearer look at the ash and dust clouds that were beginning to settle.

The closer you got, the more evident it became, the sound of scuffling and whimpering making you pick up your speed, concern racing through you. It went silent, the flames curling up around you, and you couldn't find the source of the noise again, finding the spot that you swore you’d seen movement going completely empty. Sighing, and shaking yourself down, the ache in your shoulders was becoming unbearable, and you rolled your head from side to side, standing back up from where you were crouched down.

Rubbing a hand at your shoulder to try and loosen it, it did little to help when you had several straps of the bag blocking your movements, and you looked back to where you had been. The spot was empty, and you swallowed thickly, knowing that with all the walking in circles you’d corn, you had no idea which way was left and which was right, or which was to go to get back out, and you couldn't see Thomas’ light anywhere in the room.

You stood back up, walking to where you’d been, and trying to get a sense of any direction he might’ve taken. Wandering forward a few feet from where you were, rows of tables lined with trays of what had once been marijuana plants was evident on either side of you, and there were over ten different ways he could have gone on his final search.

You could try calling for him, but with the noise in the room, you doubted he’d hear you, and it probably wasn’t the best bet to wander off to find him. Instead, you backed up, retracing your steps back to where you had once been, chastising yourself for having been reckless. Reaching up for the torch on your shoulder, you tried to stand as far from the flames around you as possible, flashing it steadily and continually, the heavy button making your finger cramp up after a few minutes.

You sighed, letting go of the torch and flexing your fingers for a minute, curling them and uncurling them from a fist as you tried to ease the aching, and before you could reach for it again, panic beginning to bubble up, there was a figure breaking through the smoke.

“Where the hell did you go?” His hands found your upper arms, twisting you side to side as he checked you over, and you shrugged a little in his touch, enough relief upon seeing him to make your knees buckle a little as your anxiety began to settle, and you could hear the disappointment laced in his tone. “I told you to stick with me, this is a burning building, you can’t just wander off-”

“I’m sorry.” His words died out, fading out on a sigh as his shoulders slumped, his touch falling away from your arms. “I thought I saw movement, I could have sworn that I did, but there was nothing there. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I was just worried. I didn't want you to get hurt, alright?” you nodded, choking back the lump of emotions in your throat, and he glanced over your shoulder. “Where did you see movement?”

You twisted, pointing to the collapsed pile of metal plating and desks. “It was nothing, I checked it out, I couldn't see much.”

“Follow the pathway, alright? Straight ahead, Brenda will come and meet you, alright?” He squeezed at your shoulder, hand sliding down to find your hand, and he squeezed it again, tugging you a little closer. “Just walk straight ahead, and I’ll double-check for you, alright? Straight ahead until you see Bren, you go this.”

You squeezed his hand back, both in acknowledgement and in thanks, knowing he was doing this just to ease your concern, and then, he was brushing past you, and you were following his guidance, cautious steps in a straight line forwards, searching for Brenda.

Her figure made itself known, the smoke thinning near the doorway as the flames surrounding the entrance were being extinguished by the firefighters outside, and she reached a hand out to you. Slipping your gloved hand into hers, a little sigh of relief left you, your entire body aching from stress, and the weight of the equipment you were carrying. As soon as you cleared the wall of smoke, stepping out into bright and burning daylight, you hissed a little as your eyes adjusted, having acclimated to just how dark it had gotten inside of the burning shed.

You stumbled down the steps, gasping a little as you finally reached the bottom, bracing your hands on your knees. Dropping your helmet to the ground, it rolled away a little bit, and your skin felt sticky with sweat, hating how overheated you always felt in the suits, only after you ever left the building. An unusual phenomenon, but it was starting to form a pattern. As it clattered away across the ground, you lifted your helmet up and off of your face, flushed cheeks cooling as soon as the wind swept over them, and the acrid smell of burning and charred wood met your nose.

“You gotta’ work out more.”

“I carry a ten-pound bag and push a stretcher, I’m perfectly in shape for my job.” You muttered, Brenda laughing a little as she patted at your shoulder, before letting you stand up straight. She helped to lift the oxygen tank down from your shoulders, and as the weight slipped away, you swayed a little, catching your balance and sighing out in relief. Your med-kit fell to the floor, and you rubbed a hand at each shoulder to ease tense muscles, already planning the hot bath with muscle soak powder that you’d be taking as soon as you got home.

As you picked it back up, stepping away from the building, you shucked off the oversized jacket you wore too, padding over to where Brenda was unpacking your equipment into the truck, your sock-clad feet pressing to the concrete for a second as you handed over your boots, before pushing your toes back into your sneakers and flexing them a little. Leaning on the side of the truck, you glanced over at the doorway, worrying your lip a little as you waited to see Thomas emerging. It was a few seconds longer, and you filled the time with tying your laces, before he was finally revealing himself to your view.

There was nobody with him, not that you could see, and yet as the floorboards creaked under his weight, you could make out the squirming package in his arms, a charred blanket wrapped around whatever it is, and your breathing seemed to stop entirely. Your feet were moving underneath you as you made your way over to him, his feet carrying him to a stop before you, and you hesitated for only a second as your hands hovered over the smoking fabric, before you were pinching the edge of it, and peeling it back.

You were stuck between relieved and pitying at the little face staring back at you. The immense fear that it had been a baby, was something that had made your entire body stiffen and blood run cold, and you relaxed a little as you looked down at the bundle, but it didn't make you feel any less upset about what you saw. Burned and raw flesh in a few patches, golden fur stained with ash and black soot, and scared eyes as the animal cowered in Thomas’ hold, shaking violently, and your jaw dropped.

You couldn't see Thomas’ face very clearly as you looked up to him, more your own reflection in the ash stained glass of his mask, and you reached up, taking his helmet from his head to free matted brown strands, hands on each side of his face to peel the mask away to follow, dropping both items down to the pavement, and his eyes were just as wide as your own as he stared back, in total shock.

“You were right. There was someone else in there.”

“Who would leave a puppy in there? What kind of monster would do that, Thomas?” Your voice cracked a little as you spoke, reaching a hand out slowly to the animal to let it sniff your hand, and it trembled for a second, face turned away, before giving in. You expected a nip, or a growl, or simply to be ignored, but as you held your hand out for the dog, it leaned in, a dry nose pressing to your hand as you were sniffed, before a dry and rough tongue was following in a weak lick, and you gasped a little as it rubbed the edge of an unharmed face over your fingers. “Oh, you’re just a sweetie, aren’t you?”

“It has some burns and some scratches, but I think it’ll be alright.”

His tone was hopeful, and you nodded your head, trying your best to believe it. “Bring it over to the ambulance, I’ll see what I can do with what we have.” He only nodded, following after you in a slow walk to the back of the truck. The crowd had been cleared, the police keeping the few nosey stranglers back, but Newt was packing away medical equipment as you opened the door.

His eyes went wide, jaw dropping a little as he took in the armful that Thomas was holding, now squirming a little more, and after a moment to process it, his face little up like sunshine. “Is that a puppy?”

“Yes! Someone left it in there, can you believe that?” Newt scowled at the mere idea, his eyes flicking up to glare at the house, before he was hopping down from the ambulance to sit on the edge, and holding his arms out for the bundle. The animal whimpered a little as he was handed from Thomas to Newt, before it was nosing at the spot underneath Newt’s jaw, learning his scent as well, and the blond chuckled, becoming lost in the interactions with the dog. Turning to face Thomas, he had a hint of a smile on his lips as he watched the scene. “You have water bottles in the truck, right?”

“A couple. You want one?”

“Yeah, I can try and get some water into this little guy, and put some cream on those burns, but he’s going to need a vet.” You turned to look at the animal, reaching out to scratch lightly on the top of its head, and it let out a strained yip at the affections, tail wagging slightly. “I’ll take him. By the time we get back, our shift will have finished, and I’ll find a vet still open.”

“Can I come with you?”

Your eyes snapped back to him, brows raising a little bit, and you found yourself at a loss for words. “To the, uh, vets?” He only nodded, and you swallowed thickly, processing the idea, before shrugging. You were certain that you were on better terms with Thomas now, it had been months since you’d last had a real argument, save the bickering over her got the last biscuit or the best seat on the couch every now and then, and you were starting to get along well. It couldn't be that bad, right? “Sure, yeah. That’d be really nice, actually.”

“Yeah?” He raised a brow.

“Some company, I mean. So I’m not alone, I’d like your company. I mean, anyone’s company would be nice, but yours especially.” He grinned, more like a toothy smirk, and you flushed with what from head to toe. “Oh, fuck off, just go and get the water.”

The look on his face didn’t fade, chuckling a little as he stepped back. “You got it, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

You scoffed at the pet name, knowing that he was just teasing you further for falling over your words, and you spun on your heel to face Newt again, his eyes already fixed on you, and you glared. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“But you were going to.” You mumbled, hearing him cackle a laugh as well, and you clambered past him into the ambulance to find something you could use as a bowl to put some water in. Newt got out, moving to sit on the concrete instead as you search through the containers, the scuffing of boots on the floor signalling that Thomas had returned, and you didn’t bother to look, unscrewing the cap of an unopened jar, and decided that it was deep enough to form a bowl.

You handed it out, the boys fawning over the animal as they filled the tub with water and it dove in eagerly. You searched for your bag, finding the cream, and trying to treat the wounds as best you could without causing it any further pain, before the team was beginning to filter over. Once the job was done, as each person progressively checked off their duties, you were joined, until the entire team was gathered around the puppy, who seemed to be soaking up the attention as it received pets and head scratches, cooing and aww-ing from all of them, until you were surrounded, and there was a due time to start getting the engines back.

You had to say goodbye to the pet temporarily, knowing that it would need to ride back in a firetruck, as none of the firemen were allergic, but it would be unhygienic and unprofessional to have it ride in the ambulance with you.

Your partner spent the ride back smirking, not bothering to say anything but glancing at you every so often for the interaction you’d had, prodding you a little bit with subtle questions about which vet you would go to, and what happened inside of the building, and whether you were going to keep the dog or if Thomas would, all of which you promptly ignored.

The trucks were already back, and a group of the firefighters were out in the main foyer playing with the dog when you pulled up, watching as they backed out of the space for the ambulance to reverse into. Some were in their casual-wear, some had yet to get changed, and yet all of them were full of a renewed glee at the idea of seeing the dog, and you almost felt bad for bringing it to an end.

You let them have a little longer, a symphony of different names flying around in their air as everybody seemed to have an opinion, and you made your way to the changing rooms. Grabbing your hoodie, you swapped out your shirt, unbuttoning it slowly and slipping it down your arms before slipping the baggy material of your hoodie over your head. Your trousers followed, folded neatly on the smooth and smart material to take home, resting on the bench, before kicking off your sneakers and sitting down long enough to tug the cold and stiff denim of your jeans up your legs.

Just as you were buttoning them back up, the door was slamming open, and you jumped a little as a bundle of fur came zooming in ahead of the body to follow, like an entirely new puppy as he had some water in his system, and some leftover meat from the sandwiches that Frypan had been making earlier in the day.

You cursed a little at the shock, a hand resting over your heart, and you sighed as it leapt underneath your palm. Shifting down to the button on your jeans after only a second, and fastening it up, a taller figure leaning against the lockers.

“Damn, did I miss the cute panties again?”

“Oh, shut it, Thomas.” You scowled, and he grinned a little as you avoided his eye, grabbing your bag and packing your work clothes into it, before sitting down to put your shoes back on, and you finally looked back up at him. He had already changed, it seemed, his casual clothes adorning his figure rather than the usual ‘Firehouse 21’ tee, and he’d swapped the heavy-duty pants and suspenders for a pair of skinny khakis. “What’s with the rope?”

He came to sit at the other end of the bench, lifting the aforementioned bundle down from his shoulder, and placing it before you. “This dog is a little erratic, I figured we’d need a little harness for actually getting it to the vets.”

You cocked a brow, smirking a little bit as you finished lacing your shoes, and letting a leg sit on either side as you faced him. “Oh, and you think you can make a whole harness and lead out of a piece of rope?”

“I don’t think I can, I know I can.” He seemed to have taken your challenge, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting a little as he laid out the rope before himself, beginning to shift it and twist it into different sections. You didn’t see anything within it, random knots and a tangled mess seeming to come together, and he worked on it for a few minutes, determination filling him, and your smugness only grew as you prepared for the ‘I told you so’ that you’d be delivering.

That moment never came, however, because as he finished up, laying what looked like a bundle of knots and twists to you, it began to take shape, space for four little legs to slip through, a band running down it’s back and a rope that could be held onto connected at one end to sit over shoulder blades, and your jaw dropped.

“I told you so.” The words were stolen from you, and you glowered a little, a finger coming up to rest under your chin, pressing your lips back closed as he smirked. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’m a firehouse lieutenant, it’s my job to be good with knots.” He licked over his lips, your eyes fixed on his as a twinkle flashed through them. “I’m great at tying things up.”

He winked, and you scoffed again, turning away from him and taking the rope from his hands as you moved to find the puppy, he was biting at one of the shoer curtains and pulling it up and down the railing. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you today. You’re so cheeky, cut it out, I’m not used to it.”

Your words were thrown over your shoulder as you made your way over to the dog, trying to navigate little paws through the holes as it squirmed, and his laugh bounced from all of the walls. “Can’t help it, I think it’s kinda’ funny when you blush, and it’s definitely cute. To think, we spent all that time arguing, and all I had to do get you to shut up with your witty comment and stinging insults was flirt with you and throw in a few dirty jokes.”

“You’re the absolute worst.” You grumbled, and he grinned a little more, taking the rope from your hands and wrapping it around his own as the dog pulled on the harness, eager for movement once again. That only seemed to further his amusement, and you grabbed your bag, reaching into the side pocket for your keys, only to remember that you’d been dropped off this morning, and so you lifted the bag onto your shoulder instead. “We’re taking your car.”

“But my seats are leather.” His words were whiny, and you chuckled, holding open the door for them both. Your little group moved through the firehouse, greeting the staff of the other teams that had taken over, trying to be polite, a subtle nod or quiet ‘hello’ as you passed through, before he was leading you over to his car, and holding open the passenger seat door for you. Dropping your bag down on the back seat, you settled in, a soft noise leaving you as the puppy clambered up into your lap. “You better hold onto that dog, because if my seats get all shredded up, I’ll be gutted.”

“Yeah, yeah; fancy leather seats.” You mocked, a grin on your face, and he scowled falsely, slamming the door shut a little as you chuckled as he flipped you off while rounding the car, biting on the inside of his cheek to contain his amusement. Settling in himself, you strapped yourself in, making sure that you adjusted the safety-belt over the dog in your lap too, who had managed to sit down, tail wagging as it panted happily, and you avoided all the sore spots still littering its skin. “You want me to google a vet? I don’t really know anywhere around here like that, but I can search for one?”

“There’s one not far from where I live, so we can head there.”

He started up the engine, hand on the gearstick as he reversed out of the spot and edges slowly towards the road as the car warmed up, and you considered the matter. “We should find one near my place, so you don’t have to drive all the way across town to drop me off afterwards.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes flicked up to the mirrors, checking everything he was seeing as he left the parking lot and joined the traffic on the road, and you sighed, twisting to face him a little more.

“Yeah, but, it would waste time in your evening, and your fuel, and-”

“I don’t mind.” He turned to look at you, eyes meeting yours for a split second, whiskey-coloured eyes showing only honesty, replacing the cheeky look he’d held moments prior. You sighed, watching him for a moment longer, and he turned back to the road, your eyes sweeping along the defined line of his jaw, the upturned tip of his nose form the side, and the way his eyes flickered over the road before him as he navigated traffic. “Besides, if we go to the veterinarian near me, I can take him for check-ups.”

“They’ll probably have to stay overnight, they’ll want to do tests and heal them up.” You cupped the furry little face in your hands, the thumping of his tail as he wagged picking up again immediately. “Won’t they, huh, cutie? We gotta’ get you all fixed up!”

Thomas chuckled, glancing at the two of you as you kissed its little head, and you were weaving through roads you didn’t recognise, a side of the city you’d never ventured to before, but you weren’t all that surprised by it, because you’d barely adventured anywhere. Now you’d decided to stick around for a while, you should probably learn a little more about where you were living.

“I’ve never been here before.” You looked out of the window, the light in the sky beginning to fade into dusk. “This neighbourhood, I mean. Well, this side of the city, really.”

“You don’t get out much, huh?”

“I moved around a lot, didn’t really seem like it was worth learning an area when I didn’t know how long I was going to stay.” Silence formed between you for a while, the scenery flashing by, streetlights slowly beginning to turn on and warm up, and it wasn’t until the car was pulling to a halt in front of a small veterinary surgery that only had a few people milling around behind the glass windows, quiet and calm. Thomas turned to you upon unclipping his seatbelt, and the silence carried for another second or two, but now with more weight on, as you waited for him to speak.

“I’d be happy to show you around, sometime. If you choose to stick around with us. I can show you some of my favourite places, and I just know Newt would want to tag along and show off his hang-outs too.”

You smiled, watching as he shrugged, getting out of the car and walking around to open your door for you. Standing up, he took the lead, the bouncing puppy sniffing the ground curiously. “I’d like that, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer sometime.”

“I hope you do.” He locked the car, the two of you walking quietly, side by side, up the ramp and through the door, the ball overhead jingling a little as you entered.

There was a blonde behind the desk, curly hair and dark painted lips as she looked up, eyes flicking over the pair of you, before her eyes were moving down to the dog; a single, well-manicured brow lifting in questioning.

You looked between her and the dog as you approached, wondering what brought on the look that was on her face, before realising that you’d grown so accustomed to the state of the dog that the initial shock had worn off, and you gasped a little as you approached the desk, her hand closing over the phone, a scowl forming on her features.

“We didn’t do that to the dog!”

She paused, and Thomas turned to look at you, confusion portrayed on his face, before he was reading the room, his eyes going wide. Neither of you was wearing your official uniforms, you were just a pair of strangers with a dog on a rope, covered in burns and cuts. He panicked, patting down his pockets as she lifted up the phone to her ear, panicking to find his wallet as he flipped it open to show the ID inside.

She took the leather from him, peering it at carefully, a long and tense second that seemed to drag on, your breath held, before her stern expression seemed to relax a little, a softer look on her face as she handed it back, placing the phone down and crossing her arms against the desktop before you both.

“We found this little guy in a house fire about two hours ago, we just finished our shift.”

“Uh-huh.” She squinted, before she was turning to the computer, long and perfectly maintained nails typing on the keyboard as she created a file for the little creature. “Name?”

“Uh, well, we haven’t given it one.” Thomas stuttered, and she smirked a little, turning to look at you both a little clearer.

“I meant your name, for the file.”

He blushed, red twinging his cheeks as his jaw snapped shut, and you tried to contain your laugh. “His name is Thomas Stephens. With a ‘P-H’, not a ‘V’.” She nodded her head, and Thomas nudged you with his elbow gently, a quiet thanks as his cheeks remained heated. He cleared his throat, choking back the lump in his throat.

“Her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She paused for only a second, before she was typing that too, and you turned to look at him, one of his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “We should both be on file, to look after the little guy. He’s our responsibility now.”

“And you said that you found him in a house fire today?”

You snapped away from Thomas, looking back to the blonde receptionist, who was still typing at her computer as she filled in details, waiting for you to continue. “Oh, yes! Not too bad, a little singed around the edges but that’s all. First-degree skin wounds, nothing deep into muscle tissue, except for a few second-degrees. It was severely dehydrated and a little woozy from the heat, but we gave ‘em some water and got some food in ‘em, and the pup got its energy back.” She stopped her typing, turning to stare at you. “No disorientation or dizziness that I can tell, so I don’t think there’s lasting brain trauma, but the woofing is a little raspy, probably some internal burning from smoke inhalation.”

“I take it you’re the paramedic, then?” It was your turn to be slightly embarrassed now, Thomas staring at you wide-eyed for your spiel, and she was watching you intently, and you only nodded your head in confirmation. “I’m impressed. I’ll let the doc’ know it all. How about you hand me over the dog, I’ll take him into the back, and you two can wait out here. I’ll be back out in a few minutes, alright?”

You were almost reluctant to hand him over, but Thomas gave her the makeshift leash, and she walked him away, the two of you taking a seat on the cushioned chairs in the waiting room, posters up around on the walls to show information and promotions on pet-care.

Sinking down next to him, you let out a sigh, a little achy all over from the stress of the day, and you were looking forward to simply relaxing. Your head rolled to the side, to find Thomas picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his hoodie, seeming to sense your lingering gaze, his head twisting to catch your eye. He returned the gaze, curiosity unspoken between you both as he waited for you to speak, and it took you a moment to form words.

“What are we gonna’ do with it, Thomas?”

“The dog?” He mumbled dumbly, and you only nodded your head. “I’m sure they know a selection of excellent shelters who would be able to find it a good home and look after it once we sign it over, and it’ll find a great home.” You sighed, not too sure why you were so disappointed by the answer, your sights turning forwards to look over the posters on the walls once again.

A quiet settled over you both, nothing tense or uncomfortable, but simply companionable, and your mind drifted to the excited little animal that was taking over your mind, closed behind a door for its initial examination.

“The team seemed to really like the dog.” You jumped a little at his sudden voice, twisting a little to face him again, hope fluttering through your nerves. “Maybe they’d like a house dog?”

“Really?” You couldn't help the smile that broke out on your features, and he chuckled a little, sights sweeping over your face, before his head was ducking a little, and he grinned, warm cheeks when he lifted his head again.

“Yeah, nobody has an allergy, the kids that visit would love it, and I know Vince would be on board, he’s always talked about a house dog.” He dared to lift a hand, pausing for a second, and you glanced down, his hand settling over yours on the arm of the chair to squeeze lightly. “Plus, you looked so down when you thought you didn’t get to keep him. I didn’t like that.”

You paused, processing his words, and nothing else needed to be said, his attention moving to the tiles in front of his feet as his legs stretched out, getting comfortable for the wait. As you sat here, you couldn't help but be thankful that he was here with you, because this was an experience you wouldn't want to be going through alone, and somehow, it felt right to be here with him of all people. “Thank you, Thomas.”

“It’s not definite, yet, I’d still have to talk to everyone at the house and to Vince, and start a pool of funds, b-”

“No, not for the dog.” His jaw snapped shut, confusion on slightly pouted lips once again as he tried to process his thoughts. “Today, you believed me. There was nothing to suggest there was anyone there, and you put yourself in danger just to check for me.”

“You were right last time, with the woman in the house, trapped under the rubble? The kid who fell? You’ve been right about these things before.”

You shook your head. “This is different. You stayed behind because I insisted on it, you trusted me, you didn’t have to, but you did. Thank you for trusting me, Thomas.”

He only nodded, swallowing thickly, and you turned your hand underneath his, parting your fingers a little. His lips turned up at the edges, the tips of his fingers smoothing over your palm as they straightened out, before his fingers were weaving loosely through your own. “You can call me Tommy, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“You always call me Thomas.” His fingers tightened a little, and you crooked your own to wrap around his hand lightly. “Everyone calls me Tommy. You can too, if you want.”

“Okay.” He hummed, fingers twitching with your own, before he was lifting your hand enough to let his fingers weave with your own entirely, to sit connected on the chair between you both, and you held onto him equally as tightly. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?” There was a slightly higher pitch to his voice, a sweet look on his face at the sound of you using his nickname, and your chest flushed with heat at the idea you’d been able to bring him such a little joy so effortlessly.

“Thanks for being here with me.”

“My pleasure.” You only nodded, gaze remaining connected with his as his smile became fully formed, flashes of white teeth as it became a beam, and you couldn't help but return it. You jumped at the clearing of a throat, eyes closing as you suppressed the urge to curse in shock, having had enough of jump-scares and fear for today.

“Does one of you want to come in with me?” Both your and Thomas’ attention moved to her, and she was standing before you both, hands crossed behind her back as her eyes flicked between you. “We’re going to keep him in overnight, doc’ wants to put him under some anaesthesia so we can properly treat the wounds that are a little more severe and so some stitches, so one of you can go and keep him calm as he goes under. I need one of you to stay here and fill out some forms.”

You turned to look at Thomas, questioning silently, and he gave a smile, squeezing your hand tightly, before letting it go so your fingers could slip free. “You go ahead, I’ll fill out the forms, and I’ll wait right here.”

“You sure?”

“Totally. Go make sure our little puppy goes to sleep comfortably.” You nodded, standing up to follow the girl, and seeking a reassuring glance from Thomas over your shoulder, before you were disappearing around the corner and into an examination room, and he was cut from your views.

The dog was laying across the table, looking calmer now, but he perked up considerably upon seeing you. There was a set of weighing scales out, and a needle filled with a dose already, alongside a clipboard and a pen on a sheet that was half filled out.

The doctor was wearing a set of plastic gloves, slipping one from his wrist as he shook your hand, giving you his name, but you knew your mind was spinning far too much right now to remember it. You moved forward, scratching at the dog's ears to soothe it, it’s head tipping into your hands as it woofed happily, tail thumping against the table.

“What I’m going to do is use a general anaesthetic to put him under, so that I can get these stitches in and disinfect these wounds without him feeling it. I’ve weighed him, and surprisingly for the dogs I’ve seen come from these backgrounds, he’s actually on his target weight.” You nodded, trying to retain the information, and knowing that it was all good news. “I also want to take some blood samples, just to get an idea of what we have going on, since there’s no history, but he seems better than just ‘okay’ to me. We’ll keep him overnight for observations, as I’m sure my nurse has told you.”

“She did.”

“Have you decided what you want to do with him?” You scratched lightly at his hair, heart clenching a little at the whimper he let out as a needle slipped into his skin, but he was relaxing only a second later, the metal slipping free of his flesh, and his eyes growing heavy, ready to knock him out, for the time being, so he could heal properly.

“We’re kinda’ thinking we might have him as a house dog at the fire station.”

“I like that idea, a lot. It’s always motivational. This little guy has a lot of personality; it’ll be good for him to have so much attention, and so many people around him, constantly.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “He is definitely spirited, that's for sure. Only an hour after he’d left the building, he was already getting his energy back at the station. Some water and a snack, and he was bursting at the seams to run.”

“I can tell, he gave me a real struggle to settle him down.” He was growing tired, breathing growing soft and deeper as he calmed a little, his racing heart steadying out, and you hoped that some good sleep was exactly what he needed to heal. “I'll give you a list of his medicines and puppy suitable foods to help him develop, and when you come back for him, I’ll have a schedule made for the house. It can be hard to keep a dog within healthy weight and fitness boundaries with different teams who don’t get to communicate, so I’ll make a rota.”

“That’s great, thank you.”

“You are truly welcome. I’m going to have to shave him in some patches, but it should grow back in a month or so.” You nodded, a few more minutes passing, and you realised that there was nothing else to be added, the dog having drifted off, and the vet was simply giving you a few more minutes to accept it all. “When you’re ready, you can sign off at the desk, and we’ll give you a call in a day or two when he’s ready for collection.”

You nodded, taking a few more seconds yourself brushing your fingers over soft fur, before backing away, tearing your eyes from the dog you’d grown such a sudden attachment to, before you were opening the door, and closing it again.

As you made your way along the corridor, Thomas was standing at the desk, frowning at various paperwork that he was filling out, signing his signature at various spots and filling out any details that were needed. Taking up space by his side, his attention moved to you for just a moment, a soft smile directed your way, before he was moving back to the paperwork, and you leant on the edge of the desk, watching the pen move as he filled it out.

“Have you got a name?”

“I thought we already gave you our names?” Thomas echoed, an adorable confusion to his voice, and the nurse smirked a little.

“I’m talking about the dog.” She clarified, and he blushed a deep red once again, scowling as he went back to the paperwork, a mumble of ‘of course you are’ under his breath, and you bit back your laughter. “I’ll give you a moment to think about it, I’ll go and photocopy your forms.”

She took the paperwork from him as he finished it, and he turned to face you, embarrassment dying down. “How about ‘Champ’?” Your face screwed up at the idea, knowing it was a common name and not something that suited his personality at all, and Thomas seemed to agree, his own face mirroring yours as he thought on it longer. “How about ‘Dexter’?”

“That seems so aggressive. He’s a sweetie, he’s just excited.” He nodded, silence falling between you both again. “What do you think about ‘Scooter’?”

“It’s certainly interesting.” He hummed, and your head tipped to the side, trying to explain why the name had come to you;

“I don’t know, it just felt right. It feels like an energetic but fun name, and that's what he feels like.” Thomas clicked the pen shut, the woman walking back into the room, a brown envelope with the word ‘dog forms’ written across the front sliding to sit on the glass before you both.

“Have we chosen a name, yet?”

She sat down in her seat, bringing the computer back to life and typing in her password to complete the registration. “I think we just settled on ‘Scooter’.”

“We did?” You echoed a little, staring up at Thomas, who only nodded to the blonde nurse, who smiled to herself as she completed the forms. Lifting the card reader up onto the top of the desk, the small registration fee and covering of the original medicines and treatments were completed, and you promised to forward half of the costs to Thomas as soon as you could while he punched his PIN into the device.

She finished it all up, stapling the bundle of receipts to the copy of the forms, and just like that, you were stepping back out into the cold air, minus a dog, but plus a pet.

Sinking down into the passenger seat beside Thomas, he started up the car, and as he pulled out of the parking lot, you couldn't help but notice the darkness that had taken over. What had been a pastel sky when you’d entered the establishment was now deep tones of blue fading into black, the moon string in the sky to be accompanied by an array of twinkling stars.

You offered him your address, the city melting away beside you as the radio played, idle chatter filling the silence between you both on the drive. He would often pause the conversation to point out somewhere he liked; a restaurant, an activity, a shop or simply a building with a memory for him, all following with a list of reasons why he thought you should visit it someday, some even coming with a promise to show it to you himself.

When you finally pulled up in front of your building, Thomas peered up at it, stepping out of the car as you did, and rounding to the backseat to grab your back for you as the car sat on the curb, engine still running to keep warm. “This is me, that third window up on the left.” You pointed up to it, the glass dark in an apartment with all of the lights off, the living room window that looked out onto the street would soon be flooded with lights, only minutes away from finally getting to relax and unwind from a busy day. “Thanks for driving me home, and coming out with me. It was nice to have company.”

“I had fun, I wanted to come. It was really no trouble.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, hands shoved into his pockets, and you weren’t sure what else to say to fill the silence as he simply nodded to your words, hands pushed into his pockets. “I’ll see you soon, on our next shift?”

You could only hum your agreement, mind shifting to remember when it was that you were due on shift again, your mind coming up blank with your exhaustion. You waited longer, his eyes fixed on you, intently, but you couldn't seem to decipher what was laying within them, and after a while you gave up trying to. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight.” He smiles, shoulders slumping a little, and you headed back up towards the door of the main building, pulling your bag around from your side to open the pocket on the front, and fish out the keys, pausing at the top stop as you found them, and tried to find the one for the main building.

Shoes shuffled against the concrete behind you, up the steps, and you turned to face Thomas, unsure of what to say to question him, but something to you he had his own agenda, and not to rush him. He waited for a second longer, the correct key inched between two fingers now as the rest jingled where they hung, and your eyes remained locked with his as you waited.

A hand came up to rest over your cheek, a soft smile on his face as he took a shaky inhale, before your head was being tipped to the side a little. Hot breath washed over your skin, his body stepping in close enough that his own heat was enough to warm you. The tip of his nose dragged over your cheek, enough to make your breath hitch, before soft lips were pressing to your skin. A sweet kiss that a shy blush flood your features, his lips lingering a second longer than you expected, before was pulling back, an equal blush visible on his face, but a bashful expression none the less as he pulled away.

You felt cold as he stepped back, the hand from your waist falling away and you weren’t sure when it had even landed there, as the hand on your other cheek dropped away too, and he licked over his lower lip, nibbling on it to contain the sunny expression threatening to take over as he backed down the steps.

“Now it's a good night. I’ll be seeing you.” He gave a little wave, before he was jogging back to his car, and you watched him go, a little shocked and a little confused, heart racing in your chest as you opened the door to the main building and stepped inside, hearing his engine rev as he pulled away.

It was all too much to handle at the moment, a hot bath and some emotional unwinding from the chaotic day that it had been much needed before you could even think about beginning to unpick whatever it was that was going on now. Kicking off your shoes the second the door was open, the only decision you wanted to make right now was whether you wanted food or your pyjamas first.

#thomas #firefighter!tommy #SAF #smoke and fire #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut

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shreddedparchment · 5 years ago

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Pseudo Princess Pt.27

Beaten and Lost

03/24/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,109

Warnings: language, canon level violence, injuries, wounds, blood, smidge of angst

A/N: So...I should really edit this more but I’m tired and I’m sure you all want this more than you want my edits. lol I’m pretty satisfied with it. Hopefully y’all like it too. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES. Reblogs are appreciated!

“No! Clint! Get to those citizens. I’ll handle James.”

“Oh, you’ll handle him? Much like you handled those bandits in Bosset?”

“I did handle them.” Nat argues, ducking as another flaming ball of tar goes soaring over their heads. “We got out of there, didn’t we?”

Shielded for the moment behind an overturned vendor’s stall, she and Clint find themselves catching their breath as chaos reigns around them.

Nat can see Peter flying across rooftops, shooting his web at Hydra soldier after Hydra soldier. Incapacitating them by grabbing them and knocking them out or suspending them from the streetlamps and balconies.

She can’t see, but she can hear the whoosh of wind as Sam flies overhead, aided by his specialized wing suit.

“Barely.” Clint nods. “It’s all over after today, you know that, right? Everyone in the kingdom…in all the kingdoms will know who you all are now.”

“It was bound to come out.” Nat shrugs. “It was Steve and Tony that wanted to keep things quiet, for their families’ sake.”

“I can relate.” Clint sighs.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I didn’t mean to drag you back into this.” Nat assesses her old friend, dirty blonde hair, handsome features only slightly aged and looking more exasperated than tired.

Time with his family has done him good.

“It was inevitable.” He nods. “Alright, on the count of three.”

Nat nods, reaching down to take hold of a long metal rod that has broken off from a carriage in place of her usual adamantium daggers.

“Is that really a good idea?” Clint asks, eyeing her sheathed daggers now out and visible with her lack of cloak.

“I love him, Clint.” Nat shakes her head. “I’m going to marry him. I won’t kill him.”

“You might have to.” Clint insists.

Nat only meets his gaze, defiance written all over her scratched up and dirty face.

“One…Two…Thr-” As Clint and Nat make to rise, the weight of their temporary shield falls out from behind them and they have to scramble up onto their knees as they watch the stall levitate up into the air.

“What the-?” Clint begins and they both watch as it rises higher and higher, a strange red energy lifting it into the air.

It swirls around the stall like smoke, vibrant in spots where it pulsates with power.

“Looks like we aren’t alone anymore.” Nat says, bringing Clint’s eyes to her.

He sees her watching the road in front of them and follows her gaze to a young girl, no more than twenty with her hands in the air, clearly directed towards the stall that had just been ripped away from them.

She’s wearing a form fitting red leather tunic and jacket over a pair of dark gray pants. Inexpensive clothing that looks as if it were once new, but now tattered and torn.

Nat at least wears a collection of torn up skirts woven together around her hips making it look as if she were wearing a skirt while leaving the front of her legs exposed so that she can reach her weapons.

This girl is wearing just the pants. No weapons, nothing but the strange red energy.

Her hair is also red, but duller than Natasha’s, and waist length. Left to do as it pleases, it floats around her body as the red magics that she is clearly manipulating dances about her.

With eyes like scarlet fire, she suddenly brings her hands down and both Nat and Clint scramble up just in time, diving out of the way as the stall crashes into the cobbled road and explodes into splinters.

As she approaches, they get to their feet only to feel the strange rush of air and force along their fronts and get knocked to the ground again.

“Do you see-?” Clint begins.

“No.” Nat replies.

They rise again, attempting to get to their feet only to feel the same rush of air and force against their back.

They’re shoved forward and fall onto their hands and knees, landing roughly so that the frozen stones beneath their hands draw a little blood.

Annoyed, Nat glares.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“The girl is a witch. Could she be doing this?” Clint wonders.

“No, I don’t think so.” Nat sighs and makes to stand again only to get pushed hard in the stomach. It sends her soaring backwards into the air a few feet until she makes impact with something large and hard.

It catches her under the arms and the heat suddenly makes sense as she’s helped to her feet.

“It seems you’re having a bit of trouble, Lady Widow, shall I help?”

“Thor!” Nat gasps, grateful to be up on her feet, but she frowns at him all the same. “How many times must I tell you? It’s Black Widow.”

Thor smiles at her. “It seems you’ve found yourself a bit of a nuisance.”

“Indeed.” Nat nods.

“Hey, how about a little assistance, your Majesty?” Clint gestures at the girl whose stopped advancing at the sight of Thor.

“That girl is not your problem.” Thor says, pointing at the girl and watching her with a furrowed brow.

“Then what is it?” Natasha asks.

“It’s the boy.”

“Boy?” Clint pushes himself up onto his knees and looks around, confused. “What boy?”

Without warning Thor draws his arm back, calling into it his hammer which very nearly reaches him when the body of a man wearing head to toe silver appears with his hand around the handle midflight.

As it reaches Thor, dragging the boy along with it, Thor quickly grabs him and slams him into the ground only to place his hammer on his chest.

“This boy.” Thor smiles down at him.

Nat’s mouth is slightly agape as she stares down at Thor’s catch, Clint then rises and moves over to look down at the lad as he struggles and grunts against the weight of Mjolnir and attempts to push it off.

“Why couldn’t we see him?” Clint wonders.

“He was moving too quickly for your eyes to see.” Thor explains. “He didn’t know that he wouldn’t be able to lift my hammer.”

“Not so quick now, are you?” Clint taunts.

“I think Hawkeye and I can handle the girl.” Thor says, turning to Nat with a look of stern approval. “Barnes and Hydra are regrouping in the town square. You’d best head there and help the Spiderling, Pigeon, and Stark.”

“Spiderman and Falcon.” Nat corrects, but she’s already backing away from them. “Clint?”

“Go. I’ve got a God on my side.” He watches as Nat turns to run, then looks to the girl whose fingers are still dancing with red waves. “How are we going to handle this one?”

“You could never handle my sister.” Says the boy still struggling, glaring at both Thor and Clint. “The Scarlet Witch will warp you into your darkest nightmares. She will tear your mind apart piece by piece until you are nothing more than a sobbing, whimpering fool.”

“You promise?” Clint asks, then turns to give him a smug smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

She can hear it before it hits. She can feel the heat against her skin before she can even form the plea for Tony to stay his hand.

“James, please.” She begs, holding his arm back behind him with as much strength as she can muster.

Behind her the Falcon has lost a wing as is fighting hand to hand against a mob of Hydra foot soldiers.

Peter is with him, attempting to help as much as he can while also pulling the occasional bystander away from the fight.

Nat has been able to hold Bucky off for only a few minutes. Seven? Eight minutes? Maybe ten.

They feel like hours. Every punch avoided, ever kick expertly maneuvered feels like another thorn in Nat’s heart.

“Please, my love.” She whispers into his ear as he grunts and with a surge of strength pulls his arm from her hold behind his back.

He turns around and grabs her by the neck, squeezing with his flesh arm so tight that her eyes grow red as her hands hesitantly travel down to the blades along her thighs. As her fingers make contact with the cool metal, she realizes that she can’t do it. Nat can’t hurt him.

She mouths his name, a haggard whisper through the constriction of her throat, and brings her hands up to hold the one choking her to death.

Nat thinks she sees a shift in his eyes, a return of warmth, but if it was real it came and went too quickly for her to be sure it wasn’t just her oxygen deprived mind wishing he’d remember that he loves her. That he asked her to marry him.

She wishes that she could have a chance to tell him yes. That she’ll marry him. That even if she can’t give him the life he deserves, if he will have her, she will happily live out the rest of her days by his side.

He flips her, then slams her down against the cobble road. Nat gasps in as much air as she can as the darkness in her vision begins to clear. Her head is pounding, she can feel blood pooling along her scalp.

Wheezing, she forces her body to move, to shift. She wants to see him.

Bucky has turned and is moving towards Tony who has somehow found one of his gauntlets. At the center of his palm is the gleaming blue shine of his blaster. The magic and lightning that he seams to have weaved into his suit and tamed it to use at will.

He raises his glove, holds it up towards the approaching threat.

Nat pushes herself up and throws her and out towards Tony, almost mimicking his movement as the blue light grows brighter faster.

“Tony, n-!” She tries, but he fires, and it hits Bucky square in the chest.

He’s sent flying back into a heap on top of a pile of wooden crates.

Nat falls onto her side, staring at him in relief that he’s down, but she knows it isn’t over. She moves as quickly as she can to subdue him and manages to get onto her feet.

Racing to his side, she reaches for his arm, but he throws it up towards her and she’s sent flying back into one of the now broken lampposts.

She hits it hard and crumples with a pained groan around the base. Somehow, she manages to refocus, pulling herself back up onto her feet with the assistance of the broken post.

By the time she’s up, searching for Bucky, she finds him charging at Tony who has found the rest of his suit probably kept safe in his carriage. Hidden, like Steve’s shield had been. Like all of their tools.

Bucky races at full speed at Tony, not stopping as Tony sends shot after shot towards him. He dodges each blast of energy. He even grabs Tony’s wrists and points his hands up at the sky rending his shots useless.

Tony counters with a kick to his chest, sending Bucky skidding back only to readjust his footing and dive at his target.

Tony punches and kicks, avoiding Bucky’s metal arm as best he can while also trying to blast him with his hands.

It takes only a minute for Bucky to get Tony down on the ground. On his back, Tony is at a disadvantage.

Nat begins to race for them as Bucky brings his metal fingers down around the blinding circle at the center of Tony’s chest.

With his swollen cheek, cut lip, bloody nose, Bucky huffs with the strength he uses to pry his fingers in around the orb.

Nat can hear Tony’s own wounded grunt, one hand pulling at Bucky’s normal arm to pry it away from his neck and the other squeezing and tugging at the metal one around his power source.

“Don’t make me do this Barnes.” Tony gasps.

“Don’t!” Nat cries, still too far away.

The orb within Tony’s chest begins to glow brighter, more blinding, more chaotic in its pulsing energy.

“Tony, don’t!” Nat pleads, pushing her leg to run through her limp.

“I’m sorry.” Tony whispers, and the light in his chest explodes shooting up into the air with a twenty-foot beam.

Nat is thrown back by the force of the blast, but she recovers quickly, forcing herself to scramble up towards them.

Bucky lays motionless a few feet away from Tony’s gasping form his metal arm gone. Severed by Tony’s energy beam at the shoulder. Shards of sharp metal protrude from the wound.

“James!” Nat calls, falling to her knees at his side. “James, please.”

But he’s so still.

For one breathless minute, Nat watches the love of her life lay before her, not breathing.

But then his chest moves, and she’s saved the grief of mourning her one true love.

Turning to Tony, she finds him sitting up, one leg bent with his arm resting over it as he watches her and Bucky.

“Are you alright?” She asks him, ignoring the rage she feels towards him because she knows it was necessary.

“Alright?” Tony gets to his feet. Groaning and grunting as his body protests the movement. “I’m a king. I am…perfection. Urghhh…”

“Perfection my ass.” Nat mutters, turning her gaze back to Bucky.

“Is it my turn?” A shaking elderly voice suddenly speaks.

“By all means, old woman. Assist away.” Tony waves her over, walking with her as she exits one of the shops where she’d been hiding watching the entire fight.

Agatha stops beside Nat and gives her head a quick inspection.

“Get this bandaged up right away, unless you’d like to lay unconscious beside your lover.” She orders.

Nat frowns but tears a piece of fabric from her open skirt and begins to wrap the strip around the worst part of her wound. She doesn’t have time to do it justice.

Agatha drops down beside Bucky and begins to look him over. She opens his eyes and they look as normal as ever.

“Well?” Tony asks, impatient.

“He’s out. It also appears as if whatever spell he was under, it has been broken. His injuries are extensive. He will not wake.” She assures them. “Perhaps ever.”

“What?!” Nat demands, voice panicked.

“This wound.” She suddenly rips Bucky’s tunic open then unbuttons his shirt to show a massive amount of black bruising along the left side of his body. “This will not heal easy. We need to get him somewhere safe. The quicker the better.”

“Tony…” Nat begins, turning to him, but Tony is watching the crowd in the distance.

“We can’t just leave them. There are still too many Hydra soldiers running around the city.” He frowns, his mind also jumping to you and Steve.

Are the two of you alright?

“You won’t.” Thor says from above before he lands with a small earth-shaking boom beside them. “I will stay along with the Pigeon, the Spiderling, and the Hawk. The two of you should take Barnes and the other prisoners back to your castle.

“Someone also needs to begin the search for Steve and the little bird. From what Peter said, Steve was gravely wounded. And Y/N is pregnant. I need to know she’s safe.”

“Prisoners? What prisoners?” Tony wonders.

“Don’t worry.” Thor assures them. “They too will not wake before you reach the castle. Go, my friends. I will provide what assistance I can here.”

“Thor…” Nat begins, desperate to thank him.

“Natasha…” Thor cuts her off, turning a serious and suddenly terrified gaze on her. “Find her. Find Steve. Make sure they’re alright.”

Nat agrees, knowing that she too will not rest well until she knows that you’re home safe and that your little prince is hopefully, unharmed.

You’re exhausted, trudging through overgrown fronds and grass as you struggle to weave your way through densely packed sycamore trees.

The forest is old, the canopy all but obscures the night sky above.

In the darkness, you cling to Steve’s hand as he leads you through the trees. Every now and then the late winter wind blows and scatters the branches overhead to give you a stunning view of the clear sky. A jeweled sky dazzles you, then retreats behind the leaves once again.

Your arm is yanked forward, and you gasp tripping over your dress which you quickly yank up with your free hand to keep from falling.

Steve’s cloak, still around you to stave off the frigid air, nearly does you in with a second trip but you managed to find your balance.

“Steve…” You begin, a warning in your voice because he’s your guide. He can see better than you can apparently and you’re relying on him to keep you upright with your little prince at stake.

What you find is Steve slumped against a tree, still somehow standing, but clearly weak and unable to stand upright. He drops his shield where it falls with a muted clunk.

“Steve!” You gasp, releasing his hand which he was still holding onto tightly, and rush to his side.

Getting in close is the only way that you can see his face, so you get right up against him. His nose only a few inches away.

He has both eyes closed, one swollen and black, bruised so darkly you shudder to think what that might look like under proper light.

His lips are slightly blue and that gives you such fright. You throw the cloak off of your shoulders and quickly wrap it around him.

With a split bleeding lip, now crusted in the corners where he allowed the crimson to dribble and pool, he protests.

“No.” He says, still managing some volume and a stern tone despite the exhaustion he’s clearly feeling and the pain his body is fighting.

The longer he stands there pressed against the tree, the lower slides along the thick trunk.

“Keep it on. It’s c-cold.” He shudders and you frown at him.

“You need it more than I do.” You assert and clasp the cloak at around his neck then draw the rest closed to help him keep what little heat he has.

“But our baby.” He sighs, finally reaching the base of the tree where he sits with his legs bent but weakly splayed out as you make sure his cloak is secure.

“Our little one is warm and safe in my belly.” You give him a smile but begin to notice the way his shield arm is resting at an odd angle. “Steve, your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” He tries.

“Don’t lie to me Steven.” You frown.

“It’s dislocated.” He relents quickly not missing a beat, knowing the tone you’re using well from the night you found Sharon in his bed.

“Shit.” You bite your lip but move to position yourself beside him. “Steve, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“We had to get away.” He shakes his head but meets your eyes. “I needed you safe.”

“I am safe. But what will I do if you pass out here, in the middle of the forest? You should have told me. We should have stopped when I asked hours ago.” Your worry is outweighing your anger, and he seems to see that because he smiles weakly.

“Is this really the time to rub it in how right you are all the time?” He teases.

“Steve…” You fuss.

“I’m alright, my flower. Truly.” He lies.

You growl and move around the base of the tree sticking close to the ground. You move all the way around it, circling until you come up on Steve’s other side.

“What are you doing?” He wonders, curious but also wary.

“Looking for something. Do you still have your dagger?” You reopen his cloak and begin to feel around his waist.

He shifts for you, shoving his hips out a little and arching his back which makes him grunt with pain.

“Center of my waist. On the back.” He instructs.

Quickly you reach for it and pull it out before you pull his cloak shut again then turn around and begin to crawl away from him.

A tug on your skirts stops you and with his dagger in hand you turn to look back at him.

“Where are you going?” He frets, brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” You promise, reach back, and pull his hand away from your skirts.

You crawl around for maybe ten minutes, picking up every stone and pebble that your fingers blindly encounter. At one point you swear you feel a silky scaled body slither past your outstretched digits but you ignore it and swallow down the panic as you convince yourself that it was probably more afraid of you than you are of it.

At last, several trees away and just out of Steve’s sight, you find what you’re looking for. You reach around for the long thin branch that you’d felt earlier. With the knife, stone, and branch, you crawl back to Steve to find him sitting up, craning his neck for sight of you.

Upon it, he sits back and releases a long-held breath.

His legs are a little more relaxed, stretched out but still wide open in his fatigue. You settle between them, scooching as close as you can but turn back forward as you sit up as straight as you can.

“Can you undo my bodice?” You ask, with your collection of tools placed before you, you move your hair out of his waist.

“You can’t take off your clothes.” Steve says, not understanding what you’re trying to do.

“Steve…just do it. Open my dress and once you see my corset strings, open it and then rip the driest part of my underdress. As much of it as you can.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, defiant.

“Please.” You beg, but you make it clear it isn’t an option.

After a moment of hesitation, he huffs out a gust of air before he gets to work on your dress.

It takes him five minutes to undo it and your corset, then another three to find and rip as large a piece of your underthings as he can.

“Is that dry enough?” He checks, holding out for you a strip long enough to wrap your arm several times.

“That’s perfect, my love.” You gush, taking the strip to feel how damp it might be.

Your skirts would have been too wet, trudging through snow all night.

Steve does your dress up as best as he can or attempts to before you’re up on your feet moving away from him.

“Wait…” He complains but you don’t stop and instead begin to feel around the large trunks you pass.

“You can dress me again in just a moment.” You tell him, but he growls.

“You’re going to catch your death with your back open like that!” He fumes.

You ignore him in favor of your search and after only two minutes this time, you find what you’re looking for. A knothole almost just out of reach.

Licking your lips, you push yourself up onto your toes and with trembling fingers search the space within.

You shut your eyes and refuse to think about what animals you may be disturbing.

Luckily, you find none, and instead find what you’re looking for.

With your stick and fabric in hand you scoop out as much dead and dried foliage as you can into the fabric with your stick placed in the middle of it all. The knothole is abundant in material, so you take as much as you need before you wrap it up around one end of the stick.

You cut a few small holes into the fabric to give the twigs and leaves and dried grass some air before you move back towards where you can hear Steve groaning in pain.

As he hears you near, he makes sure to stop.

Because he needs it more than you do at the moment, you find your spot between his legs again and turn around for him.

Quickly he begins to do your dress up, fighting the pain of his dislocated shoulder.

He’s pushing himself too hard and you know that he will pay for it. You hate that!

By the time he laces up your bodice, the spark from his steel dagger on your flint rock strikes a spark and your torch comes to life, blazing bright in what was only a second again pitch dark.

It’s blinding and you blink against the light before you grab it and turn to look at your husband.

He’s impressed, his face full of it, but what a face it is all beaten, black and blue.

“Oh, Steve.” You cry, your heart breaking.

“I’m okay.” He promises, reaching up with his good hand to stroke your cheek.

“No, you’re not!” You smack his hand away and shove the end of your torch into the ground to free up your hands.

With his cloak already open from him dressing you, you reach for his shoulder and feel for the shift.

Giving him time to fight you on this is not an option so you quickly force him back against the tree.

“Stay still.” You order, and without waiting for him to acknowledge what you’re saying, you begin to pull his shoulder up in small smooth circles.

“No, Y/N, wait.” He groans.

“Shh.” You frown but continue to lift his arm up.

“Y/N…” He repeats, his voice fighting the agony.

“Shush!” You insist, then finally feel the shift as his arm pops back into place.

“AH!” Steve cries, his breathing hard and his eyes shut tight.

You guide his arm across his chest and push it towards him to make sure he knows to keep it there while you tear more fabric from the thick layers of your skirts.

With his arm in a sling, Steve seems a bit more relaxed.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Steve wonders as you get up and fix your dress before you reach over for the torch.

His eyes are glued to your face, full of admiration and adoration, bloody lips curled slightly in a smile.

“I grew up alone, remember? I had to take care of myself.” You move to his good arm and hook your own through them. “Come on, your Majesty. On your feet.”

He groans and grunts as you pull him back onto his feet and tired legs. While he gets used to the sensation again, you hand him the torch and lean him against the tree. Then you move to grab his shield and with a long spare piece of your skirts available, you tie the disc to your back where you know it will be safe.

“You look good in my insignia.” Steve flirts.

“Of course, I do. I’m your wife.”

Steve huffs a small laugh.

“Come on, King Flirt. Lean on me.”

He wraps his good arm around your shoulders and leans as much weight against you as he’s willing which gladly is enough that the two of you can get moving again. And with the torch now out to show you the forest, you gasp as you realize just where you are.

“What is it?” Steve asks, sensing your glee.

“I know where we are!” You smile. “Come on. If we make good time, we’ll get there before the sun rises.”

It takes two more hours of you pulling Steve forward, forcing him to move faster just as he’d first forced you away from danger. You’re starting to feel the bite of the cold, but you don’t dare take the cloak from him. Only now are his lips beginning to show a bit of color. His cheeks aren’t so pale. His eyes are a little brighter.

You’re at the top of a hill when you finally stop and you’re breathing hard as your eyes take in the sight you’d thought you’d lost forever.

If not forever, then at least for a long time.

Below you both, nestled into the hillside is the Village of Bright Rise. A dozen and a half thatched roofed buildings that were once the only home you thought you’d ever know.

The church is on one end of the square, old and crumbling but still made with materials far better than the village houses that look to be in the midst of repairs.

The mill to the farms is on the right, and the old manor home—long since abandoned by the lord that had settled Bright Rise way before your parents had been born—sits derelict and half destroyed about a mile away from the village.

Still, despite the poverty you see before you, there is beauty in the large trees and the flower fields that you can only remember from your memories now with winter having taken the blooms. The small pond is frozen, and the roads are blanketed with fresh snow from earlier in the night when the sky had filled with clouds before being whisked away by winter winds.

“Where are we?” Steve wonders, staring at the little village below.

“We’re in Bright Rise.” You declare. “This is Bright Rise, Steve. This is where I was born. This is where my parents died and where I grew up. Just outside of the village, just before you reach that abandoned manor, you see that main road?”

Steve follows where your gaze to the spot you mean and nods.

“I see it.”

“That’s where my life changed. That’s where I found Grandmother fallen over in the mud. Where I searched, elbow deep in a bog for her purse. That’s where Father found me. Took me. Changed me.

“That’s where my destiny to be your wife manifested. This…this was my home.” You turn to him, watch as his face changes and devours every inch of the small place he sees below him.

“Do you see that small cottage over by the farms? To the right of the mill? With its crumbling walls and overgrown vine?” You ask, watching him.

“I see it.” He says, “Is that-?”

“That was where I lived. We’ll be safe there for a bit.” You whisper, suddenly nervous about him seeing your home. “Will you stay?”

Steve hears the insecurity in your voice, the fear of what your old home might say about who you were. Who you are. Because even if you are no longer that same girl that was taken at the side of the road, she is still within you. She’s your core. The base of who you have become.

“Anywhere.” Steve says. “So long as I’m with you.”

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x reader fanfiction #medieval fantasy au #royalty au #marvel au #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #king!steve x you #steve x you #captain america x reader #avengers x reader #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt27

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twiistedgalaxies · 4 years ago

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Genesis: Chapter 10: The Heist

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves.

Or, alternatively:

The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

Hisashi stood outside of the abandoned warehouse, hands shoved into his coat pockets to ward off the cold. Once he was finally released from that God forsaken closet, and endured hours of torture from the Matron, that sadistic bitch, he had gotten in contact with the meta-humans he had assisted before. They had finally dug up some information about his mother, and wanted to deliver it to him in person. He scrubbed his face with his hands. Hisashi was so, so tired. Back to back sleepless nights were starting to wear on him. Even his little brother, ever the oblivious one, was starting to worry, but Hisashi just shrugged off his fussing with meaningless placations. If their mother had gotten the mafia’s attention, chances are Tomura was in danger too. He was far too young to get dragged into this mess, Hisashi didn’t want his naivete, his innocence, to be washed away by this drab and shitty world. If only he hadn’t stepped away from more underhanded dealings for a while. Maybe then he’d-

No, that train of thought would get him nowhere. Right now, he’d need to focus on extracting as much information as he could, and perhaps find a way to make a quick buck. Tomura had fallen extremely ill in the last few days, since his medicine had run out. Not only was his brother bedridden, but angry red scaly patches had begun to appear all over the boy’s skin, seeping and weeping and causing his baby brother to whimper at the slightest touch. He’d been running a fever for the past several days, and any time Hisashi hadn’t spent in class or frantically texting Matt in hopes of a job, he’d be by Tomura’s bedside, reading him comic books and weaving stories to keep him distracted. Occasionally Tomura’s friends would stop by to visit, and Hisashi often had to shoo them away to make sure his sibling got some much needed sleep. Hopefully replenishing Tomura’s medications would get at least some of his symptoms to go away, but this all seemed new. Never in his life had Hisashi seen his brother in such a grotesque state.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and pushed open the wooden doors of the warehouse. Absentmindedly, he found himself thankful for his gloves, he would have acquired an absurd amount of splinters by now otherwise. It seemed the meta-humans had dropped whatever dramatic pretense they had from the first few times they met, as they were lounging around casually on crates. Amy seemed to be in a heated debate with Michael about something asinine. Raquel was nervously shuffling through a manila folder, and his head snapped up when Hisashi entered the large room. The teen nearly shot into the air when a hand clapped his maimed back, causing pain to course through him. He glanced over his shoulder only to see Bjame.

“Thank you,” the giant of a man said, bushy face sincere.

Hisashi quickly composed himself, “It wasn’t much. Just a job and nothing more,” he glanced at Raquel, who was making his approach, “I trust you’re finally upholding your side of our bargain?”

Raquel nodded, “Yes, it took us a little while to obtain these files from our contact in the government. Whoever your mother was, her folder was under pretty tight security.”

Hisashi took the folder from the office worker’s hand and hummed, “Your contact?”

“Classified,” Raquel replied curtly, “Now, I assure you that none of us have looked at this file, we know well enough to respect your privacy.”

“Much appreciated,” Hisashi said, and tucked the file into his jacket, “It was a pleasure doing business with you.” It had not been a pleasure, in fact, Hisashi had spent a decent chunk of his time fantasizing about various ways to knock Amy down a peg while he was locked up in the janitor’s closet. But what the meta-humans didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Amy let out a loud, frustrated noise, phone in hand.

“What is it?” Raquel asked.

“Dipshit cancelled on us, said it was too high risk,” she spat, glaring at her device like it existed to spite her.

Michael frowned, “But tonight’s our only window, the feds are getting smart.”

“You think I don’t know that?!”

Hisashi pursed his lips, this could be quite the fortuitous opportunity, “What did you need him for?”

“Whasit to you?” Amy replied, and pushed herself from her perch, sneakered feet landing on the cement floor with a soft thump.

“Well,” Hisashi started, crossing his arms, “it just so happens that I’m in need of some cash, for the right price I could step in and help.”

“What’s your price?” Raquel asked. Amy shot him a betrayed look.

“What’s the job?” Hisashi inquired.

Raquel hesitated for a moment, a variety of expressions flickering on his frown-lined face. Finally, he settled on an answer, “We’re disrupting a shipment to the Air Force base. The military is getting antsy, they’re preparing for something. Something big.”

Hisashi hummed as he mulled it over, if nothing else, Matt could find the information interesting, “What’s the shipment?”

“Weapons,” Raquel supplied, “We’ll be able to stock the resistance’s armory while keeping them out of those thugs hands.”

“Alright,” he replied, because fuck it, he couldn’t bear to see Tomura spend another night in that miserable state, “I’m in, how much are you paying?”

“Well,” Raquel huffed, “It’s not as if we’re well funded. We can probably put together about three hundred dollars or so.”

Hisashi raised an eyebrow, that wasn’t a lot, especially for something so high risk. But on the other hand, that was about enough to cover his little brother’s most important prescription. He’d be around two hundred dollars short, but it wasn’t like any better options were coming out of the woodwork. “I’ll take it, but I’d like a pick of one of their weapons as well.”

“You have a deal,” Raquel replied, and they shook hands, “We were planning on leaving after dropping off the file with you, but seeing as how the plan’s changed, you’ll have to squeeze into the van with us.”

The teen nodded, indicating to Raquel that he should continue.

“We’re to intercept the armored vehicle on the freeway, there’s some others who will be meeting us there and helping out. Amy over here,” Raquel jerked his head towards the girl, “already coordinated with our other team to plant bombs under the escort. Getting them stopped will be the simple part, but fighting off their goons and escaping? It’s going to get tricky. I hope you know how to fight.”

Hisashi waved off the man’s concerns, “I’ll be fine. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

-@~*^*~@-

The van’s tires screeched on the sun-bleached asphalt as it swerved around the freeway to avoid flaming wreckage and other cars. Hisashi grasped onto the grab handle above the window for dear life, knuckles white, in a vain attempt to keep himself from violently slamming into Bjame or worse, the door next to him. It was a wonder they had gotten the vehicle started. According to Michael, the hunk of junk was hotwired and stolen from an impoundment lot. It was held together with duct tape, spit, and prayer. He winced when he heard the metal death trap give a pained howl as it flew down the road. If he hit the car door it was over, this thing couldn’t handle a stiff breeze, nevermind a full-body slam.

The plan almost had gone off without a hitch. Almost. They’d managed to cut off the armored vehicle from its escort with some strategically placed cars. It all went to hell when Amy - God knows why the group decided to make her the driver - had detonated the explosives before they could get the target through an exit and into backstreets like planned. From there, everything descended into fire and chaos. Hisashi pinched the bridge of his nose, this entire thing had been counterproductive from the start, blowing the vehicle up was just going to absolutely ruin whatever they wanted to attain. Clearly, this little rebellion was in desperate need of competent leadership. He’d just have to see this job through, even if the execution made him want to silently scream. To keep himself grounded, he thought of the way his brother had looked that morning: pale and sickly and so, so frail.

He let out a sigh of relief as the van screeched to a halt, Finally. The teen slid the van door open, and sneered when it instead landed on the freeway with a clang. So much for stealth and subtlety, not that it had been an option when they blew up one of the busiest freeways in LA.

Before rushing towards the armored vehicle like his less intelligent companions, he took a moment to examine his surroundings. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon - that wouldn’t do, he’d be late coming back and the Matron would have his head - casting the world into a dark blue glow. Cars were strewn across the road like discarded toys, some crumpled and smashed like recycled soda cans. A flaming tire rolled across Hisashi’s field of vision, and amusedly he was reminded of tumbleweeds in old western films. It was a wonder that they’d gotten out of that unscathed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few survivors poking bloodied heads out from the wreckage, it looked like they would have to put on a good show.

Ah, Hisashi thought, there they are. The warped metal carcasses of the vehicle's escort lay on the far side of the freeway, where the rebels had just come from. There was a pretty high chance that there would, like in the other wrecks around him, be a surprising amount of survivors. Of course, the soldiers could have died agonizing deaths and would no longer be an issue, but Hisashi refused to get his hopes up. Life had never dealt him an easy hand before after all. They'd likely have a few minutes, tops, before the escort would get over their shock, recuperate, and retaliate.

Not wishing to be on the wrong end of a stream of bullets, Hisashi hurried towards the armored vehicle, where Bjame was working to pry open the bent metal. “We should get into cover,” Hisashi pointed out, sparing Raquel a glance.

“We’ll have cover once we get this thing open, dumbass, now shut up and make yourself useful,” Amy hissed. She was digging through what looked to once have been the driver’s seat.

Hisashi felt his face sour, but he didn’t deliver the scathing retort burning under his skin. Squabbling like a bunch of preschoolers would get them nowhere. Instead, he opted to join the brat in digging through the wreckage. The driver and the passenger beside him were charred black from the explosion, and various parts of their bodies were scattered along the road. Gross. They hadn’t found much of use, only a busted up altoid tin and melted id cards. Amy had cheered upon seeing the latter, but quickly deflated upon seeing they were mangled beyond use.

Suddenly, he heard what sounded like fireworks coming from opposite sides of the freeway. Hisashi cursed under his breath, but felt thankful that the rest of the group was giving them some cover fire. He glanced at Bjame, whose face was red and veins were bulging from the strain of peeling back metal.

“Oh move out of the way,” Michael said with a roll of his eyes as he lightly pushed the man from the bottom of the car. Hisashi’s eyebrows shot up as Michael’s arm began to glow red, an odd blade forming above his hand. Michael began to use this to cut through the metal like butter.

“Why didn’t you do that earlier?!” Amy shouted.

Michael shrugged, “I wanted to see how long Bjame would keep that up for.”

A bullet pierced the tire above Hisashi’s head, causing air to leak out of it with a low whistle. The teen cringed, and crouched lower to the ground. Thankfully, the metal underside of the vehicle hit the blacktop with a clang. “Try not to brush up against the edges,” Michael warned as he climbed inside, “They’re still hot.”

Hot was an understatement, they were still glowing orange from the heat. Hisashi wondered how Michael’s mutation worked, it seemed to be heat-based, perhaps the blade was made out of some sort of plasma? He was pulled out of his musings when Raquel dragged him out of the line of fire and into the vehicle. Oh. Right. He let out a hiss of pain when the top of the opening brushed against his back, singeing his clothes and burning his already raw skin.

For once in his life, Hisashi was glad to be proven wrong. The weapons were in surprisingly good shape, only a few had been damaged in the explosion. He supposed the government had kept using these trucks for a reason. Glass crunched under his shoes, the cases that had held the weapons shattered in the explosion. It just made it easier to grab what they needed, no need to fumble with locks unnecessarily after all. Hisashi reached for a sleek black pistol and some ammo that he assumed went with it. He glanced around the pseudo-room, it seemed his accomplices had the same thing in mind, they were rather decently armed. Based on how the gunshots grew nearer and the whirring of helicopter blades made his ears ring, they were just in time. Bjame, who’d somehow found a rather burly looking submachine gun, poked the upper half of his body out of the opening and began firing. The others seemed to follow in suit, Hisashi reached up and adjusted his face mask. The world didn’t need to know his identity after all. He stepped out of the wreckage, staying in a low crouch, and began to attempt to pick off any soldiers he could see. Marksmanship had never truly been his strong suit, he preferred to get a lot more… personal with his dirty work.

Still, there was something to be said for the spray of blood and screams that bullets brought out in people. Perhaps he’d need to take up a new hobby. To his left, Hisashi heard Raquel let out a grunt of pain. He spared the man a glance. Shit. A bullet had embedded itself into his hip. Hisashi grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the vehicle, much like how the office worker had done to him only moments before. As he did so a loud bang sounded out to their right, his eyes stung as dust was kicked up into the air. This fucker couldn’t die, he still needed to pay for Tomura’s medicine. However this mess ended, it wouldn’t be pretty. Hisashi tore off his right shirt sleeve and began wrapping it around Raquel’s leg.

“Thank you,” the man gasped.

“Save your energy,” Hisashi snapped, “We need to figure out how to get out of this alive. Any ideas oh wise one? Any way to communicate with your buddies?”

Raquel’s jaw snapped shut, terse.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a new habit it seemed, “Thought so.” Hisashi glanced around the armored vehicle’s cavity, - and no, he was not frantic! - looking desperately for anything that could help them. Finally, his eyes landed on something useful, thank God, and felt his lips stretch into a wide smile. Perfect.

“What?” Raquel asked.

“Don’t worry about it, just stay here,” Hisashi replied curtly, ignoring his elder’s barrage of protests. He winced as another explosion rang out and shook the truck violently. It appeared he’d just have to feed the army a taste of their own medicine. The teen clambered to his feet and reached up into a previously neglected compartment. It was full of grenades, and lots of them. At the very least it would buy them some time to escape. He grabbed an armful, as many as he could hold. “Hey Michael!”

The man looked up, face shifting from confusion to understanding, he got everyone else’s attention. Hisashi distributed the explosives among them while Bjame kept the offensive line busy.

“Hell yeah!” Amy cheered as she lobbed the first grenade, letting out a near deranged cackle when it exploded into a hellish fireball. Hisashi threw one of his own and immediately understood her reaction, it was beyond satisfying. He spared a glance up, trying to figure out what it was exactly that was circling them. Ah, a news helicopter. Vultures.

There was a pounding of footsteps on cement to his left, the explosions gave enough of an opening for their reinforcements to gain ground.

Pain flared into his being and flooded his senses. Holy shit! Holy shit! Hisashi had been shot before, but forgotten how much it hurt. He reached up to his forehead only to find blood. Only a graze but he’d been caught off guard. Silently, he cursed himself for getting distracted again, and returned his attention to the matter at hand. Sirens wailed in the distance. They needed to leave, and leave now.

“Get the weapons and run!” an unfamiliar voice shouted, seemingly struck with the same revelation as Hisashi.

Not thinking twice, Hisashi shoved his weapon into his pockets and grabbed all he could. He gave his companions as many weapons as they could take one by one before he finally took off himself, Raquel slung over his shoulder and a few grenades tucked under his arm. Briefly, he considered flinging an explosive into the vehicle for good measure, so the government couldn't use what was left, but quickly decided against it. He'd have to drop Raquel for that and the man still had some use left.

The relief and euphoria that washed over Hisashi when they finally entered cover with their allies was unparalleled. The rebels loaded what weapons they could into the trucks and fled from the freeway like rats scurrying from a shipwreck. The car ride was bumpy, punctuated by random swerves as they avoided hitting any survivors or busted cars.

Hisashi leaned back into the corner between his seat and the door and let out a deep breath. For a while there, he didn’t think he’d get out alive. There was no way in hell he’d only accept three hundred dollars for this job. He reached a hand inside his coat pocket and pulled out the file he’d received earlier. A sigh of relief. It was intact despite all of the chaos. While his associates worked out how to shake various helicopters off their tails (something about splitting up) he carefully opened the envelope and looked everything over.

At the top of his page was a photo of his mother. Her usually bright eyes and kind smile were completely absent. She looked exhausted, worn down by the world. Name: Hana Shigaraki. Age: 42. Sex: F.

He bit back a frustrated sound building in his throat. Most of the file was redacted. She was listed as an asylum-seeker, fleeing from government persecution. The details explaining why, exactly, the Japanese government was out for her head was a mystery, hidden under blocks of black ink, taunting the teen relentlessly.

They hit a particularly nasty bump in the road, and Hisashi spared a glance up. He grimaced, lovely. A corpse was smattered on the windshield, Michael - who was driving after Amy’s disastrous performance - was trying desperately to get it off to no avail. Begrudgingly, Hisashi closed the file and shoved it back into the manila envelope. That could wait for now.

Finally, after a few swerves and maneuvers that made Hisashi’s toes curl, the unfortunate fellow slid off the windshield and they had visibility again.

“I’m heading to Eastside, hopefully with all the back streets we’ll be able to shake ‘em,” Michael announced, glancing at his passengers through the rear view mirror.

Hisashi tucked the envelope back into his jacket, “That sounds good, any way you’ll be able to drop me off around there unnoticed?” He needed to get back to the orphanage, he was really late. On the bright side, there was a CVS nearby that was open, he should be able to get Tomura’s prescription on the way back and come up with a decent cover story.

Michael hummed, “I’ll try.”

“I know this is more than you bargained for but,” Raquel passed over the promised money, “This is all I can get you for now. Amy’ll contact you when we have something more adequate.”

“Fine,” Hisashi replied sharply. This wasn’t enough, but the rebels had proven to at least be able to hold up their end of deals. They wouldn’t leave him hanging, and if they did? Hisashi knew enough of their intel to stir up trouble. The teen made an effort to get comfortable, this was going to be a long ride.

A/N:

Alternate chapter title: The World’s Worst Uber

I had fun writing this! It was good practice writing action scenes, something I'm still learning how to do decently. Like with the chapter 8, this ended up being longer than anticipated, but I needed to hit every point important to the story. Like usual, feel free to leave a comment, I read and reply to every one of them :D.

AO3

Next Chapter

Chapter Bonus:

Pest

6:00am

[This you? 👀]

[(link to a youtube video)]

[M, I’m using a burner. I can’t go on Youtube.]

[Apparently there was a terror attack

on the 105 today.]

[Fire, death, destruction. I’m impressed!]

[You’ve been busy :D]

[That wasn’t me, I was out getting my brother’s

medicine.]

[Riiiiight]

[Which is why you have that nasty cut on

your face yeah?]

[How did you…?]

[Eyes and ears everywhere, remember? ;)]

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bluefirewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Sky High Mall!AU

Hey, this is an excerpt of something I started for Sky High a while ago but never got around to finishing. I’ve been thinking about this particular work because I might rework it for Julie and the Phantoms one day because it has so much potential. Thought it would be cool to share.

So this is an AU where the kids don’t have powers and they all work at the Sky Shopping Center. It’s a Zach/ Magenta centered story with side Warren/Layla.

It would be Rated T and there is use of language in here. Enjoy!

Magenta didn’t hate her job. But she could admit that it gets pretty tedious at times.

She really shouldn’t complain. It was a huge step up from working at the pet store. At least, here she didn’t have to clean up after guinea pigs and trying to stop kids from eating dog treats.

But it was a summer afternoon and here she was rearranging the wacky greeting cards at the mall book shop when she would rather be at home, maybe catch whatever’s on TV- really anything to keep her mind off of a certain someone...

“Why the long face, Maj?” The purple haired girl snapped out of whatever daze she was in when all of the sudden her best friend, Layla, bounced into the shop, donning her signature pigtails and wide smile.

“Did you scare a customer again?”

“No,” Magenta scrunched her face, taking the excess cards in the box and moving it to the register, “Why does that happen often anyway?”

Layla trailed behind her, maneuvering through the shelves and a couple of customers, “Maybe it’s because you just creep up behind them before you ask if they needed help.”

“Oh good, I thought it’s because I dress like this,” She gestured to her combat boots, ripped stockings, and well of course her half-dyed hair. Magenta knew her outfit didn’t scream, ‘Customer Service’, but she was always down to help a customer find a book. She had pretty much devoured half the books in there, and had reccs from her fellow book-nik friends in case she encountered the other half.

“You’re lucky though. At least, you’re not forced to wear a uniform,” Layla worked at this organic juice bar in the mall food court so of course they would have made her wear something to prepare whatever smoothies they make. The redhead did a little twirl to show off her all green attire, from the shirt, to the pants, and even her blueberry-stained apron tied at her waist.

“But you look so cute,” Magenta tilted her head and pinched her friend’s cheeks, “Like happy broccoli.”

Layla gently brushed away her hand, pouting, “If I wanted to be patronized, I should have stayed at school. But come on, I’m off now. I just wanted to see when you’re on break,”

“Got another hour,” Magenta normally would have been off by now, but she ended up taking the evening shift this week. She wanted to change it up, for reasons that may or may involve avoiding someone who she knew worked the mornings.

“I’ll wait,” Layla leaned against the counter for a second before jumping up, eyes wide, “Oh, did it come in yet?”

Layla was referring to a gardening book that she had put in a request for some weeks ago. That girl had a green thumb through and through. Ever since they were younger, Magenta had the pleasure of sharing her strawberries that her family had grown in their backyard garden. Always the freshest, sweetest thing she had ever tasted and Magenta refused to eat any other strawberry to this day.

“Oh yeah. I think Warren got them in this morning,” She threw her head back to yell at her coworker who was stationed on the opposite side of the register, “Yo, Peace?”

If Magenta scared the customers, then Warren Peace straight up terrified them. The older guy was somehow wearing a long sleeve red shirt, slashed at the elbows, and leather, fingerless gloves on this June afternoon and seemed to glower over at everyone who would dare interrupt him from his latest reading.

At least, Magenta would smile at the patrons and actively tried to assist them. He mainly stayed behind the counter and rang people up and would occasionally restock the shelves that were a little too high for either Magenta or their manager, Jeannie, to reach.

She liked working with Warren. He knew just as much about books as her and it was fun to go on and on about their favorite authors, which of the classics were just over-glorified insights of the white man’s mind- stuff like that. Also, she was pretty sure that Warren had her beat with snarky remarks and could keep up with her sick sense of humor.

The long haired dude looked up from the book he was reading, eyes squinting at the two girls. “Purple. Hippie,” he addressed, annoyed to be ripped away from George Orwell.

Layla waved, dismissing his souriness, “Where’s the stuff from this morning?” Magenta asked.

“In the back. Where it’s supposed to be,”

Magenta pursed her lips, “Oh sorry, I mean, can you be a doll and get it for us?”

“No,”

Layla leaned over to rest her chin on the counter, “Please, Warren?” she batted her eyelashes for good measure.

Warren looked into her brown eyes and Magenta knew it was over. The boy growled before uttering out a “Fine!”, slamming his book on the table and stalking off to the back room.

Magenta whistled, impressed, “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Get him to do stuff,” This hadn’t been the first time Warren did something un-Warren like for Layla’s sake. Magenta could count with one hand how many times Warren would actually do what was asked of him, and most of those times involved Layla in some way.

“I ask nicely. You should try it,”

“I didn’t think Hothead over there responds to nice,” Magenta noted a customer waiting to pay for their books and hopped over the counter to reach the register,

“...Has a stick so far up his butt that if you’d lip lock with him, you’ll get splinters,” she winked in Layla’s direction, “And I’m pretty sure you wanna do that regardless,”

Her friend flushed instantly at the insinuation, “Shut up.”

“Make me, Broccoli,”

She took the books from the customer and began ringing them up. The man looked to be a regular so she knew he was used to her weird antics around the store. Magenta thought for sure the stick up the ass comment would have repulsed any other old man. He merely chuckled at their interaction.

Magenta was beginning to catch on that Layla was crushing on her coworker, but figured that what was stopping her from pursuing it had been the fact that Warren is friends with her ex, Will. Her and Will were on good terms, of course, having known each other longer than Magenta had known Layla. But like, Bro Code and everything- she didn’t want to make it weird.

“Okay, someone has a bit of an attitude today. Something’s up,”

“Have a nice day” Magenta bid the customer a goodbye and handed him his bag of books before turning to Layla, “and no, I’m fine.” She shut the drawer till harder than intended which earned a side eye from the red head.

Warren emerged from the back room with a big book, sliding it over to Layla on the counter, “Here you go, Hippie. One, Gaia's Garden: A Guide to Home-Scale Permaculture, 2nd Edition.”

“Thank you so much,” Layla sent a grateful expression his way and Magenta swore that the brooding boy’s lips almost quirked into a small smile… like a real one.

Layla pulled out her wallet and handed the money over to Magenta, rattling off ecstatically about this book she was dying to get, “Been trying to get a hold of this forever. Trying to do a more polyculture type of gardening because I learned it would soon develop an environment where there’s no need for pesticides,” she glanced at Magenta, “You know how I feel about pesticides.” At which, the purple-haired girl nodded.

“I heard the whole, line by line, neat way of laying down crops is just Euro-centric, colonizer bullshit anyway,” Warren remarked which made Magenta raise an eyebrow.

“Since when do you know shit about gardening?”

Her co-worker waved her off. Layla appeared to be surprised and a bit impressed that Warren knew something about her field of interest, “Warren is right though. The whole polyculture gardening is much more sustainable and we do look to Indigenous cultures for that technique.”

Then, Magenta watched as her two friends were engaged in some sort of awkward stare-off, with one of them breaking the gaze to either tuck a hair back or just to switch between looking at the other or looking at the floor. It was cute.

It made her sick.

She groaned out loud, “Do you guys have to do that here?”

That brought them out of that, Warren hurried off to his side of the counter, back to his book and Layla turned to her friend, exasperated, “But seriously though, Maj- what’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” she gave Layla her change and the receipt for the book, making a move to get away from the register.

“Maybe it’s because she just saw her ex walking around with a new girl,” Warren casually remarked as he turned a page.

Traitor!

Magenta whipped around to glare at him, but alas he was too preoccupied with Big Brother at the moment.

Layla’s eyes widened, mouth gaping, “No,” she turned to Warren, “Where?”

“Food Court,” he replied, sounding disinterested but Magenta knew he was taking some sick pleasure from this.

“Are they still there?”

“Jesus, Layla. I don’t know!” Magenta threw her hands up in the air.

Thankfully, the store was clear for now. They honestly didn’t get a lot of traffic around this time. She wouldn’t be too stoked for everyone in the store to know her relationship woes.

“I’m fine though. It’s no big deal.” she tried to assure Layla, but her friend was not having it.

She placed her hands on Magenta’s shoulders, “I know it’s been months, but you don’t have to be over it just yet. It’s gonna be hard seeing him with someone else, of course,”

“It’s not hard seeing him. Just annoying,”

“When Will and I had ended things, of course it was good and it was for the best, but like seeing him with his girlfriend was weird at first. But I got used to it,”

Magenta sighed, getting where Layla was coming from but it was different, “Yeah, but you and Will played out differently. Lash and I… we crashed and burned.”

She had dated Lash for a good while, like around 5 months. It had been the longest relationship she had been in, and it had started off so well. They had even met here at the mall when she had first started working at the book shop and he started at the skate shop.

They had a lot in common back then, never minding getting up to mischief and always doing spontaneous things with him. Things that she certainly was not proud of and had earned her a certain reputation at school.

But Magenta could admit that she had been a different person back then when she was with him. Someone she didn’t want to be again. But still, seeing him again after the breakup, with another girl still stung. Even though it was her who broke it off.

She should have known what it was gonna be like, dating an older guy- an incoming senior now- but she thought it meant he was gonna be more mature and that he was gonna be more upfront with her. It unfortunately had meant the exact opposite.

“You can’t help it. You like bad boys. Been that way ever since I met you,”

“I just like people who don’t take shit from people. They just happened to be wearing chains on their jeans and maybe sporting a juvie record,”

Magenta seemed to have a preference, but all for good reason. If she ended up with some goodie two shoes, it was gonna be this morality contest where he would end up judging all the shit she had done, like her own couple stints with the law. She’d rather hang with people who didn’t judge her, and that meant those who have done things just as bad or even worse than her.

“Then how come you haven’t hit up Warren yet?” Layla asked, with mild curiosity.

“He reads Hemmingway, And likes it,” Magenta’s face scrunched up in disgust, “Also, there’s a thing as being too on brand. I just know that it’s not gonna work. We’re too much alike.”

“Nah. Warren’s so much nicer,” Layla’s hands were still on her shoulder and she playfully swatted them away, “You know what? I’ll catch you later. I don’t wanna sit in here for an hour in my own stickiness.” she gestured to all the fruit stains all over her clothes just as a family came in to browse the store.

“Ew, Layla. There are children in here,”

The redhead gave an unamused grin at the innuendo before walking out of the store, calling out to Warren,“Make sure she doesn’t do anything reckless while I’m gone!”

“Not my job,” The long haired boy called from his seat, “Not like I can stop her.”

‘Fuck you,’ she mouthed at her coworker before going off to see if Jeannie needed her to do anything else around the shop. It was only 4 o clock but she knew it was gonna be a long rest of her shift.

#sky high #sky high movie #sky high 2005 #magenta sky high #zach sky high #zach braun #magenta lewis #zach/magenta #magenta/zach #zach x magenta #magenta x zach #guineaglow #sky high au #sky high fic idea #fic excerpt #i don't know if I'll ever finish it

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tyrustrash · 6 years ago

Text

Is there anything you want to tell me?

The night sky is full with stars lighting the ground below. Fireflies make their trips across all the yards, showcasing the illumination their lights make. Crickets chirp melodies, even making sure to be in tune with all the other wild noises. Everything about this night demonstrates the natural beauty the world has and how when working together, something beautiful can be created. Cyrus went to the side of his house and grabs a few pieces of chopped wood. He nearly scrapes himself due to not wearing gloves, and might've given himself a splinter. He knew he should've worn some sort of protection, not just because of handling wood but also from the chill atmosphere of the night. The breeze was the reason for the fire that Cyrus had started. Cyrus was enjoyed the calm night experience to attempt to relax. The fresh scent of the night world and all the noises helped him clear his mind. However, he could do without the cold weather and the sometimes harsh breezes. Cyrus chucked a few pieces into the fire. He sits back down on his bench, placing the remaining wood chucks to his side. He looks at his hands and notices a few small scrapes with a little blood. He wipes it off on his pants and puts his hands in his jacket pockets. His parents were right about hand protection, but the only pair of gloves he owns are from TJ, and didn't want to be reminded of him. After everything that the two of them went through, TJ just had to throw it all away for a girl he barely knew. A girl he had met one day and decided it was worth leaving a six month friendship. If costume day wasn't enough, TJ brought her to their special spot. He didn't know what to think, or what to do about it. He tried avoiding him, but he kept finding them together, seemingly enjoying themselves. Eventually he assumed they were dating, of course, why wouldn't they be. TJ is the cutest boy in the school, no wait, in the entire universe. Kira is kinda cute in a way, if he was into girls. Two cutes make a couple. Even though TJ had told him they weren't a thing, seeing them swing said otherwise. What hurts the most was the swings were Cyrus's place. He shared it with TJ because he felt something between them. It was where they could go to be themselves, without fear or embarrassment. And TJ ruined everything when he brought Kira there. A soft rustle on the grass startled Cyrus. He jumps to the other side of the bench and covers his eyes. He opens his fingers so that he could see. Through the small opening he gave himself, he sees a squirrel nibbling on an acorn. Cyrus sighs and returns to his usual side. He leans over the side to pet the animal, but the squirrel scurried off. While he was too preoccupied with the squirrel, Cyrus couldn't hear the other noise coming from behind him. Next thing he knew a familiar boy took the seat next to him. Cyrus wasn't sure about what to say. He has the blankest stare and stared TJ in the eyes. The basketball boy looks like he had been crying, which Cyrus couldn't handle and looked at the ground. "What do you want? Why are you even here?" TJ adjusts himself. He brings his legs together, hands in his lap. Unlike Cyrus, TJ couldn’t look away. He was so fixated on Cyrus that it physically hurts him to think about the pain he caused his friend. He feels like he deserves the pain, to justify what he made Cyrus feel. TJ moves his eyes along Cyrus’s body, noticing the position he’s in. He looks scared, upset, but mostly hurt. He gets a glance at the boy’s hands. He lets out a worried gasp as he could see some blood. Although it wasn’t much, he couldn’t help but to think of the worst. “Where are your gloves?” TJ asks in a calm tone. His voice cracked and it made Cyrus twitch from hearing him upset. “Do you need me to get you some?” “You already did.” Cyrus quietly replies. He puts his hands back in his pockets. “That’s why I’m not wearing any.” TJ sighs. He returns his glance to Cyrus’s face, taking notice of the shifting emotions. “I’m sorry.” “What else is new. You keep saying that but you keep ditching me for Kira.” “I wasn’t ditching you. I’ll be by myself and she’ll just show up.” “Then why don’t you tell her to leave?” Cyrus manages to say, this time looking at TJ. This time he’s the one crying. TJ wipes his own face. “How many times do I have to apologize?” “3000 times.” “I’m sorry 3000.” Cyrus barely lets out a chuckle. One that TJ couldn’t pick up. It didn’t matter how cute that reference was, it wasn’t enough. “You didn’t answer my question. If you really don’t want to keep having her around, why don’t you tell her? Why do you just accept her barging into your life?” The tears started coming out. There wasn’t any use holding them in any longer. TJ tried staying strong like he said he would, but it was now to a point where it is now or never. He never thought it would be like this he imagined telling him at their spot, on a sunny day, preferably eating ice cream. It was supposed to be smooth, if Cyrus was accepting. But why wouldn’t he? He was alright with the gun, so he should be fine with knowing his secret. Well, part of his secret. The other part was what he was scared to say. TJ took in a deep breath and exhaled. The cold air caused him to see his breath. It dissolved in the air seconds later. Before he said anything, he looked right into Cyrus’s eyes. After seeing the the disappointment, TJ turned and and started beating his head while sobbing. “I can’t! I’m so stupid! If I say it you’ll never want to be my friend again!” Without thinking, Cyrus grabs TJ’s hands, preventing him from severely hurting himself. “TJ, calm down. It can’t be that bad, right? Not as bad as the gun.” “Worse.” Cyrus’s mouth dropped open. Now his mind couldn’t slow down. What could possibly be worse than being placed with a wild kid with a gun? Did TJ do something that was even more illegal? He attempted to let go of TJ’s hands, but didn’t. He somehow felt comfort this way. TJ didn’t bother looking at Cyrus as he explained. “Kira is blackmailing me.” Along with shaking his head in disbelief, Cyrus pats TJ’s hands. “What? How? What could she possibly have against you? You’re the honest and sweetest person I know.” Silent tears trail down TJ’s face, watering the grass beneath them. His lips quivered. “I’m gay.” Cyrus silently gasps, not wanting to believe him. He didn’t know of this was a joke and was secretly planning to make him feel worse. He didn’t have time to intervene because TJ continued talking. “Cyrus, I haven’t been my full self around you. It’s been so hard to spend time with you knowing I was keeping the biggest part of who I am a secret. Each day it kills me. And what kills me even more is that I care about you, a lot. I have feelings for you, Cyrus Goodman. Feelings that boys shouldn’t have for one another. I tried to deny it, hold it back, but I can’t change what’s going on. Kira found out and threatened to put me to the school if I didn’t hang with her. I wish I was strong enough to be myself, but I’m just weak. I was scared that if you knew, you wouldn’t want to be friends anymore. I can’t believe that I’m about to say this, but I need to be completely honest. I love you.” TJ couldn’t stop crying. His face is completely soaking wet from the tears. Cyrus pulls out a handkerchief and offers it to him. “Thanks for telling me.” “Is there anything you want to tell me?” Cyrus froze in place. Not because of the weather, but out of concern if he knew. Why else would he ask? “Like what?” “Like how do you feel? Weird? Grossed out? Angry?” None of those, to be exact. Cyrus couldn’t ever be angry at TJ. Sure, he’s been upset these past few weeks because of Kira, but now that he knows the truth, he couldn’t feel anything other than hope. “TJ, all I have to say is that you’re not alone.” TJ looks at Cyrus, confused. Cyrus reaches his hand out and stopped at the halfway point of the bench. TJ caught on and moves his and ends up on top of his. They maneuver a bit until they’re in the hand holding position. Cyrus scoots over, TJ did the same. Cyrus leans over and rests on TJ’s rights side with his head on his shoulder. The warmth from TJ is all that Cyrus needs in this cold world.

#andi mack #tyrus #fanfiction

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razorblade180 · 5 years ago

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Lasting Embers pt16: Flowers of the sand

[Atlas military airship]

*tap tap tap tap tap tap tap......*

Illia:*Flying the ship*.............

*tap tap tap ta-*

Illia:Sienna if you don’t sit still right I swear.....

Sienna:*stops tapping her chain on the metal wall* S...sorry ma’am..... *ears fold down, puts her hands in her lap*

Illia:Sigh, thank you. *focuses on the radar*

*creeeeaaaaaakkkkk!*

Sienna:........*fidgeting in her seat*

Illia:Sienna!!!

Sienna:Can you blame me!!!? I’m currently sitting in airship hoping that somehow we’ll make it back home before I find my home up in flames by crazy cult leaders. Who have a head start on us by the way!

Illia:Relax, we’re flying the personal airship of the Schnee family. There’s no aircraft that can fly faster.

Sienna:Yet it’s still gonna take hours to get home. *slouching in her seat*

Illia:Hmph, if I didn’t know any better I’d think that you believe your foster mom couldn’t handle a few lowlives.

Sienna:Just because she’s a maiden doesn’t make her invincible. Besides, odds are she won’t be the only one fighting...

Illia:Jael will be fine; I mean she’s 15 and pretty talented. I’ve seen her keep you on your toes and you’re six years older than her.

Sienna:*mumbles* excuse me for not having a semblance or anything. I’d be amazing too if I could do the things she does.

Illia:*pokes her side* Stop moping, you are amazing too. You are our youngest Sinister Shadow to be recruited after all; also I can I think I’m pretty and I don’t have a semblance.

Sienna:*small smile* Thank you ma’am. It’s just not all cult members are exactly normal. *gestures to her eyes and hands* and they’re in menagerie of places.

Illia:*watching the sunset* We should be there a little after dark and hopefully they’ll be in the desert at the end of dusk. Grimm tend to get more rambunctious at night; I don’t they can control them if this is just some splinter group.

Sienna:That’s a dangerous assumption....

Illia:I know...*biting her lip* we’ll just have to cross our fingers for the time being; and hope if someone encounters them that they know where to stab.

Sienna:Sigh.....*crossing her fingers* hell of a first mission. (Please let it end on a high note)

[Desert Oasis]

*Jael wearing a black kimono with a dark red sash that matches her long hair. An ice box on her left while a fishing pole and tackle box are on her right*

Jacquelyn:Awww I haven’t seen you wear that in awhile. You look lovely.

Jael:*tying her shoes* I got a feeling your opinion might be little biased.

Jacquelyn:Maybe a tiny bit; I guess you’re going into town?

Jael:I gotta return the fishing gear to Deloris. Not to mention *shakes a pill bottle with one capsule rattling inside* refill.....

Jacquelyn:That prescription seemed like it didn’t last as long. You sure you’re okay; maybe we should up the dosage or-

Jael:*standing up* Mom.....I’m fine, honest. I got a little more worked up this month more than usual is all.

Jacquelyn:.....*rubs her child’s slightly pale face, robbed of its usual peach color from the sun* Maybe I should tag along; you know how the grimm out here love digging tunnels.

Jael:Hmph, I think the white fangs and I have finally realized the pecking order around here. I’ll be back before it gets too late.

*walking out the door with the fishing pole and a bucket hat for her horns; ice and tackle box float behind her*

Jacquelyn:If you happen to see Blake then thank for the clothes she gave you.

Jael:I know, I know. Don’t wait up for me. *closes the door*

Jacquelyn:Pfft, like that’s gonna happen. *looks to her left* Oh geez....

*opens the door*

Jacquelyn:Aren’t you forgetting something!?

Jael:*turns around* Hmm? Oh yeah....

Jacquelyn:*Tossing her a katana and sheath similar to her father’s

*both items slow down mid air and float down to her side*

Jael:Thanks mom *bows slightly and continues walking*

Jacquelyn:*shaking her head* (Hopefully she won’t need it, but better safe then sorry)

[Desert, about an hour into the walk]

Jael:*watching the sunset completely* (Beautiful as usual. I wonder if sis is watching right now) *looks down to see the lively sea port as usual*

*festival lanterns and people filling the streets ahead*

Jael:Guess another festival is happening. Wish I could-

*a small sand mound circling around her*

Jael:Ah, I was wondering when you would show up. *grabs a giant catfish from the ice box*

*A dingo like grimm Jumps our the sand. One eye missing and battle scars on the bone platting around it’s face*

Jael:What brings you around here Alpha? Can’t be me; I’m in a good mood for once...

Alpha:*snarling and bearing its fangs*

Jael:Apparently you are not though. Don’t let it be the reason you don’t make it back to your pack though; sit...

Alpha:*sits like a proper dog, yet still snarls*

Jael:*tosses him the fish that promptly gets eaten* your table manners are about the same. *slowly reaches under his chin to rub it*

Alpha:*snarls calm down a little*

Jael:Good boy, now get out of here before someone finds another reason to avoid me.

Alpha: *points his nose back towards the desert, west of her house. Snarls intensify before diving back into the sand*

Jael:.......*looking in that direction* what has you riled up? Maybe I should-

*pill bottle floats in her face*

Jael:Sigh *grabs it* first things first, meds. *continues her walk*

[Faunus Pharmacy]

Jael:*walks in taking off her hat* Deloris I’m here with your stuff. You in here or do I have to talk with your parents? Please don’t let me have to speak to your parents. *walking down an isle* Dory, you in he-

*A young woman with tough pale blue skin and gills on her neck, face down on the counter sleeping. A life gaurd whistle next to her*

Jael:*Walks up shaking her head* And they say sharks don’t sleep.....Dory wake up, you have a customer. *shaking her*

Dory:Zzzzzzz

Jael:Unbelievable......you asked for this. *grabs the whistle.*

*a small purple orb forming near the mouth piece as she takes a deep breath*

Jael:(A one and a two and a-) *a hand covers her mouth immediately* ........

Dory:*raising her head to reveal sleepy gray eyes* Last time you did that I heard ringing for a week. Why night scream like a normal person?

Jael:Have enough energy to work two jobs. *smiles* good to see you as always.

Dory:Of course it is; you look nice by the way. Showing off your curves I see; I thought you’d be wearing- of course....

Jael:*opens the kimono slightly to reveal Blake’s old V1 clothes* What? They’re comfy and form fitting.

Dory:That top is telling a different story. Looks a size too small; you sure you’re part goat and not cow?

Jael:*red* I should hit you in your nose.

Dory:You want your hand that close to my teeth?

Jael:You mean your baby shark teeth that you still have? Yes

Dory:*snorts* Screw you dude. Hmmm? *spotting gossiping customers*

Jael:*turns around to see them flinch a little and promptly leave*........where they staring at me?

Dory:I mean.....yeah probably. Don’t let it get to you.

Jael:Whatever....*puts on her hat again*

Dory:There’s no way they know about, you know *makes horns with her fingers* I mean besides my parents and I, civilians aren’t allowed to know.

Jael:You’re right but when you live apart from everyone and a few higher up don’t like because they know, rumors run rapid. *clenching her sleeve*

Dory:At least you have the Belladonnas, Mr. Wukong and couple others watching over you.

Jael:I don’t care about being watched if no one is going to listen. What I want is....*takes a breath*......it doesn’t matter.

Dory:......So, any reason you’re here? Don’t get wrong it’s nice to see you, but it’s kinda late.

Jael:.....*points to the floating items around her* you’re joking right? Your fishing gear; also I need my pills.

Dory:Shut up I’m half asleep. You think you put the pole back on the wrack like gravity intended to before you started messing with it. *search for pills*

Jael:*putting it away* You’re just jealous that messing with gravity is cooler than breathing underwater.

Dory:Say that when you’re stranded at sea. I have looked through the F section three times now and can’t find your pills.

Jael:*whispering* Taurus......

Dory:Duh...sorry about that. *tosses her a new bottle* I’m surprised you’re already out; everything okay?

Jael:It will be *taking the final pill from the last bottle* now I can probably sprint home if I wanted.

Dory:Let’s not increase your heart rate for no reason okay?

Jael:Eh, if I’m gonna be a huntress then I gotta test me limits right. *walking away* Later, there’s fish for you in the ice box.

Dory:*opens it to see several huge bass* You’re worth your weight in gold Jael.

Jael:You calling me fat? I’m keeping your whistle by the way. *holding it*

Dory:You can keep the tackle box too; dad won’t notice one missing.

Jael:Cool *grabbing it* night Dory...

Dory:You should invite me fishing sometime. I’d love to see your home.

Jael:You’d eat all the fish off the line.

Dory:*watching her walk away* I’d be trying to eat something alright....

Jael:*blushing* Night Dory!!!! *leaves*

Dory:Hehe (she so wants me)

Jael:(I swear, talks about staying calm one minute and tries getting me worked up the next. Maybe she’s the one who needs meds)

*moon completely out*

Jael:Already this dark huh? Guess I should head back. But first.....*walks in the direction the Alpha pointed to* let’s see what got the old fur ball so grumpy.

•

*Three people roaming the desert in gray cloaks the one on the left a slim frame with gloves on his hands marked with an H. The right one marked with an C and has black veins on her arms; while the middle one was blessed with solid frame as black veins crawl up his arm and pulse around his eyes. The letter M on his hood*

H:How much longer are we gonna trudge in the sand!? My feet feel like they’re getting burned to the bone.

C:Stop your bitching and keeping walking. If it was easy to travel in the desert then it would be a poor hiding spot. Besides *snaps his fingers*

*several wild grimm pop out of the sand, including alpha*

M:It’s why we have scouts to take care of the heavy lifting. Find me the maiden... *eyes glow read*

Alpha:*remains still while the others reluctantly move slowly*

C:Did you not hear us you mutts? *eyes and hand glow* he said-

“Yeah they don’t take orders well...”

HCM:*look ahead*

Jael:*standing on a sand dune* They take orders from the Alpha and he only responds to strongest authority around. Well, or fish.

H:...I’m sorry, who the hell are you? *juggling two machetes*

Jael:Well from the looks of it*pats her life*

Alpha:*backing up to her side while the others remain*

Jael:Apparently I’m the strongest one here.

M:Is that so? *folding his arms* very amusing. A young woman in the wilderness alone that’s so strong a grimm dares not risk harming. I can only think of one person who can be that peculiar. Tell me.....are you the winter maiden?

*moonlight illuminating the vast terrain, shifting sands from a calm wind blows constantly*

Jael:.....In the flesh

M:If that’s the case, die........

#rwby #rwby lasting embers #jael frost #sienna frost #illia amitola #jacquelyn frost

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elym13 · 5 years ago

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Queen’s Gambit Chapter 5

Yes, I know it has been at least a year. Yes, I am terribly sorry. Yes, I shall try to do better, but for now I offer this humble submission. Note the rest of the story is available at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12579895/1/Queen-s-Gambit

Chapter 5

It was surprising to Elsa that the silence bothered her. After all those years, she would have thought that being alone in a room, in the inn near the Ledsham estate, would have been a relief — not a problem. But the silence grated on her nerves, as did the gloves, as did the horrible scenes that flashed through her mind when she thought of Anna. And Elsa had been sitting here alone with her thoughts for hours.

She moved to the window and pushed it open. Behind the inn was a small stand of trees that screened it from the waterfront where they had landed in the very early hours of the morning. Charlotte had secured all of the rooms here, above a small tavern, so Elsa knew she was essentially alone. Carolina and Georg — Michael and Georg she corrected herself — had gone to scout the entrances to the castle. The Comtesse was napping in the room next door.

The open window allowed the breeze to help clear the stuffy room. Cold didn’t bother her, but heat did. Elsa removed her gloves placing them on a side table. Then with her hands on bottom of the window frame she leaned out and took a deep breath of the early fall air, craning her neck for a glimpse of the castle where they hoped, only hoped, that her sister and Kristoff were being held.

This was madness. Anna could be hundreds of miles away from here. She could be hurt, in pain, brutalized. Who knew what her captors were capable of? Anna … Anna could be dead.

The wood of the window groaned as it froze. With a start Elsa pulled her hands from the sill and thrust them outside. A stream of frost and ice shot from her hands into the woods, splintering a tree in its wake. She closed her eyes and tried to control it. Think of something warm, something safe, she chided herself, but that was a difficult task.

At last, she managed to pull the magic back into herself. She shivered, and she felt the trail of a tear running down her cheek. Quickly she pulled her gloves back on and then wiped it away. She was going mad. She needed a drink.

The tavern below the rooms was small, warm, and crowded. There was a carved wooden bar that curved around from the interior doorway, and a few tables scattered around the room. Booths on the outside walls under small windows and a plain red door to the street completed the decor. Elsa felt the urge to flee back up the stairs as soon as she came down them. But she couldn’t stand to be alone anymore, and she was in no mood to try to wake the Comtesse let alone talk to her. Plus she was going to have to deal with strangers in the immediate future without the armor of being royalty. She might as well start doing that today.

Elsa took in her surroundings trying to decide where she should land. The bar was occupied by a line of men, farmers by their dress but not peasants. They wore the dress of people who worked hard but had enough money to enjoy themselves at a bar and had more than one set of clothes to wear when they went there. The booths and tables were occupied by a more mixed crowd. More men than women for sure, but some couples sat with each other enjoying food and drink. Two tables were occupied with what Elsa assumed was a local militia. They were clearly military men, most wearing swords, all in coal black jackets and pants with brilliant silver buttons closing the jackets up to their chins. There were, of course, no other single women. But fortunately there was one empty table, and it was there that Elsa sat.

“What can I get fer ya, luv?” The barmaid called as she deftly avoided the hands of the militia men.

“Wine, do you have wine?”

“Aye.” The barmaid looked Elsa up and down. “But it’s not cheap. I’ll have to open the bottle ya know.”

“Oh, I can … I mean, her Excellency the Countess de Artois has made arrangements.” Elsa decided on the Avalonian version of the title.

“I see.”

Elsa felt the bar maid’s eye pierce into her soul, or whatever place lying came from. It felt strange, insulting … humiliating Elsa thought, to have someone question your word let alone your ability to pay for what you asked for.

“I’ll have to ask him,” the bar maid gestured with her head to the stout man behind the bar, the owner. “Sure you don’t want sumthin’ else?”

“No,” Elsa answered firmly. “Wine, if you please.” She watched the woman saunter away, resisting the urge to send a chill wind up her skirt. Maybe it would warm up her soul.

“Girl, if you need someone to share your wine. Me and the boys would be happy to help.”

It took Elsa a moment to pinpoint who was speaking. But when one of the militia men winked at her, she knew she had her man.

“No, thank you.” She answered and then fixed her gaze across the room. This tavern could use a painting or two.

“We’d even pay fer it if you’d come over here.”

Elsa imagined a fine work she would call “The freezing of The Highlands” as a mural across the far wall.

“Oi, don’t be rude. We just wanna talk.”

The others chimed in, “Don’t mean no ‘arm girlie.” “Didn’t yer mother teach you manners.”

Elsa heard the scraping of a chair and then an unshaven face reeking of beer loomed in front of her.

“Shy then. Hows about we join you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Girl, you can’t drink alone. Ain’t right. Ain’t right a girlie sitting by ‘erself.”

Elsa looked away. Then to her utter surprise a hand fixed itself under her chin and pulled her back.

“Come’on luv. Don’t be that way.”

Elsa went rigid and looked him square in the eyes, furious.

“I will thank you to unhand my wife.”

Everyone at the two tables turned. Fitz took two steps closer intervening between the militia man and Elsa. “Back off, mate. We don’t want trouble.”

Elsa’s assailant moved closer to Fitz. “I ain’t yer mate, and you’re the one making trouble.”

“Please darling, go upstairs,” Fitz gestured up the stairs and gave a reassuring smile to Elsa.

“Caro - Fitz. No. You come with me.” Elsa put her hand on Fitz’s arm and squeezed.

“I can’t, dearest. But I shall be up soon.”

“Dearie, do what yer fella says. You don’t wanna be here when we teach ‘im a lesson.”

Fitz took Elsa’s hand off her arm and gently kissed her palm. “Please, go upstairs.”

“I won’t …”

“Go.” Fitz turned Elsa around and guided her to the staircase. “I shall be right up. You must trust me.”

Elsa sighed but nodded and then ran up the stairs.

*******

Fitz turned back and walked slowly to where militia men were standing. She placed her hand on the pommel of the sword at her side. “Now do we have a problem, gentlemen?”

“No boy, it’s you who is got the problem. You don’t got no manners. Don’t respect the military.” Both tables of the militia got to their feet and closed in around Fitz. “Seems you need a lesson.”

“If you ill-mannered buffoons are representative of the military here, then I don’t see why I should.” She looked around at the men surrounding her. “Cowardly as well, I see.” She poked the ringleader in his chest. “If you can’t stand up for yourself.”

“Mind your words boy. I’ll wipe the floor wid you.”

“Outside! Outside!” the man at the bar yelled. “No fighting in here.”

Fitz nodded at the owner. “Of course, my good man.” She started for the door, forcing her way through the circle of men. “Come now, if you’re so impatient to school me. If you are not a coward,” she remarked over her shoulder as she made her exit.

Once outside she looked carefully at the ground surrounding the tavern. It was dirt, packed by the near constant foot traffic. A good 20 feet was clear and hard, stone and root free, but she wouldn’t need that much. There was a set of posts set off to the right, likely for horses. Fitz carefully folded her coat and placed it atop one. She heard the raucous group coming out the door. She turned and watched them assemble.

“Do you have a second?” Fitz called. She unsheathed her sword rechecking its balance in her hand. It was far and wide the finest sword she had ever held, and it felt like an extension of her arm, a very sharp deadly extension. Steel that was said to be able to cut through other lesser swords. And a gift from her beloved. She would use it well today.

“Loike I need a second, boy.”

Fitz rolled her shoulders feeling her suspenders move and her shirt pull up from its tuck. She would not have to worry about those binding. She noted the traditional military style suspenders on her opponent, two shoulder straps coming together to one strap in the rear. His well muscled arms became apparent as he shed his heavy jacket and tossed it to one of his fellows standing near. His shirt was plain, no stock, as none was necessary with his uniform’s high collar. A collar his thick neck strained against as he brought his sword to the ready.

Fitz brought her blade up in a salute and was not the least bit surprised when the larger man rushed at her with a roar. It was a shame, she thought, she never got his name.

The larger man swung at her head clearly intending a saber cut. He was surprised when Fitz countered by merely moving her head, arm and blade in a quarter turn, interposing her sword between his and her face. Her arm moved back several inches with the force of the blow, but she did not flinch, and he could not reach her. He could not overpower her block even even he leaned in with his heavier body. She blocked his next blow, too, one to the other side of her head, simply by moving her blade, again catching his edge with the flat of her weapon. Her expression was impassive, and if she was working to keep him from reaching her she didn’t show it.

This continued for several long minutes. He tried moving more quickly, swiftly slashing from side to side. He tried varying shots from her head to her body and even one or two to her legs. As he increased his pace his blows had less force, but Fitz knew they were actually more deadly. Finally he tried a lunge at her chest. Fitz allowed his blade to run up hers, deftly deflecting it so it just passed her shoulder. She stopped him when they were hilt to hilt waited until he tried to overpower her one last time and then asked, as they were nose to nose, “Are you done with your lesson?”

When he responded with another grunt and push, she replied, “Good. Now I shall begin mine.”

Fitz pushed back with her weapon but then dropped and ducked under her opponents blade as she disengaged. She turned behind him, and she brought her blade across his back leaving a shallow cut that parted both his suspenders and shirt and left a bloody score in its wake.

The man snarled in pain and whirled. He started a flurry of attacks that Fitz parried while backing up slowly to keep him at range. Then she changed trajectory, abruptly stepping to his left. When he moved his sword to follow her, she feinted a lunge before continuing behind him bringing the tip of her sword across his left side. He swore as blood seeped onto his ruined shirt, but whirled keeping his blade between them. Fitz started a series of slashes at his face and then with a firm double beat dropped her blade. He was forced to block across his body, blade down. Fitz extended and the force of his own block drove her point across his right side. He grunted in pain, and then started a long paragraph of foul language as his pants, no longer held by his suspenders, dropped down around his boots. Fitz thanked whoever was in heaven that he was wearing drawers even if they were not especially clean.

“You bloody cow’s cunt,” the larger man swore. Tripping forward he struck out again at Fitz. This time Fitz easily blocked his blade, disengaged and then performed a backhanded thrust through his hand guard and into his wrist. His hand spasmed and he dropped his sword. Fitz pushed on his hip with her own sending him sprawling. As he went down on his back she kicked his sword aside and then put her left boot on his chest, the point of her sword right over his heart.

“This is not a bloody game,” Fitz said quietly. “It’s life and death. Right now your death.”

“Please,” the larger man begged.

“A quick death here.” Fitz poked at his chest and was rewarded with a small spot of blood that grew slowly. Then she dragged her sword down to his belly, leaving a thin line spreading red, this cut no deeper than the other superficial slashes bleeding into the dirt. “A much less quick death here. Although I will have the pleasure of imagining the pain you will be in as you die, your insides stinking and festering.”

“Please.”

“Or maybe,” Fitz’s blade dropped lower. “I just —”

“Captain Fitzwilliam! Stop that nonsense and come here instantly.” Charlotte’s voice rang out from the doorway.

Fitz sighed and brought her sword up. “You are saved by my employer’s dulcet tones. But I do hope you take your lesson from this.” Then with a nod to his fellows who were standing nearby, eyes wide, afraid to come any closer, she sheathed her sword and walked to the Comtesse.

“Your Excellency, how may I serve you.”

“You can get your arse inside before I have to take a horsewhip to you.”

“I was defending a lady’s honor.” Fitz offered her arm.

“I know what you were doing you idiot. Inside.”

Charlotte dragged Fitz inside and to the bar. Once there she dropped a small pile of gold coins in front of the tavern owner.

“I will thank you in advance for your discretion. And I would appreciate it if after these fine people finish their dinners, you might close for the night.”

“Oh, but nights my best time for business — with the drinking and all.”

Charlotte added more coins to the pile.

“How could I ever refuse a lady such as you, your Grace?”

“Good. And if you would bring dinner and two bottles — no four bottles — of your best wine upstairs to my room.”

***************

“How much of a simpleton are you?” Charlotte turned on Fitz once they were in her room. “I am sure the news of a brilliant duelist who humiliated a man at the “Drunken Ox,” or whatever this hellhole is called is not going to remain a secret. We were trying to be discreet.”

“Spotted Cow,” Elsa corrected, then she turned on Fitz, “Carolina, what did you do to that man?”

“He needed a lesson both in swordplay and in how not to offend a lady.”

“But did you …”

Charlotte cut Elsa off. “And you. What in god’s earth were you doing? First you freeze the forest, and then you go unaccompanied into a bar! Women do NOT go into a bar alone unless they want that — ” Charlotte waved her hand “ — sort of attention.”

Elsa ignored the Comtesse,“I will not have you dueling in my name!”

“Do you not understand that the number of women in the world who can produce ice magically is somewhat limited?”

“Luv, I will not have wretched scum insulting you or any woman.”

“You promised not to duel.”

“In Arendelle. I will not slay your subjects, which really isn’t a problem since they do not insult you. But here this is what one does unless one is a coward.”

“For god’s sake, the two of you. Shut up!” Charlotte raised her voice as much as she felt was wise. “You,” she pointed at Fitz, “Keep that damn —

sword in your sheath until we need it. You,” now Charlotte pointed at Elsa,“Fitz does these things for some god forsaken sense of honor that she holds dear, and that she doesn’t in your kingdom is quite a measure of her love. Also please don’t freeze things.”

Fitz’s tone turned to contrition,“It was my fault, Charlotte. I shouldn’t have left her alone for so long. And she’s never been in a tavern, well one that doesn’t have her portrait on the wall.” She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Discreet,” Charlotte muttered, as she gestured for Fitz to open the door. It was a pair chamber maids knocking. They carried both the wine and their dinner, two roast chickens with potatoes and some cabbage dish. “Discreet,” she said again pouring herself a large glass of wine once the maids had left. “A discreet surveillance of the castle. Discreetly making our way into the bosom of Ledsham.” She glared at Fitz. “Georg is in his room NOT causing a fuss. So you will at least tell us what you found. Then you can go tell him dinner is served.”

Fitz took Elsa’s hand in hers and addressed the queen directly. She noted Elsa was again wearing the gloves. “It is very highly likely Anna and Kristoff are here. There are an inordinate number of guards. Two different regiments by the look of it. One being Ledsham’s own, which numbers about fifty men and two sergeants in its permanent full-time configuration and nearly one hundred with three officers at full strength. Then there is another, formed of the same blackguards who accosted you, in those black uniforms. They don’t belong to Ledsham. I don’t recognize them as any regiment from Avalon, and I know them all.”

“What?” Charlotte was surprised.

“Foreign or mercenaries, or quite probably both.” Fitz now turned to Charlotte. “That’s expensive and supports the idea that something in that castle is important enough to guard. That in turn suggests that Anna and Kristoff…” Fitz hesitated, ”That they are well enough to need guarding.”

“Thank goodness,” breathed Elsa, relief evident in her voice.

“Indeed,” agreed Charlotte.

Fitz continued, “We spent most of the day watching the front gate. It’s locked shut and under guard.”

“Not the best news, even if it supports your previous theory.” Charlotte tapped her lips with her forefinger.

“But in the morning, from quite early until almost noon, there is a lot of traffic. Food deliveries and what not. And some servants aren’t resident, so they are coming in as well. ”

“I would bet substantial sums that the guards get tired of unlocking and locking the gate. Plus there will be the confusion of two chains of command.”

“Indeed,” Fitz agreed, “Although the guard will be composed of the best men.”

“At let’s say, 7 am? Do you think the sergeant will reward his best men with an 7 am watch?”

“I would. If the mission needed my best.”

“Yes, and I note you were an excellent officer. In your opinion is that true of Ledsham’s?”

Fitz thought and then shook her head no. What she recalled included capricious orders and blatant favoritism. Of course any unit reflected it’s head. A head that in this case might well be decorating the King’s outer bailey.

“And at any rate,” Charlotte stated, “I would certainly favor my grit in a battle of wills against any non-commissioned foot-soldier.”

Fitz chuckled, “Indeed, they do not stand a chance.”

Elsa was still thinking of Anna and Kristoff. “They are alive, and we’ve found them.” She felt tears of relief welling in her eyes. Fitz pulled her close into a hug and stroked her hair. “And now we will get them back.”

A/N: Art by Comickergirl; Patronage by @grrlgeek72, who was also the fine hostess at my artistic retreat when I was able to walk, think, visit the lake, and most importantly write. Proofing by @grrlgeek72 and @thegeekogecko, but all errors are because I ignored them adn continued to write.

#frozen fanfiction #FitzElsa #myfanfic #elsa/oc

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dukeofishgard · 7 years ago

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His footsteps, as always, alerted her to his arrival. He was never one for being quiet to begin with, and right now... "Hatsu." His voice, while loud and clear - betrayed a hint of fear that immediately had her on edge, "Hatsu, I need some things from you."

The young Raen girl immediately turned around in her chair, standing up and then looking at the man before her in shock, "G-Grandfather. Are you- gods what happened to you? You need to see a doctor- get yourself bandaged up- you- what did you do to yourself?!" She moved forward, pulling out a handkerchief to try and dab at the bloodied cloth of his shirt. He pushed her arm away though, taking a step back, "Hatsu, please. I will go and get mended after I take care of something. I hardly feel this right now, adreneline probably. It's not as though I am in danger of bleeding to death." Hatsu quickly shot him an annoyed glance, moving forward again to press the cloth against his torso, "I can at least stop you from dripping blood all over the floor,' she murmured, "You probably left a trail all throughout the manor. But, tell me what it is you need me to do. Sooner I help you, the sooner... the sooner you will see a doctor." The older man was quiet for a moment, looking down at her - and she tried her best to keep her surprise at seeing his red eyes gleaming with tears. "First part is easy..." he said softly, tearing his gaze away, "...I need you-I need you to remind me of my name." That made her pull away, bringing the bloodied cloth to her chest in shock, "Your name? Grandfather... you haven't- you never ask that. Why, I cannot think of that last time you came to us needing to be reminded. You said that-" "I know. I know what I said, Hatsu," he said gently, "All the same, I need you to remind me. Please." His eyes found hers again, and she was struck by the sudden, queer loneliness and fear that seemed to fill them. She swallowed nervously, bringing her hands down and then cleared her throat. "...Lucien," she said after a moments hesitation, "Your name was once Lucien, grandfather." He nodded, looking away again, "Right. Lucien. You are correct." he winced slightly as she moved forward again, avoiding his gaze as she began to slowly peel away his ripped shirt to take a better look at the wound in his torso. "What else?" she asked simply. He cleared his throat, "Right. Right. I... I need you to open up the East Wing's chambers. Or just give me the key, I can do it mysel-" That made her stop completely, her brows knitting in concern. A sudden, odd fear had taken ahold of her at the mention of that area of the manor. His behavior was enough to worry her, but his sudden interest in his name, and now that room... "...Grandfather. Why there. Why do you need to-" He cut her off, shaking his head, "Hatsu. Please. I do not need questions right now." The sound and tone of his voice did nothing to stop the cold fear that ran through her, and she bit her lip nervously before turning around abruptly and moving to her desk to open up the bottom drawer. She pulled out a small box, setting it down on the desk before hesitating for a moment. "Hatsu-" "...Just. Whatever is going on, grandfather. Please don't-" her voice trembled for a moment, and she willed herself to continue speaking without tearing up, "You've people- that want to help you. Who, who care about you. I know, I know there have been others in the past. But... th-this time, these people. This family- they want to help you. Not just... keep you around as a prize, or a pet." His expression softened slightly, and he gave her a small smile before nodding, "I know that. That's why I need to- to do this. Alright? I promise, I am not doing anything rash or dangerous." She nodded, taking in a deep breath before opening the box and digging around for a moment before pulling out, and holding over an old, brass key. Despite it's clear age, it still seemed to be well-kept and the man took the key with no hesitation - immediately turning and leaving the room without another word. --------- He stood in front of the intricately carved wooden door with apprehension - the key dangling loosely from his fist as he tried to calm his nerves. His other hand was clenched tight - a small, round silver ring digging into his skin - even through the gloves he wore. "It will be there," he murmured softly, taking a step forward - bringing the key up to the lock, "It will be there, right where you locked it away. What you hold in your hand is just a trick, an illusion. In a few days it will be nary but a rock." He stuck the key into the lock, twisting it and then gently pushing the door open. The room, was... despite it's age - well kept. He had requested it be kept as such. Once a year, turn everything over, clean the windows, dust the furniture. Replace the sheets when they grew too old. Despite it's appearance, coming into the room even after all these years left him feeling sick, and woozy. He would have chalked it up to blood loss but... even when he wasn't bleeding out - being in the room left him dizzy and grasping to keep his sanity intact. "You idiot! How could you embarrass me like that?! Don't you love me?! Oh? Oh do you, Lucien? Then why do you how do you manage to fuck me better out at social functions than you do here in our bedroom?" "Antoinette- please-" "You only held my hand for THREE hours during the banquet? It's embarrassing! You idiot! You fool! You are so lucky that I love you. That I know deep down you love me too, that you're just an incompetent fool that cannot listen. But that is alright. I'll fix you. Your beloved will fix you. I will give you a reminder so you remember next time. I will give you all the reminders you need - after all you are mine, I can do as I please." He stood there, reliving that night - the key dropping to the floor as his hand went to his face. A finger gently traced the scar on the side of his face, what a reminder indeed. How could he forget, after the shock, and pain of having his face sliced open yet again by her. That had been her second reminder, hadn't it? The first being at their wedding... though that reminder had been meant for his mother. He shook his head, trying his best to clear his thoughts, trying to focus on why he was here. He moved to the vanity, sitting down on the edge of the stool in front of, and putting the ring down carefully before pulling a small wooden box towards him. "A box? You got me a wooden box? What kind of GIFT is this. Do you hate me? No? Then-WHY-would-YOU-give-ME-SUCH-A-SIMPLE-BOX! ...Oh? Inside? Oh my darling, you should have told me. It is beautiful, oh look at how it sparkles, oh my love, you need to speak up! Come here, let me wipe away the blood. Oh come now, it's just some scratches-" He flinched, hearing the words come back - his hands trembling at the edge of the box. Did he really want to open it? He glanced at the ring beside it, before steeling himself to gently open the dusty, wooden box. With a strangled scream, he flung it against the wall where it broke - the wood splintering and cracking as it dropped to the floor. The inside was empty, bare, not a trace of anything that might have once been kept inside. "Empty, it's empty. It's not there. Her ring is not there- it is always there. It was there- I know it was-" His hands came up to tangle in his hair, furiously pulling at the long silver strands as he muttered to himself furiously. "You look like a mongrel with your hair long. Cut it. No, I do not care if that is how the others wear it. Even if you are out in the wild, you are still representing our House. Do you wish to make a fool of me even out there?! CUT IT. Or I will cut it FOR you. Oh for- Halone give me strength- you'll get more than just your hair cut now." He didn't realize what he was doing until the moment had passed, and he was left staring at his reflection in the vanity mirror. Locks of silver hair now covered the table - and he dropped the shears in his hand in horror as he looked at the shorn locks that now adorned his head. He tried to speak, but only a garbled cry came out of his mouth as he pushed himself away from the vanity, toppling over the stool and crashing to the floor. He rolled over immediately, his head hitting the ground as he began to dry heave as though he were about to be sick. When at last his body settled, he collapsed against the cold floor and then began to cry helplessly on the floor, his body shivering relentlessly. "Good boy. You look so much better like this... Don't cry. Why are you crying? Oh just stop it. Just stop it. I love you, so just stop it." He didn't know how long he lay there, but eventually the pain of his wounds began to settle in - and he pushed himself up carefully, crawling over to the vanity and grabbing the accusing ring and shoving it into his pocket. He stole a glance at his hair again in the mirror - his fingers brushing through it carefully. It wasn't the best of haircuts, it was clearly the work of someone with very little experience with scissors, but it was not awful. "...Hatsu... can.... tidy it up..." he murmured slowly, standing up - nearly falling down again as a wave of pain washed over him. He glanced around the room - it was a mess now. The cut hair - the broken box, blood on the floor from his untreated wounds. But he didn't care. He couldn't stay for another minute. He stumbled out of the room - closing the door behind him with a slam and wandered off. ------------ "Don't. Tell him, what I did here." His voice was quiet, and eerily calm compared to his earlier tone when speaking to her. "Tell who?" she asked innocently, snipping at an uneven piece of hair. "Dracyn." he replied, staring down at the ground, refusing to look into the mirror in front of them, "Or Bel for that matter. Or anyone. Nobody needs to know." "Grandfath-" "Please. Just let me handle it. I know you are fond of them, I know you are happy for me. I know that you and Dracyn talk, I am not an idiot. But he doesn't need to know why I was here. Nobody does. Lock up the room again. Don't let anyone in. Don't even bother with cleaning up the mess, just lock the damned room up, Hatsu." She stopped cutting, her hands falling down as she looked down at the silvery head of hair with a solemn sadness, "...Alright. I won't. Just... whatever is going on. Whatever has you... you so distraught. Don't- don't keep it inside forever. You've-" "People I can go too. I know," he cut her off softly, standing up from the chair and turning around to look at her, "Thank you, Hatsu. For the haircut and the reminder." "I am not trying to patronize you, grandfather. I just... all of us, here. In the family... you- you mean so much to all of us. And all we ever desire for you is to be happy so I-" "I know," he said gently, suddenly bringing her into a hug. She stiffened slightly in surprise - affection was not something he gave to any members of the family aside from gifts and the occasional arm around the shoulder hug, "I know Minette. Just please listen to me. There is nothing to worry about. I can handle it all." She frowned ever so slightly against him, but said nothing to correct him on her name, instead opting to hug him a tad tighter, "If you say so, grandfather. I will leave it alone for now." She pulled away, despite wanting to keep the hug for a little longer and cleared her throat, "Will you be leaving then?" He nodded, moving to grab his coat and pull it on, "Yes. I've kept Dracyn waiting up long enough. And I want to make sure Bel is alright as well. Thank you again, Hatsu." he turned to her and smiled, then pointed a finger at her, "Lock the room up. Do not forget. Go and do it as soon as I leave." With that, he turned around, leaving just as quickly as he had arrived. Hatsu stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door before turning back to her desk to grab the key he had given back to her, and steeled herself to go and see just what he needed from that room.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #tw: implied abuse #anyway this is not a totally fun read and it was actually really sad to write

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mythicalsecretsanta · 7 years ago

Text

My Side of Mcgregor's (G)

This gift is for: @one-true-houselight To assuage cabin fever over the winter break, Rhett and Link go exploring. Link is cold, and Rhett tells his friend all about the new book he’s been reading. (Your) requests were funny, banter, and RandL as kids (platonic). I hope I delivered. From your Secret Santa, @archionblu

Link to AO3, or read below:

Christmas-time in Buies Creek was a strange dichotomy of excitement and boredom. On the one hand, there was no school. There was family from out of town, there was lots of food and presents, there was music and general cheer. On the other hand, there were a lot of stuffy adults who they had to be polite to and there was nothing to do.

But Rhett and Link were capable of anything, if they put their minds together. Even finding something to do on Christmas Eve in their stupidly small North Carolina town.

It had snowed heavily the past couple of days, but that didn’t prevent Rhett and Link from going out and exploring. The house was too crowded, especially with Cole home from college lording his older-brother-ness over Rhett’s head at every opportunity. So they donned their winter gear, boots, thick pants, hats, and gloves before heading outside.

The first thing they did was build a snowman to look like their math teacher Mr. Leibforth. They found sticks for his arms and pebbles for his small, beady eyes, and a piece of bark to represent the flat line of his unamused mouth.

They took great fun in pelting Mr. Snow-Leibforth with snowballs, which quickly devolved into pelting each other with snowballs. A truce was mutually called when Rhett took a snowball directly to the eye, tipping over backwards into the snow. He laid there for several long moments, to the point Link started to worry he might have actually hurt him, but the bigger boy just started flapping his long arms and legs, like a giant awkward bird and made a snow angel. Link laughed and flopped down to join him.

They did everything it was possible for little boys to do in the snow–

“I think mine is better.”

“How is that even possible? My name is easier to write!”

“I’ve had more practice.”

“That’s lame, man. Who practices peeing in the snow?”

–until they’d completely exhausted their list of winter activities. They’d sledded down the hill, they’d wrestled, they’d built an igloo.

“Do you want to go back in?”

“Do you?”

“…Want to go to McGregor’s and check out the abandoned house instead?”

“Weren’t we avoiding that one because it’s, like, two seconds from falling over?”

“It’ll be fine man. You worry too much. Let’s go.”

When they got past their neighbor Mcgregor’s house and onto the back ten-acre lot there to the abandoned cabin they had found last summer, Rhett had to admit at least to himself that maybe it was a bit more decrepit and dangerous-looking than he remembered. But hey– what was life without a little adventure?

They had to crawl in through a window, Rhett pulling off one of the loose boards over the long-since broken panes. Inside it was dark, but that was normal for the places they like to explore. What was less normal was the way the ceiling was bowed in in the northwest corner of what they thought might have been the living room, so they endeavoured to stay away from that area. Unfortunately, that didn’t leave them a whole lot else to explore.

As they poked through the empty cupboards in the small kitchen they talked about the things they had been up to since they saw each other last.

“I’ve been reading this super cool book, man. It’s called My Side of the Mountain. It’s all about this kid from New York who decides civilization is bullshit and that he’s gonna go live in the wilderness. Everyone doubts him and thinks he’s gonna come back home after a night or two but he sticks it out a whole year!”

“But why though? Like, I like camping and all, but I wouldn’t wanna do it full time. I like my bed too much!”

“Uh, because it’s cool? Because eventually society will collapse and there will be an apocalypse and Sam Gribley will totally survive when everybody else dies because he knows how to live off the land? I don’t know buddyroll, I don’t see why you wouldn’t wanna do it!”

“Well, I always did say you were a bit odd in the head.” Link says, ducking Rhett’s exasperated shove.

They’d just about exhausted all the nooks and crannies of the little cabin except for the corner with the sagging ceiling. The small bedroom had only a broken picture frame, but the kitchen cupboards had yielded a dead rat and an expired can of beans.

“I dare you to eat some.”

“No way! Besides, how are we supposed to open it?”

“You make a good point.”

Eventually Rhett’s eyes turned to the corner with the sagging ceiling. There was an unopened cabinet over there, and it was calling his name.

“Bo, I don’t know, maybe we should go. I don’t think that’s safe.”

“Don’t be such a coward! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Rhett managed one step towards the cabinet before there was an ominous creak and then a CRACK as a beam broke and a huge section of the ceiling caved in over their heads, snow and splinters raining down around them. Rhett immediately grabbed for Link, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy.

“Link?!? Link are you okay?” Rhett asked frantically, patting down every accessible inch of Link that he could reach as if he’d be able to feel anything through the approximately six layers of clothes Link was wearing.

Link’s voice was shaken, but he replied, “Yeah, yeah Bo I’m fine, just…startled, y’know. How about you, are you okay? Did you get hit with anything? You were covering me, you shouldn’t of done that man, You shoulda covered your own head, that’s what they taught us in school!” His hands were also smoothing over Rhett’s back and shoulders, but with less purpose than Rhett’s touches had.

Rhett waved off Link’s scolding. “I’m fine, I gotta thick skull. It’s my job to look out for you, you’re younger after all.”

“By seven months.”

Rhett ignored him.

They looked around the small space the debris has formed around them. There was no way for them to get out; although they could see light high up above them and there seemed to be a decent amount of air flow, considering how the wind bit through their jackets. There were little piles of broken boards and splinters and chunks of ceiling plaster cluttered around them, one of the walls of the cabin still standing smooth and whole at Rhett’s back. There was also a lot of snow, which must have been what finally caused the old building to cave in. All that weight dumping down on an already unstable structure.

“I freaking TOLD you man! I told you it wasn’t safe but you just had to keep going, didn’t you? Always gotta be the cool guy, Always gotta go that little bit harder. Now what’re we gonna do?!? We’re freaking trapped! We’re gonna freeze to death out here!” Link waved his hands around, shouting at Rhett.

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, Bo. It’s alright. If Sam Gribley can survive a whole year and more out in the wilderness by himself, the two of us together can survive a couple of hours until someone realizes we’re gone and comes looking for us. When we don’t come back by dark like usual they’ll send out a search team, it shouldn’t take long after that.”

Link settled down on the floor facing Rhett and rested his chin on his knees. “…What did Sam do? Like how did he survive the snow and stuff?”

“Hmmm, well, we already got the first step down. We’ve got shelter!” Rhett gestured around them at their little cubby. “It’s not the most secure or weatherproof, if we were gonna be here long-term we might wanna plug up the cracks with moss and make sure the roof is stable, maybe set up a chimney in that hole up there.” he pointed at the small opening where slanting golden light was filtering into their prison. “And then we’d have have to collect plants and trap animals and make clothes out of deerskin and stuff. But like I said, we aren’t gonna be here long enough for that.”

He hoped, anyway.

“Don’t we gotta build a fire, or something? Isn’t that part of winter survival? Shelter and heat? We’ve got plenty of wood, I know you got that lighter in your pocket. It’s not broken, is it?” Link asks anxiously, unfolding his legs and grabbing small pieces of board and piling them up haphazardly.

“Okay, wait, wait, wait, buddyroll. My lighter is fine, but dude you don’t know the first thing about making a fire. First of all you gotta have either a whole bunch of room so you don’t burn yourself or your shelter down or you gotta have it contained in like a fireplace or something, and we’ve got neither of those things. Second of all, You can’t just dump the stuff in all willy-nilly. Sam tried to do that in the book, and he ended up cold and hungry his first night even though he tried for hours. And third of all, this wood is all wet man. How’re’ya gonna start a damn fire with wet wood, brother? Can’t do it. Just smokes.”

“I don’t care dude, I’m cold. Can we at least try? Please?” Link wrapped his arms around himself, shivering.

Rhett sighed but set about arranging the smaller splinters of the drier wood into a neat little pyramid, wishing he had a flint and steel like Sam’s instead of the lighter. He’d have to get them sometime soon, after they got rescued. Maybe he could find them at the hardware store?

As Rhett predicted, the wood didn’t do much other than smoke, making them cough and cover their faces. Rhett used his hat to wave the smoke up towards the hole at the top and away from them until they could finally breathe again.

“So much for that.” Link muttered.

Rhett could see that he was still shivering, despite the physical activity. He also heard a tell-tale sniffle. Link tried to play it off as if it was just the cold, wiping at his nose and looking around casually, but Rhett knew better.

Link was scared.

“Come over here, Bo.”

“What?”

Rhett stretched his legs out in the small space, gesturing to the space in between them to indicate that Link should sit there. “We can huddle for warmth, man. I saw it on the TV. Body heat is key.”

Link hesitated but eventually decided that keeping warm was more important than avoiding any awkwardness that cuddling with his best friend might generate. They zipped their jackets together, Link leaning back against Rhett’s chest and Rhett’s arms around his middle inside their coats to create a cocoon of warmth.

“You know, in the book, Sam Gribley finds this hawk, or well, actually he steals it from its nest, and he trains it to be his hunting bird.”

“Really? You can do that? That’s cool. Did he name it anything?”

“Yeah, it’s called Frightful. He learned how to train it from a book in the library. There’s a nice lady there called Miss. Turner, and she’s one of the only people who actually believes him when he says he’s gonna live in the wilderness and doesn’t treat him like he’s some stupid kid. He reads lots of books at her library to learn how to live right.”

“Well at least he’s got one ally. It’s gotta be hard, not having anyone believe you like that.”

Rhett went on to tell him about the other characters that Sam meets, like Bill and Bando and Mr. Jacket. He told Link about Sam building his house in the old hemlock tree, making his deerskin clothes from the stolen deer, and Sam’s animal friends.

By the time Rhett got to the part of the story where Sam meets Matt Spell, the sunlight coming from the hole above them had long since gone, the pink light of sunset having faded into the dark grey of a cloudy evening. Rhett had just begun to worry about the steadily dropping temperature when he heard a voice a ways away, shouting their names.

“We’re in here! We’re trapped! We need help!” Link shot to his feet and pounded on the walls of their prison, temporarily forgetting he was zipped to Rhett and falling back over when he reached the limit of their cloth confinement. Rhett let out a quiet “Oof” as he caught his clumsy friend and helped to untangle the coats.

Once they were free, Rhett put his hands to his mouth and yelled back, much louder than Link, “Cole? Is that you? We’re in the cabin, man! It collapsed on us!”

“Hold up, I’m coming, don’t move!”

They could hear Cole getting closer, and soon enough the light from Cole’s headlamp was shining into their cubby where Cole had shifted the boards apart.

“What are you two idiots doing in here? We’ve been looking for you for hours, mom’s worried sick.”

“Well we didn’t do it on purpose, shithead. The cabin collapsed on us! We coulda died!”

“Be glad you didn’t, momma woulda raised you from the grave just to put you back in one. She still might kill you both, honestly, for frightening her like this. Don’t even get me started on Sue, she’s hysterical. Come on, let’s get you guys home and out of the cold.”

They climbed out of the ruins of Mcgregor’s cabin and tromped off after Cole, who complained the whole way home about everyone worrying about them and how he’d had to leave the nice warm house to come and look for their sorry asses, but it was clear that he had been just as worried about them. Rhett was touched by his concern, even if the complaining did get a little annoying after a while.

When they got back to Rhett’s house, their moms were indeed a little hysterical, and it took over an hour of apologies, explanations, scolding, and fussing before they were released from their mothers’ tender clutches. By that point, they had both changed into pajamas (Link’s pant legs dragging on the floor, since he’d had to borrow some from Rhett), wrapped in blankets, and stashed on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa.

For awhile they just sat watching the TV and drinking their hot cocoa, enjoying the silence now that the adults had satisfied their coddling instincts and retreated to other parts of the house. Eventually though the program couldn’t keep their attention and Link turned to Rhett.

“Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you tell me more about that story, My Mountain or whatever it was?”

Rhett grinned at his friend and an overwhelming glow of fondness filled his chest. Taking a sip of his cocoa, he picked up where he’d left off, continuing the story, weaving the tale as best he could for his curious friend. They talked late into the night, forgetting all about the cold outside.

#mythical secret santa 2017 #type: fic #rating: g #submission #gift swap

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veryveryveryshyshyshy-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Torment

Word count: 2.2k

Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, loads and loads of angsty shit

A/N: Be Mean by DNCE made me do this, though its didn't inspire the whole story lol but yes there will be something smutty in the later parts also wow @ the gif,,,,, also i feel like this is kind of a filler chapter lol also feel like i shouldn't have ended it there but idk i cant continue also this was kinda short iDk SORRY

A lot of people deserve forgiveness, a lot of people deserve to forget but all they receive are reminders after reminders after reminders of the mistakes they've committed.

First, it was a scandalous relationship with a girl. The newspaper article headlines with his secret connection with this nobody, including the explicit (but not too explicit, of course) details of his sadistic and masochistic sexual requests. If that didn’t cause a whole bunch of ruckus, the next one did. Jeon Jungkook was sitting by his window ledge in his secret hiding place, a “temporal safe haven” as his manager puts it. His doe eyes glossy as the light from outside reflected. Though the ray did reveals his tears, his eyes still seemed dull as compared to before. Like a light, that had inhabit his vision before, had been torn away. It was drooping at the sides, so were the sides of his mouth. You could clearly see the toll that he had taken. Exposing his emotions, clearly plastered on his face, vulnerable as the sound of his empty house started to turn deafening. His pupils following the tiny amounts of snow that descended gracefully from the sky. His palm warm against the cold glass of the window, soon to transfer its heat, turning the heated hand into numbed flesh.

The crestfallen boy knew he was going to have to face the public soon. He didn’t know what the fans thought, getting mixed responses as he read the tweets. He didn’t know what the conservative public of Korea thought of it, he didn’t know what his parents thought. He also didn't know what the members thought or what you thought. Jungkook was desperately avoiding thinking about the latter, especially. The thoughts would harass him till he's ruined. His ringtone chiming interrupted his thoughts. The ringing got more violent as all the notifications flooded in. “Jeon Jungkook Nude? BTS’ Golden Maknae Nude Video Leaked.” #Jungkooknudes trending on twitter.

Moving before his eyes on the screen was two familiar figures. Jungkook’s memory of that special night was slowly tortured and decaying further by every embarrassing moan that blasted out of the speaker of the device. Or by every spank that could be heard in the audio, resounding in the room. Both bodies were moving at the same pace, before his manager pulled the phone away from his face. Now, he was sitting in an office with eight pairs of eyes all on him. His manager had spoken. But the bunny-tooth boy paid no mind to the stressed man,it was probably something along the lines of, “Do you know how much trouble we’re in? If you dare pull some more shit like this. You know what’s coming, kid. Watch out, alright?”, the last part had a hint of sympathy and care, not being as harsh as his few previous sentence. His manager knew that this isn’t what Jungkook wanted, he was human too. He obviously didn’t leaked it himself. But, it did put his job and the rest of their jobs at risk of being taken away, he needed the younger boy to know that his actions have consequence and to be careful with what he does.

Jungkook just sat there silently, staring lifelessly at the table. Nobody could really disclose what he’s thinking about, not the boys as they sat in the room with him, not his manager, no one. They all just stared at him as he was to the table. The dispirited boy had his fringe covering a little of his vision as he stared into the matte black that covered the table, still trying his best to avoid the thoughts of you from popping up in his mind. Nobody had foreseen that the youngest of BTS would’ve been so, well to put it simply, problematic. Nobody thought he would’ve been so sexually promiscuous, everyone speculated that he was the innocent little boy that everyone assumed and portrayed him to be. Some made up rumours that he wanted to get rid of this image, thus causing all this commotion. Others said it was for publicity, quote “These celebrities will do anything to get their face onto the cover of a magazine, be it bad or good news. Absolutely pathetic.”

Amidst all the chaos, nobody asked Jungkook how he felt about this whole situation. Of course, he felt pretty damn shitty. After all his privacy was being pried into. That little minute dust of freedom he had, that he had the right to have, was blown away in a violent wind straight from his bare hands. No amount physical work could have snatched it back as it scatters all over the place. It was out there for the world to look at, the uncensored image of his naked body and the girl he loved on display for the whole world to see. His sultry words, that was supposedly only for his lover to hear, was now heard by millions. Jungkook also felt irritation amongst all his emotions. Why did he have to apologise when he never did anything wrong? What kind of goddamn social contract was it to apologise for his own leaked nudes? It was his privacy being violated here. The person who leaked the nudes and everyone who watched that god-fucking-damned video should be sending their apologies to him instead. Jungkook also felt a tiny sense of happiness lingering at the back of his mind, however he was confused by this emotion. He almost caused 8 other people to lose their jobs, a girl to lose her dignity and pride and not able to face the public. He allowed the familiar elderly couple to be tortured by the hushed whispers spouting more and more rumours about them and him, especially about their relation and how he was badly brought up and nurtured by the couple. He jeopardised a company’s reputation and his own. How could he have felt happy in a moment like this?

Next thing Jungkook knew, he was, back in the house, lying in the silence and on the extremely huge and empty kingsized bed. The loose string of the smooth silk bedsheets caught in the crooked cut of his nails on his finger as he thought about some of the people he did owe an apology to. Jungkook knew he had to make some amends. He apologised to the members, all of them forgiving and accepting his apology quite easily. They understood what he did wasn't on purpose and that they all had their own things to hide. He apologised to his parents, his parents also being very forgiving. He was exceedingly thankful for all grace shown by his members, the company and his parents.

Now, it was time for the harder part. He walked through the dark cold street, step after step to the familiar address. His hands pushed into the pocket of his coat, in great need of warmth. The air conditioner in the house broke before this, he’s been living without heat for about 12 hours. He couldn’t escape the house either as he was suppose to be in hiding. Just his luck, he also forgot to wear gloves tonight.

He knocked against the wooden door, a crack in the door causing a splinter to prick the skin of his knuckle. He knocked again and waited. After 15 minutes, still not a single soul.

“Hey, I know you’re in there.” His voice sounded rough. As he hasn’t spoken much in the past few days, Jungkook was surprised by his own voice.

The door then opened with a creak, his large eyes engulfed into the small lifeless ones that stood before him. Despite being lifeless at first sight, he saw fear and sadness swimming around in them too.

“What do you want?” The soft, but hoarse voice ruptured in the quiet night. The air so chilled that her hot breath condensed in the contrasting temperature. Silence stood all around them for a moment before Jungkook sighed.

“I just wanted to apologise.” He said quietly, almost a whisper. Feeling guilty and for the first time, he felt small in front of the petite woman.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it.” For someone so small, the girl spoke with so much hatred, Jungkook couldn't believe that much hostility could occupy one being. Booming, so sharp that it cut the silence straight into half. The boy was shocked, expecting an easy and smooth forgiveness. But, his naive mind never ran over the possibilities of what was going to happen. Alas, he was, now, confronted and the infamous feline has really grabbed his tongue, this time. Maybe, even tied it into a knot as it felt like he couldn't talk.

“I’m a girl. You’ll never understand what it's like for me. For you, it’s a bump in your life, its a mistake that’ll soon be forgotten by many. For me, however, I’ll live with it forever. Instead of people telling me that it was just a mistake, they blame me for this. My reputation forever tarnished by you. I’ll always just be known as the girl that had that sex scandal with that idol. People at my workplace talk about me, I’ve been forced to resign to protect the company’s reputation. People at the convenient store talk about me, I see the censored thumbnails of that stupid fucking video on the covers of magazines while walking in the goddamn supermarket. People are making violating comments about my body, right in front of me. All thanks to you, the whole world knows what I look like when I'm fucking you, completely naked.” Her voice once again, firm and loud enough for Jungkook to understand the emotions she was projecting, but not loud enough to wake the neighbours. Jisoo wouldn’t risk that, there was enough talk going around town. Jungkook, then, realised the double standards that was still alive. He’ll be able to move on and build his career again and soon, everyone would forget. But, a female body. The female anatomy wasn’t easily forgotten especially by people who sexualise it so much. Even, Jungkook could still remember what his first love looked like. But, not her face first, if you asked him in this way. He remembered the curves in her body and the way she moulded so perfectly with him. The sole reason why he remember her face was because well she's his first love.

“You said you’d always protect me. Why didn't you keep your promise?” She whispered, her voice broken. Though, she was quick to compose herself again, blinking the tears away. Refusing for the, though downhearted too, boy to see her so broken. She knew how it'd affect him, because through everything she still does love Jungkook.

“I know, Jisoo. B-but this is different, I-I couldn't-“ Jungkook stammered, not being able to say what he wanted properly. Shoving his tears to the back of his eye socket, clearing his throat so he could properly discuss this.

“I think we should breakup. If that wasn't obvious enough.” Jisoo interrupted coldly.

"No. Please." Jungkook whispered as he begged. The only words he could muster up.

"Please never look for me again." She said almost reluctantly.

"Jisoo, we can talk it out. Please, just stay." Jungkook had a tear running down his face at this point. Jisoo wiped at the tear with a small smile, her's also threatening to fall.

"Goodbye Jungkook." With a kiss on the cheek, slowly Jungkook felt her hands slip away and she retracted back into the house.

This love died too early, Jungkook did love her but the unhappy boy’s eyes weren’t as glossy as he thought it would be. He was hurt, he did feel the sour squeezing in his nose and the closing of his throat. Yet, it didn't hurt as bad as he expected. Above all, his mind, contrarily, hasn’t occupied by Jisoo at all. These few days, it had been set on avoiding thinking about you. Although, the boy was trying to circumvent, eschewing these thoughts seemed to make them worse. Avoidance wasn't going to make him feel any better, he had to come to grips with it.

Everyone advised him that it was a mistake to leave. But, Jungkook didn’t care. He’s been in their restraints for too long, as much as he liked being restrained. He didn’t like it this way. As the male sat in his gigantic kingsized bed, once again. He thought all was right in the world again, like the stars had aligned in the world, except that it's not. He felt he was missing something as his eyebrow scrunched together, then your image popped up in his mind. His eyes widened in realisation as his stared into the white ceiling. His raised eyelids start to falter as he thought about what to do. There was a shit load he had to do, he was muddled as to where to start.

He had to find you. Jungkook stared at the map, the leather seat beneath him getting warm. As he drew on the map, the red ink smudging on the glossy paper, he narrowed down his options to you two's hometown first. His lean legs reached for the gas pedal, his ink stained hands found the steering wheel and sped down the roads. He went out to venture, close to a pilgrim, on a journey to search for you. Your name is his permanent safe word, you are is his permanent safe house.

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thatcrazyfanfictionwriter · 7 years ago

Text

Secret of the Sewers: Discovery Day

Things had been rather quiet for the Hamato family since their reunion at Galactic Enterprises. For the first time in months, there were no villains to fight, no injured or missing family members to worry about, and even Hisako’s nightmares seemed to have gone on vacation. Everyone was enjoying the peace and tranquility.

Of course, teenagers can only be peaceful for so long.

“Heads up Don!” Mikey shouted.

Donny looked up from his latest project just in time for a water balloon to connect with his face. He stood there for a moment, water dripping off of him and a blank look on his face. Mikey punched the air, grinning widely.

“Aw yeah!” he declared. “Perfect shot!”

Donnie shook his head, a small smile on his face as he reached for something under his work table. Seconds later, a water balloon connected with Mikey’s face, cutting off his triumphant laughter.

“You were saying?” Donny asked smugly.

Mikey wiped his face, then he reached for the bucket of water balloons beside him. Or at least he tried, but his hand only met air.

“Huh?”

“Lookin’ for something?” Raph asked.

Mikey froze, then slowly turned to see the red turtle standing beside him, holding the bucket of water balloons and tossing one up and down in his hand.

“Aw shell...” Mikey said, closing his eyes and bracing himself.

Both Don and Raph began pelting the orange turtle over and over, his shrieks filling the lair, as well as Don and Raph’s laughter. In the dojo, Splinter, Miwa, Hisako, and Leo were all meditating, though the latter three couldn’t help but smirk at the sounds.

“Sounds like Mikey’s finally getting his comeuppance.” Leo remarked.

“I’m surprised he didn’t try to hit us.” Miwa commented.

“He tried once.” Hisako replied. “I just sent the water balloons flying right back at him.”

Miwa giggled, imagining the look on Mikey’s face as his own projectiles turned on him.

“Now that I’d love to see.” she admitted.

“I’m pretty sure Donny has it recorded on his shell cell.” Leo commented.

That got all three siblings laughing, and even their sensei couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“While I am certain your brother deserves his comeuppance, I better go and make sure that his aggressors are not getting the living room soaked again.” Splinter interjected, rising to his feet.

As Splinter left the dojo, the three siblings ceased their attempts at meditation, rising as well. Hisako gave a stretch, then glanced over at Miwa.

“Hey, there’s this street fair going on down near the boardwalk.” Hisako remarked. “You want to go check it out with me? Maybe we could even swing by the roller coasters and ride a few.”

Miwa grinned.

“Sounds like a great idea.” she replied. “I’ve been wanting to visit the boardwalk since I got to New York.”

Hisako chuckled, then held out her hand. Miwa took it and the two dashed out of the Dojo.

“Dad, Hisako and I are going to that street fair by the boardwalk!” Leo could hear Miwa shouting as they made their way out of the lair.

“Have fun! And be safe!” Splinter called out.

Leo hear the sound of the doors to the lair opening and closing, signaling his sisters’ exit. He went out to join his brothers, then he caught sight of the calendar that hung by the door of the dojo. He glanced at it, noticing a small note written on the current date.

“Hisako’s Discovery Day” it read in dark green ink.

“That’s today?” Leo mumbled to himself. “I’d forgotten.”

Deciding that this couldn’t stand, Leo made his way out into the living room. Splinter had confiscated the remaining water balloons from Raph and Donny, and was currently helping a very wet Mikey dry off with an old towel.

“Alright boys,” Leo addressed. “We got a major mission to attend to.”

“What major mission?” Raph asked. “The Purple Dragons are a minor threat, the Foot have disappeared, Shredder’s dead, what do we have to worry about?”

“Hisako’s Discovery Day.” Leo told them.

Donny blinked, then pulled out his shell cell, checking the date on the screen. Raph immediately ducked into the dojo to check the calendar.

“Well whaddya know, it is her Discovery Day.” Raph remarked.

“I guess with all that’s happened, we kinda lost track of time, and dates.” Mikey added, pulling to towel off his head, leaving his hair even wilder and messier than usual.

“Right,” Leo agreed. “And given the year Hisako’s had, we need to make this one the best yet.”

“What are you thinking, Leo?” Donny questioned.

“A surprise party.” Leo replied, smirking.

Raph raised an eyebrow at that.

“Leo, Hisako is a psychic.” Raph reminded him. “Trying to surprise her is like trying to lie to Master Splinter. It’s impossible.”

“If she was here, yes.” Leo allowed. “However, she and Miwa aren’t here right now, and are no doubt going to be out of the lair for several hours, giving us plenty of time to set up a party without her finding out.”

“You seriously think we can pull this off?” Mikey asked.

“Not standing around gabbing about it we ain’t.” Raph told him. “I’ll call up Casey and see if he can bring some pizzas down to the lair.”

“I will handle preparing a cake.” Splinter offered.

“Leave decorations to me.” Donny declared. “I’ll have the entire lair looking better than ever.”

“Great.” Leo said with a smirk. “Now all we have to worry about are presents.”

“Correction.” Donny interjected, rummaging around his lab for supplies. “All of you have to worry about are presents. I already have the perfect gift for Hisako, and I’m certain she’s going to love it.”

“That’s good for you, Don.” Mikey grumbled. “But where the shell are we supposed to find gifts for Hisako?”

“Might I suggest the street fair Hisako mentioned?” Splinter offered.

“You mean the one she went to with Miwa?” Mikey asked. “Where she could see us and probe our minds if we were there?”

“Only if we’re caught little brother.” Raph replied, patting him on the shell. “Only if we’re caught.”

“Consider it a training exercise, my son.” Splinter suggested. “You all could certainly use one.”

Donny winced a bit, giving his brothers a sympathetic look, even if it was marred by a grin on his face.

“I’ve got some aloe vera for those burns if you need it.” he joked.

“Donny, quiet.” Mikey replied.

…

Hisako and Miwa walked toward the large street fair that had been erected in front of the boardwalk. There was music, games, little stands with various tchotchkes and knick knacks of all shapes and sizes, and a bigger variety of food and food trucks than either girl had ever seen before. To say Hisako was in awe of it all would be an understatement.

“Look at all this.” she gasped. “So many people. It’s all so… massive.”

Miwa placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked, genuinely worried.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Hisako assured her.

“You’re not gonna get a migraine from all the people here?” Miwa questioned.

“Not a chance.” Hisako promised. “After my experiences on D’Hoonib, I’ve learned to tune out the unnecessary voices and clear my mind. Basically, I’ve turned them all off.”

Miwa nodded, then the two sisters hooked arms, looking around.

“Where should we go first?” Miwa questioned.

“I don’t know about you, but I have always wanted to try a funnel cake.” Hisako answered.

“I think I see a stand for one not far from here.” Miwa told her.

The girls shared grins, then ran off for their deep fried treat.

…

Leo leapt across the roof-tops, making sure to stay in the areas where shadows were prominent. While it was the middle of the day, and a rather sunny one despite it being the beginning of October, the shadows provided ample cover for the turtle.

Pretty soon, he reached the street fair Hisako had mentioned, letting out a whistle at the size of it.

“Should have known it’d be big.” he said to himself. “At least this should make avoiding Hisako easier.”

With that, Leo leapt down to the ground and ducked behind a stand that appeared to be doing face painting. Already he could see little kids, and even some teenagers, running around with various pictures and decorations painted on their faces.

“Face paint, perfect.” Leo said quietly.

He rolled his sleeves all the way down, then slid a pair of gloves over his hands to hide his lack of fingers. After making sure his shell was completely hidden, he slipped into the crowd as if he had always been a part of it.

“Hey man, cool face paint!” a teenager called out to him. “You going for a hulk look?”

“Uh… yeah.” He replied. “Pretty neat, huh?”

“Totally.” the guy replied.

Leo repressed the urge to punch the air, happy that his impromptu plan worked out.

“Now, to find a gift for Hisako.”

…

Mikey stood in an alley not far from the street fair. He glanced left, then right, then silently slipped a mascot turtle head over his own head. He had scoured the dump for some type of disguise to wear, and when he laid hands on the turtle head, he had practically squealed in joy.

“This is perfect!” he exclaimed. “The ultimate ninja disguise!”

As he walked through the crowd, a little boy looked up at him curiously.

“Who are you?” he asked, pointing right at Mikey.

“I’m, uh…” He stammered, trying to wrack his brain for some kind of name. “I’m… Cowabunga… Carl! Yeah! I’m Cowabunga Carl!”

The little boy tilted his head a bit.

“Do you do tricks?” he asked.

“Just watch me.” Mikey told him.

Looking around, he grabbed some soft balls from a booth and began juggling them. The kid’s eyes lit up, and a few more little kids were gathering around, enamored by the turtle’s juggling trick. Mikey smiled, grateful Master Splinter used juggling to teach him hand-eye coordination.

“How’s that for a trick?” Mikey asked.

The kids all began applauding, eliciting a grin from the orange turtle. This was his first time ever receiving praise from anyone outside of his family, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

“You liked that, well just you wait. Cowabunga Carl has so many more tricks in store!” he promised.

…

Raph pulled an old Knicks ball cap on over his head, making sure the brim was pulled down over his eyes before flipping his hood on over it all. He rolled his sleeves down and stuffed his hands in his pockets before making his way into the crowd. He was surrounded on all sides by so many different people, and he found his fists unintentionally clenching in his pockets. He was quickly finding out he was not a fan of crowds.

“Keep it together Raphael.” he muttered to himself. “You can’t draw attention to yourself. Just find something for Hisako, then get the shell outta dodge.”

“Raphael?” April’s voice suddenly asked from behind him.

Raph jumped at the sound of his name before turning to see April walking up to him. She was looking at him confused, and more than a bit worried.

“Raph is that you?” she asked, keeping her voice down. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Raph replied. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on a turtle?”

“Don’t you know not to come out to a public place like this?” April countered. “In broad daylight no less, and without a disguise.”

“I am in disguise.” Raph argued.

“A baseball cap and a hoodie?” April questioned sardonically.

“What do you want?” Raph asked. “A trench coat and a fedora?”

April groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“This is getting nowhere.” she mumbled. “Why are you even here? This is possibly the worst place for someone like you to be.”

“Looking for a present for Hisako.” Raph explained.

“A present?” April repeated. “Why?”

“Today is Hisako’s Discovery Day.” Raph answered. “We’re throwing her a surprise party and I’m trying to find a present for her.”

“Oh.” April said, feeling like someone had taken the wind out of her sails. “So, you’re out here for Hisako.”

“Exactly.” Raph confirmed.

“Well then, maybe I can help you.” April offered. “Maybe if we work together, we can find the perfect present for her.”

“Sounds good to me.” Raph replied, giving her a thumbs up.

April quickly grabbed his hand, shoving it down.

“Newsflash, Raph.” she hissed. “Normal people have five fingers.”

“Right, sorry.” he replied, sticking his hand back in his pocket.

“C’mon.” April declared, walking deeper into the fair. “The sooner we start looking, the better.”

…

Miwa and Hisako sat on a bench, both of them practically coated in powdered sugar. The decimated remains of their funnel cake sat between them as they tried in a futile effort to lick the sugar off if their fingers.

“Man, all those TV shows weren’t kidding when they said that these things were good.” Hisako remarked.

“Agreed.” Miwa replied, rubbing her hands together to dislodge bits of powdered sugar.

The two girls remained on the bench, Hisako leaning back as she felt the cool wind drift through her hair.

“I wonder if this is what it feels like.” she said, looking up at the few fluffy clouds rolling across the sky.

“How what feels?” Miwa questioned, turning towards her sister.

Hisako’s eyes never left the sky.

“Being normal.” she replied.

Miwa chuckled somewhat, leaning back as well and gazing up at the clouds.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” she replied. “I’ve never exactly been normal myself.”

“True.” Hisako admitted. “You were trained to be a deadly ninja assassin.”

“Says the girl who lives in the sewers with turtles and a rat.” Miwa quipped lightly.

Hisako playfully punched Miwa’s arm, still smiling.

“Don’t forget, you live right there with me.” she jabbed jokingly.

“Touché little sis.” Miwa allowed.

The two shared a brief chuckle, then returned to their peaceful cloud watching. After a moment, Miwa spoke up again.

“Just out of curiosity, what do you think of when you imagine being normal?” She questioned.

“April.” Hisako replied simply. “I mean, she’s the most normal person I know. She went to school, graduated, she’s going to college, got a job… you know, all that stuff normal people do.”

Miwa let a small laugh slip through, eliciting a confused look from Hisako.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but all that stuff just sounds, no offense to April, boring.” Miwa explained.

“Maybe, but she didn’t have to worry about psychic powers, mutants, ninjas, aliens… Not until she met us.” Hisako argued.

“But I bet if you asked her, she’d say she’s enjoyed her abnormal life.” Miwa countered.

“You really think so?” Hisako asked.

“Positive.” Miwa replied, getting to her feet. “Besides, being normal is overrated. I personally like being abnormal.”

Hisako’s smile grew as she too rose to her feet.

“You’re right.” she agreed. “I’ll take abnormal any day.”

Miwa tossed their trash in a nearby trash can, then took her sister’s hand.

“How about we hit the roller coasters next?” she suggested. “I’m personally curious about the Comet Coaster.”

Hisako grinned.

“You read my mind.”

Both girls snorted, then raced off towards the rides.

…

Down in the lair, Donny vaulted across the second floor of the lair, sticking of streamers of every shade of green you could think of. Green balloons were tied to every column, and a banner hung right in view of the door that read ‘HAPPY DISCOVERY DAY’.

“There we go.” Donny declared, jumping down and landing right in the middle of the living room. “What do you think, Sensei?”

Splinter stuck his head out of the kitchen, a flour covered apron tied around his waist as he looked around the lair. A smile graced his snout as he gave a nod of approval.

“Well done, Donatello.” He complimented. “I am certain your sister will love them.”

“I hope so.” Donny remarked, giving a stretch as he returned to his lab. “Now that the decorations are done, I need to get back on Hisako’s present.”

He grabbed a safety mask, placing it over his mouth and the slits that served as his nose, then he grabbed a can of green spray paint and began spraying away at his project. He became so enraptured by his work that he didn’t hear the door to the lair opening. Luckily, Splinter’s ears perked at the sound, and once again, he withdrew from the kitchen to see who it was.

“Hey everyone!” Casey called, balancing several pizza boxes in his hand as he entered the lair. “Whoa, did I miss out on a party?”

“That you did not, Mr. Jones.” Splinter answered, relieving Casey of his pizzas. “The party had yet to begin.”

Casey looked around at Donny’s decorations, squinting at the sign.

“What’s a Discovery Day?” Casey questioned. “Some sort of mutant holiday?”

“It’s the anniversary of the day we found Hisako.” Donny explained, never looking up from his work. “The guys and I share a Mutation day, so Hisako has a discovery day. It’s the closest thing we’ve got to birthdays.”

Casey let out a whistle.

“Man, just when I think I know everything there is to know about you guys, you throw me another curve ball.” He commented, glancing around the lair. “Hey, if this is supposed to be Hisako’s birthday, where is everybody?”

“Leo, Raph, and Mikey are all out looking for presents for Hisako.” Donny explained, finally setting down the spray can and removing his safety mask. “Meanwhile, Hisako and Miwa are out at the street fair in town.”

“Cool.” Casey remarked, looking around. “Well, I ain’t gotta return to work, seeing as you guys were my last delivery, so maybe I could lend a hand.”

“I could use some assistance in decorating the cake.” Splinter informed him.

Casey grinned, then cracked his knuckles.

“Just point me in the direction of the icing.” He told the rat.

…

Leo browsed through the various stands and tents that had been erected all across the street fair, each one selling a different type of item or ware. He had lost count of all of the booths he had passed, many of them selling clothes, jewelry, or various decorations that Leo couldn’t even dream of Hisako wanting.

“Ugh… why did I think this was a good idea?” Leo groaned. “Parties we’ve done before, but we’ve never done presents…”

He turned and leaned against a lamp post, resting his forehead against the metal.

“What the shell am I supposed to get Hisako?” he muttered.

“Having trouble, young one?” a wizened old voice called out.

Leo turned, noticing an old Chinese man sitting in front of a booth displaying many Chinese pieces of artwork. The man was giving Leo a smile, gesturing for him to approach. Leo turned away from the lamp post, approaching the booth.

“Were you talking to me?” Leo questioned.

The old man nodded.

“Your eyes are conflicted.” The man explained. “Trying to make a decision that appears impossible.”

“Yeah…” Leo admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “My sister… it’s her Disc- err, Birthday today, and I’m trying to find the perfect gift for her.”

“I have seen you walk past many stands with trinkets that would interest any young girl.” The old man noted.

“Well, Hisako’s not just any girl.” Leo explained. “She’s had to fight every day of her life, and abhors everything girly because she thinks it makes her appear weak. Things like clothes, jewelry… she wouldn’t touch it with a 40 foot Bo staff.”

The old man gave a nod, smiling a bit as Leo’s analogy.

“So, she is a fighter.” He remarked. “Perhaps I can help you.”

The old man rose from his seat, moving deeper into his tent before taking an ornate, Chinese box from a table in the back. He returned to his seat, placing the box on the table before him before turning it towards Leo. The blue turtles leaned towards the box as the old man opened it, revealing its contents.

“I think this will prove to be a suitable gift for your sister.” The old man informed him.

Leo grinned, closing the box and picking it up.

“I’ll take it.” He declared.

…

Mikey, or Cowabunga Carl as the kids were chanting, stood in front of a ring tossing carnival game. Under his mascot head, Mikey had a determined look on his face, focusing on trying to win the grand prize. So far, he had succeeded in getting his rings on all but one of the bottles. Holding up his final ring, Mikey focused hard, then gave it a toss. The ring sailed through the air until it made contact with one of the bottles. It bounced a bit before finally settling on the bottle, sealing Mikey’s victory.

“Yeah!” Mikey cheered, punching the air. “Cowabunga Carl for the win!”

All of the little kids cheered as the carnie reached up to the top shelf of his prize display, pulling down the largest stuffed animal he had before handing it to Mikey. The orange turtle took his prize, giving his cheering fans a grand bow.

“A-thank you.” he told them all. “Thank you, you’re too kind.”

As he rose from his bow, his shell cell began to chirp, signaling an incoming text. He fished into his pocket, pulling out his phone to see he had a text from Leo.

“Got my gift. Headed back to the lair. - L”

Mikey’s face turned a lighter shade of green as he remembered the entire reason he was out at the street fair in the first place.

“Hisako’s gift!” he exclaimed. “Oh shell, I forgot!”

He began frantically patting his pockets, trying to see how much money he had left on hand. Unfortunately, he had spent it all on the games and was now 100% broke.

“Great.” He let out. “Now what am I-?”

He paused, then his eyes drifted down at the large prize he had just won. He picked it up, giving it an analytical glance as an idea began to form.

“I’ve got to work fast.” he declared, tucking the prize under his arm before vanishing into the crowd.

…

April and Raph stood in front of a vendor selling various pieces of jewelry, scanning the wares for viable gifts.

“How about this one?” April suggested, holding up a large, beaded necklace in various shades of green.

“You kidding? Hisako wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that.” Raph quipped.

April sighed, then set the necklace down, picking up a pair of earrings.

“What about these?” she tried.

“Hisako’s ears ain’t pierced.” Raph reminded her.

“She could get them pierced.” April argued.

“Yeah right.” Raph snorted. “Hisako with needles and antiseptics. Brilliant idea, April.”

“Hey, I’m trying to help you, hot head.” April snapped. “This is the fifth booth we’ve been to today, and you’ve turned down every gift I’ve suggested.”

“Well it's not like Hisako’s the easiest girl to shop for!” Raph replied.

“She’s your sister!” April reiterated. “You should know her better than anyone!”

“In case you forgot, she’s the psychic, not me!” Raph shouted.

April threw her hands up in defeat, letting out a growl.

“I swear, you are about as useful as a pencil with two erasers!” She told him.

“Hey I-”

Before Raph could begin his counterargument, he spotted a pair of familiar faces in the crowd. Falling back on years of instincts, Raph dove for cover, snagging April by the arm and pulling her behind the booth they had just been looking at. April went to say something, but Raph quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, silencing her.

“Hisako’s here.” he hissed. “Don’t move, and don’t think.”

April rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight Raph’s grip on her. Leaning against the fabric of the tent over the booth, Raph listened for Hisako and Miwa, waiting for them to pass.

“Okay, okay, which ride was your favorite?” Hisako questioned.

“Definitely the Swirling Vortex of Terror.” Miwa replied. “I felt like I was weightless as some points.”

“I know what you mean, though I have to say mine was the Thunderbolt.” Hisako declared. “That sudden drop made me feel like I was jumping across rooftops with the guys.”

“Respect.” Miwa allowed.

The two were about to pass Raph and April’s hiding place, but they paused before they did. For a split second, Raph was almost sure they’d been made, but then Miwa spoke up again, easing his fears.

“Hisako, check out some of these drawings.” Miwa called out, gesturing to a booth displaying several pieces of homemade art.

Hisako followed her sister’s gaze, a smile gracing her face.

“You want to see artwork, you should talk to Raph.” Hisako told her.

“Wait, Raph draws?” Miwa questioned.

“Yeah.” Hisako answered. “Master Splinter suggested he take up drawing as a way to express his anger in a ‘constructive’ manner. He hides his sketchbook, afraid we’d tease him about it, but honestly, I think he’s as good as his namesake.”

Raph found himself blushing a bit at the compliment. Hisako was right about his reasons for hiding his sketchbook, but it seemed that he really couldn’t keep secrets with a psychic in the family.

“Have you ever gotten a look at his sketchbook to be a judge of its contents?” Miwa wondered.

“Once.” Hisako explained. “When we were moving into the new lair. He has this beautiful drawing of all of us as a family. It was before you were part of it, but it was by far my favorite drawing in the book.”

“You are such a sap, sis.” Miwa poked playfully, ruffling Hisako’s hair.

The two girls shared a few giggles before disappearing into the crowd. Once she was out of sight, Raph released April and the two reemerged from their hiding spot.

“So, the hot head is an artist.” April quipped playfully, nudging Raph’s side. “I guess even tough guys have their soft spots.”

“I guess.” Raph agreed. “Though I think I just figured out my gift for Hisako.”

…

The sun had long since disappeared over the horizon by the time Miwa and Hisako began making their way back to the lair. They approached the door, still laughing and giggling about their shared experiences. The laughter died somewhat when they found all the lights in the lair had been shut off, plunging the entire area into a pitch blackness.

“Guys?” Miwa called out.

“Master Splinter?” Hisako shouted.

All of a sudden, the lights turned on as all four turtles, along with Casey and April, jumped out from behind the living room couch.

“Surprise!” they all shouted.

Donny hit a button, which released buckets of green confetti, showering the entire lair in a rain of green paper.

“Happy Discovery Day, Hisako.” Splinter declared, emerging from the kitchen with a large birthday cake, safely covered with a glass lid to protect it from the confetti.

Hisako covered her mouth in shock, looking around as Miwa slid over to Leo, giving him a confused look.

“Discovery day?” she questioned.

“Hisako’s birthday for all intents and purposes.” he quickly supplied.

Hisako looked close to crying happy tears as she ran to her family, hugging them all tightly.

“I can’t believe you guys did this!” she said, a huge grin on her face as she wiped her eyes. “Miwa, did you-?”

“I had nothing to do with this.” she replied.

“We saw the opportunity and took it.” Donny informed her. “So, were you surprised?”

“Oh was I.” Hisako replied.

Mikey immediately grabbed Hisako by the arm, dragging her over to the couch, where four presents of varying sizes and colors sat waiting for her.

“That sure is a lot of presents.” Mikey noted, grabbing one off the table. “Why don’t you open this one first?”

He flashed her a wink, signifying it was his. Of course, she could tell it was his due to the bright orange wrapping paper, but she didn’t tell him that. She eagerly tore through the paper, revealing a large, stuffed turtle inside. It was easily half Hisako’s size, wearing a black mask that had been tied around its eyes, a black belt around its shell, and it even had a cardboard mace tied to its hand.

“Hisako, meet Slash!” Mikey declared.

Hisako broke out into a grin, holding him up to the others.

“Look guys, another ninja turtle!” she proclaimed.

The others let out a chuckle in response.

“Nice one Mikey.” Leo told him.

“Yep.” Mikey declared, striking a triumphant pose. “I was gonna name it Spike, but that was Raph’s imaginary friend back when we were five.”

Raph responded by tossing his ball cap at him, the brim connecting with Mikey’s forehead.

“So who wants to go next?” Mikey asked, rubbing his smarting forehead.

“I’ll go.” Donny volunteered.

He picked up a package wrapping in purple paper, placing it on Hisako’s lap. Once again, she tore away at the paper, revealing a large, metal turtle shell. It was spray painted to resemble an actual turtle shell, decorated with a few New York bumper stickers here and there. Hisako picked it up surprised by how light it was despite being made entirely out of metal.

“What is it, Don?” she asked.

“That is your new turtle shell backpack.” Donny answered, taking it from her and placing it against her back.

Once the back of the backpack touched her skin, a pair of straps shot out of it, bisecting Hisako’s chest before connecting on the lower part of the backpack. Hisako gave an experimental stretch, surprised to find that she still had full mobility.

“The backpack itself is made out of Utromidium, a metal compound native to the Utrom home world.” Donny explained. “It’s incredibly lightweight and extremely durable. No punk with a blade is gonna shred this pack.”

“Nifty.” Mikey commented. “But aren’t backpacks supposed to be able to hold stuff?”

Donny pressed a small section at the top of the backpack, which opened up to reveal the interior of the shell.

“Yes.” Donny replied with no small amount of smugness. “Yes it is.”

Hisako threw her arms around Donny, giving him a hug.

“I love it Don, thank you.” she told him. “I’ve been wanting a new backpack for a while now.”

“Okay, my turn.” Leo decided, reaching for the small wooden box the old man had given him. “Mine’s not wrapped, but I just couldn’t bring myself to cover the box in paper.”

Hisako took the box, running her fingers over the cover before slowly lifting the lid. Inside the box was a pair of thin, black chopsticks with wooden dragons on the top. Hisako gasped, then gently pulled them out.

“Leo, these… these are beautiful.” she whispered.

“You haven’t seen the best part.” Leo told her.

He reached for one, taking hold of the dragon and gently tugging it. The dragon pulled away from the black chopstick, unveiling a thin metal dagger.

“The chop sticks go in your hair, and they double as a hidden weapon.” he explained, sliding the blade back into place.

Hisako took the chopsticks, sliding then back into the box before hugging Leo tightly.

“They’re amazing Leo.” she told him. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey Raph, your turn!” Casey declared. “Where’s your gift?”

“I... Uh…” Raph started to reply.

April grabbed Raph’s present off of the table. It was wrapped in newspaper held together with duct tape, and almost immediately, Raph tried to take it back. Unfortunately, he didn’t move fast enough, and Hisako had it in her hands before he could stop it. The newspaper quickly joined the purple and orange wrapping paper on the ground as a picture frame was revealed. Nestled in the picture frame was a hand drawn family portrait of the entire Hamato Clan, including Miwa. In the corner of the picture was a small message from Raph.

“To my sister, I’m glad you’re part of this family.”

Hisako covered her mouth once again, tears returning to her eyes as she looked over at Raph.

“Did- Did you draw this?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “Not as cool as a stuffed turtle or a metal backpack but-”

Hisako tackled Raph in a hug, holding him tighter than she’d ever held him before.

“It’s the best present I could have ever asked for.” she told him, her happy tears staining his shirt. “Thank you Raphael.”

For a moment, the red turtle was stunned, then he slowly wrapped his arms around her. A smile graced his face as his eyes closed.

“Happy Discovery Day, sis.” he replied.

“Okay, enough sappy stuff!” Casey suddenly called out. “Let’s eat some cake!”

Everyone let out a laugh as Hisako released her brother, even if she kept her arm around him. Together, the two joined their friends and family around the kitchen table for cake and pizza. As they all ate, chatted and laughed, Hisako could feel their combined happiness and contentment filling her.

“Best. Discovery Day. Ever.” she declared.

0 notes

always-another-story-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Short Story: As We Know It

AS WE KNOW IT September 11th 2026 The sky is pink. I’ve never seen a pink sky before. We once spent two weeks out of the summer on a farm and the rooster would wake me up at dawn, and even then the sky was never pink. Orange. And yellow, and red at the edges and all the way up above me and over to west it got darker, almost black. It seemed like the sky was on fire, but it wasn’t scary, it was pretty. This sky isn’t pretty, and it’s not just scary, it’s horrifying. The clouds roiling above us are a sickening shade of grey, swirling and melting into black and sometimes even brown. The sky all the way to the east is a deep purple, like blackberries, and as it stretches over our heads it becomes pink, and streaked with slashes of orange and yellow. I can’t tell if those scars on the sky are the trails from planes going down in a death spiral or distant wisps of cloud. Or maybe the sky itself is finally rending in two. The wind is hot. The windiest recorded autumn when I was in high school was freezing; it bit into my fingers as I gripped my school bag, trying to keep it from being blown away. I always forgot my gloves and eventually, Micah always loaned me his. But now the wind is scalding my forehead as it pushes back my hair. I think I tied it back before but the elastic band must have snapped. The searing wind roars so loudly in my ears I can’t hear the crash of the waves below. Even as they beat relentlessly at the foot of the cliff they’re not loud enough for me to pay them any real attention up here. My focus is further out, where the sea looks purple one moment and then in a shift of light turns navy blue. Someone behind me is calling my name. We have to leave, board the trucks, make our way somewhere safe. A storm is coming.

July 2nd 2014 “I thought I was the one on bed rest,” the hoarse yet teasing voice of my beloved brother gives me the final tug I need to break free of sleep. Sitting up with a slight wince I feel my collarbones pop and roll my neck, relishing the loose easy feel that follows the movement. I fell asleep on the couch in Micah’s hospital room again. He’s smiling at me from the bed. If you were none the wiser you’d say he didn’t need to be here. The only indication he’s even a patient is the IV drip. And the breathing tube in his nose. And the dark circles under his eyes. He’s even been here so long he gets to wear his own pyjamas instead of the hospital gowns. A glance at the window tells me I’ve slept through to mid-morning, which explains Micah’s good natured jibe about my sleeping too late. I don’t tell him I was up past four am watching him sleep, refreshing the wet flannel on his forehead every half hour, soaking it in cool water and ringing it out, checking his monitor, his IV, his temperature. He hates my worry. But then if he knew I knew just how many days he has left maybe he’d stop telling me to be calm. He might also stop giving me grief about all the missed days of school. I told him the class representative would bring me my assignments, but since she drops them off at home and I haven’t been home in a while I’ve lost track of the work I was doing. Algebra. Carbon Dating. The invasion of Poland, Sept.1st 1939. To Kill a Mockingbird. I’m not sure any of it really matters at the moment. I would tell Micah as much but he won’t accept it. He’s the one dying from unspecified lung deterioration, so I should be making every effort to continue my life without him as best I can. I should be strong and brush aside the fact that our father died from some similar disease and our mother disappeared shortly after I was born, live life to the fullest, live extra for my father and brother, push forward on my own. But as far as I’m concerned, the moment Micah’s heart monitor stops beeping will be the moment the world will crumble, and the end of life as we know it. “Stop making faces at the linoleum and go get something to eat baby doll,” He’s called me that every day of my life since our father dressed me in a blue pinafore and tied my hair in bunches in an attempt to prevent me looking too much like a baby boy. The poor man was utterly clueless about girls until his last breath. “Dad, she looks like a dolly, why’d you dress her like a baby doll?” Apparently those were Micah’s exact words. Doing my best to ignore his voice in my head when he’s still sitting right in front of me I stand, wincing as my spine cracks, and stretch my arms. “Did you eat yet?” “Nurses brought me food a couple of hours ago, go ahead and get some breakfast; I’m not going anywhere,” he gives me a pointed look when he speaks. It’s supposed to mean he’s leaving me no room for argument. Usually I would argue back just to assert a little independence or something. But today, for some reason, I want to do whatever he wants me to, just to be able to see him relax a little. Lie back against his pillows with a satisfied smile and let himself rest, secure in the knowledge that his baby sister is doing just fine. “I’ll be back soon,” I mean it; I don’t like the hospital cafeteria. Down here on the first floor it feels darker somehow, maybe because the hospital is surrounded by trees on three sides and the cafeteria is at the back of the building where the trees are thickest. It always seems like it’s going to rain too. The trees cast their shadows, the sky seems perpetually grey and the world goes cold. With my hand wrapped around a Styrofoam mug of coffee, a plate of toast cooling rapidly in front of me, I can’t take my eyes off the sky. Even as I raise the almost scalding beverage to my mouth my gaze remains steady on the clouds and the sight makes me shiver. Ignoring the little squeak the Styrofoam makes under my fingers, warning me it’s going to break if I’m not careful, I hold the cup tighter, willing it’s warmth into my skin.

September 13th 2026 Walking through old cities like these you have to keep your head, remain alert. When I woke up in the remains of a hospital room I should have woken everyone else, or at least stayed close by, but being there brought back memories. Memories of Micah, of spending every living moment in that place, of being engulfed in the smell of disinfectant, Elastoplasts and bated breath. Maybe that’s why I was dreaming of those last days, sleeping in his hospital room. Those days when I didn’t know that it was all about to end, in every way I could think of. I know the city, so I know where I’m going, all these buildings with no signs, stores with shattered windows, all the roads run through with weeds that tower over my head, I remember what they all used to be. I worried a little that as I grew older I would start to regret things I didn’t do in my youth before the world crumbled. School, parties, vacations, boys, friends, the blueprint of the typical teenage girl. I never did though, there were more important things to remember. All I feel I missed is the auditorium at my high school. A weird thing to miss. It was a huge wooden space at one end of the school, accessible only by the huge double doors at the back of the room. When you walked in the polished wood floor stretched ahead to the stage, the whole room panelled and polished with tall windows and heavy red curtains, and black ones around the stage. When I walk in now the dusty scorched and pockmarked floor stretches ahead to the stage with cracked and splintering panels, most of the steps shattered or missing entirely, the whole left hand wall in splintered, there’s an arc of damage where something struck the wall near the bottom. Atop the cliff only a couple of days ago, something out to see exploded, the arc of devastation looked similar to the splinters in the panelling. Except the arc was formed only of waves on the surface on the sea; the shockwave that hit us was invisible. As I had turned to return to the trucks I saw a flash of white and yellow over the horizon and turned back to the purple sea as I heard the almighty bang, and moments later the hot wind sped up further, lashing at us all and my hair flurried furiously around my head. I shut my eyes against it but the flash of the explosion burned through my eyelids. Probably a navy vessel, or an aircraft carrier, or maybe an old oil rig. Something big. Here the arc of splintered wood is so small, but so visible. And yet there is no hot wind, no flash, it’s quiet. Something came crashing through the ceiling. Whatever it was is gone, disintegrated or shattered, but the gaping wound above me remains. The edges are ragged, every so often the breeze outside dislodges more dust which flutters down through the air. In the blurry circle of watery white light on the wooden floor I lie on my back and stare up at the frayed hole above me, watching the light. It never seems to waver, the only movement is the falling dust, and the pieces and particles of it that swim in the air. I close my eyes and try to ignore the sensation of the dust below me creeping into my hair, the splinters and fragments littering the floor digging into my spine and shoulder blades. I’m tired.

July 5th 2014 The woollen blanket on Micah’s bed isn’t as soft as I thought, but rather than sit up I fold my arms under my head so I can rest my chin there instead. No matter how many times Micah tells me not to pick at the fabric my fingers always end up finding loose threads in his covers. They’ve always done that, my sheets at home are full of pulled threads, the material pinched, almost concertinaed where the thread catches. “Are you sulking again?” Micah’s voice catches me slightly by surprise since I thought he was asleep. “Do I look like a five year old to you?” I counter, giving him a half-hearted glare from beneath my hair. He only smiles back at me and shakes his head. “If you’re not sulking you’re brooding, worrying needlessly, agonising; you need a new hobby,” I sigh and turn my attention back to the loose thread I’ve been tugging at for over an hour. I avoid answering him while I debate with myself over what I should be talking about. Recently it’s hard to know what to say to Micah, since he’s been in here I find myself getting anxious whenever I look at him. But if I were honest with him about that he’d just tell me to spend less time here and go to school like a normal 16 year old. Because he of course, at the great age of 19, is some kind of authority on such things. Finally I abandon the tortured thread and play instead with the hems of my sleeves. “I had this weird dream,” “Yeah?” “Mmm, I had it a couple of times actually,” “Recurring dreams. Uh-oh, are you having a psychotic break?” without looking at him I pick up the empty plastic cup from the bedside cabinet and toss it at him and he laughs when it bounces off his shoulder. “I don’t think it counts as a recurring dream if it’s different every time,” “If it’s different it’s not the same dream obviously, the clue’s in the semantics,” “Wow, smartass o’clock already, idiot,” I pretend to be annoyed with him but really I’m thrilled he seems okay for now, he’s awake, responsive, lucid, almost like there’s nothing wrong. Maybe it won’t last but for now he’s my brother and nothing more or less. “Anyway, it’s like a post-Apocalyptic future or something,” “How do you know it’s the future?” “I just do, twelve years from now, and it’s like the world is crumbling, everywhere looks a lot like New York in that Will Smith movie,” “You know it’s just a dream, right baby doll?” I find myself shaking my head and casting a glance at the window, almost as though I suspect the world from my dream to have materialised beyond it. But it’s still just another sunny day in July. “It’s not; it’s the future, after the world starts to crumble,” “It’s just a dream,” against my own will I feel my eyes stinging and I shake my head, unable to keep these haunting thoughts to myself. “After you’re gone the world will crumble,”

September 14th 2026 It’s a mistake to keep coming back to the same place in too short a period of time. There’s no knowing what hangs around, waiting out of sight, disguised by shadows and dust. Once, driving through the countryside, we stopped to pick up supplies. A pack of wolves had made the petrol station convenience store their home. That was when there were sixteen of us. By the next evening there were twelve. Animals thrived off the decline of the human race. The world wasn’t crumbling for them, it was expanding, their kingdom opening up and flourishing. One evening in Micah’s hospital room, watching the Discovery Channel, since it was his choice and he’s always been a science geek, there was this program that showed us what the earth would look like with no humans, after ten years, fifty, one hundred. Nature was Queen again. I didn’t take it seriously, but what I see around me is verbatim to what that program showed me. Like an oracle in a box. Even with that knowledge, here I am back in this auditorium. Little wooden shields are nailed above the stage with the names of students who held council offices in each year starting in 1986, all the way up to 2013. That last shield is blank, with space for at least twenty more shields beside it. There was never a chance to fill the last shield with the names from the year the world began to crumble. It wasn’t exactly at the forefront of anyone’s mind. A few more shields backwards down the line, for 2010, Micah’s name is up there beside the name of someone named Erica Lords. Head Boy and Head Girl. 2014 would not have held my name; I lost any chance of the Head Girl position when I stopped attending school in favour of camping out in Micah’s hospital room. In the end it turned out to be just the right place to be. It was one of the last buildings to succumb to the crumble. And the first two floors are still intact. That means that god-awful cafeteria is still in there somewhere, like the lingering memory of the punch-line of a terrible joke. We won’t be here tomorrow; the safest bet these days seems to be to head north. Oh the irony, we’ve been heading south for years after heading in aimless directions. But the animals tend to gravitate south and we’re trying to avoid them, so north it is. Once we’re stocked up on warm clothes and long-life supplies we’ll be gone. I keep thinking about the explosion out to sea and wondering if anyone was even alive on whatever vessel it was. How long it must have been floating helplessly before that. It’s been over a decade since any planes flew, and ships soon followed them to the graveyard. And it’s only a matter of time before we can’t find any more fuel for the trucks; we’ll lose them one after the other, either from lack of fuel or some kind of engine failure. Actually the batteries will probably go first. We’ve been replacing them with any we can find lying around, not all of them even fit properly. I should get back to the trucks, help load up new supplies, but I can’t stop staring at that empty wooden shield.

July 9th 2014 They say he’s struggling; there are tubes down his throat now because he really can’t breathe on his own, and as a result some of his organs are starting to give up. He’s on life support, but no-one thinks he’ll wake up again. I shouldn’t have told him about my dream. It just made him worry about me and when he gets agitated or anxious his lungs seize up. I’m not neurotic or arrogant enough to think my telling him about what will happen after he dies is the reason he’s like this now, but I know making him worry about me doesn’t help. Then again, the doctor confessed he had been amazed at Micah’s resilience. He said he had expected my brother to have gotten to this stage some time ago, but his strength was so unexpected even the doctor had started to have hope that he would recover. I knew better and always had, but since he was only trying to be supportive and cheer me up I didn’t tell him that. Micah used to make jokes about what I was and was not allowed to do if he should ever slip into a coma. When he first said it I had only been eleven years old and I was scared of what he might say and had been on the verge of tears when Micah suddenly said. “Rule number one: you are not to put make-up on me,” the surprise at this statement shocked a laugh from me and my tears were banished in favour of giggles as I listened to all of Micah’s silly coma rules. No make-up, this included nail varnish and hair styling. No stupid clothes or hats. No using him as a table or a chair, or any other kind of furniture, including doorstops and draught excluders. No using him as a Halloween decoration. No auditions for zombie movies, or music videos or advertisements. I was however allowed to put a party hat on his head if he was comatose during a birthday, and a Santa hat if it was Christmas. The nurses will probably worry or even tell me to stop if I paint his nails but since I have a bottle of purple nail varnish with me I decide to break rule number one. The nail varnish was a free gift on the front of a magazine someone left in the cafeteria. It’s like a metallic, shimmery version of the colour of Dairy Milk wrappers. It’s so out of place on my brother’s fingernails that it stands out like a neon shirt at a black tie event. I’m smiling as I paint, finding some quiet comfort in breaking Micah’s number one coma rule, in holding his hand while I turn his nails purple, imagining what his face would be like if he saw them. But as I start on the index finger of his right hand, having completed the left, my vision blurs and by the time I get to his little finger the fingers of his right hand have purple smears all over them where I made mistakes, unable to see clearly through all the salt water. There’s salt water on his hands too. I should wipe it off; it will itch when it dries.

September 17th 2026 A few towns over from the one where I grew up almost everything is the same, for all intents and purposes. Empty, ruined, dusty, grey. Though, even after twelve years sometimes you find people. They’re never alive. Not anymore. The last time we found someone alive was almost six years ago, and she didn’t last very long. This place was always famous for the forest at its back door and the trails that ran through it, marked with green plastic arrows glued to wooden bollards every mile or so to insure that no hikers would get lost. It’s a big forest, and its reach extends into the town now. Because of the popularity of those trails there were many successful outlets that sold hiking gear, so we’re fanning out, some of us going to each one. The ones closest to the forest are the ones that always had the best prices because they were the ones most likely to be happened upon by tourists. Then there were the ones that were part of bigger chains with shops all over the country, but the one that had the most unreasonable prices was the one near the courthouse. It was the only one out of all the shops that didn’t look like what it was. Full of gold light fixtures, glass display cases with spotlighting, chrome racks and black velvet hangers holding indulgently priced fleeces and rain jackets. Cream coloured marble floors, the walls painted a kind of champagne colour, sandstone shelves stocked with the most expensive tents and flasks. I drew the proverbial short straw. That’s where I’m going. Or it’s where I was going, until I saw the courthouse as I passed by it. Saw the upstairs windows shot through with branches, roots unfurling from the doors and the basement windows. The front steps are littered with rubble and broken glass, and halfway up, a thick book with torn pages and a mouldy canvas hardcover. I’m willing to bet not even Micah could have understood that thing. Climbing over the roots stretching through the doorway I find myself in a lofty, cavernous lobby with a mock marble floor with a crest in the middle and the splintered remains of a very large front desk. The velvet covered chairs and settees are half collapsed, torn, stuffing scattered on the floor. Tiny pools of light lie at the end of slender watery beams that slant through holes in the ceiling and the high set windows. Some of the holes are jagged and sit nestled in the midst of spider web cracks, others are smaller, more uniform, others are simply the result of an entire pane of missing glass, usually where a branch has forced its way though. There’s more light on the ceiling, the kind of wavering many layered light pattern normally seen on the bottom of swimming pools. I’d never understood how that pattern of light worked, and had never wanted to, content to let it remain a slightly magical secret of natural science. Knowing such a phenomenon usually occurs with large pools of water my curiosity is piqued and I go in search of it. It is plausible that in heavy enough rainfall, considering the many gaps in the walls and ceiling of the courthouse and it’s sturdy foundation, a large amount of water could be collected in here and fail to drain away for a very long time, if ever. The main stairwell is to the right, but there are no stairs down, so I venture back across the lobby to a door behind the once-magnificent desk and find a corridor lined with heavy wooden doors and a single glass sign with elegantly painted lettering informing me that the stairs are to my right down the hall. Sure enough, at the end is another door behind which is a stairwell with a damp and slightly odorous blue carpet extending upward. The stairs that run down to the basement where I assume archives are kept is not carpeted, it’s wooden. I make my way down one half flight, then another, and find a door marked ‘Archives: Authorised Personnel Only’. Ignoring the sign, as it holds no meaning whatsoever in this world anymore, I push the door open with some difficulty as the hinges are rusted and find one last flight of stairs, the type mounted on girder with open spaces in between. Less than halfway down the stairs disappear into cloudy blue water that stretches out in front of me, further than my sight can reach. There is another hole in the ceiling here, I realise, further out across the water is a glowing blue circle at the foot of a broad shaft of light coming through a hole I can’t quite see. What I assume are bookshelves still stand down here, their topmost shelves rising out of the water, so I step gingerly across from the last dry step onto the top of a shelf and lower to a crouch. I’m just an inch or two too tall to stand upright so I crawl along to the end and pull myself across to the next, and the next until I’m a few feet from the blue circle of light where I rise to almost a stand and peer upward through the hole at a room on the level above, and the room above that, and then open sky. There should be more room, more levels than that but I can only surmise that the rest of the building did not fare so well as the lobby that is now home to a tree. It is when I lean forward a little more in a attempt to see more of the room above me and see what it is, or once was, that my feet slip just a little on the damp surface of the shelving unit and the whole thing wobbled, jittering ripples expanding outward from it, and in that split second of movement I am caught unawares, unable to regain balance and I tip headfirst into the water, into the circle of blue water, lit by the light flooding through the compromised ceiling. It’s warm. I thought it would be cold but it isn’t. In this highlighted circle, more of a cylinder actually, there is a warmth you can’t feel in open air. The light is a solid shaft, brilliant blue and sharp, and filled with thinner and less substantial threads of gold like the strings of a harp. Those beam of light capture bubbles, rising in glinting streams to the surface. Streams of them come off my clothes and hair, and from my nose and mouth. The longer I stay down here the more my vision hazes and more colours besides blue streak my vision, purple and green. I’ll drown if I don’t turn upright and swim back to the surface. Yet I actually pause before doing so, unable to decide which option is bleaker.

July 11th 2014 “Was there demolition planned for today?” “There must be,” “Don’t they usually warn us if it’s going to be so close?” The conversation in the hallway takes a moment to sink in and I finally turn from the bed and out of the window, between the blinds I see a building less than a mile away shrink as though it were being sucked into the earth and a cloud billows up around it until all that is left is the dust cloud. A thought of earthquakes flits through my mind, but only for a split second until the truth of the situation settles in my mind and on my shoulders. Even though I was so certain it was true and not simply the fevered nightmares of a girl plagued with anxiety over her brother’s impending death, having the reality in front of my eyes sets my heart racing and my palms itch. I turn back to Micah’s bed. He’s been flat-lining for more than a minute now. I haven’t called for help because I know there is no help to be had for him. The shuddering of the ground as more buildings fold in on themselves behind me is proof. His nails are still purple.

September 18th 2026 They were reluctant to let me stay here alone, but I consoled them with the lie that I will eventually catch them up. Their energy tires me out, their constant insistence on pushing on, moving forward, moving away, always moving. I’ve never been certain of why we were always moving, why we never simply searched for a safe place to stop. I was always sure there must be more than just us who survived the collapse of the world. They are running, not just moving but running. Running from what the world has become, running from the reality of our situation, the reality that they cannot return to the world we once knew. They want to keep running until they run in a full circle, back to the world as we knew it. They are unable to accept that the world as we knew it is no more. This is the world as we know it, there is no other world to know anymore.

#original fiction #short story #as we know it

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