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crsjunkyard · 3 years ago

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January Embers (Part 3)

The Sun Also Rises Series (ao3), Momentous Beginnings, A Study In Pink, January Embers (1), (2), (3), (4)

Little fun fact for ya, this chapter get's its name from a Jack Kerouac quote. "I got all my boyhood in vanilla winter waves around the kitchen stove."

Length: 4.5k

Summary: You and Viktor settle in to your new normal, learning what living together has in store.

Chapter 3: Vanilla Winter Waves

Two boxes, everything you had left fit into two boxes.

You were drained, wanting nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep the evening away. But you couldn't help feeling a little bit of lightness. That small inkling of hope telling you, maybe this would make you stronger, maybe the best was yet to come.

Your ruminations were put to an end by the soft groans of pain coming from Viktor’s direction.

Why now, of all the times, why now. He knew why, of course. This was a day of overexertion in the bitter cold catching up with him. The throbbing spasms were here to remind him of his place, to keep him from getting too comfortable.

Throwing himself into the worn armchair, he prepared to ride out the pain. Sharp breaths coming through his clenched teeth, he looked over to see you hovering close by.

“I will be fine in a moment, I just- it’s always like this during colder times, It will pass,” he winced, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears.

“Let me help,” you insisted, crouching down to eye level beside him.

“Really, it will pass- there is nothing to be done,” the words strained through his locked jaw.

“At least let me try,” you pleaded.

Something about the desperation of your tone caught him off-guard. Viktor usually opted to waive off whomever offered assistance with his leg, unless it was absolutely necessary. He would rather grit his teeth and muster through it. Truly believing he was saving himself and someone else, someone who probably was only offering out of propriety, an awkward amount of physical contact.

But this was you- knelt down and looking at him with those unfairly expressive eyes. You wanted to help, not because convention dictated it, but because you hated to see him suffer.

“What did you have in mind?”

If he expected you to accept his help, it was only fair to open up in return.

You were silent for a moment, plans formulating in your mind of how best to go about things. So pleased that he was willing to accept assistance, you skipped over explanations, instead jumping to a single command.

“Take off your pants.”

“Ex- excuse me?” he stammered, jaw hanging open loosely.

“I need to be able to touch your leg without anything in the way, and it would probably be more comfortable than rolling them up, so… take your pants off,” you insisted, deciding it would be most efficient to breeze past the embarrassment of your request.

Viktor eyed you warily, moving to follow your instruction nonetheless. The clanking of his buckle sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet apartment. You waited patiently for him to shimmy the pants halfway down before moving forward to peel them off.

You found yourself appreciating the bareness of his legs. They were pale, and long, and lean, and- you should really stop staring because it was a very inappropriate time to do so. Still you couldn’t help but notice his thighs were thicker than you’d expected, sinewy corded muscle, pleasantly smattered with dark hair.

“I’m starting to wonder- if this was merely a ploy to divest me of my pants?” his grin was strained, but had a playfully boyish edge that sent your heart fluttering.

“Sorry, I was just- thinking about where to start,” you feigned.

“Don’t let me stop you,” his palms opened in invitation.

Moving forward, you rubbed your hands together vigorously to warm them before beginning at a tentative pace. You tried to recall the attachment points for the tendons in the area, taking extra care to begin lightly before increasing pressure. You soon found a comfortable rhythm, recalling the information with ease as your confidence grew.

He recognized what you were doing, having studied enough anatomy and musculature therapeutics to identify a familiar pattern in your movements.

“Where did you learn this?”

“Oh, well y’know- we’ve been studying biomechanics, this isn’t really much different,” you replied distractedly, tongue peeking between your lips in focus.

“Yes it is, you’re demonstrating an in depth knowledge of the musculature and connective tissue that make up the lower limb, we studied nothing of the sort.”

“I did a little extra reading-” you trailed off, more preoccupied with making your way further down the joint of his knee.

“A little extra reading?” he pressed curiously, watching you tenderly knead the tension from his calf.

Viktor loved your hands, they were warm and strong and so sure. He’d catch himself lingering on them a bit too long, whenever you were gesticulating wildly or scribbling down notes. They were so capable and- well they were quite big, but he found he rather liked that about them too.

“I noticed you seemed to be having a bit more trouble, and I wanted to do something,” you moved down to gently roll out the soreness of his ankle. “So I went to the community library, but they weren’t very helpful,” your face wrinkled in annoyance.

“No, they wouldn't have what you’re looking for. You’d have to go to-.”

“The academy library,” you finished his sentence.

“Then I assume you know what my next question will be,” he looked at you expectantly.

“You’re wondering how I got access to the academy library?” Viktor confirmed your answer with a nod.

“I ran into Professor Heimerdinger outside the community library, he noticed I was- well I probably looked a little pissed off, but we got to talking and I mentioned what I’d been looking for,” your strong grip moved to the top of his foot, massaging out the overworked ligaments.

“He said there were some books in his office I could borrow, so we walked there and chatted a bit and I borrowed a few books, they were very informative,” you finished recounting the story, now pressing along the arch of his foot with measured upstrokes.

Finding a particularly tight knot, you circled forcefully with the pads of your thumbs until you heard a satisfying pop. In his gobsmacked state, Viktor was not prepared for the sharp jolt of pleasure, and let out an unrestrained groan.

“I was not aware you and the Professor knew each other,” he was shocked, to say the least.

He and Jayce had intentionally kept you out of the conversation whenever checking in with Heimerdinger. Not really knowing if they were permitted to be teaching you, and knowing for certain it was against protocol to have you in an active and dangerous lab such as theirs.

“He’s a regular at the bakery, comes in a few times a week to buy a dozen cardamom buns.”

“Oh,” was all he could muster in response, still reeling.

“Is that a problem?” you asked, brow raised in challenge.

“No, no- I apologize, you simply took me by surprise,” he insisted. “I suppose it makes sense now- I recognized your technique from a book the Professor had given me, I’d forgotten how well it actually works.”

Viktor's leg was feeling better than it had all season, much of the throbbing pain mellowed to it’s normal stiffness, giving him some blessed relief.

Something about what he’d said didn’t sit right with you. He was just going to sit there and ride it out, how much pain did he tolerate simply out of habit?

“Just because you can endure something doesn’t mean you should. I would be happy to do this every night if you’d let me, you deserve to be comfortable.”

A sharp pang ached within his chest, and Viktor had no doubt you meant every word. He let himself imagine, only for a moment- Coming home from a long day and, instead of sitting through the waves of pain, you were there- with your strong grip and sweet smiles.

“It’s always been like this, there’s always been something wrong with it, for as long as I can remember,” he wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re just different.”

You finished massaging, but didn’t stop touching him. Gently smoothing up and down the bare skin with outstretched fingers. Starting at the ankle and making your way to his knee before dropping back down and continuing the sequence.

“Yes, well this may be one of the few times I wish to be ordinary, but I suppose it can’t be helped,” he gave a wistful shrug, curling in on himself ever so slightly.

You cupped his tender knee with both hands, each thumb caressing gently across the patella, as if it were a treasured possession.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” your voice was fierce with conviction and he saw fire in your eyes.

Viktor had never felt more profoundly accepted in all his life.

*******

You had fallen asleep. It was still early in the evening, and the low hanging sun cast a dim golden glow through the window.

Halfway into one of the boxes you’d let out a jaw aching yawn, and Viktor suggested a bit of rest might be helpful before continuing. It didn’t take long until you were snoring softly into his pillow.

Feeling somewhat refreshed after your impromptu massage, Viktor decided to make use of the time. Now that you’d agreed to stay, he really needed to figure some things out. First he would clean, the apartment was due for a good deep cleaning anyways.

He gave up on being quiet after the first hour, realizing nothing short of a funeral procession could wake you. It took longer than he expected, now that you were here to stay he saw every coffee ring, dust bunny, and dirty sock with laser focus.

But it was worth the effort, after all- he wanted you to be comfortable in your new home. It did feel real yet, you weren’t here for the evening, you hadn’t accidentally fallen asleep at his place again. This is our apartment.

He didn’t have many things in the bathroom, but he consolidated them nonetheless, making sure you had ample drawer and counterspace. Next was the wardrobe- which was admittedly quite full, but he had an idea.

His tiny bedroom was crammed with bookshelves, but inside it was a small closet- half filled with poorly organized odds and ends. It would be yours, he decided, once it was empty of course. This part of his evening took less time than anticipated, and he was lightly sweating but very pleased when he finished clearing things out.

Venturing back to the main room he saw you were still fast asleep, limbs sprawled out oddly but looking peaceful as ever. His attention was drawn to your small collection of possessions, he debated for a moment before deciding to take a glance at what you’d already unpacked.

Viktor saw a small stack of clothing, it all looked light and breezy- he recognized the familiar shade of pink nestled amongst other colors. At least that dress survived.

There were several books, some he recognized- but a few he didn’t. I wonder how many the Professor gave her? A stack of leather-bound journals sat nearby, but he didn’t dare open them, no matter how badly his fingers itched to flip through the handwritten pages.

You had quite a large music collection, but no turntable. It must not have made it through the fire. Hmm- you seemed to enjoy big bands and sultry baritones, good to know.

His final step was to clear a shelf for you in the sitting room, arranging some of your things in what he hoped was a pleasing manner. Viktor couldn’t help the flutter of nerves as he looked around the room, hoping he hadn’t overstepped- hoping you would be happy with his efforts.

*******

You woke up slowly, wiping the drool from your cheek before stretching languidly. It was dark outside, and the comforting smell of Viktor’s sheets made you feel safe and cozy.

Rolling over you saw him in the sitting area, leaned back in the recliner flipping through the pages of a worn book. You recognized it as one of your own, an old novel filled with fantasy and adventure.

Taking stock of the room, that wasn’t the only thing you noticed. It was clean- tidier than you’d ever seen the place actually. Then you began to pick up on little things, there were two coats hanging by the door, a second bedside table adorned the previously empty space on your side of the mattress- your small stack of summer clothes sitting on top, and- oh.

A broad smile lit up your face upon seeing it. The long shelf you remembered being crammed with spare parts and loose pens, now housed your few precious items, proudly displaying them to the rest of the room.

You were touched to see he hadn’t moved anything that wasn’t already unpacked, though you wouldn’t have minded either way. It made you more secure in your decision to stay, he really wanted you here- and was willing to make the effort to prove so.

“Enjoying the book?” you called out, Viktor gave a startled jolt at your voice.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake until morning,” he said, shutting the pages.

You moved to the sitting area, settling down on the soft rug with a blanket wrapped around you.

“Thank you,” you looked around the room, a happy little grin lifting your cheeks. “For making space for me.”

“Of course, it was no trouble,” he was feeling a bit bashful under your attention. “There is one more thing, if you’ll follow me…” he stood from the chair, leading you to the small adjoining room.

“I cleared this out for you, I know it isn’t much- but I wanted you to have a space of your own,” he gestured to the empty closet.

When words failed, you instead pulled him into a tight hug, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He returned your embrace, feeling warm and off-balance.

You went off towards the kitchen, Viktor trailing behind- watching as you opened the icebox, scanning it’s contents. Then you proceeded to open every single cupboard, taking inventory of his sparse kitchen supplies. Getting this kitchen into shape is going to take a bit of work.

Viktor yawned sleepily, and you were reminded of the most pressing issue at hand, the one you’d both been dancing around- the bed. Sure you had already shared it a handful of times, but those were different circumstances.

“Would you like-”

“What do you think-”

You both spoke at the same time, words tumbling over each other.

“Go ahead,” you insisted, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“I will take the couch, and perhaps sometime this week I can have another bed delivered?” It would be expensive, but he wanted you to have a bed of your own. Well- what he really wanted was to have you in bed next to him every night. But it didn’t feel right, suggesting that you should share- this was a new dynamic and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel pressured.

You scoffed. “Viktor you’re not buying another bed, I can take the couch or…” you bit your lip, nibbling on it thoughtfully. “We could share?”

It was an entirely different thing, he reasoned, if you were to suggest it yourself.

“I would not be opposed to sharing, if you are sure?”

“I like sleeping next to you,” you answered honestly, rewarded by the crooked smile gracing his lips.

Getting ready for bed was strange, an undercurrent of tension ran through the air as you and Viktor moved around each other. It was a lifetime ago that you’d woken up in his arms. You were usually so comfortable with one another, but now everything felt fragile and new.

Sliding into bed after him, you switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

It wasn’t a particularly large bed. You both lie on your backs, side by side- a hot line of contact running from shoulder to hip. You couldn’t help but squirm, trying to find a better position. How do we usually sleep? Why can’t I get comfortable?

“Okay,” Viktor huffed, “Perhaps we try this-” he lifted an arm, snaking it around your shoulders- pulling you closer to nestle against his chest.

“Better?” he asked.

“Mmhmm- thanks,” you nestled into the embrace, his arms tightening their hold as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

*******

For once, you’d woken before Viktor.

At some point in the night your positions had switched- and now his gangly limbs wrapped tightly around you, long arms encircling your waist. His head pillowed on your chest, and locks of fluffy auburn hair tickled your throat.

You loved his hair, it was beautiful- thick and glossy and so soft. You especially loved the way it would curl around his ears, giving a messy and unkempt edge to his perfectly polished persona.

Nose buried in the tresses, you inhaled deeply. He smelled of black licorice and sugared lemon, you couldn’t get enough.

“Are you- smelling me?” Viktor’s voice was rough with sleep, and the words curled pleasantly around his thickened accent.

You’d already been caught, so why not embrace it?

“Yes, I like the way you smell,” you said plainly, giving an exaggerated sniff behind his ear.

Feeling his silent laughter reverberating against your side, you couldn’t help but join in- feeling a little ridiculous.

“You are very strange,” he mumbled into your chest.

“I know,” you let out a put-upon sigh. “Sure you want to deal with me every day?”

“Very much so,” he curled further into you, fingers passing over a patch of bare skin on your hip.

“Let’s go back to sleep, it’s still early anyway,” you suggested.

Viktor hummed in agreement, soothed back to sleep by the lazy grazing of your fingers through his hair.

*******

The peace couldn’t last forever, although you did get one blessedly carefree day to lounge around the apartment, getting used to the constant presence of one another.

You had big plans for today- a trip to the market for all the things that desperately needed replacing. You had just gotten a seasonal bonus and were feeling a little reckless.

Viktor had been summoned by Professor Heimerdinger for a progress report on recent hextech developments. Usually Jayce would attend as well, but he had opted to accompany you instead, saying something about needing the quality time.

You were excited to spend the day with Jayce. Sure, your relationship with him was of a different nature than with Viktor, but that didn’t make it any less precious. Jayce was caring and optimistic, and- at times quite hilarious.

Watching Viktor collect his things, you felt a slight twinge. He bid you goodbye with a nervous smile, shutting the door behind him- and you couldn’t help but feel his absence fill the entire apartment. He just left and I already miss him, I’m hopeless.

Waiting for Jayce to arrive, you busied yourself making a list of the things you’d hoped to find today. Some of them necessities, but others you simply wanted to brighten up the apartment.

It didn’t take long for you to realize Viktor was somewhat… utilitarian. You weren’t extravagant by any means- but you knew what you liked, and you knew how to make a comfortable home out of whatever means available. After all, when life got hard where could you feel comfortable if not at home?

He deserved more than the bare necessities, he deserved a place to feel warm and loved, a place he could feel safe in.

A few knocks and a walk later, you and Jayce were strolling along the pier, perusing the various wares.

The foreign imports sector was by far your favorite place in Piltover. A colorful smattering of small carts and storefronts- usually owned by the kindest merchant families. Different smells wafted out into the air, all wrapped together in something spicy and wholly unique to the city.

“So, uh-” Jayce began awkwardly, “How are things going?”

“Things?” you question, teasing him a little.

“Ugh, you know what I mean, things with you and our dear tortured genius.”

“Oh, that-” you were happy, so incredibly happy. How could you not be when you’d woken to Viktor's hot breath fanning between the valley of your breasts.

“I guess that smile on your face is all the answer I need,” he gave your shoulder a playful nudge.

Now that it was on your mind, you couldn’t help wondering what this thing you had with Viktor was. Only knowing for certain that you would protect it at any cost.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted quietly, hoping he would understand.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret… he doesn’t either.” Jayce wrapped a heavy arm around your shoulder. “And it doesn’t matter anyways, just do what feels right.”

As simple as the words may be, they struck a chord.

“That is- surprisingly helpful,” you thanked with a quirk of your lips.

“Hey, I’m not just a pretty face,” he joked, before excitedly dragging you into an Aurmian chocolate shop.

*******

Viktor was nervous.

It wasn’t meeting Professor Heimerdinger that made him nervous, not exactly. He’d spent many long nights assisting the man with research, and countless days following him around to meetings- fielding overeager students and inquisitive councilors alike.

No, there were other forces at play making his palms clammy with sweat.

For one, he was grappling with the realization that you and the Professor not only knew each other, but were on- what he considered, very friendly terms. The Professor did not bring just anybody back to his office to borrow books. If he knows you, what else does he know?

Another thing, he didn’t customarily lead their hextech presentations. Viktor was always prepared, always had all the right sketches to pull out, or a neatly written stack of notes to refer to. But Jayce was usually so overeager that Viktor let him take the lead, preferring to wait for his partners searching glaces before stepping in with supplemental information.

This would be good for him, the nerves would subside and perhaps next time he would be more outspoken. Hextech was quickly becoming just as revolutionary as he’d imagined, it was time to get over his reservations quickly if he was to keep up.

“Good to see you my boy, come in- come in,” Heimerdinger was cheerful as ever.

“Hello Professor, It’s just me for today, I hope that’s alright?”

“Of course, it’ll be nice to have a chat- just like old times!”

“Eh- yes, where did you want to begin?”

“Ah, straight to business as usual,” he said jovially. “I do have a few proposals from councilors… you know they’re chomping at the bit to get in on the ground floor.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, he didn’t have much respect for at least half of Piltover’s high council, and he was certain an even higher percentage of them had no respect for him.

“Come, let’s take a seat,” leading him to a large workbench resting in front of the warm fireplace. “I trust you have some plans for me as well?”

The next few hours were spent in vigorous analysis, and Viktor forgot entirely why he’d been so nervous in the first place. He’d also forgotten how enjoyable their discussions could be- the yordle had quite a brilliant mind.

Viktor learned a few requests from the councilors meant in depth plans- plans of how he and Jayce were to develop hextech to benefit the prosperity of Piltover. There was much debate on this subject, he was adamant that a balance must be struck. Hextech was a dream to make life better for those who struggled, he wouldn’t see it used as a tool to increase the wealth of elites.

When most affairs were in order and a few compromises had been struck, Viktor felt- confident. He was pleased with what had been accomplished here today, and his first thoughts were of how excited he was to discuss it with you and Jayce.

The further along your studies came the more engaged you were with their research, finally having a foundation of knowledge to base some understanding on. Viktor could admit, he really wasn’t expecting you to advance as quickly as you had, you were becoming quite formidable.

“In all our years together, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that particular look cross your face,” the professor observed, pulling Viktor from his daydream.

“After a meeting like ours there is much to think about,” Viktor began collecting his papers, ready to get home- to get back to you.

“It wouldn’t happen to be a certain young lady on your mind?”

There it was, what he’d been anxiously waiting for all afternoon. He should've known Heimerdinger was probably just waiting for his time to strike, the man had always been one for theatrics.

“Ah- yes, I hadn’t realized the two of you were acquainted, until she mentioned you a few evenings ago,” he tried remain suave in the face of his returning nerves.

“She’s a lovely girl, and quite the talented baker.”

“Yes, she is.”

“And I was beginning to wonder if you would ever take a protegee of your own, it seems you’ve finally found someone suited to you- even if it’s a little unorthodox,” the professor let out a pitchy chuckle. “But I should have expected nothing less from you!”

So he does know, the surprise must have easily read on Viktor’s face.

“Protegee?” his brows pulled together in confusion.

“What else would you call it?”

Viktor disliked the implications of the dynamic. You weren’t his protegee, and he certainly wasn’t your mentor. You were… well, you were his- friend. Jayce is my friend and I don’t wake up wrapped around him in the morning.

“I understand what you may think but it’s not so, eh- formal. She wants to learn so I teach her, Jayce helps as well,” that was as best as he could describe the situation without further confusing himself and the Professor.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d known, that we were teaching her in the lab,” he decided to go ahead and broach the subject, now that they were openly discussing things.

“Oh Viktor, ever since I found you in that clocktower- you’ve been alone. Then suddenly you’re joined at the hip with a charming young lady, you don’t get to my age without noticing a few things.”

“And- you’re alright with this? All of it?” Viktor held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“If she can keep up with you, my boy, she must be something special,” a knowing twinkle glinted in his wide set eyes.

“You have no idea,” Viktor smiled- it was private and warm, and his former mentor was struck by how the boy’s features softened, making him look achingly young.

Good, he deserves to be happy- and she will certainly keep him on his toes.

“However, I’ve probably let this slide for too long,” Viktor felt he’d been doused with cold water. “If she really wishes to remain alongside you in the lab, something must be worked out.”

“What did you have in mind, Professor?”

*******

Viktor heard you before he saw you, the sounds of your enigmatic laughter combined with Jayce’s loud voice echoed through the apartment's front door.

The two of you were sat at the dining table, surrounded by heavenly smelling bowls of something he didn't quite recognize, and so engrossed in conversation that you hadn’t heard him arrive. He decided to wait a moment- watching and listening.

“Then, right as he’s bent over trying to get the door unlocked,” Jayce’s arms waved around playfully as you watched on in amusement. “Boom there’s Mel, shining her light right at us.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, wondering how they managed to get out of that one.

“And you know what he says?” Jayce pauses dramatically.

“Tell me,” you insisted.

“He says- Wait a minute- this isn’t my room?”

A surprised snort left your lips, and you both began to cackled like hyenas, feeding off each other's laughter.

“It’s not as though you were offering much help in the face of Councilor Medarda,” Viktor interjected, making his presence known.

You looked up to see him standing on the threshold, lips curved into a fond smile.

“You’re home!” leaving your seat at the table, you greeted him with a brief hug. He couldn’t help but notice, you smelled intoxicatingly delicious, like warm spiced vanilla.

“Are you smelling me,” you asked teasingly, in a hushed tone that only he could hear.

“You smell different,” Viktor blurted, before realizing he might have expressed himself incorrectly. “A good different- what I mean to say is, you smell very nice.”

A deep blush crept up from under his collar, your warm vanilla scent making him feel hazy.

“It’s a new perfume, I got it today,” you whispered, looking up at him in a way that was most decidedly indecent.

“Come on, we brought spiced meats back from the market, and I’m dying to hear about how your meeting went,” you ushered him to the table.

He halfheartedly listened to you explain the various dishes on the table- all the while looking at you with something akin to wonder in his eyes.

*******

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane

138 notes · View notes

moldisgoodforyou · 4 years ago

Text

lost time ch. 5.5

soooo it’s not the next part of study abroad fic like i promised but i wanted this one out of the drafts. pls enjoy

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: all smut - this is part of chapter five and then a what if they actually fucked lmao

_____

They kept kissing for a while, Sophie lazily toying with the ends of his hair. After a couple minutes, he started kissing along her jaw, sucking just enough at a spot on her neck to elicit a soft moan from her. “I wish I came as your date.” He murmured against her skin as he traced his thumb back and forth over her hip. She froze at his confession, her head clouded without a clear thought. “You’re drunk.” She mumbled back, hand falling from his neck. “I’m not.” He argued, kissing her again. She could taste the rum on his lips, betraying his words.

“Well, I am.” She replied softly, hesitating again until he went in for another kiss. “And I’m still mad about your stupid death cup rule.” He scoffed, softly, but sounded more amused than anything. “You can’t call house rules when it’s not your house.” Sophie scowled and pressed her hand a little harder against his chest. “It’s more my house than yours. Can’t you just follow the rules?” He chuckled, trailing his hand higher and ran his index finger lightly along her spine. “Do you ever stop arguing, Soph?” She shivered at his touch, willing herself not to move closer. “Not with you.”

“Can we…?” He asked with a broad grin, tipping his head toward their houses, just a short walk away.

She paused, considering. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He challenged, stepping closer and backing her up against the wall. She swallowed and felt her heart threatening to beat out of her chest, then willed herself not to think about it any longer - if she did, she’d back herself out of it. “I just. We’re - we’re not going to -” She stammered, and he raised his eyebrows. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” She decided, pushing him a little so she could slip out from under him and walk off the back porch, then around the house. He snorted as he followed her. “Walking through the house isn’t an option for you?”

“Not really a fan of everyone thinking we hooked up.” She lied, striding down the sidewalk determinedly.

He furrowed his brow and jogged to catch up with her, confused. “I thought you said -”

“I did. We’re going to.”

“Then why -”

“It doesn’t matter, god, do you always ask so many questions?” She snapped frustratedly, hating herself as she did. She was better than this, wasn’t she? Being mean to Rafe had always been a coping mechanism to hide the inkling of a crush she’d had on him all those years.

He fell silent, frowning as he followed. Maybe this was a bad idea, right? Some small part of his brain reminded him of the one time he saw a therapist in training, as a favor to a friend also in the psychology major, and the therapist had told him he sounded like he was a little too comfortable allowing people in who repeatedly hurt him. All that after only thirty minutes of meeting the person and a few confessions. Probably bullshit, he always figured, it was just because he was in a vulnerable spot right after he was dumped by Brooklyn and shared a little too much.

They got to his house faster than he expected, and he offered his hand as they walked through the door. He was surprised when she accepted it, a little tentatively, and hoped she couldn’t feel his pulse through his palm. “My room’s just up here.”

“Okay. I like the house, it’s cool.” A lot of their flirty energy had died down and turned to nervous energy, and she wished she’d wiped her palm on her skirt before taking his hand.

“It was built in 1932 or something like that, it actually used to be the governor’s mansion -” He started, only to be interrupted by her. “I know. I had to do a research project on it once, I have the blueprints.”

“Oh.” He showed her into his room, thankful that he’d cleaned up earlier that day, and dropped her hand as he shut the door behind her. “So. Here it is.”

“Rafe?” She took a step closer, trapping him against the door like he’d had her earlier. Had he always had that little smattering of freckles across his nose? They were so faint by now she could hardly see it, but for a moment she wondered what they’d look like in summer, across his tanned skin.

“Yeah?” His hands found her waist easily and he dared to tease his thumb along the elastic of her skirt, nearly making her shudder.

“I didn’t really come here to talk.”

“Right.” He glanced between her eyes and her lips, tongue darting out briefly to wet his own.

She seemed amused, raising her eyebrows. “Am I always gonna have to make the first move?”

He shook his head quickly and leaned down, and she wasn’t sure who kissed who first. Their lips met hard in a heated kiss and it wasn’t long until he reached down and tapped one hand under her thigh. She took the hint and jumped to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, rolling her hips a little into him.

He supported her with both hands under her thighs and groaned into her mouth as she rolled her hips. Her already-short skirt was halfway up her waist already so there was nearly nothing between them, especially considering his half-unbuttoned shirt and tight pants that left nothing to the imagination.

“Bed.” She breathed out, working at the rest of the buttons down his shirt. He nodded and gently dropped her down onto the bed, then looked up at her with a curious glance as he went to tug off her halter top. “Can I?”

“Yeah, here let me.” She nodded, sitting up just enough to wrestle off the top. He bit hard on his tongue as her breasts came loose, then reached out and cupped them, running his thumbs over her nipples and smirked. “You need to stop hiding these under those big hoodies you wear to class.”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll start just having my tits out in class.” She rolled her eyes, shoving his shirt off his shoulders. “Totally reasonable.”

He laughed and pushed her up the bed, pressing kisses down her throat and along her collarbone. “Sounds perfect to me.” She moaned when he hit the perfect spot at the base of her neck, leaving a red mark sure to bruise. “Rafe.”

He paused for a moment and had to will himself not to cum in his pants just at that sound alone. “Hm?”

“Do you really have to leave hickeys like we’re fifteen?” She threaded her fingers in his hair, wanting to touch nearly every inch of his skin. If she was going to do this once - and she swore she wouldn’t do it again - she was going to make it count.

“Do you not like them?” As if to prove a point, he sucked another one at the swell of her breast, then skated his teeth along her nipple as he moved further down. Her grip tightened in his hair and she let her head fall back, gasping. “Just - fuck - just not where anyone can see.”

“I can do that.” He affirmed, taking his time to leave little kisses and marks all over her chest. She grit her teeth when it went on a little too long, shifting around below him. “Cameron - you can -”

“Yeah?” He lifted his head and moved up to kiss her again but she whined in protest, pressing his head back down. “Come on.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Rafe.”

“I need words, Soph.”

She scowled, not wanting to admit it any way that she was enjoying herself. “You’re just trying to hold something over me.”

He smirked, thoroughly amused. “I’m trying to fuck you, actually, if you’ll let me.”

“Do you always take this long?” She reached for the zipper of his pants in between them and he laughed, pushing her hand away. “Are you this annoying with every man you sleep with?”

“It’s not like I’ll come that way anyways.” She mumbled under her breath and he paused, cocking his head a little. Sophie hated that she wanted to comb her fingers through his beautiful floppy hair.

“You’ve never come from someone touching you?” He asked, a little softer, gentler with his touch. She huffed and shook her head, not wanting to add that she’d hardly come from sex anyways. “No. Now can we just -”

“No, no, I’m going to take my time.” He declared, moving down her body and nipped along her hips, the waistband of her skirt, then slowly unbuttoned her skirt and looked up at her. “Okay?”

“Okay.” She breathed out, embarrassed at how much control he had over her.

He carefully slid her skirt down her legs and let it fall to the ground, then nudged her legs open, positioning himself in between them.

“What are you - oh, fuck.” She cursed as he placed an open-mouthed kiss directly on her clothed clit. He smirked against her and pushed her legs a little wider, then kissed along her inner thighs, peppering kisses along the hem of her panties.

“Can I?” He asked, hooking his fingers in the sides of her thong. She nodded quickly and he pulled it down - just a little bit - then took it in both hands, ripped it clean in half and stuffed it in his back pocket.

“Did you just -” She sat up a little, trying to close her legs, but he nudged them back open, giving her a wolfish grin. “Yeah, I wanted a souvenir.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Sophie laughed a little in disbelief, but it quickly turned into a moan as he licked a wide stripe up her center, wasting no time. He grinned and replaced his tongue with his fingers, first one then two, as he glanced up at her. “Soaked just for me?”

“In your dreams.” She bit back and he shook his head with a grin. Only she could keep up an argument during sex. “You’re in them more often than you’d think, sweetheart.”

As much as she wanted to hate sweetheart, it felt like a knot was forming in her stomach just from the nickname alone. All she could manage in response was just “oh?”

He smirked and continued his ministrations, slow pumps in and out combined with flicks of his tongue over her clit, slowly building up to it. She whined a little, biting her lip. “More.”

“Yeah? You like that, Soph?” Rafe glanced up to gauge her expression and nearly laughed when he saw her head dropped back against the pillows and her hands fisted in the sheets. He just picked up his pace instead, moving to suck on her clit. When he did that, and curled his fingers inside of her, she gasped sharply. “Do that again.”

He used his free hand to push her leg out again, as they were close to clamping around his head, and continued until she was gasping again, her legs starting to shake. “Oh my god - fucking hell, Rafe -”

Rafe took a mental picture and swore he’d never forget how goddamn pretty she looked as she came, calling out his name. It was quite literally a dream come true and he worked her through the orgasm, then climbed back up the bed to rest next to her and give her a moment to recover.

She tipped her head over, looking almost...surprised. “I didn’t think I could - I’ve never -”

He smirked. “Told you I’d take my time.”

“Arrogant asshole.” She bit back, but it didn’t really have the same effect when she was still a little out of breath and had a blissful expression. Sophie glanced down and saw him straining against his pants, and briefly reconsidered - if she just got up and left right then, would Rafe hate her for all of eternity for giving him blue balls?

Then he rolled on top of her, and she felt him against her core for a tiny moment, and decided she could at least go for a handjob if she couldn’t handle the whole thing. He deserved that at the very least, for the way he just made her feel. Also, why had no one in her social circles ever commented on the size of him before, even in high school? He had to be at least six, maybe seven -

“Soph.” Rafe placed a quick kiss on her lips, laughing when she was jerked out of her reverie and blinked up at him.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, giving him a small smile. “Are you?”

“I have condoms....” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows with the insinuation. She gave him a small nod and pushed him over onto his back, straddling him and started to work at his button fly.

He let out a choked breath of surprise, just staring at her for a moment.

She felt his gaze and glanced up at him as she undid the last button, placing her hand over his length. “What?”

He swallowed, hard. “I think you might have to yank my pants off. They’re a little tight around the ass.”

Sophie giggled and got off of him so he could swing his legs off to the side of the bed, trying to tug down what he could. She joined in after a moment when they got stuck around his thighs, yanking until she heard a solid rip and immediately put her hands up, eyes wide. “Shit, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine, I’ll just buy another pair.” He excused right away and she bristled, hearing arrogance seep into his tone. That was the reminder she needed that he wasn’t just a hot random hookup, this was Rafe, and even if he could make her cum in five damn minutes from a flick of his tongue and twist of his fingers, he was still everything she hated about him too.

“Where are your condoms?” She reached for his bedside table and he grabbed her hand to stop her, not wanting her to see the drafted screenplay he’d been working on for a class. It featured two sworn enemies, who’d known each other for ages then ended up at the same college even though it was far away from their hometown - fine, there were too many similarities that she’d catch right away. He kicked off what was now three big scraps of his pants and reached in the very back of the drawer to pull out a condom, a sore reminder of how long it’d been.

She sat back on the bed and tried to look impassive at his size, reminding herself she really should have assumed, with the way he was built and all of 6’3”. He caught her staring and smirked, keeping his eyes locked with hers as he rolled the condom on. “You okay?”

She blushed, immediately flustered. “I’m fine.”

“When was the last time you...?”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Is that really important?”

He shook his head quickly, genuine. “No! No, not at all, but we can just take things slower. If you want.”

She appreciated the gesture - he was probably right - but grabbed his hand anyways, pulling him down to the bed. “I’ll be fine.”

He leaned over her, giving her a long kiss and combed his fingers through her hair. Just that action alone had her wanting to melt into him and kiss him for ages, until their lips fell off - she had to remind herself that this wasn’t a romantic thing with how soft he was being. He nearly reached to hold her hand, then just ran it up her side instead, telling himself that she wouldn’t want that, anyways.

“Rafe.” She murmured against his lips, feeling overwhelmed from the way his hands were everywhere and how he was so damn close and god, were his eyes always that pretty?

He pulled back a little, concerned. “Did I do something wr -”

She didn’t give him the chance to finish. Sophie pushed him onto his back, straddling him and rocked her hips once against him. “You’re taking too long.”

He groaned, his hands immediately going to her waist to support her. “Didn’t realize we were on a time crunch.”

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I was sober.” She reminded him and he frowned, squeezing her hips gently. “You’re not drunk though. I didn’t think you were even tipsy by now.”

“I ...” She trailed off, feeling a little guilty at the way he froze. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this normally.” She wasn’t sure why, exactly, she was lying to him, just felt the need to put him in his place, remind him what they’d be going back to after this one-night stand.

His brow knitted with concern. “We can stop, Sophie, I’m not going to push you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” She amended quickly, feeling way too exposed for a moment to be having that conversation. “I just meant - I don’t know. This isn’t happening again, so. Enjoy it while you last.”

He relaxed a little, his frown turning to a smirk. “While I last? I think it only took me five minutes to watch you cum.”

She had no response to that, so she just huffed, standing up on her knees. “Are you good?”

He nodded, watching with bated breath as she took his cock and lined it up with her entrance, slowly sinking down onto him. He groaned, letting his head fall back for a moment, but kept his grip on her hips. “Fuck, Sophie.”

Just him saying her name - like that - sent a pulse straight to her core. She bit the inside of her cheek hard as she sunk down all the way on him, waiting just a moment for it to turn from a flash of pain to pleasure. “Just - just let me -”

He nodded, rubbing circles on her hips with his thumbs. “Take your time.”

She scowled, almost taking it as a challenge. “I’m fine.” She started bouncing her hips on him, leaning forward a little and bracing her hands on his abs. It took her a moment, but it started feeling better and better, and Rafe’s groans and gasps were enough to spur her on.

“Oh, c’mon...so good, Soph...” He encouraged, bringing his hips up to meet hers. For a few minutes the room was just filled with their breathy pants and the sound of skin on skin. When he felt himself getting closer, he reached in between them and started rubbing circles across her clit, loving the way she gasped at his touch.

She nearly flinched, the feeling of everything being so close to overwhelming. She was so close to reaching her high - again - and kept her eyes on his for a heated moment.

Rafe kept up his motions until he could tell she was close, about to snap, and he was too. “There we go, Soph, that’s my good girl -”

“Not yours.” She snapped hastily and he let his head flop back against the pillow, frustrated, and dropped his hand. “Didn’t mean it like that -”

She shook her head. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.” Sophie grabbed his hand and brought it back to her clit, hoping to spur him on again. “Please don’t stop - oh, yes, fuck, there -”

He resumed his gentle rubbing, a little more frenzied now, and groaned as she moved her hips a little differently, rolling them and bouncing on him somehow all at the same time. It only took a minute longer for her to come and as she clenched around him, it spurred him on too, making him let out an embarrassingly loud groan.

As they both caught their breath and she climbed off him, panting, he shot her a cocky grin. “Sure you don’t want to do that again?”

She chose to ignore him and stood, hoping it didn’t show how she stumbled just a little from weak legs. She reached for her skirt then paused, standing up with crossed arms. “You took my underwear.”

“I did.” He nodded, leaning back with his hands behind his head, on full display.

Sophie let her gaze rake over him for a second, but he didn’t notice as he was doing the same. “And you ripped it.”

He had the decency to look a little bashful at that. “Probably shouldn’t have.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Rafe gave her a wry smile. “You could stay the night and I’ll give you my boxers to sleep in.”

She huffed and pulled her skirt on anyways, rolling her eyes. “Give it up, Cameron. Never gonna happen.”

“I’m sorry, did you just disassociate from the last half hour?” He raised his eyebrows, smirking.

Sophie wrestled on her halter top, thoroughly annoyed by now - god, only he could switch her mood so easily. “Worst sex of my life.”

He let out a loud, barking laugh. “You know that’s not true.”

“I - well - whatever. I’m leaving.” She started toward the door and he sprung out of bed, tugging on a pair of boxers. “No, hold on, I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

She stopped in the doorframe, crossing her arms. “This is ridiculous, we’re not dating -”

“It’s still three am and I’m not letting you walk.” He shoved his feet into boat shoes and grabbed his keys from his nightstand. “Come on.”

“Just a drive home?” She asked, stepping aside so she could follow him down the hall.

“Just a drive home.” He confirmed. “Jesus, Sophie, it’s just a kind gesture, not a committed relationship.”

“I know, just. I don’t know.”

He cast a glance back at her, frowning a little. “Your last boyfriend was that bad, huh?”

She rolled her eyes, following him outside to the car and got in (after he insisted upon opening the door for her). “No comment.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #outer banks smut #obx smut #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe x sophie #college rafe #mine #frat rafe

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Atlas: Space, Mercury

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 2/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Warnings include: language, maybe, and morally grey debates about killing bad guys, angst (so much angst), and a thoroughly confused Loki.

Chapter 2: Mercury

Summary: Becca did not expect to feel this way after her first official mission. Loki did not expect to care how she felt, one way or another. Takes place after Helmet Heists.

“Heya, Lokes. How’s it going?”

Loki looked up, brow furrowed in a calculating expression. Tony Stark was not one to casually strike up a conversation with him unless it was of the utmost importance and he had no other choice. Therefore, the almost cheery way he had plopped himself down beside him on the couch was a matter of extreme curiousness.

Loki was having none of it.

“What is this?”

“I only asked how you were?” Tony sounded unsure, put looked all around innocent until he let out a long puff of air that made his cheeks inflate. “OK, I wanted to ask you how Becks was.”

Loki rolled his eyes and turned the page on his book, his attention now on the tight script before him. “I daresay she’s your employee, Stark, not mine. Why would I know?”

“Maybe because she’s the only person you talk to, and you’d be able to tell if she were OK. And the fact that you’ve been sticking to her like glue since we got back from the Hellhole. I don’t know, it gives me the inkling that you do, indeed, know.”

Stark wasn’t wrong.

Rebecca was the only human that Loki seemed to find bearable most of the time. She wasn’t loud or brash or mindless. Her taste in literature wasn’t half bad, either.

But she was human. And mortal. And beneath him.

For the longest time, he had tried not to get too attached, but this last mission certainly became a turning point in their relationship. It wasn’t bad, per se. They understood each other’s body language in a way that only two introverts could, and they worked together well as a team, but… she was so soft and innocent and everything he was most certainly not. Loki tended to scoff and ridicule humans such as this, not attempt to ensure their safety and their ongoing wellbeing, even after the fact.

Those eyes, though…

“Lokes?” Apparently Loki had been silent for much longer than was considered normal. He tended to do that a lot, as of late, always in relation to that dreary mortal.

Loki shifted uncomfortably at the memory of Becca’s eyes on the jet ride back. “I would say she takes issue with the moral ambiguity of killing an enemy. Regardless of whether or not they deserved it.”

Rows of houses Sound asleep Only streetlights Notice me

He nearly wanted to laugh at himself. Taking issue was probably the understatement of the year.

More than once, while he was doing his nightly walks, he would find Becca on the roof, staring at the world below–at the forests, the darkness, at the nothingness. She would stand, shivering in the night air, as she tried to make out shapes in the inky black abyss. It would take him two or three mentions of her name to rouse her from contemplative stupor. And, even then, Loki could tell she was not all there.

She always smiled, pushing through the oppressive chaos in her head and ask him about his day. As if she had not been fixing to fall apart a second before.

Damn her and her empathy.

I am desperate If nothing else In a holding pattern To find myself

I talk in circles I talk in circles I watch for signals For a clue

More than once he had swallowed whatever irritation would bubble to the surface in an effort to get her talking. Instead of his usually acidic demands for her to get on with it, he simply nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner and waited for her to spill her thoughts, as repetitive as they were. Not that he could blame her.

He remembered the first time he had killed something. He was seven. It had been a rabbit while on a hunt. He cried for three days, afterwards, until an Einherjar had scoffed and told him that was how life worked and he needed to accept it. Loki hadn’t cried when that particular soldier did not come home from a siege in Vanaheim a hundred years later. Nor for the hundreds that had been lost in battles, since. What was the point? Creatures lived and died, sometimes by his blade. That was life.

How to feel different How to feel new Like science fiction Bending truth

“Why do you keep asking that, Loki?” She had whined, pulling the edges of his cloak, which he had laid over her bare shoulders to shield her against the wind. He had asked if she was doing alright. “You know I’m physically fine. You made sure of that.”

He had not meant to inquire after her physical well-being, and Becca very well knew that. She also knew that he would die a fiery death before insisting “but, how do you feel?” Loki had made an annoyed noise and stormed off with the intention to hide in his room. He had doubled back, halfway there, only to watch her wipe away tears from the corners of her eyes when she thought herself alone. He still went back to his room, but he felt like a rock was lodged in his stomach all the way there.

“Could you do me a favor and keep an eye on her? She’s been really jumpy and anxious at work, but she keeps telling me she’s fine.” Tony sighed. “I just worry about her, man.”

Loki offered a sympathetic look, despite his initial reaction to sneer back at the Iron Man. Breaking old habits was hard. “I know. I will.”

No one can unring this bell Unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new God knows I am dissonance Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune

The Asgardian prince had found his friend in a hidden corner of the library. It looked like she had started to read one of the many tomes on Asgardian technology he had lent her, before her mind betrayed her. Becca was staring straight in front of her, brown eyes empty of any emotion yet full of doubts and insecurities.

“Rebecca.” His whisper clapped like thunder in the eerie silence of the library.

She snapped out of her trance and offered him a smile. “Sorry, did you say something, Lo?”

Gods above, help me.

Loki sighed, pulling a chair beside her and sinking down. Even seated, he was still significantly taller than her, but she found that she felt a little less nervous when he tried to get on her level. It was a kindness, she knew, but the concern buried deep in his gaze did little to make her feel better. If anything, she felt worse. If she had stayed in the jet, if she had followed directions, who would she be today? Could she be able to sleep? Could she stop waking up in cold sweats at all hours of the morning?

“Dearest, talk to me.” The use of pet names were few and far between with Loki. He much preferred calling anyone “hey, you” or “imbecile come here”. So the use of a term of endearment…

Did she really look in that dire a state?

“Tony sent you, huh?” Becca thought she might as well deflect until he felt uncomfortable. That usually worked.

“No, I sent myself,” he assured, frowning. The expression he received in exchange screamed you’ve gotta be kidding me. “Though Tony expressed interest in also knowing how you were,” he admitted and Becca rolled her eyes. Swallowing whatever shard of emotion that was attempting to convince him to let the whole thing go, he craned his neck until his gaze could easily fix on hers. “You cannot go on like this, you know it. You cannot keep replaying scenarios in hopes of finding a loophole to villainize yourself with.”

I know the further I go The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed And somehow I’ve fallen in love With this middle ground at the cost of my soul

Becca groaned, the sincerity in his voice making the pit in her stomach grow larger. The edges of her perfectly crafted calmness began to fray and she was sure that the god could easily feel it unraveling under his stare. “It can’t be this simple, Loki.” She couldn’t live her life without feeling guilty, she meant. Surely, she had to spend the rest of eternity purging herself of these demons before she could allow herself even a morsel of comfort. If not, was she not just a monster?

Loki chuckled drily, placing a hand on her shoulder and its weight felt like a welcome balm to her shot nerves. “Who said anything about simple? You took lives. Nothing about that is simple. Believe me, I understand. But, on rare occasions, the ends do justify the means.”

Her head fell, hanging between her shoulders in a sign of defeat she should have never had to deal with. Stark shouldn’t have asked her to come on the mission, but she saved ten of the two dozen from dying in battle due to faults in their equipment. She saved him from what she thought was certain death (and might have been). Her heart was too good for this dark, sludgy world of his, he knew.

He wanted to hate it, to scoff at her naivety, at her hopefulness for the rotting lump that was her world. He couldn’t. He craved it, instead, and wondered how he had ever lived his thousand plus years without that little beacon of hope.

His chest hurt. Loki supposed that was the place his heart was meant to be, and the phantom organ had clenched at her tears, once she had managed to face him again.

She sniffed. “I don’t know if I can live with that.”

Yet I know, if I stepped aside Released the controls you would open my eyes That somehow, all of this mess Is just my attempt to know the worth of my life In precious metals

“I can,” he said simply. The surety of his voice and the clear lack of remorse made her something inside her feel warm like lava, rather than a fireplace’s hearth. She shuddered at his set expression and the glimmer of bloodlust in his stare. “I would have killed a hundredfold more, if it meant bringing you back safe. I will never live to regret that.” Loki was surprised to find that none of these words were a lie. He didn’t want her dead. He wanted her to thrive. He wanted her not to feel this gnawing emptiness that followed the taking of life. “You are my friend and you’re worth many more than that.”

“I don’t think that’s true, but thanks, anyway,” she muttered.

“Would I lie to you?” Never in his life had he wished for someone to ignore his nature and reply in the negative, than he did right now.

Becca’s mouth twisted in a reluctant smile. “Absolutely.” His heart clenched again, and this time there was no doubt about it. “But I don’t think you are.”

A long stretch of silence encompassed them.

“I want to return.”

“Return?” He frowned.

“To the field.” She sighed, pulling her shoulders back and sitting up straight. He had seen that pose before, when she was resolute to solve an issue or dissect a conundrum. He saw it when she had run from the jet and skidded to a stop beside him. “The reason I’ve been feeling so miserable is that fact that I feel awful about what I’ve done, but I can’t ever leave you guys out there alone, again. Not after what I’ve seen. And I’ve never felt this conflicted.”

“It’s what we signed up for, dove,” he assured, tucking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear with incredible gentleness. “You needn’t worry about us. We’ll be perfectly fine as long as you’re there to greet us back.”

“That’s like telling me I don’t have to worry about the sky suddenly turning green. I’m going to do it, anyway.” Becca wasn’t sure why, but she followed up his silent question. “I’m going to get my training certifications back up-to-date, log in some time on local raids, and I’m joining missions.”

“Darling, you don't–”

“I’m going back! That’s final!” Becca snapped so loudly that Loki jumped, startled, and leaned back ever so slightly.

He blinked a few times to live down his surprise and offered her a nod. “Then, I will dutifully follow.” He smirked, nudging her side playfully. “Someone has to keep you alive.” Lest I attempt to destroy this pathetic planet, once more.

He hated that this was his first thought, but he knew he would follow her to Helheim and back to see her through. He needed to protect that light, that shine, that glow.

I’ll go anywhere you want me

#Loki #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #atlas space #mercury #Fanfictrashdump #chapter 2

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a-table-of-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Cull to Adventure, Chapter 5, Part 3, Draft 1

That just left a layout of crates in a flattened “u” shape against the wall, a wall which had two Balloon Fish attached to it. As Cull looked up and around, Marie took a moment to swap through the cameras, finding a launchpad at the top, and the next camera showed a checkpoint. Thankfully, nothing between there and their current position Cull would have to worry about.

“All right, so just pop those balloons and swim up there. Nothing to worry about.”

Cull looked, hesitantly, but nodded. The Balloon Fish made short work of those boxes and covered the wall in green. But… he hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. Marie could hear sheepish mutters of “uh” and “oh boy” over her headset. She was about to ask what the holdup was, maybe throw in a joke about enjoying his handiwork, but all that came out was “wh” before she realized the problem – he was a slow swimmer when it wasn’t a vertical slope.

And she had seen the kid climb, too. This looked like a tougher thing to scale, sure, but his grip back then was impressive, and she was sure he could have figured something out. At the very least, it would probably be better than him struggling to swim up like he would have to now.

“Okay kid,” she said, attempting to hide her haste in correcting this, “I don’t usually recommend this, but you might want to try a running jump here.”

“O-okay…”

Marie watched as the ex-Agent stepped back, steeled himself, and sprinted to the wall. He jumped, and Marie thought he was going to slam into the wall, his squidforming was so close. However, it wasn’t close enough to conceal the fact his tentacles were… well, half-gone. He disappeared in the ink in a flash, but Marie could still tell, especially as he splashed and struggled to get the vertical movement.

Marie couldn’t do much more than watch; explaining how to swim to a fellow Inkling would just be dumb, and she wasn’t good at motivational platitudes. Still, she could try to encourage.

“Almost halfway there. Just keep breathing.”

“Just got past the second Balloon Fish; you’re almost there!”

Cull finally slipped over the edge onto wooden floor again. He couldn’t even kidform, and Marie could hear him panting and fully view his squid form.

His fins were much more disk-shaped than most, making his silhouette look less like an arrow and more like a mushroom with a point on top where his mantle ended. His skin had a spotted texture, as if someone had lightly sprayed him with darker green paint. More prominent, however, were his eight arms, all irregular stumps of what was expected, clearly from an injury long ago. His two tentacles, while about as long as most Inklings’, were notably thinner, and showed the same signs of being cut off at the end.

And Marie had sent him headfirst into danger. Worse yet, he refused to leave.

Cull wasn’t panting for too long; he soon kidformed, and was silent on his walk to the launchpad. Marie wasn’t sure what to say; she may like snarking, but humiliating someone was something else entirely.

#cull goes to octo canyon #Fic #splatoon 2 #draft 1 #chapter 5

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anywhozits · 4 years ago

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All I Really Want: Chapter 2

Rating: T

Pairing: Kristanna (at some point lol)

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Read on AO3

This wasn’t Anna’s first rodeo. During her freshman year at Arendelle Prep; hell, even during eighth grade and if she were drunk enough to admit it—that one time halfway through 7th grade when she really, really wanted to smooch Charlie Blower that 9th grader who she ran into in the hallway, she went to these kinds of parties.

The classic Arendelle Prep rager. Rich parents out on some kind of business trip. Way too much vodka. Cheap beer. Hot tubs. Silly games. Maybe a bonfire or two which like, totally wasn’t dangerous at all.

This night was the same as others before it. Bebe Shelley’s parents were out in Cabo for some reason with the “law school buddies” or “law firm buddies” or whatever her gross-ass dad called the ring of people he did lots of coke and called up prostitutes with. Well—not like that last part would happen with the wives present. Or would it.

Anna shuddered—literally—at the thought.

Gross. No. She didn’t want to think of any of that super messed up shit. She couldn’t believe Ashley even told her all of that. But maybe it was a coping mechanism or something.

Her driver, the most illustrious Kai, her aid in everything mischievous she had been up to ever since that 7th grade party where she had succeeded in smooching Charlie Blower, pulled the car up to Bebe’s house.

She took a deep breath. She was nervous for some reason. Probably because she knew Bebe’s sister Ashley would’ve invited the entire junior class and Anna had an inkling she super wanted to smooch tonight, too. And the juniors were the most totally hot grade in the upper school right now. Like, everybody knew it. Even the teachers. She’d heard Mrs. Adamson talking about it in a hushed voice with Mrs. Ingalls at convocation last week.

They were hot. Smoking hot, really. Like, smoking hot period.

And it helped that these were the boys who already were super into freshmen like her. Their first dance of the year, glowdown, was filled with her and her friends finding any way to grind on them. And they liked it too. Clearly. Anna felt that they liked it.

But somehow she made the stupid mistake of starting a grind off with Bebe that distracted from her goal. Sure, she’d won. Twenty-four guys compared to Bebe’s seventeen. But she hadn’t done anything else with them.

So she hadn’t secured herself that man she told herself she wanted since high school started. High school meant romance and drama and maybe a little bit of learning or something, too. But she wanted a high school boyfriend. She wanted someone to light up her life and her heart and she wanted everything that came with having that. She just wanted… someone. She wanted love. She wanted someone to love her.

The car came to a stop. Kai gave Anna a knowing ‘see you in the morning’ nod before ushering her out of the car. She opened the door slowly but slamming it suddenly, confused as to why she didn’t hear the familiar sound of the door banging closed behind her until she remembered that her best friend sat in the seat next to her.

“Wait! Kristoff—sorry. I forgot—” Anna shook her head. “Nevermind. Are you ready?” Anna was just so used to arriving to these kinds of house parties alone. Kristoff usually avoided them, unless Anna was the host, of course, but tonight Anna had begged and begged him until he finally gave in. All she had to do was jut out her lip and give him those classic puppy dog eyes. Rest assured he would do whatever she asked.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” His face was morphed into an extremely dissatisfied pout. Anna imagined he probably regretted agreeing to this whole situation, but she was thankful he came anyway. If this night didn’t go the way she planned, then she’d be happy to instead spend the night with him jumping on trampolines and running around to beat of the Smashing Pumpkins’ guitar riffs.

Kristoff’s drunken air guitar talents were legendary. Every time.

“Um… you sure?” Anna had tried to walk a few paces ahead of him but Kristoff remained firmly planted on the driveway. “You’re not moving at all.”

“Right,” Kristoff said. “Moving. Gotta… move.” Eventually he picked up his pace, shuffling his feet to catch up to Anna. She turned to face him, then, smiling wide at one of the people who consistently lit up her world.

His black Offspring skull t-shirt billowed a little bit in the slight wind of an Orange County January. Anna noticed a little hint of his sketchily acquired Nirvana tattoo sticking out from the sleeve of his left arm. But literally just a glimpse. The curve of the smiley face’s chin.

She thought it was damn awesome that at sixteen years old he already had two tattoos. Like he somehow had the balls to sneak out and find someone who would do that to minors. Someone he ended up befriending, even. He had a connection.

Naturally she’d debated getting one herself, but she still felt too young. Yeah, Kristoff and Anna were in the same grade, but he was basically two years older than her. Somehow, she was only reminded of this when she caught sight of his tattoos. What Anna deemed the ultimate symbol of maturity. Of… advanced age. Of those two years between them.

When Kristoff reached her, Anna grabbed hold of his hand, and they walked hand in hand to the intricately carved mahogany door of the Shelley household. Anna pressed the doorbell, hoping the chime would ring over the S Club 7 blasting through the surround sound.

Thankfully, Ashley pulled open the door. “Ohmygod, Anna!” Ashley bounced up to Anna and hugged her with such force Anna thought she might burst. She could feel the stark, well—hard proof of Ashley’s boob job. A sixteenth birthday present that had set off an endless stream of gossip. “And you brought your friend… Christopher, was it?”

“Kristoff.”

“Right. Well—welcome, Kristoff! Glad you could make it.”

Anna shrugged and clapped her hands together. She felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her. A party! A party was just what she needed to forget about her shit week. Elsa hadn’t called back after Anna had left her at least twelve or thirteen messages and her parents had done nothing but ignore her. But what else was new on that front…her parents were a lost cause. But Elsa. Elsa was busy, though. At her boarding school. Studying hard, probably. And there was also the three-hour time difference. Anna knew that. There were loads of reasons why Elsa didn’t call back. She couldn’t be disappointed.

She wouldn’t be.

So, Anna smiled through it. She tried her very best to swallow the tremble in her voice. “I need something to drink.” Not one crack. Not one break. She always did such a great job hiding.

“You know where to find those,” Ashley added with a wink. She ushered Kristoff and Anna to the kitchen and made a beeline for what appeared to be the dance floor.

Anna skipped—literally skipped—to the kitchen, Kristoff stumbling behind her and nodding nervously when she handed him a shot of vodka. He took one whiff and scrunched up his face. He wasn’t usually a shot guy but Anna brought it out in him.

She knew he had some stuff he wanted to forget, too.

“Threetwoone!” Her countdown was decidedly not a countdown. Both Anna and Kristoff grimaced intensely when the liquid stung their throats and then chased the vodka heavily with some Sunny D.

“Another one?” Kristoff asked, feeling nothing. What a heavyweight. Anna remained incredibly jealous. A couple months ago, Olaf told Anna that she could never go shot to shot with Kristoff and her own stupid dumb naïve stubbornness made her do it. That night had ended so poorly. Probably. Well—no way it could have ended any other way. Anna didn’t remember anything past shot number nine. Her throat burned for days from all the barfing she did.

But tonight, she figured she’d keep to a limit. A few drinks behind Kristoff at all times. Except for now… “Let’s do it!”

So they did. Switching to a chaser of Hawaiian punch this time. Kristoff had definitely poured at least a shot and a half into their red solo cups, but Anna was grateful for it, honestly. Now she felt the perfect amount of buzz for her Junior Boy Hunt. That sounded like an okay name for this quest. Junior Boy Hunt. Had some mediocre ring to it.

She’d keep it for now.

Kristoff took one more shot and then grabbed himself a beer but not before pouring Anna a vodka cranberry.

“Thanks, Kris,” Anna said. “I’m going to take a lap, I think.”

“Okay. I’ll be here, probably. Or… looking for Olaf. I think he said he might come.”

Anna nodded and smiled at him, thinking to herself that this was where and how Junior Boy Hunt began. She held the red solo cup so tightly her knuckles started to turn white. She massaged her lip between her teeth in sheer resolve. Her eyes roamed over the crowd of people on the dance floor.

They all seemed mostly paired off.

Then she looked at the living room. Also pairs.

Jesus. Was this some kind of a hook up party and she didn’t get the memo to arrive early enough to secure her place?

Whatever.

She pivoted in her Vans to run outside, but right as she did, she bumped straight into someone and the entirety of her vodka cranberry spilled all over the front of her shirt. “Ooof!” She yelled, laughing just as she always did when she did something clumsy. Because. Classic Anna, let’s be real.

“Whoa!” The mysterious human wall grabbed her shoulders to stabilize himself. But then he ran his hands along her arms and held onto her hands right as he stared into her eyes and then Anna realized oh shit this human wall was a guy who was actually really, really hot and maybe this was, like, fate or something because hot DAMN. He wore a pink Lacoste collared shirt which seemed to make his bright red hair sparkle. His most striking feature—by far—was his eyes, filled with a beautiful, engulfing green that swirled in a shocking mixture of mischievousness and confidence. She’d never in her entire life seen eyes that color. Like… an emerald. It captivated her. She didn’t want to move. “I’m sorry about that… oh, fuck. Your drink… on your…” His eyes drifted down to her white tank top. He was definitely staring at her cleavage. Anna puffed out her chest a little bit in response.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I get distracted by—um, I run into people a lot. I mean, I’m really clumsy. I guess. It’s not because you’re hot or anything. Well, you are hot, but I don’t… that’s not why I ran into you, it’s more just because I wasn’t looking—I didn’t notice you were hot until, well, right now, and—”

“I’m Hans,” he said and Anna exhaled. So she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself with her rambling. Those little blessings. “Westergaard.”

“Anna Larsen.” There was a slight twinkle in his eyes when she said this.

“You go to Arendelle Prep?”

“Yeah. I’m in Bebe’s grade.”

He chuckled. “Fresh meat.”

“Yup! And you’re a…?”

“Junior. Ashley’s my good um… friend.” Except the way he said that made Anna think maybe they were something more than friends and it made her nervous. “I’m sure she could give you a new shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t really care about the stain.”

“It’s a little see-through.”

Anna blushed. Hard. She definitely had cheeks the shade of ketchup and it only made it worse that he still held onto her hands. Thank the Lord she had bought a new metallic green bathing suit last week.

“You know, I think I recognize you from somewhere,” Hans said. “Are you on the volleyball team?”

She blushed again. “Yeah. I am. Volleyball, basketball, and track, actually.” Technically track season hadn’t started yet, but she found it important to mention anyway.

“My friends and I… we like watching the volleyball games.”

Anna laughed nervously. She could feel it… now was the time to be bold. Now was the time to really put the Junior Boy Hunt plan into action. “So, um… wanna get me a new drink? And you can… um—meet me outside?” Anna tried her best to be assertive. She wanted him to know she was interested and more than anything else she needed him to know that she was mature. She was a freshman, sure—fresh meat or whatever he had said earlier, but this wasn’t her first party, and this wasn’t her first time making out with somebody the first night she met them.

“Vodka cranberry?”

“Make it a vodka soda this time. Don’t wanna ruin any more clothes.”

He laughed at her and she went giddy. Her heart fluttered a mile a minute. Okay. Not too shabby. Junior Boy Hunt was already a resounding success. She spun around to watch him walk to the kitchen and stared longingly at the way he poured her drink. Kristoff had disappeared somewhere, probably looking for Olaf. She’d meet up with him later. No worries.

So, then Anna skipped excitedly outside, finding a perfect spot next to the fire where she could see herself spending the rest of the night with Hans. What a thrill. She couldn’t wait.

She discarded her tank top, pleased enough to have a solid vodka-cranberry soiled excuse to show off her new bikini, fixed her braids, and pulled down her jean cutoff shorts. Biting her lip while she tried to determine how much of her abs would peek through while sitting on this chair.

Laying herself out in as Barbie as a pose as she could, Anna found her footing. Her body glistened in the light of the crackling fire, her freckles on display. Her shorts low enough on her hips to showcase her small waist and her voluptuous booty. Well. Not that he would really be able see her booty since she had to use it to, like, sit on. But still. She looked enrapturing like this and she knew it.

She counted down the seconds until she figured he would come back with their drinks and see her like this. Thrilled.

But then.

“Oh, hey, Anna,” Kristoff said, sliding into the spot next to her on the patio couch.

Anna shot to attention, emerged from her Barbie pose, and scooted a little bit away from him. “Oh. Kristoff. Hi.” Her eyes darted about, trying to see if she saw Hans anywhere. She didn’t want him to be turned off by the fact she now spoke to a guy like twice his size. Hans didn’t know that Kristoff was just a friend. And what if, seeing her here… he thought that it meant she found somebody new. That she didn’t want him. Because that wasn’t the case. Like, literally at all. Obviously. Anna had… maybe a couple times considered smooching Kristoff. Maybe a couple. Well, technically handful was the better word to describe how many times she’d had that thought. But that didn’t mean she liked him liked him. She just liked him as a friend. And sometimes it was hard to separate friend feelings from romantic feelings and… besides.

He definitely thought of her has a friend. A little sister he had said once. And it still made her stomach sink even thinking of the night he said those two words.

“You couldn’t find Olaf?”

“I’m not so sure he’s here. I looked all over.”

“Oh, well…” Anna started panicking a bit. She knew Hans had to be on his way, and if her big brother or best friend whatever the heck he was to her cock blocked her like this she would be pissed. Her eyes beat back and forth and back and forth. She didn’t see the flash of Hans’s red hair anywhere. For now, she was safe. But only for now. “Listen—”

Kristoff smiled softly. “Have I ever told you how cute you look in braids?”

The comment made Anna blush and momentarily forgot her mission. “No.”

“Well, you do. You—”

But then she saw Hans walking through the sliding glass door. And she got desperate. “Kristoff, um… I think it’s best—I need to—”

“Anna!” Hans somehow squeezed his way between the two of them on the couch. Kristoff recoiled and exhaled in a pout. “Got you these.” He handed her not one but two vodka sodas. For himself, he had chosen some generic looking beer bottle. “Thought you looked thirsty.”

Anna was happy to double fist. She felt like she needed some added liquid confidence for this next part of her quest.

“Who’s this guy?” Hans said this in a way that made it seem like Kristoff didn’t sit so close to him that their thighs rubbed together.

“That’s Kristoff. He’s my friend. Um…He was just leaving.” She’d explain everything to him later. But for now she felt bad.

Kristoff slouched, and his eyes shot to the floor. He looked so dejected that guilt churned within Anna’s stomach. But slowly he got up, nodding, not quite looking into Anna’s eyes when he said, “Yup. I need to… um. Bye.”

Anna exhaled slowly. Everything would be fine once she explained it to him. He probably already knew what the deal was.

So, she tried to put that thread of guilt out of her mind.

“Sorry about that. He’s great, I promise. He’s just… he gets overwhelmed at parties like this.” Anna moved in closer to Hans, trying to recreate her earlier pose. She took a sip of one of the drinks, placing the other one carefully on the floor. It was strong. Hans had blessed her with a heavy pour. She took a couple more gulps of the vodka and then cleared her throat. “So… where do you live?” Anna mentally kicked herself. What kind of a way to start the conversation was this?

“Newport.”

“Oh—um. Beach or Coast? I live in Newport Coast.”

“Beach. Port streets.”

“Awesome,” Anna said, exhaling. Trying to decide what her next move was. She took a few sips of the vodka soda, thankfully feeling a bit more buzzed. He had to have put at least two shots in it. “I—um—my family has a beach house on the Peninsula. Not too far from the Fun Zone, um. If you’ve ever been.”

“The Fun Zone?” His whole entire face lit up and he instantly became even dreamier. “Sure I’ve been. First ferris wheel I ever went on.”

Hans’s hand found Anna’s upper thigh and she instantly felt both a pressure down below and a heart heaving thrill of excitement the second he did. His eyes fell to her bikini again.

And then. Right then.

Anna knew she had him in the palm of her hand. She didn’t feel nervous anymore.

“The ferris wheel is great,” she laughed, effortlessly. “We used to go there all the time when I was little. My dad spun me too hard on the Drummer Boy and I threw up next to the trash can. Like, I was so close to making it an elegant barf that nobody had to clean up or anything but nope. I failed. Literally… adjacent to the trash can.”

Hans laughed now. Heartily.

Yes. Nice work, Anna. You’re funny. You’ve got this. Two points to Anna in the Junior Boy Hunt. And then, while still laughing, he moved his hand a little further up on her thigh. Two more points. “My sister made it to the bathroom. Barfed in the toilet. And I think that moment really set us on our life trajectories. Class Act Elsa and Hot Mess Anna.”

He laughed again. She had to give herself at least five points for that one.

“Elsa’s your sister?”

“Mmhmm. She’s like a super genius. Goes to this uppity boarding school in New England and will probably end up at Harvard or something after she graduates in May,” Anna said cheerily, chugging her drink. Willing herself to forget those unanswered phone calls. “And… meanwhile here I am.” She sipped—more like slurped—her drink at least thrice. “Hot.” Sip. “Mess.” Sip. She gulped. Time for a redirection. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Twelve.”

Now Anna laughed. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. I’m the youngest of thirteen. All brothers.”

“I’m jealous,” Anna said. Meaning it wholeheartedly. She’d love to have a house that full. But then she noticed Hans looking at her sideways and she recoiled. “Is that weird?” Hans didn’t answer her, he just ran his hand along her cheek. So slowly, so delicately that Anna felt herself shiver. “Must’ve been chaotic, then. Going to The Fun Zone as a pack of thirteen kids.”

“Yeah, my brothers were assholes about it. Always trying to force me on Scary Dark Ride.”

“What? You’re telling me you were scared?” Anna cackled. Literally cackled. “That ride’s so lame! Like, totally not scary. At all.”

Hans’s voice got lower, edging on husky when he said, “Maybe I’ll let you force me on it sometime.”

Anna’s heart almost stopped right there. He wanted to go out with her, like, on a date? Probably? That was a date, right? He meant this as a date? The two of them going to The Fun Zone. Maybe he meant in a group. Like a group of them would go and a group of them ride the ride and then get some ice cream and hang out at her beach house or something. But then Anna took a few more horrid burning sips of her drink and decided… fuck it. “You mean like a date?” She scooted even closer to him somehow and pushed her upper arms against her top. She didn’t have the biggest boobs. Well, definitely not compared to Ashley and her fake-ass ones, but she still knew how to show them off. And Hans seemed interested, so…

She tucked a loose strand of hair around her ear and chugged the last bit of one vodka soda as she waited for his answer.

But it never came.

Instead, she felt the warmth of his lips covering her own. His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her on top of him, so she straddled him with ease.

“You’re beautiful,” he said between kisses.

Her heart fluttered at those words. Damn did it feel good to be complimented like that. To feel, even if only for a few minutes, that she was the center of somebody else’s world.

Anna could say nothing but, “You’re really hot. Like, really hot. Hot damn hot.” She laughed. Rambling again. “Okay I’m gonna stop talking now.”

She grabbed onto the back of his head and pulled him in closer, so they kissed deeper, tongues fighting for dominance.

He was by far the best kisser of the maybe seven-or-so people Anna had kissed in her life. There was something startling about it, honestly. Nobody else could measure up.

Hans knew what he was doing. He really, really knew what he was doing. And as his hand squeezed her ass, Anna let out a delighted moan. Shit. Yeah. This guy knew.

Eventually they transitioned to the porch swing, and then to the hammock, and then to a patch of grass by the hammock, and then the trampoline, and finally the hot tub. Both vodka sodas were finished now, the empty cups sitting by the fire, next to the pile of their discarded clothes. Anna still straddled him, kissing him deeply, thoroughly enjoying the new sensation the hot water provided.

It seemed the rest of the party-goers had cleared out of the backyard. Only the sounds of TLC kept them company. And maybe it was all the alcohol or maybe it was the sense of utter euphoria she felt after these hours with Hans, but damn kissing Hans almost felt like chasing waterfalls…. And that definitely meant that she had at least one million points in the Junior Boy Hunt.

But she wanted to take it a little bit further. To secure her spot. Maybe she needed a billion points to win her own game. “Um… are you sleeping here tonight?”

“That was the plan,” he said, crooning. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Duh. Always.”

“Your parents don’t want you back home?”

Anna laughed in spite of herself and rolled her eyes. “My parents are happy I’m not there to bother them.”

Hans grabbed hold of one of her braids and twirled it in his fingers. “Can I say something crazy?”

Anna nodded.

“I think I love you.”

Her jaw dropped. In a totally unladylike way as her mom would say if she even cared enough to criticize her daughter. Anna did a double take. “Wait, what?”

“I think I love you, Anna,” he repeated. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Those absolutely brilliant green eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and what she felt in that moment—that pure, raw, unadulterated pull toward him and only him… it must have been love.

“Oh—wow. I… um—” She blushed, slowly growing more confident. Love. Yes. This was love. “I think I love you, too.”

Their lips met again, more passionately, more purposeful. She felt hot all over and not just from the… you know—hot water of the hot tub and all that.

She had certainly received a billion points. No doubt about it.

And they stayed outside for the rest of the night. The two of them. They moved from the hot tub and back to the grass, back to the couch, back to the trampoline. They watched the stars, they split a bottle of wine, they made s’mores.

They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

And Anna knew this was love. This was exactly what love felt like.

To be someone’s world and someone’s rock and someone’s other half.

She loved love. She loved Hans.

This was the best night of her life.

#frozen #kristanna #hansanna #hanna #fanfic #fanfiction

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robinskey · 5 years ago

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Don’t Touch My Family

Request: Would you be willing to make an imagine of dad!billy were after graduation u nd billy leave town bc u get pregnant w/out telling anybody but after a few years u have a son & daughter Neil finds out n come by the house hella pissed while billy isnt home, tries to hurt u nd the kids but billy comes home n just beats the hell out him for trying to hurt his family? just the thought of billy goin after the only person hes terrified of for HIS family makes him THE father he never had makes me melt ❤

A/N: This is a little bit darker than my typical fluffy sunshine fanfic, but I really liked the request, so I decided to do it anyway. :) Sorry if you wanted something shorter, anon-this turned into more of a drabble/one-shot than an imagine. Thanks for requesting!

Warnings: Teenage pregnancy, descriptions of violence, implied abuse, language

You find out you’re pregnant halfway through the last semester of senior year.

When you tell Billy, you expect him to freak out. He doesn’t, though-at least, not on the outside. On the inside, he’s absolutely panicking. But he can see how upset you are, so he just pulls you close. He whispers into your hair that he’ll support you in whatever you want to do.

After a few days of contemplation, decide you want to have the baby. You and Billy agree that it’s best to keep your pregnancy a secret-for now, at least. If your parents found out, your father would probably actually fire that shotgun he’s always threatening to use on “that deadbeat boyfriend of yours.”

And Billy...well, he has no idea how his father would react. But he has no intentions of finding out.

Thus, Billy offers to run away with you right there on the spot. However, you ultimately decide that it would be better to finish high school. Maybe you'll even be able to save up a little bit of money before the two of you start a new life together.

So, for the next few months, you wear baggy clothes to hide your growing midsection. Billy picks you up for “dates” that are actually doctor’s appointments. Thanks to your valiant efforts, no one suspects a thing.

Eventually, graduation rolls around. Your family hosts a small get-together after the ceremony. Distant relatives congratulate you on your achievements and ask if you’re excited to start this “new chapter in your life.” You smile and nod.

You have no idea.

Later that night, you stuff everything you can fit into a small tote bag. You leave an apology note to your parents on the kitchen counter and sneak out of your house.

Billy’s waiting for you outside in the Camaro. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead and holds the door open as you climb into the passenger seat. As he drives away, you watch your childhood home shrink into the distance, saying a silent goodbye to the only home you’ve ever known.

***

Five years later, you and Billy share a two-bedroom house on the West Coast. You have two kids-a son and a daughter. Billy works as a mechanic at an auto repair shop, while you write for the local newspaper. Neither of you make much money, but it doesn’t matter. You’re both happy-genuinely happy-for the first time in your lives.

Billy gets home around 5:30 every day, so, when the doorbell rings at 5:15, you figure he just got off early.

“I’m coming, honey!” you yell, bouncing your infant daughter on your hip.

But when you peek into the peephole, you discover not your husband standing on your doorstep but a scruffy older man in tattered clothing. His face is scrunched up, and he squints in the sun. You freeze, clutching your baby to your chest.

Neil Hargrove is standing on your porch.

“I know someone’s home. I heard you,” he barks. “Come on. Open up. I just want to talk.”

He raises a dirty fist and raps on the wood. The noise scares your daughter, who starts to whimper. You’re too busy shushing her to notice your son appear at your side.

“Mama, who’s that?”

You clamp a hand over his mouth and suck in your breath. Maybe, if you’re quiet enough, you can cancel out the noise made by your clueless four-year-old.

“Is that my grandson?”

For a split second, his volume dips below its typical scream-level. It’s the most gentle you’ve ever heard him speak.

But then he has to ruin it by pounding once more on the door.

“Come on, you coward, open the damn door!” He rattles the doorknob so violently that you think it might fall off.

This time, you can’t prevent your daughter from letting out a wail. Beside you, your son sniffles.

You muster every last fiber of courage in your being. “Get the hell out of here, Neil,” you growl, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“Y/N? Is that you?” he asks. There’s a soft thud, almost like he’s just leaned his forehead against the wood.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought it was Billy in there,” Neil says.

“Billy-Billy is here,” you stutter.

“No, he’s not. I don’t see the Camaro anywhere, and I know my son takes that damn car everywhere,” Neil says.

Your son wraps his arms around your calf and clings to it. You hope he isn’t able to absorb the panic pulsing through every part of your body

“I’m warning you, Neil, to walk out of here while you still can. I…”

You scan the messy living room, littered with toys. Your gaze falls on a plastic pistol laying on the sofa.

“I have a gun. And I’m not afraid to use it,” you threaten.

The wall between you slightly muffles his ominous chuckle, but it still reaches your ears.

“I’m sure you do, sweetie. But there’s no need to get violent on an old man who just wants to see his grandkids. Why don’t you just open the door, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you just go to hell, Neil?”

The silence drags on long enough for you to almost convince yourself that he’s walked away.

Almost.

And then, just loud enough for it to be audible: “If that’s how you want to play it.”

You jump out of the way as the door falls inward with a thud.

Neil Hargrove slowly lowers the foot he used to kick it down, glaring at you with bloodshot eyes.

You push your son behind you, wrap your arms tighter around your daughter, and take cautious steps backwards.

“Did you really think you could hide from me forever?” he asks. He advances deeper into your home-your sanctuary-with every word.

“What do you want from me?” you demand. Your backside collides with a wall; Neil’s backed you into a corner.

“I just want what you and my son stole from me by skipping town five years ago,” Neil says. “A chance to connect with my family.”

He draws close enough that you can count every crater left by untreated acne on his creased face and smell the stale whiskey on his breath. “I knew you had one child,” he says, peeking around you at the little boy cowering in the corner, “but two? What a pleasant surprise. This little one-let me see her face.”

Neil extends a wrinkled hand to peel back the blanket covering the baby. You’re too stunned to react until his filthy finger is only inches from her face. That’s when you raise a knee and jam it into his groin. He doubles over with a grunt.

“Go!” You practically shove your son into his room and set the baby next to him. Then, a hand wraps around your ponytail, yanking you backwards. Tears stream down your face as you scream at your kids to shut the door and lock it. There’s a slam and a click, then the word “bitch” yelled into your ear. Neil spits into your ear canal as he calls you every name in the book. You claw and kick and punch, but Neil’s got a death grip on your hair. He drags you across the living room floor, promising that he’s “going to make you pay.” He finally tosses you onto the couch. Your back aches as the barrel of the fake gun juts into your spinal cord.

Between your shrieks and Neil’s name-calling, you don’t hear the roar of the engine as the Camaro pulls onto your street, nor the squeal of the brakes as Billy pulls up next to the beat-up pick-up truck he’d recognize anywhere. You don’t hear your husband’s thundering footsteps as he sprints up the sidewalk. No, you don’t notice any of that; you’re too preoccupied flailing around as Neil tries to pin you to the sofa.

But even though you don’t see him, Billy appears in the doorway, still wearing his navy mechanic jumpsuit. He’s covered in grease stains and flushed skin. And, for the first time in his life, he raises his voice at his father without an inkling of fear of the consequences.

“Get your hands off my wife!”

He charges at his father, who’s caught completely off-guard. The two of them crash onto the coffee table, snapping it in two. They only wrestle for a minute before Billy comes out on top. He raises his fist and brings it down on his father’s face until it’s nothing more than a bloody pulp. Billy continues landing blows long after Neil passes out. And, while Neil Hargrove certainly deserves it, you’d rather not have Billy kill someone in your house with your kids in the literal next room. So, eventually, you walk up to your scratched-up, bruised husband and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Baby,” you say softly.

He gazes up at you, the pain and torment of eighteen years of abuse bubbling to the surface once again. Once his eyes meet yours, they immediately soften. He raises himself to his feet and pulls you into a tight embrace. He squeezes you so tightly that you wince, sore from Neil throwing you around like a ragdoll. Billy apologizes profusely and holds you out at arm’s length. His eyes flicker over your features.

“Are you all right?”

“No,” you say honestly. Your hands are shaking profusely, your heart rate is still elevated well above normal levels, and you’re pretty sure you’ll have nightmares about this encounter for the rest of your life.

“Did he hurt you?”

“A little. But it could have been so much worse, if you hadn’t…”

A single tear trails down your cheek. Billy wipes it away with his thumb.

“You don’t have to go there, Y/N. Don’t go there,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Your eyelids flutter shut. “You’re right. We’re safe now-me, the kids-”

“The kids!” you both exclaim at the same time. You run to their bedroom and knock on the door. It swings open, and two small children stare up at you. They both burst into tears, and you and Billy gather them into your arms.

The police arrive a few minutes later, just as Neil starts to regain consciousness. (Having nosy neighbors pays off when you need someone to call 9-1-1 without being asked.) As the officers escort Neil out of the house in handcuffs, Billy warns him to never come near his family again.

And for the first time in his life, his father actually listens.

Taglist: @novaddictx @anabundance0ffand0ms @rexorangecouny @sweetboibilly @scarrasco1325 @readinthegarden12 @lacunaclouds

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3

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dwaynepride · 5 years ago

Text

Today Or Yesterday

CHAPTER 5

Summary: Tensions between reader and Gibbs finally erupt, and reader confesses something big to Dwayne.

Words: 4,502

Warnings: None

Notes: AND THATS THE END! uwuwu tell me what yall think

Part 4

The most difficult part, by far, of being trapped in Jethro’s house was going back and forth from the kitchen to the living room with coffee. It was a slow, arduous process of limping, wincing at the pain, and trying not to spill the coffee too much.

Though, in hindsight, you’re not even sure why you’re making as much coffee as you are. It’s not like you have a lot of work to keep you busy. Gibbs brought home some files of the case for you to look over and help out; their guy lawyered up as soon as Dwayne and Jethro started getting too close. He left, leaving the team to scramble and find something absolutely damning to hit him with.

But the files are next to useless. They’re nothing compared to all the resources at NCIS, and being unable to access it only leaves you alone with your thoughts in a big, empty house.

It wouldn’t even be so bad if Dwayne were able to come by more often. More than just dropping off lunch and a quick kiss before he was off again to continue the search. He might as well be back in New Orleans with how much you were seeing him.

The only inkling of a bright side you can see in all this is that Gibbs is every bit as busy and vacant as Dwayne. Maybe even more so, because he doesn’t come home until long after you’re asleep, and leaves before you ever wake up and limp back downstairs. And you know him well enough to know he’s doing everything possible to avoid you. To see you a little as possible until the case is over and he’ll finally be rid of you again.

Everything is so tense and awkward, and you just want to get back home with Dwayne and resume the blissful happiness you were forced to walk away from.

And sitting on this dumpy old couch with a cup of coffee that’s long gone cold wasn’t going to do a damn thing to achieve that goal. So, just as quick as your leg would allow, you got dressed and got a cab all the way to the Naval Yard.

You tried your hardest not to limp too much while padding through the building to the elevator. The wound was definitely getting better, and didn’t hurt as much as it did. It was far from completely healed up, but easy to ignore. Besides, with all the work to be done, you’ll barely even notice it.

The doors slide open and you walk through. Despite the same old sight of orange walls, there’s a small thrill of joy at being back in the squadroom. A much better setting than Jethro’s home. You’d take the bustle of working agents over dead silence and cowboy movies any day.

You’re not even halfway to the bullpen before you spot Dwayne straightening up over McGee’s desk. His face is hard, eyebrows drawn low in concentration. The same look he gets when things aren’t going so good on a case. Dwayne raises a hand to run over his face before letting his eyes rise from McGee’s computer monitor. They roam around before landing on you, and then they widen with surprise.

You stop in your tracks when he excuses himself from McGee and makes his way over, face taut with confusion. You knew after leaving that he probably wouldn’t be too happy to see you, or welcome you back to the office. And the prediction rang true when he stopped, eyes lowered to analyze your leg before looking back up. “What’re you doin’ here? You should be restin’ that leg,” Dwayne says, and you can hear the concern in his voice. “You’re gonna pop your stitches.”

“Dwayne, I’m fine. Really.” That was mostly the truth. It ached to be standing for so long, but you pushed aside the discomfort. If Dwayne saw that you were hurting, even a little, he’d send you back to Jethro’s with an escort. “I was just feeling so useless. I want to help; that’s why I’m here.”

He wasn’t buying your answer. His brow was still taut, a small frown marring those adorable laugh lines he gets when he’s happy. So you give a small shrug, putting on your best pair of puppy dog eyes. “And I really missed you,” you tack on at the end.

That softens him up. Tension leaves his shoulders as Dwayne sighs a little. The frown lightens, and he gets another good look at you and your leg, as if checking to make sure you’re really alright.

And then he gives a single curt nod. “Fine, you can stay. But you gotta promise you’ll stay on paperwork and desk duty.”

“I promise.”

“And if you start hurtin’ at all, even a little bit, you tell me. And I’ll drive you back to Jethro’s.”

“I will.”

He can sense your growing excitement, and Dwayne smirks despite himself. So he motions with his head and you follow him back to the bullpen. Bishop is gonna be gone most of the day, so Dwayne sits you down in her desk. You have to physically push him away back to McGee because he was getting too caught up in making sure your leg was in a comfortable position.

It felt good, being back in a desk and doing work that actually mattered. If you had to stare at another inch of Jethro’s walls, you would’ve started screaming. Usually, desk work wasn’t all that exciting; making phone calls or searching up old files. But after days of isolation, it was just about the most exciting work ever.

Especially with Dwayne working just feet away. He’s back leaning over McGee’s shoulder, and the two are talking in low voices. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but it must be something important. His face is getting hard again.

Until Dwayne feels your eyes on him, and he glances up. The surprise eye contact makes you smile, and that familiar rush of butterflies in your belly has a bit of heat rushing up into your cheeks. The way Dwayne’s eyes go soft and he smiles back doesn’t help things. This was the same problem you faced in New Orleans; you two would be in the thick of working. Completely focused on the job. But then you look at each other - make eye contact - and that focus turns into shy smiles and butterflies.

Not that you were complaining. It’s good to know some things don’t change.

He’s the first to look away, and you reluctantly get back into the swing of working.

Some time passes before you feel the urge to recline back in the chair and stretch. Every once in a while, it feels good to straighten out your leg. Being tucked up in a desk isn’t helping; not that you’d tell Dwayne that.

Figures it would be during your little stretching break that you’d look up and see Gibbs coming from the back elevator. At first, he doesn’t notice that a different agent has taken Bishop’s desk. But then his eyes finally fall on yours, and even from across the room, you see his face harden and his pace quicken.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He’s not yelling, at least. But there’s still a level of anger in his taut voice that makes you feel like a fresh probie. Maybe because he just said more in that one sentence than he has in days. “Working,” you answer plainly. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Your tone isn’t as tight or angry as Jethro’s, but it’s still hard. Was he really going to make a big deal of you helping out?

Dwayne’s head comes up, watching as Gibbs pads into the bullpen and sets his coffee cup on his desk. You didn’t need to know the Marine long to know he wasn’t at all happy you were here. “You’re hurt. You almost died. It’s stupid to run around as if you’re okay.”

Stupid?

Instantly, you pull yourself to stand up. Albeit, it’s slow and the effort pulls a grunt out, but you’re standing on your own feet to face Gibbs and his bad attitude. Dwayne is also standing, coming out from behind McGee’s desk. But right now, you don’t care about the concern written on his face. Jethro’s little comment sapped all the enjoyment the desk work has brought you. “Don’t call me stupid!” You bark out, limping from behind Bishop’s desk to face him more.

“Alright, you two, let’s just settle down-”

Neither of you listen to Dwayne’s attempts at peace. Gibbs is glaring hard, and it’s hard to remember a time when he looked so angry. “You’re acting stupid by pretending you’re fit for duty. You should be resting, not running around, trying to reopen your wound.”

“Why don’t you care more about the case and less about me,” you challenge him. Words were coming out before you could stop them; had it not been for your leg, you’d probably be getting in his face right now. Maybe it’s a good thing you were hurt. “It’s never stopped you before.”

Gibbs takes a step forward at that last jab, and that’s when Dwayne comes out, standing between you and his old friend. “Jethro, let’s just calm down,” he says evenly.

“Did you let them work?” Gibbs instantly turns his anger towards Dwayne, and even he’s taken aback by the sudden heat of the Marine’s glare.

But he quickly hides the shock to nod. “Yeah, I did. They promised to stay on desk duty, and to tell me if their leg started hurtin’.”

“Well, why the hell did you do that? They’re better off at home.”

That’s when you cut in, taking a half-step towards Gibbs and ignoring Dwayne’s look when he whirls around to look at you. “You’re right, I am! I can’t wait to go back to New Orleans and away from you!”

Dwayne finally turns his body around, his arms coming up to your shoulders and carefully turning you to start walking out of the bullpen. He mutters out ‘c’mon, honey, it’s not worth a fight, let’s go cool off.’ It never did take much for Dwayne to soothe your temper, even if Gibbs and his attitude stokes it high. You let him lead you away from the fight.

But Gibbs isn’t done. “Yeah, and I can’t wait for you to leave, either! The only thing you’ve done since getting here is get in my way!”

Dwayne stops in his tracks, spine straightening up as he whirls to look at his old friend. Your head cranes to look up at your boyfriend, and it’s a little shocking to see how quickly his expression shifts from concerned and calming to hard and guarded. And to Gibbs, no less. You know how close they are; how far they go back. And it’s your fault he’s looking at Jethro, like that.

His fingers grip your shoulders a bit tighter. “Watch what you’re sayin’, Gibbs,” Dwayne says, his voice hard and so close to sounding like a warning. Not quite there; he wouldn’t sport that kind of voice with his friends. Then again, Dwayne’s always been protective, and Gibbs did just insult you.

A few heartbeats of silence go by, and you keep your head down, not finding the courage to look back to study Jethro’s face. But you could cut the air with a knife with how thick it is, and you’re relieved when Dwayne finally turns back and keeps leading you away from the bullpen.

The pace is slow, but he doesn’t stop or lighten up until he gets you into a quiet corner down the hall. He turns you to face him, but your eyes instantly drop to the floor. “Alright, what the hell was all that about? And don’t you say it’s nothin’,” Dwayne says lowly, and his voice is deadly serious.

A heavy sigh follows his question, and when a few seconds go by without you saying anything, Dwayne bends his knees to search for your eyes. His emotions are as tangible as ever; the anger webbed away, and it’s replaced with worry.

You need to tell him the truth, finally. This was all your fault, in the first place - you should have told him long before this case. Long before things got so bad.

“A long time ago, before I ever joined your team, I worked with Gibbs. You know this...” you trail off while Dwayne nods his head, keeping silent so you can talk. It was hard to force the words out, though. You owed it to him to try. “Well, during that time, Jethro and I- we were together. For a while. And things were going really good.”

You stop, head still bowed to spare yourself from whatever expression Dwayne has on his face. You don’t have the courage to see it, just yet. It’s hard enough to speak with a lump forming in your throat. “At least until he broke things off between us. No real explanation. No reason why,” you continue, voice trailing off at the end.

Keep going. Keep talking. “I switched offices shortly after. All down the East Coast until I eventually got to New Orleans. Being around him after that...it was too hard.”

It’s over. It’s out now.

And Dwayne is still silent. You don’t even hear him breathe. His lack of a response is what finally prompts your eyes to rise up and meet his gaze. The rage and the hurt and the betrayal that you expect to find in those warm green eyes you fell in love with...it wasn’t there. He just looks confused, his brows knitted together while blinking, and finally letting out an audible sigh. “You never told me. Even after you found out we were good friends.”

Your attempt at swallowing is negated by the big lump in your throat. And you know tears are next to appear; you really don’t want to start crying in the middle of the NCIS building. “I guess I just never found a way to tell you. I didn’t want to make things awkward; knowing you hired your friend’s ex and all.”

What a stupid excuse. There’s no reason why you couldn’t have told him this before coming to DC. Maybe you were just afraid of messing up another good relationship.

Or maybe you already did. It scares you, thinking that Dwayne would be so hurt and angry, he’d never forgive you. Maybe there’s an NCIS office in the Great Lakes region who’ll take you...

And then his hand reaches out, taking yours and squeezing it tight. Shock has you glancing down to them before returning your eyes to Dwayne. “I wish you told me this sooner,” he says lightly. The way the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly - the small beginnings of a smile - help start to soothe away your fear. “I would’ve asked Director Vance to send me, instead.”

A small huff comes up at his offer. It’s just like Dwayne to put himself on the line to keep you from being sad. “It’s nothing I can‘t handle. Yeah, things are tense, but we have a case to finish. And I intend to see it through, even if Gibbs wants to start some more fights.” That last part was more or less a joke. Something to help lighten the air between you two.

It does prompt Dwayne to fully smile, and the way his eyes soften to the familiar look means more than you can process, at the moment. With everything as chaotic as it is, at least Dwayne is something to latch onto.

So when he straightens up and starts swiveling his head around, looking up and down the hallway, it makes you frown in confusion. “What?” You ask him, unable to stifle a smirk when he turns back with a gleam in his eye.

Dwayne says nothing, and you don’t expect him to lean in closer until he’s pressing his lips to yours. It’s a sweet, chaste kiss that takes you by surprise, but after everything, it’s exactly what you need. And you want, more than anything, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Kiss him like you really want to, but can’t in the hallway of a federal building.

He backs away after a few moments, breathing against your lips and grinning. “I love you,” he says, voice soft and low enough so only your ears can hear.

Those words nearly make your heart stop. The shock is visible on your face; as soon as your eyes go wide, Dwayne lets out a small chuckle as his hand releases yours to curve up your arm.

He never planned to just drop that bomb on you, like this. The first time Dwayne wanted to say those three words would be after a romantic dinner. Or maybe late at night when you’re curled up in bed, nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company. But Dwayne is guided by his feelings, and this felt like the perfect moment.

Once the shock ebbs away, you’re mirroring his dopey little grin. Tilting your head up to press another small kiss to his lips before nuzzling your nose against his.

“I love you, too.”

"I want to thank you both for your assistance in this case. Even when things got a little rough.”

Vance glanced to you when he said that. For a scary moment, you figure he was referring to the friction between you and Gibbs. Maybe he got wind of the fight in the squadroom. But then his eyes dropped down to your leg; of course he meant the gunshot. He made sure you even had a place to sit when you and Dwayne entered his office.

“It’s not a problem,” Dwayne replies, his hand resting on your shoulder to show you agreed - he knows you really don’t, but you nod anyway.

Vance dips his head once as he sits down in his chair, fingers linking together on his desk. “We can take care of all the logistical stuff. Tomorrow, just make sure our guy is handed over to the Louisiana authorities for trial,” the Director continues.

“Yes, sir,” the two of you say at once.

As Dwayne holds out a hand, helping you stand in case your leg gives out, it feels almost weird to finally be sent home. As soon as you touched ground in DC, you were waiting for this moment. Hoping it’ll come quickly so you can spend as little time around Jethro Gibbs as possible. And in a way, you still felt that pull to leave. But now that it was actually happening, it just felt like you still had unfinished business that has nothing to do with the case.

Just as Dwayne reaches for the door to pull it open, Vance speaks up. “And one more thing,” he says. His words prompt you both look back to him, expecting the Director to say more about the case. But it’s surprises you to find the corner of his lips turn up, just hinting at a smile. “Maybe you two should take some time off together when you’re back in New Orleans. You more than deserve it.”

That had been hours ago. The sun was setting then, and now it was dark. There was a certain nostalgic feeling in the squadroom after wrapping up a big case. Not so different than how it is at home, and it also reminded you of better times.

Waiting for Dwayne to come back from saying goodbye to Abby, you were left standing (leaning) against the wall by the windows overlooking the Naval Yard. And you weren’t too proud to admit that a part of you missed the sight. Some things changed about it, but not a lot. Even from so far away, you can spot the old bench that you and Jethro frequented to get away from prying eyes for a while. Just to drink coffee and talk and laugh.

Still, you prefer the sights of Jackson Square and the Mississippi River more. DC had it quirks, but New Orleans was home now.

You were so caught up in old memories, you didn’t notice Dwayne walking up until he says your name softly. Turning your head, you reflect his light smile. “How’d Abby take it?” You ask him.

“Made me promise to call more often. And then threatened to fly back home if I didn’t,” he replies. The two of you share some laughter, but Dwayne notices how your eyes keep flickering back toward the bullpen. Toward the lone desk with a light still on. He steps a little closer. “My room is just a single bed, but I’m sure we can make it work with your leg. I’ll sleep on the floor or somethin’.”

When you look at him with a confused quirk of your brow, Dwayne motions his head to Jethro’s desk.

And you’re surprised at how quickly you shake your head at his offer. “No, I can handle one more night at Jethro’s. Besides, I don’t know the next time I’ll see him again. I kinda don’t want to leave things as they are.”

Dwayne doesn’t look all too convinced. “Are you sure, honey? Do ya want me to stay, or...?”

“I’ll be fine. Go and get some sleep. We have a long fly home tomorrow.”

He hesitates before eventually curling his lips into a slight smile. Nods his head and leans in close to press a kiss to your cheek. “Good luck,” Dwayne murmurs out. And his hand quickly squeezes yours before he pads off to the elevator.

You already miss his calming presence in the wake of the coming conversation.

Eventually, your eyes rise up across the bullpen towards Gibbs. He’s still filling out paperwork, probably planning to stay here for several more hours while you go back to his home and settle in for the night. Following the same routine without fail because it worked and it was safe for him and allowed as little interaction as possible.

Pushing off the wall, you make way to his desk. Routine be damned; you both had to talk this through and make it right. You have too much history to just ignore each other until you finally leave state and pretend the other person doesn’t exist. And despite everything - despite the fights and arguments and insults and cold shoulders - you still care about him. You know he feels the same, that was obvious.

You near his desk and he’s already shifting in his chair. Exhaling hard through his nose. He always did have this uncanny ability to sense your presence. And you’re about to speak up, to start this long apology, but Gibbs is the first to say something. “How’s the leg?” He asks.

The question gives you pause, but you push away the surprise. At least he was speaking to you. “Sore. A little stiff. Hurts like hell if I move it the wrong way.”

His head nods. “Make sure to get an aisle seat on the plane. Keep it extended so it doesn’t get too stiff,” he says. When you don’t reply, Gibbs finally glances up. Makes eye contact for a moment before he gives a shrug. “Gotta lot of experience with getting shot,” he adds on.

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, voice suddenly a lot softer than it was. “I remember having the same argument with you like the one we had earlier.”

His eyes fall away at the memory. And you knew Jethro well enough to recognize the guilt he’s carrying; he regrets the things he said. Regrets throwing out anything he knew that would hurt you, and you regret it, too. The fight wasn’t even really about you working with a busted leg.

It was a culmination of years of hurt and confusion coming out at the smallest little argument. For a pair of cops, it really says something that neither of you recognized that, until now.

You lean against his desk, head tilting to meet his eyes again. “Listen, Jethro, I-”

“Don’t.”

Instantly, your face contorts into a confused frown, watching Gibbs as he stands from his desk with a heavy exhale. For a moment, you wonder if he’ll even accept an apology because he’s still hurt. Or even angry at what you said to him. But he only utters two little words: “Rule 6.”

Oh.

You snort at the rule, smiling and shaking your head when it’s Jethro’s turn to look confused. “That was never my favourite rule,” you tell him cheekily. Figures he’d bust one out in a time like this.

“Why not?” He asks, sounding almost defensive.

“Because I really am sorry,” you answer sternly. “Sorry for what I said. Sorry for getting in the way...”

“No,” Gibbs interrupts, and he’s shaking his head in disagreement. “No, you were never in the way. That was just something I said. Something I didn’t mean.”

That’s probably as close to an apology as you’ll get from him. And it was a very good step in the right direction. Even then, you can’t help feeling just a little disappointed. And for what, you weren’t even sure. Not apologizing was a rule of his.

A few seconds of silence go by before Jethro lets out a small sigh. “And I’m sorry.”

And in an instant, a heartbeat, the hollowness of disappointment is gone. You’re smiling genuinely at Gibbs for the first time in a very long time. He’s smiling, too. Just a little, but it’s still such a good sight to see.

“You ready to go?” He asks, and you nod fervently. After he grabs his coat and turns his light off, Jethro walks around his desk and falls into step with you toward the elevator. And it’s almost like old times - except you’re still limping pretty heavily.

Jethro notices and offers his arm, just like at the hospital. You take it and lean against him to take weight off your leg.

It instantly feels better, but you’re not too focused on that. His heat, his body pressed against yours, is so familiar. Almost achingly so. Suddenly, you’re thrown back in time to the first “date” the two of you had. And it wasn’t even that much of a date; just sitting on your couch with some popcorn and beers. But you were sitting so close together, it was unclear where you ended and he began. And you were laughing, a lot. That was one of the more pleasant memories of Gibbs.

But glancing up to him, and seeing those familiar blue eyes looking back, it’s clear that time of your lives was over. And you’re surprisingly okay with that.

Because that warmth in your chest? The force that keeps a giant grin on your face?

That must be what closure feels that.

#ncis imagine #ncis new orleans imagine #dwayne pride x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #ncis nola x reader

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mysterylover123 · 5 years ago

Text

Todoroki’s Relationships Analysis: Part 2: Chapters 21-44 (Sports Festival

Onward to the Sports Fest

Chapter 22-23: Midoriya

Todoroki first takes notice of Midoriya when he overhears Iida and Uraraka gossiping about Deku’s connection with All Might. This indicates that Todoroki sees Deku as a rival initially because of his connection with the #1. As Inasa later points out, Shoto at this point in his life seems to be always looking away to something he hates in the distance. He only sees the chance to hurt his Dad, and nothing else.

Right before the Sports Festival starts, in the prep room, Shoto walks up to Midoriya and tells him he’s better than him, but that since All Might has his eyes on Midoriya, Todoroki intends to beat him. “I feel no need to pry into that” indicates that Shoto isn’t interested in Midoriya himself at this point, but only in the prestige of defeating All Might’s protege.

He certainly isn’t.

Midoriya accepts his challenge and Shoto’s response is hard to describe...he’s basically just calmly accepting.

In the first event, Shoto instantly gets ahead of the crowd. Momo and Bakugou both reprimand him for his arrogance in thinking he could beat them all so easily, as both of them are able to escape his trap right away.

Cont below the cut

Todoroki probably expected them to escape - as established before, he has respect for Momo and Katsuki’s skills.

His gaze is still focused on Endeavor. He also froze the robots on purpose to take people out, showing a disregard for other peoples’ safety.

He takes the time to notice Bakugou catching up to him; Bakugou then proceeds to pass him and tell him he declared war on the wrong person. Shoto looks like he may be considering that possibility - remember, at this point he has expressed respect for Bakugou’s abilities, outside of any mentor figure or connection, but not for Midoriya’s on his own.

Like in the Provisional License Exam Arc, Shoto gets distracted by a petty fight with a potential rival and leaves himself open to fail, focusing more on his angry and resentment than on trying to win.

And then gets taken down from behind, by someone he stopped paying attention to. When Midoriya surpasses him (and Bakugou stays ahead of him) he looks annoyed, even angry.

And as he continues to tie with the other two, he looks a little nervous.

When he does in fact lose, his initial response isn’t shown, but his image in the results is almost in shock. While Shoto does have a tendency to come in second (the entrance exam, the Quirk Apprehension test), he directly challenged Midoriya, and then lost to him in the first event. He probably was not expecting to actually lose to Deku in the first round. Deku surprises him here.

CAVALRY BATTLE:

Kirishima mentions that Todoroki assembled his team pretty quickly. We already know that Shoto respects Yaoyorozu’s capabilities.

It’s possible, however, that he only picked these three, as he said later on, because they would ‘make the strongest possible combination’. He’s definitely buying into his own assertion about not being there to make friends.

He admits to Iida that he has a vow not to use his heat side, the first time we see him admit this to someone.

His target is Midoriya, like most of the other teams. Deku has 10 million points, so he basically has no choice. He also probably wants to surpass him after losing to him in the first round.

He tells Midoriya firmly that he’ll “be taking that”, challenging him about halfway through with a carefully thought out plan.

We see that Shoto generally works well with Yaoyorozu. However, as she puts it later, she mostly just follows his orders here. He’s the boss, she’s the secondary teammate (as are Kaminari and Iida), the subordinate to his state of being in charge.

Todoroki is kept at bay for almost the entire Cavalry Battle thanks to Midoriya exploiting his weakness. This really pisses Shoto off. He calls Deku a “bastard” for exploiting his weakness here - another sign of Shoto effectively

His response to Deku coming at him with his fire power is one of real terror. He reflexively activates his fire side in this fit of terror. (OFA full power can bring down a building, he’s not wrong).

He’s horrified that he let his left side activate, and looks nearly traumatized afterwards. He blames Midoriya for cornering him, and corners him before lunch to explain why he won’t use his fire side.

BACKSTORY TIME

So Midoriya is the only person Todoroki has so far given the details of his backstory to. I’ve always found the question of confidence to be an important one in determining who to pair up, becuase it indicates who the character feels they can talk to about their personal problems. So far, though, Shoto hasn’t shown much warmth or fondness for Midoriya, so confiding in him here feels differently from Ochaco confiding her backstory in Iida and Deku, or Deku telling Kacchan about OFA, or even Bakugou crying in front of Midoriya on several occasions. As shown above, he begins this confidence glaring at Izuku with a “cold” sort of intimidation.

He explains his own reasoning for why he used his flame side and makes a reasonable guess, but not a correct one, about Izuku’s origin story.

He tends to be looking away from Deku in this scene as he tells him about his origin. Looking off, as always, into the distance, at something not immediately before him.

Here, he finally gets a little emotional and admits something tragic and uncomfortable, ending with his complete pledge. Izuku declares war right back at him, and Todoroki says basically nothing. He has no response.

Honestly, I’m not really sure why Todoroki chooses to tell Deku his backstory. My best guess is that it’s his way of justifying holding back against him. He has an inkling that maybe that’s the wrong thing to do, but he needs to reaffirm that his tactic is correct.

DEKU VS TODOROKI

Todoroki in general here seems genuinely scared of Deku’s power.

He’s rightfully horrified at how far Deku is willing to go (this translation is so weird). Todoroki genuinely doesn’t seem to understand at this point why anyone would go this far to win. It’s hard for him to empathize with this mindset, because he’s used to being the best and winning pretty easily.

He is not without empathy for how much pain Deku is in, of course. He apologizes for hurting him, which Deku probably interprets as condescending to him. He feels bad that his own power is hurting someone - his usual ‘apologies’ catchphrase indicating that he’s apologizing for his op-ness.

Deku calls Todoroki out for refusing to actually look at his opponent and fixating on some offscreen foe.

He still can’t seem to understand why Midoriya would do this. To someone like Todoroki, who’s used to being able to win without having to take any real damage himself, the idea of breaking your own body to win an exhibition match is probably completely incomprehensible.

The only way he can explain it to himself is by assuming Endeavor rigged the match, once again fixating on his old man at the expense of everything else.

As Deku gets crazier and crazier Shoto flashes back to his recital of his ‘trivial’ motivation. Deku then starts bawling Shoto out for refusing to give it his all.

Shoto’s response to this is to tell him to Shut up and start flashing back to his own traumatic backstory. He’s overwhelmed by his ice side and starts falling apart, afraid to use his fire and aware that that might be the only way he can win. As I mentioned in my meta on his ‘Shipping Problem’, this is an issue between Deku and Shoto: Deku is very argumentative and confrontational, Shoto is not.

It isn’t until Deku says something constructive that everything changes. This reminds Shoto of something All Might said, and something his mother said. This prompts him to use his fire for the first time.

This smile (the first time we see Shoto smile) can be read in a number of ways. Mainly, of course, a feeling of freedom, of being able to let loose. Fighting Sero earlier saw Shoto essentially just cut loose with his ice powers and nearly hurt someone. Shoto’s core fear seems to be becoming like his father and harming those around him with his power. But there is an argument that quirks demand to be used, that people need to be able to utilize their abilities. Freeing Shoto up to do so means that Izuku saves him from feeling torn about this. Even the most dangerous and terrifying powers demand their use (ie, Toga’s backstory) and repressing them mentally hurts people in BNHA.

He starts crying about unleashing his powers this way, as Endeavor screams his name at him and yells at him that he’s “living up to the reason he created him”. So, now that Izuku has given Shoto the words he needed to make better use of his quirk, what does he think of Deku now?

Well he’s not wrong. But it does seem that Shoto thinks Midoriya is crazy. Something about him just unsettles him and he can’t seem to understand what motivates Izuku to act like he does.

However, he’s still grateful to him for his support.

He’s borderline stunned when he wins and left deeply conflicted about what to do next. He can only say that Deku distracted him from Endeavor enough that he “forgot about him”. Deku made him use his left side in order to win. He doesn’t use his fire against Iida and seems back, almost, to his old ways - winning fast with only ice and a quietly mumbled “apologies”.

Now we come back to Bakugou. Now, Todoroki, as established before, does have some respect for Bakugou’s abilities. He isn’t completely dismissive of him. He’s not afraid of him (his face when challenging him is never as scared as he looks fighting OFA Deku), and he generally just kind of stays calm around him.

While preparing for his match, Todoroki is thinking about Midoriya’s words. He has probably been considering tactics and that he might need to use his fire to beat Bakugou, which would have led him back to considering what Deku said and his conflict with his mom.

When Bakugou bursts in, Shoto looks a little surprised but immediately goes back to contemplating his hands. Bakugou doesn’t like this and, like Deku, demands “Where are you looking?” A moment of continuity between the two rivals.

Shoto asks Bakugou all about Deku, showing some interest in learning more about the guy and maybe even some guilt for how Deku went out.

Bakugou kicks the table over and demands that Todoroki pay attention to HIM, not his family problems or Deku or anything. This is a Shoto analysis post, not a Bakugou one, so I won’t go into Bakugou’s motives here. Shoto looks annoyed with him after he says this and even a little angry.

He starts his match with a very all out ice attack. To quote from my friend ido100, about Todoroki’s fights here “Against Sero, I think the "apology" was meant to say something like "I need to flip the bastard off, and I'm sorry I have to release the rage on you".Against Bakugo, I think when what went through his mind when Midoriya encouraged him was "Why am I holding back? Endeavor doesn't matter. I'll show him. The only thing that matters is the battle!" Retaliation- "But... It's... not right. Is it?"And during the battle against Bakugo, the comment of the ice being more focused indicates his mind was cleared more into the battle. “

Shoto conitnues to try fighting with only ice, enraging Bakugou when he refuses to fight him with fire.

Aizawa points out that he’s basically lost his energy after fighting Deku. He’s not sure of anything anymore, not sure whether he should use only ice or use both. Before he was unstoppable because he had a clear goal. Now he’s had to compromise his plans and he just can’t go all out either way.

This line is really interesting - Todoroki didn’t feel guilty about not giving Midoriya an all out fight at first, even though both demanded as much from him. His mindset has changed. He doesn’t suspect Bakugou of being paid off by Endeavor. Instead, he feels bad about hurting him.

Midoriya cheers him on from the stands and for a moment Todoroki decides to go all out and use his fire. However, the flashbacks to his past return and in the end he puts the fire out and loses, devastating Bakugou. A part of it may indeed be just as Bakugou fears, that Todoroki doesn’t think he’s a big enough threat to merit an all out fight - after all, he’s a LOT more intimidated by MIdoriya, despite Bakugou throwing freaking Howitzer impact at him.

Afterwards, he’s still thinking about Deku and why All Might took notice of him. Based on Deku’s...advice?...he decides to go make peace with his mom so he can be a better hero in the future.

Sports Fest Shoto starts off madly resolved on winning with just his ice side. He notices Midoriya as All Might’s protege and challenges him, he acknowledges Momo and Bakugou’s strength to some degree, but he’s mostly preoccupied with screwing over Endeavor. He’s forced out of that sort of fog when Deku starts going crazy and berating him. He feels free to let loose for a little while, but remains conflicted and ends up hurting Bakugou’s feelings. The arc leaves him in a state of confusion and ambivalence.

#shoto todoroki #tododeku #todobaku #todomomo #bnha sports festival #sports festival arc

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daybreak-academy-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Daybreak Academy: Chapter 61

I’ll Be Back

Summary: In which Ephemer and Anora try to sneak back into her dorm using a whole lot of luck and two very good friends. Word Count: 1,878 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

“Jiminy Cricket.” Ephemer cursed, “Ira's coming this way.”

Anora's confusion quickly turned into one of horror. Even if Ira catching Ephemer and Anora together wouldn't have been unusual, it would have become more than obvious that something happened between them by the way she was dressed. Never minding the fact that she was holding a small pile of her clothes in hand too. If they were caught like this by a fellow student, they probably could have gotten away without too much of a fuss. There would be rumors, sure, but nothing that could actually stop them from being together again later.

But Ira? Ira was the last person that would grant any kind of mercy if he caught them. Ephemer's heart was basically his brain at this point, which meant that he would only say something that would make the situation worse. Anora would probably be expelled. For a hot second, Ephemer considered pulling Anora into a tight kiss and prayed that Ira wouldn't notice them. But then he realized that even if he tried a fake-out make-out, he knew darn well that Ira would still recognize him. Anora would possibly also die from embarrassment, and Ephemer really didn't want that to happen. What was he going to...

“Headmaster Ira!”

“Oh, hello there Skuld.”

“Skuld?” both Ephemer and Anora questioned under their breath. Ephemer was the only one who could peek to be sure. Sure enough, there was Skuld, looking like she had just gotten out of the shower and put her clothes on rather haphazardly. She made a quick glance in their direction before turning her attention back to Ira.

“What can I help you with?” Ira calmly asked.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you would join me for breakfast!” the teen smiled. Genuinely surprised, Ira took a small step back.

“Do you not usually have breakfast with Ephemer?”

“Oh, I think he slept in this morning. And I happened to run into you, so I thought I'd ask you instead!”

“Well, if that's the case...” Ira decided, motioning for Skuld to follow him. But there was a different plan in Skuld's head formulating.

“Can we take the long way?” Skuld then asked. “The leaves are just so nice this time of year.”

If Ira was becoming suspicious, he certainly didn't show it easily. “Very well, then.” he agreed. “Let's take the long way.”

Skuld gave a bright smile as she purposely lead Ira away from Ephemer and Anora.

“Come on.” Ephemer told Anora as he took her hand. “Skuld just saved our hides. Remind me to kiss her later.”

Anora gave a quick nod- making a note to do so as well.

The two were running in unison now, and going at a much faster pace than before. As the Vulpes girls' dorms came closer into view, that was when Ephemer decided to ask,

“What floor are you on?”

The immediate answer was one of the ones the boy feared; “The sixth.”

“Of course you are...” Ephemer grumbled under his breath as his eyes trailed up the dorm's exterior. The sixth floor was all but in the middle of the building. Everyone knew that the middle floors saw the most foot traffic. It was going to take a miracle for them to get it without getting caught. What were they going to do?

. . .

Strelitzia had waited all night for Anora to come back. A part of her knew, and a part of her feared, what had transpired the night before. All of those fears compounded when she saw Anora and Ephemer sprint over to the Vulpes dorms. She had a choice, you know, to just walk away and pretend she didn't see them. She could have even called Ava and ratted the new couple out if she so darn well pleased.

But she didn't do either of those things.

Instead, Strelitzia ran out to meet them halfway. Before either could gasp her name in surprise, Strelitzia took Ephemer by the hand (who, in turn, pulled Anora along with him) and forced the two off to the side.

“Strelitzia,” Ephemer finally rasped, “We need to...”

“I know.” she replied, cutting him off before he could finish. Her voice lowered before telling them, “You'll need to use the fire escape. A lot of girls are already awake. If you can get to the sixth floor, I'll make sure no one's around so you can head straight to Anora's dorm.”

Visible relief washed over Ephemer's face. “You're amazing Strelitzia.” Ephemer sighed. “If this works out, remind me to add you to the list of girls I need to kiss in thanks.”

“You have a…?” Strelitzia started to question before shaking her head. “Never mind. We're running out of time.”

“Right.” Ephemer quickly agreed before taking a firm hold on Anora's hand again. Strelitzia watched as the two departed. Despite herself, a small smile appeared on her face before remembering that she needed to help them.

The young woman did her absolute best to walk back into the dorms as inconspicuous as possible. Her mind was already trying to figure out how she was going to stop most of the traffic flow on the sixth level. The elevator would be the trickiest part. The doors leading to the stairwell would be easy, and if luck permitted, so would temporarily blocking the doors to the dorms themselves.

Strelitzia took the elevator up. Since it was the biggest hindrance, she needed to scope out her chances now. As luck would have it, the custodian had left behind a broom. Maybe they used it to sweep at the cobwebs at the top of the elevator ceiling? Either way, Strelitzia did some experimenting on the ride up to the sixth floor. When the elevator opened, she placed the broom just so that when the elevator door closed behind her, the broom handle knocked over and pressed the hold button. That would stop the elevator until someone realized it wasn't coming when called- that only left the other doors.

What luck would have it that the locks were located on the hallway side, and not the stairwell side? Luck that Strelitzia knew was practically bending itself for this moment, surely. She took care in making sure she didn't set an alarm off. Did those doors even have alarms on them? With a thought for later squirreled away, Strelitzia made sure the stairwell doors were locked before looking down the hallway. Almost all of the girls had gone down to breakfast. She hadn't seen them, but it seemed right.

As she quickly made her way to the fire escape door, Strelitzia knocked on a few doors to make sure no one was in their room. Horror quickly struck when two girls did answer their door. Strelitzia didn't know what she said to them, but they ended up going back into their room without a second thought. This interruption caused a jump start in Strelitzia's adrenaline- she rushed over to the fire escape entrance so fast, and opened the door so quickly, that she almost smacked Ephemer in the face.

The young woman barely looked at them as she said, “I did what I could.” Then she turned to Ephemer and informed him, “I've marked my door. Anora's room is to the right of mine.”

Ephemer gave her a nervous nod of his head -his hair bobbing slightly in turn- before leading himself and Anora into the dorms. The three of them paced over to Anora's dorm on their tip-toes. Anora handed Ephemer her room key when they were just steps away. He took it, quickly fumbled with the lock, then dove inside the room without a second guess. When Strelitzia assumed that Anora would do the same, the younger of the two went up to Strelitzia and carefully slipped her hands into the other girl's hands.

“Thank you.” she whispered. As much as she didn't want to, Strelitzia gave a small smile in return. She squeezed Anora's hands tight.

“Anything for you.” she replied, sincere and honest, and just a tad bit heartbroken. Anora returned the favor with a smile of her own, before reaching to give Strelitzia a small peck on the forehead. The older of the two blushed, letting go of Anora's hands, and allowing the younger to finally slip into her room.

As Anora shut the door behind them, Ephemer let out a relieved sigh before doing a light jig around her room.

“We made it!” he all but cheered. When he had his moment, Ephemer then started to look around her room in curiosity. His face fell in disappointment. “Wow,” he found himself remarking, “Skuld wasn't kidding. Your dorm is small. Compared to mine, any way.”

He turned to Anora, who was still standing at the door, and smiled at her.

“Maybe next time I'll spend the night here.” he told her, half joking and half not. “That way we won't almost get caught by Ira again.”

Anora smiled.

“I'd like that.” she admitted in a small voice.

Ephemer's heart leaped into his throat as a big, rather goofy looking, smile etched onto his face. He walked over to her and put her hands into his. The two stared into each other's eyes, not quite wanting the other to leave yet. There was an itch, an inkling, of wanting so much more that neither could fully describe. They instead pressed their foreheads together and gave time for the moment sink in.

“I love you.” Ephemer admitted. Anora didn't give a direct response; instead, she tilted her chin a bit to lead them into a kiss. Ephemer immediately wrapped his arms around her waist to steady himself, while she brought her arms around his neck. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but to them, it had felt like an eternity.

Ephemer was the first to pull away. “Well, I guess I have to go now.” he decided, despite taking no immediate action in doing so. It was Anora who took a step back, allowing him to leave. At first, Ephemer made small shuffles toward the door, his gaze unwavering as he continued to softly stare at Anora. The door handle jabbing him in the side snapped him out of his trance enough to turn around to open the door.

Of course he stole one last look at Anora before leaving proper. And of course he gave her a wide, stupid grin in complete adoration. Had it not been for Strelitzia on the other side of the door, he probably would have gotten caught with his head poking into Anora's room. After he shut the door behind him, and the sounds of Strelitzia smuggling him back over to the fire escape, Anora moved over to her window to see if she could spot Ephemer leaving the dorms.

She recognized him almost immediately and laughed when she did. The fleeing Ephemer looked more like he was late for a class than trying to hide the fact he had come out of the girls' dorms. Filled with glee, Anora hugged herself before flopping onto her bed. She had to get ready for classes soon- but a part of her just didn't care. Being in love was far more enjoyable.

#daybreak academy #chapter 61 #kingdom hearts fanfiction #Ephemer #Anora #Ira #Skuld #Strelitzia #Transitions #Season 1

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lailannajacobs · 6 years ago

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Just Dumb Luck - Final Chapter

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary: Time to see if you can work things out with Loki or not.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: None!

A/N: A HUGE thank you to everyone who has been following this series! I can’t even begin to express how much all your love for these two has meant to me and honestly, I can barely believe it! As a little thank you I’ve decided to give you guys an epilogue next week, maybe it’ll set up another project, maybe not, we’ll see! Again, thank you so much and feedback and requests are always welcome! <3

Updated: 31/01/19

Neither of you had said a word on the way to your apartment. You were both too aware of the gravity of what Loki had to say, and you knew it wasn’t the kind of conversation you could have while walking home.

He’s sitting on your couch, a steaming cup of tea in his hands, waiting for you to sit. Your heart is hammering. You’re terrified to hear what he has to say. It would be less terrifying if you’d have any sort of clue as to what is about to come out of his mouth.

Less than a half hour ago you were warming up to the idea of letting him back into your life, but now, you can feel yourself shutting him out – and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. You don’t want him to give you a reason you can’t accept and you sure as hell don’t want to get your hopes up. You have to keep convincing yourself that those aren’t your only two options. If you’re lucky, it’ll turn out for the best.

When you sit, he doesn’t say anything, but you wait, knowing he will. You have a feeling he knows the weight his next words will hold and he’s choosing them very carefully.

Looking at him now, you realize every inch of his mask has faded away. He looks like he went through hell to get here but he made it through if only to sit on your couch. You desperately want to know what has happened to him since he left, especially since all you can hear, echoing through your head is: The Only Thing I Am Playing For Is Your Company. The words had eased your anger initially, but you can feel it returning. Regardless of what has happened, he hadn’t told you the truth, and that wasn’t something you could forgive without an explanation. No matter how much, deep down, you wanted him back in your life, you would stand your ground for this.

You’re halfway done your tea when he speaks up. “I haven’t been completely honest with you (y/n).”

“Really?” You scoff, “I never would have guessed.”

He winces at the bite in your words.

You don’t want to stop him from telling you the truth. You told him you’d hear him out and attacking him won’t help anything so, taking in a deep breath, you motion for him to go on. You don’t trust yourself to speak right now.

“I’m not sure you’re going to believe me, but I need you to know I’m not lying to you (y/n). You have my word.”

You nod and listen.

* * * * *

“(y/n)?” Loki breaks the fragile silence with a whisper.

You haven’t said anything since he finished telling you who he really is. At first, you hadn’t been able to help but laugh in disbelief, but the laughter had died on your lips at the seriousness in his voice and at the memory of the promise that he wouldn’t lie to you.

If you really thought about it, you’d always had some sort of inkling that he was different, and hearing your suspicions aloud had only served to quiet you even further. You hadn’t realized how different he truly was.

You can tell he’s terrified by your silence. He’s fidgeting, unable to find a comfortable position on the couch, and can barely keep eye contact without having to look away after a few seconds. On anyone else, you’d say that he looks guilty and regretful all at once, but it’s not a look you’ve ever seen on him before. You don’t know if you’re imagining the look or not.

You can’t answer him, at least not right away. It’s almost impossible to wrap your head around everything. You had never been one to think too hard about what was out there, in space, but you guess you must have always assumed that no one else was out there because suddenly the world feels like a much larger place; and you, now, so much smaller.

You can’t help but think back to the one mythology class you had to take as an elective while you were in college. You hadn’t taken it seriously considering it had nothing to do with your marketing major, and at the time it seemed like a load of crap, but you know your professor would have had a field day with all this knowledge. You, on the other hand, are still stunned into silence.

The man you had come to know, and if you had to admit it, love, was basically a god. What do you do with that kind of information? You ask yourself if it changes anything. Does it change everything?

Loki lets out a sigh and pushes himself up and off the couch.

You grab his hand, “Wait. Just…give me another second.”

You can’t let him leave without at least trying to wrap your head around all this.

He raises a brow and when he sees that you want him to stay, sits back down, fiddling with the tea cup in his hands. His eyes are dull, no longer that bright, passion filled green and his shoulders slumped, curled in around that tiny mug.

After searching deep down, you realize you’re no longer angry with him. You had wanted the truth and he had given it to you. You understand why he wouldn’t think you could believe something like this. Who would? You’re a little surprised you believe him now. It makes you think back to the day you first met, when he had walked you home. You’re reminded of something he had said and finally find your voice.

“Why didn’t you say anything? That first day. I feel like maybe… maybe you were about to?”

You want to think you would have believed him then. Maybe you would have. Maybe you wouldn’t. Either way, you know that it’s what you do now that counts.

He lifts his gaze from the mug and rubs the back of his neck, “I didn’t want you to see me as a monster; a villain.”

The realization dawns on you, “You were afraid I wouldn’t see you for you…that I still won’t.”

He shrugs.

“I would have seen you for you, you know.” You say softly but firmly.

He shrugs again.

“I have a question though Loki.”

You have many questions, but you narrow it down to one. There’s only one that matters above all of your curiosity. One that, depending on his answer, will decide whether or not you’ll ever give this thing with Loki a chance.

He dips his heads slightly, enough to tell you to ask away.

“How much of it was real?”

His answer is quick, “All of it.” And as if he can sense that you’re still not quite convinced he continues, “How I behaved, how I acted, it was all me (y/n). That was real. I meant what I said earlier, and I stayed because I enjoy your company. But I had to leave, and I will have to leave from time to time in the future, but I will be here as much as I can. I know you may not believe it and I won’t blame you if you don’t, but I will stay… if you’ll have the god of mischief.”

He’s sitting so stiffly, you know he’s waiting for you to tell him to leave. Even though you’re pretty sure he didn’t tell you everything about his home and what happened with his family, you’re guessing the things he didn’t tell you are the reason he’s expecting you to be afraid of who he really is. That, or maybe he’s afraid of himself. Maybe he can’t imagine why, if he is, you wouldn’t be too.

“I don’t need the god of mischief,” you begin holing that intense green gaze of his, watching the disappointed acceptance flash through his eyes. “I need Loki. The man who helped me out of an embarrassing situation without asking more than one question like a weirdo. The man who challenges me every time I go all competitive. The man who pushes me to be a better person. The man who, even if it was only to win a stupid breakup, listened to every word Amelie had to say with genuine care. The man who bought a Yankees jersey just because I told him he’d have more fun that way. The man who’s truly terrible at pool. That’s who I need. And I’m not saying I don’t want the other part of you that you kept hidden. I do. I want to it all, to see every part of you. But for real this time. I only wanted the truth Loki… I only wanted you.”

His shoulders sag.

Before you know what’s happening, he’s pulling you toward him and pressing his lips to yours. You’re sure he can feel your smile through the kiss, and you pull him even closer. You’re instantly flooded with feelings of relief and familiarity. As you tangle your fingers in his hair, he lets out a sigh of content and his hands begin to explore the rest of your body. There’s a gentleness in his touch as if he can’t quite believe you’re still here. The gentleness of it all almost feels taunting.

You’re about to harden the kiss but he pulls away, that familiar half smile on his face.

“I should probably tell you that I did not buy that jersey.”

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing, “Wait, what? But I saw it on you. Don’t tell me you stole it?”

In your surprise, you don’t mention that you had also been wanting to take it off him yourself that day. That little tidbit you can save for another day – another game.

“That would have been a little bit of conjuration.” He replies sheepishly.

You sit back, crossing your legs under you and bouncing back a little on your hands, all thoughts of his shirt and what’s underneath, making way for intrigue. “I have so many questions.”

He tilts his body slightly to the side in a slight mock bow, a wolfish grin lighting his whole face, “Ask me anything love.”

Epilogue

Tag List:

@lokixme @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @perceptorxbrainstorm @ihavenofilter @tony-sassmaster-stark @crescent-night @wrappedinlokisarms @lemonie2 @thatkidofwarandpeace @ihavenofilter @jessiejunebug @bbcsassdeadass @casualminiaturetimemachine @artsymeadow @laufxysn @save-myself @bilesxbilinskixlahey @grey-stardancer @thathedonistgirl @fyeahlitaajpunk

#Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki #MCU fanfiction #MCU fic #fan fiction #fanfic #loki imagine

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twifeordeath · 6 years ago

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Twife or Death: Lesbian Twilight Chapter 19

Updated as of 12-13-18 (previous) (all chapters)

All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer, and this project is non-profit and fan entertainment. Thank you to Shelley, Taya, and the project admin Alina G.

19. GOODBYES

Charlie was waiting up for me. All the house lights were on. My mind was blank as I tried to think of a way to make this seem normal. Just a normal trip- suddenly I had an idea. An inkling of an idea, but it was a start.

Edythe pulled up slowly, staying well back from my truck. All three of them were acutely alert, ramrod straight in their seats, listening to every sound of the wood, looking through every shadow, catching every scent, searching for something out of place. The engine cut off, and I sat, motionless, as they continued to listen.

"She's not here," Edythe said tensely. "Let's go." Eleanor reached over to help me get out of the harness.

I felt moisture filling up my eyes as I looked at Eleanor. I barely knew her, and yet, somehow, not knowing when I would see her again after tonight was anguish. I knew this was just a faint taste of the goodbyes I would have to survive in the next hour, and the thought made the tears begin to spill.

"Alice, Eleanor." Edythe's voice was soft but stern. They slinked soundlessly into the darkness, instantly disappearing. Edythe opened my door and took my hand, then put an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to her, like proximity would protect me. She walked me swiftly toward the house, eyes always roving through the night.

"Fifteen minutes," she said under her breath.

"I can do this." I sniffled. My tears had given me inspiration.

I stopped on the porch and took hold of her face in my hands. I looked fiercely into her eyes.

"I love you," I said in a low, intense voice. "I will always love you, no matter what happens now."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Bella," she said just as fiercely.

"Just follow the plan, okay? Keep Charlie safe for me."

"Get inside, Bella. We have to hurry." Her voice was urgent.

I nodded and turned to open the door, knowing Edythe would be gone before I even closed it again.

"Bella?" Charlie had been hovering in the living room, and now peered out into the hallway.

“Ch- Ma, I have a really big favor to ask.” I used my fear and sadness to give my voice gravity. She came up to me, cupping my face in her hands.

“You okay, Bells?”

“Yeah, it’s not me. It’s- Alice. One of her childhood friends- she died recently.” I took a deep steadying breath. Charlie looked like she was lost for words. “I promised I’d come with her to the funeral. Most of the family was already out of town and Edythe and Jasper have a massive final project they’re working on- well nobody else can go and I didn’t want her to have to go alone.”

“I- sure. But, where is it?”

“It’s in Phoenix.”

“Wow Bells, that’s far- are you sure-” She took one look at my face and stopped halfway through the question. “Alright, I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be gone a few days. It won’t take longer than that, right?”

“Actually, I think some pipes broke in the school and it’s been flooded, so we probably won’t have school tomorrow or the day after at all, depending on the damage and how fast they can get it fixed. I think Wednesday was a teacher work day anyway. I don’t know, they’ll probably call or email.” I start walking up the stairs. I knew for certain they were broken by now because Jasper seemed to take it as a personal responsibility to sneak in and, as Edythe said she’d phrased it “royally fuck things up”.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Charlie realized probably, as soon as the question left her mouth, how it would sound to her teenage daughter. “I mean, I just worry. Keep me updated alright? You don’t have to call me every night but I’d really appreciate it.”

“I will be texting you to let you know we haven’t run into a moose anywhere or gotten pulled over for speeding. Just joking Ma!” I looked back and saw her smile when I didn’t just call her Charlie again. She was softening, I knew it.

“Alright, let me know if you need help packing or anything, I’ll go make you some sandwiches for the road. You’re not leaving tonight, are you? Not in this weather?”

“No Ma, I said I’d stay the night with her, keep her company. Don’t worry, she’s a much better and more responsible driver than I am.”

“Okay, go pack already, don’t want to keep her waiting.” I ran up the rest of the stairs and into my room.

I turned to my dresser, and Edythe was already there, silently yanking out armfuls of random clothes, which she proceeded to throw to me. I rolled my eyes at her before trying to at least fold them slightly before shoving them in my bag. If I rushed too much Charlie would get suspicious. I think Edythe realized this, and after taking a deep breath started handing me underwear, a few folded shirts and sweaters. The bag was pretty much full now.

I jerked, exasperated, on the zipper of my bag. Edythe suddenly stopped in mid motion leaning over to help me, then put up a finger like she’d had an idea and rushed out of the room. I swore I could almost feel the breeze of her passage as she ran back in, putting a toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush into a smaller bag and shoving it in one of the side pockets.

She went to brush my hands away and zip it up herself but paused, looking over at me. I smiled and nodded, with a quiet ‘thanks’. It may not have been a big deal to anyone else, but I got frustrated at how helpless I felt when people did stuff for me just because of my dyspraxia, or lifted things for me without asking. She handed me the bag and I slung it over my shoulder.

“Meet you in the car.” She whispered, climbing out the window. I would never be able to get used to things like that. I made sure the window was locked before glancing around my room, trying to think if I’d missed anything. It was only a few days anyway. I went down the stairs much slower than I had gone up. The extra weight made my coordination even worse. Hey, at least it was stairs and not a ladder. I hated ladders with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. It was up there with bicycles in my list of things I would not even try to do again because it was pointless and just hurt.

“Alright, I’m heading out.” I peeked into the kitchen to see Charlie wrapping two sandwiches in plastic wrap.

“Perfect timing.” She stuck them into a bag and handed it over. “Be careful, alright? I know you’re just going on a minor road trip and not skydiving, but- I’m sorry. Come here, let me give you a hug.” I stuck the sandwiches into a pocket of my bag with a small smile and walked over to wrap my arms around her waist.

“I love you.” It felt too much like a goodbye, and I think Charlie sensed something was off.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Hopefully she chalked it up to me coming face to face with the fragility of human life because of the funeral and not because of actual impending physical danger.

"I'll call you tomorrow." I said as I stepped back, trying to inject some cheerfulness into my voice. She patted my head and went to open the door for me.

“Give Alice my condolences. Or a hug would probably do better.”

“Will do. Bye!” I walked past her and out the door, no longer able to control my facial expression. I made to to the car before I started crying. What if something happened? What if something happened to me and she blamed herself for letting me go? I opened the door and threw my bag into the backseat before buckling myself in and turning the car on, hitting the gas maybe a bit too hard.

Edythe reached for my hand.

"Pull over," she said as the house, and Charlie, disappeared behind us.

"I can drive," I said through the tears pouring down my cheeks.

“Sweetheart, please.”

“Alright.” I wiped a hand across my face before pulling onto the shoulder.

I was about to open the door before I felt her hands grip my waist.

“It’s starting to rain, I don’t want you to get wet. I can just do it like this, okay?” I had no idea what she was talking about but I was too tired and upset so I just nodded. She pulled me across her lap and suddenly she was in the driver's seat. I mechanically buckled my seatbelt as she pulled back onto the road.

Lights flared suddenly behind us. I stared out the back window, eyes wide with horror.

"It's just Alice," she reassured me. She took my hand again.

"The tracker?"

"The tracker followed us. She's running behind us now."

My body went cold.

"Can we outrun her?"

"No." But she sped up as she spoke. The truck's engine whined in protest.

My plan suddenly didn't feel so brilliant anymore.

“Eleanor is going to join us soon.”

I was staring back at Alice's headlights when the truck shuddered and a dark shadow sprung up outside the window.

I gasped in horror before what Edythe had said finally sunk in.

“What? That’s not- why couldn’t she just get into the car like a normal person she almost scared me to death.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to say she was about to jump on the goddamn roof.”

“Next time just say that, okay?” I felt a bit out of breath so I leaned my head against the dashboard.

“I’m sorry Bella.” She took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “It's going to be alright.”

"I’m afraid for you," I whispered.

"We'll be together again in a few days," she said, "Don't forget that this was your idea." I could tell she was trying to lighten the mood.

"It was the best idea — of course it was mine."

Her answering smile was bleak and disappeared immediately.

"Why did this happen?" I asked, my voice catching. "Why me?"

She stared blankly at the road ahead. "It's my fault — I was a fool to expose you like that. I’m sorry."

"That's not what I meant," I insisted. "I was there, big deal. It didn't bother the other two. Why did this Jamie decide she wants to kill me? There're people all over the place, why me?"

She hesitated, thinking before she answered.

"I got a good look at her mind tonight," she began in a low voice. "I'm not sure if there's anything I could have done to avoid this, once she saw you. But when I defended you… well, that made it a lot worse. She's not used to being thwarted, no matter how insignificant the object. She thinks of herself as a hunter and nothing else. Her existence is consumed with tracking, and a challenge is all she asks of life. Suddenly we've presented her with a beautiful challenge — a large clan of strong fighters all bent on protecting the one vulnerable element. You wouldn't believe how euphoric she is now. It's her favorite game, and we've just made it her most exciting game ever." Her tone was full of disgust.

She paused a moment.

"I don't think I have any choice but to kill her now," she muttered. "Carine won't like it."

I could hear the tires cross the bridge, though I couldn't see the river in the dark. I knew we were getting close. I had to ask her now.

"How can you kill a vampire?"

She glanced at me with unreadable eyes and her voice was quiet. "The only way to be sure is to behead her and burn the body.”

"And the other two will fight with her?"

"The redhead, Victoria, will. I'm not sure about Laurent. They don't have a very strong bond — she's only with them for convenience. She was embarrassed by Jamie in the meadow…"

"But Jamie and Victoria — they'll try to kill you?" I asked, my voice raw.

"I’ll have Eleanor, and Carine. And the advantage of reading their minds, don’t worry about me. Your only concern is keeping yourself safe and — please�� try not to be too reckless."

"Is she still following?"

"Yes. She won't attack the house, though. Not tonight."

She turned off onto the invisible drive, with Alice following behind.

“Eleanor will carry you inside, alright? Get you in there fast and safe while I keep watch for Alice.” I nodded as we drove up to the house. The lights inside were bright, but they did little to alleviate the blackness of the encroaching forest. Eleanor had my door open before the truck was stopped; I closed my eyes as she pulled me gently out of the seat, tucked me like a football into her vast chest, and ran me through the door.

We burst into the large white room, Edythe and Alice at our sides. All of them were there; they were already on their feet at the sound of our approach. Laurent stood in their midst. I could hear low growls rumble deep in Eleanor's throat as she set me down next to Edythe. I muttered a quick ‘thanks’ to her as I tried to steady my breathing. She patted my shoulder distractedly.

"She's tracking us," Edythe announced, glaring balefully at Laurent.

Laurent's face was unhappy. "I was afraid of that."

Alice slid over to Jasper's side and whispered in her ear; her lips quivered with the speed of her silent speech. They sped up the stairs together. Rosalie watched them, and then moved quickly to Eleanor's side. Her beautiful eyes were intense and — when they flickered to my face — angry.

"What will she do?" Carine asked Laurent in chilling tones.

"I'm sorry," she answered. "I was afraid, when your girl there defended her, that it would set her off."

"Can you stop her?"

Laurent shook her head. "Nothing stops Jamie when she gets started."

"We'll stop her," Eleanor promised. There was no doubt what she meant.

"You can't bring her down. I've never seen anything like her in my three hundred years. She's absolutely lethal. That's why I joined her coven."

Her coven, I thought, of course. The show of leadership in the clearing was merely that, a show.

Laurent was shaking her head. She glanced at me, perplexed, and back to Carine. "Are you sure it's worth it?"

Edythe's low growl filled the room; Laurent cringed.

Carine looked gravely at Laurent. "I'm afraid you're going to have to make a choice."

Laurent understood. She deliberated for a moment. Her eyes took in every face, and finally swept the bright room.

"I'm intrigued by the life you've created here. But I won't get in the middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won't go up against Jamie. I think I will head north — to that clan in Denali." She hesitated. "Don't underestimate Jamie. She's got a brilliant mind and unparalleled senses. She's every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to be, and she won't come at you head on… I'm sorry for what's been unleashed here. Truly sorry." She bowed her head, but I saw her flicker another puzzled look at me.

"Go in peace," was Carine's formal answer.

Laurent took another long look around the room and then hurried out the door.

The silence lasted less than a second.

"How close?" Carine looked to Edythe.

Esme was already moving; her hand touched an inconspicuous keypad on the wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass wall. I gaped.

"About three miles out past the river; she's circling around to meet up with Victoria."

"What's the plan?"

"We'll lead her off, and then Jasper and Alice will run her south."

"And then?"

Edythe's tone was deadly. "As soon as Bella is clear, we hunt her."

"I guess there's no other choice," Carine agreed, her face grim.

Edythe turned to Rosalie.

"Get her upstairs and trade clothes," Edythe said. Rosalie stared back at her with livid disbelief.

"Why should I?" she hissed. "What is she to me? Except a menace — a danger you've chosen to inflict on all of us."

I flinched back from the venom in her voice.

"Rose…" Eleanor murmured, putting one hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this.” She hissed at Eleanor. “You don’t owe her anything.”

“She matters to Edythe, so she matters to me.” Was Eleanor’s steady reply. Something, some doubt or other emotion flickered across Rosalie’s face but she shook her head and ran off.

But I was watching Edythe carefully, worried about her reaction.

She simply had looked away from Rosalie as if she hadn't spoken.

"Esme?" she asked calmly.

"Of course," Esme murmured. “May I?” She reached her arms out to me like she wanted to pick me up. I sighed and nodded, resigning myself to these vampires just wanting to lug me around since I was otherwise so slow.

Esme was at my side in half a heartbeat, swinging me up easily into her arms, and dashing up the stairs before I could gasp in shock.

"Why are we doing this?" I asked breathlessly as she set me down in a dark room somewhere off the second-story hall.

"Trying to confuse the smell. It won't work for long, but it might help get you out." I could hear her clothes falling to the floor.

"I don't think I'll fit…" I hesitated, but her gentle hands were tugging my shirt over my head. I quickly stripped my jeans off myself. She handed me something, it felt like a shirt. I struggled to get my arms through the right holes. As soon as I was done she handed me her slacks. I yanked them on, but I couldn't get my feet out; they were too long. She deftly rolled the hems a few times so I could stand. Somehow she was already in my clothes. She led me back to the stairs, where Alice stood, a small leather bag in one hand. They each grabbed one of my elbows and half-carried me as they flew down the stairs.

It appeared that everything had been settled downstairs in our absence. Edythe and Eleanor were ready to leave, Eleanor carrying a heavy-looking backpack over her shoulder. Carine was handing something small to Esme. She turned and handed Alice the same thing — it was a thin silver cell phone.

"Esme and Rosalie will be taking your truck if that’s okay, Bella," she told me as he passed. I nodded, glancing warily at Rosalie. She was examining her nails as if nobody else in the room existed.

"Alice, Jasper — take the Mercedes. You'll need the dark tint in the south."

They nodded as well.

"We're taking the Jeep."

I was surprised to see that Carine intended to go with Edythe. I realized suddenly, with a stab of fear, that they made up the hunting party.

"Alice," Carine asked, "will they take the bait?"

Everyone watched Alice as she closed her eyes and became incredibly still.

Finally her eyes opened. "She'll track you. Victoria will follow the truck. We should be able to leave after that." Her voice was certain.

"Let's go." Carine began to walk toward the kitchen.

Edythe was at my side at once, pulling me into her arms. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and closed my eyes in an effort not to cry. She pulled back a few moments later, looking me in the eyes, determined, before her expression softened and she stood up on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to my lips.

“See you later.” She said as she took one last glance at me.

And they were gone.

We stood there, the others looking away from me as a tear streaked down my face, though Alice gave me a quick hug.

The silent moment dragged on, and then Esme's phone vibrated in her hand. It flashed to her ear.

"Now," she said. Rosalie stalked out the front door without another glance in my direction, but Esme touched my cheek as she passed.

"Be safe." Her whisper lingered behind them as they slipped out the door. I heard my truck start thunderously, and then fade away.

Jasper and Alice waited. Alice's phone seemed to be at her ear before it buzzed.

"Edythe says Victoria is on Esme's trail. I'll get the car." She vanished into the shadows the way Edythe had gone.

Jasper and I looked at each other. She stood across the length of the entryway from me… being careful.

"You're wrong, you know," she said quietly.

"What?" I thought this was the first time she’d spoken directly to me.

"I can feel what you're feeling now — and you are worth it."

"I'm not," I mumbled. "If anything happens to them, it will be for nothing."

"You're wrong," she repeated, smiling kindly at me.

I heard nothing, but then Alice stepped through the front door and came toward me with her arms held out.

"May I?" she asked. I sniffed and nodded, this time needing the comfort of someone's physical presence, needing the reassurance, even if it wasn’t Edythe.

She lifted me in her slender arms as easily as Eleanor had, shielding me protectively, and then we flew out the door, leaving the lights bright behind us.

#chapter #twife or death #twife or death update #lesbian twilight #lesbian vampires #twilight lesbians #twilight renaissance #twilight rewrite #fixed some minor typos

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tryingthisfangirlthing · 6 years ago

Text

A Fobwatch and a Sapphire-Studded Choker (4/?)

Summary: After the Doctor’s latest regeneration, the TARDIS crashes on Vhampre Four, and needs time to recuperate. One issue: the Doctor is wanted by the local authorities and can’t be seen on this planet. Issue Number Two: everyone seems to think Rose and the Doctor are a couple, including the fobwatched Doctor herself. And Issue Number Three: the native vhampiiri drink blood… Pairing: Thirteen/Rose Rating: NSFW (just to be on the safe side, but nothing graphic yet) Word Count: ~4.8k Content Warnings: Police Interrogation, Intimidation, Imprisonment, Terrorism Mention, Authoritarianism, Drugging, Confiscation of Property, General Dickish Police Posturing

Also on AO3

Part 4 of my @dwsecretsanta gift (from last year, ohgod I am so sorry I am so behind!) for @natural--blues.

I could not do this without @chiaroscuroverse‘s invaluable insight and @tinknevertalks‘ encouragement. Thank you both.

This chapter will be a bit plottier than the previous, and in case you couldn’t tell from the tags, it is not a happy one. I’m halfway through writing the next chapter, though, and I’ll try not to leave you all hanging too long.

Silently, J’aen offered her hand, palm up, not quite meeting Rose’s eyes. Swallowing, Rose took it, lacing their fingers together, and grabbed the suitcase. A half-eaten plate of chips and a nearly motionless animal lay on the table behind them as they made their way out of the restaurant. Rose tried not to think too hard on it.

The melancholy flutter of J’aen’s eyelashes sent guilt spearing through Rose’s lungs. But she could hardly tell her, You're really someone else, someone who isn't a bloody vampire, and I miss him — her. Both — even if I didn’t really know her yet. She knew the Doctor, and that was what counted. Even if it seared to have the man she loved wrenched away from her like that and replaced with someone new, the Doctor remained the Doctor, somehow. She'd been through regeneration once before — but never the Doctor not as hi-herself.

The customs line had shortened by the time they joined it again, moving fluidly now. “What was the hold-up before?”

J’aen glanced at her. “Well, I can hardly know for sure, but my guess would be something like chemistry equipment, DNA samples, the like. Anything that might possibly be used to help commit identity fraud is very strictly controlled. Deadly poisons or weapons might also be an issue, or infection with certain pathogens. There have been terrorist attacks in the past, though relations with other species are largely peaceable now.”

“Terrorist attacks?” Rose shook her head in bewilderment. “What was their agenda?”

J’aen let out a short, joyless laugh. “Do they need an agenda aside from inciting fear? There's been intended genocide, because some still consider us ‘a scourge upon the galaxy.’ Some misguided attempts to change the system here as it is in relation to offworlders. Or for any of a myriad of other reasons. Take your pick.” She sighed. “Not much in the way of missiles or explosives gets through the extraplanetary domain patrols, but specific electronics, chemicals, or pathogens are much harder to detect within a ship.”

Ahead of them, people set their baggage on a belt that conveyed it through what looked more like an MRI machine than a baggage scanner, though Rose guessed it showed even more than that. After yet another of the DNA scanners — the Doctor had been right; this place really was riddled with them — each person stepped into a large scanner themself. Nothing beyond the checkpoint was visible.

“You really are big on security here, aren't you?” And she'd heard air travel in her time was a bloody nuisance.

J’aen glanced at her, slightly askance. “Well, wouldn't you be?”

“I suppose,” was her slightly reluctant response. She felt the leather around her neck acutely. Didn't she and the Doctor rely on anonymity to slip around someplace unnoticed, right what wrongs they could, see the wonders the place had to offer, and slip away again without fanfare? She had some inkling of how he-they might have previously come to the attention of the wrong people here, though there had to be more to it than that. The Doctor was hardly the sort of person to shy away from confrontations with so-called authorities, or to flee from danger. Neither of them were. “And if you've not been through the proper security checks? Or registered in the system?”

J’aen arched her eyebrows as she set their suitcase on the conveyor belt. “I've heard there are people who live here like that, but I can't imagine how they'd evade checks for very long, or even buy food.”

With a polite smile at the security guard, J’aen swiped her hand over the DNA scanner, and stepped into the body scanner. Rose waited her turn, doing her best to quiet nerves that refused to be entirely quashed. What if enough of the Doctor was still there for the scanner to pick up? Reflexively, she smoothed a hand over her jacket pocket, pressing the watch a bit closer to her.

A security officer gestured for her to come forward. The DNA tag scanner didn't protest, at least, when she swiped her ring over it, and, with a quick inhale, she stepped into the body scanner.

It was, in essence, a wide, vertical metal tube, the air inside practically crackling with the amount of energy running through it. “Please extend all appendages away from your body to their fullest extent, and close or otherwise protect any visual receptors or light-sensing organs,” intoned a mechanical voice. Rose complied, spreading her legs and holding her arms straight out as she closed her eyes. It wasn't a pose she was unfamiliar with, from the occasional Torchwood security patdown. The impersonality here, though, especially coupled with her lack of vision, made it somehow a more vulnerable position, not less of one.

A flash left spots dancing across the inside of her eyelids. She grimaced, squeezing her eyes more firmly shut.

“Thank you for your cooperation. Our security officers will inspect you more closely. Please exit the scanner and comply with all directives issued to you by any of our security team.”

Stomach dropping, Rose did as the computer had instructed. She hardly seemed to have very many alternatives.

“Gentleperson.” A black-uniformed guard confronted her the moment she exited the scanner. “Please step into the inspection area.” Ey gestured to a small booth off to the side.

Rose stopped, looking around for J’aen. “Can I ask what the problem is?” she stalled, taking a deep breath.

By the conveyor belt, J’aen folded her arms as another security officer lifted their suitcase onto metal inspection table and opened it. But, the TARDIS wouldn't pack anything that would get them in trouble…

Rose's guard glanced between her and J’aen. “I will speak with your sponsor as soon as possible. Now please, let's not hold up the line,” ey requested, more firmly.

Rose shook her head. No way was she getting taken someplace on her own. “J’aen!”

J’aen turned, wrinkling her brow as she saw Rose with the guard.

“Gentleperson.” Fingers closed around Rose’s forearm, and she glanced back at the security officer. “Let's not make a scene. I'd prefer not to have to insist.” The last word was almost a hiss.

The officer with their suitcase said something to draw J’aen’s attention again, but she held up a hand in the universal “wait” gesture, and strode towards Rose. Something in the way she moved reminded Rose of a panther, smooth and intent. “What seems to be the problem?”

The guard cleared eir throat. “Your companion has an unidentified object on her person. It is required we search her and inspect this object.”

“I would like to be present for that search.” J’aen crossed her arms over her chest. Her tone left no room for it to be interpreted as a request.

“As is your right as her sponsor, gentleperson.” The guard’s words carried a smooth, mollifying cadence. “But I believe my colleague also requires your attention, and we need to keep the inspection line flowing.”

J’aen practically glowered at em. “I insist she stays with me. We'll go through both the baggage search and the personal search together. It's my good name on the line as well as hers, after all.”

“Gentleperson, we cannot delay searches.” Seeming to sense the commotion, more guards were gravitating towards them. “Once a suspicion has been raised, we are obligated to act upon it in as timely a manner as possible. However, all inspections are recorded per protocol and can be made available to those with the right to access it.”

J’aen glanced at one of the approaching officers, and set her jaw. “I will want access. Rose,” she said, and softened, laying a hand on Rose’s arm, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. There must have been some kind of mistake.”

Rose could only nod. “Yeah, ‘m sure it's just some sort of mistake.” The words rasped over her tongue, and she cleared her throat. “I'll be all right.” It felt like a lie.

J’aen gazed at her for a moment longer, lightning flickering in her eyes — that brush of her thumb stealing Rose's focus, a split second — and then she was returning to the baggage inspection.

“Now that's settled…” The guard gestured meaningfully towards the booth again. “If you would please accompany me for inspection.”

Swallowing, Rose allowed herself to drift slowly towards the door. She could probably take on a guard or two and run, but where would that leave the Doctor? (And J’aen?) They had to live here, for however long. And Rose couldn’t leave her alone.

Then the door to the booth slid shut, sealing Rose and the guard inside.

Chains hung from the ceiling and one wall, like the strands of a spider’s web. Opposite them stood a table and chair, plain, sturdy metal, bolted to the floor, with a post to attach cuffs, the spartan décor of an interrogation room. A soft hum filled the room, not unlike inside the body scanner. No one-way window was visible, but Rose was willing to bet there was one all the same. Maybe running would have been the better decision.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax. “So what happens now?”

“I’m going to begin with a pocket search.” The guard cleared eir throat, pulling a tube of some sort of paste out of eir pocket. Ey daubed it into eir palms, and began rubbing eir hands together, smearing the substance like lotion over the rest of eir skin. “Please raise your hands above your head and keep them there.”

The fobwatch weighed down the right side of her jacket, and Rose’s heart sank with it. “I think I know what set it off. It's just a watch,” she tried. “I can show you if you li—”

“Hands above your head, please.” It was half a bark, and at that point discretion was likely the better part of valor. It just looked like some fancy old watch, really. But she remained tense. If anything were to happen to it...

The lotion left a thin, shiny film on the guard’s hands, like skintight plastic gloves. Slowly, achingly, Rose lifted her hands, and watched as ey unzipped her pocket and pulled out the fobwatch.

Ey turned it over in eir hands, examining the engraving. “What is this?” ey demanded, almost angrily. “What sort of device is it? Is it electronic, or explosive?”

She nearly laughed, out of sheer bloody irony. “It's mechanical. It's a watch — a small clock. It tells time. It's a very old human technology.”

“How?” Eyes narrowed, ey peered at her from beneath eir lashes.

“May I have it back so I can show you?” Carefully polite, nonthreatening.

“I can't do that. Tell me how it's supposed to function.” Ey crossed the room, to the opposite wall.

Eyes on the fobwatch, Rose followed. “I'm not an engineer, but I can explain the basics. It's —”

A compartment opened in the wall, and the guard set the watch inside. Then the compartment slid shut again.

“What are you —?” she half-cried, before biting down on her lip and purposefully lowering her shaky voice. It burned, this compliance with a system she'd already begun to think of as an enemy, but over the years she had learned to employ her rage and stubbornness with a little more precision. “Why did you do that?”

“Please take three steps back.” The guard’s shoulders were tense, eir chin lifted stiffly.

Swallowing, she put a little more space between herself and em, to purposely seem less threatening. “What was that for?” She swallowed, trying to further even her voice. “I could’ve just shown you how it works, that it's not a bomb or anything, and then I could’ve been on my way already.”

The guard glanced at her, but didn't respond. A display lit up on the wall, text scrolling too quickly for Rose to really read the portions of it the TARDIS did translate. What she did see looked like chemistry equations, something about unstable radiation and biological material…

Noticing her watching, ey frowned and swiped away the readout. “Is kei zhel’t?”

Rose’s stomach churned. “I’m sorry, I don’t — I didn't quite understand. Could you say that again?”

“Haye-nhish jeil’t’j sdio. Hashel’t lii’il vhampre’ed.” Ey spoke harshly, gesturing towards the wall compartment. “Dzhak. Is kei zhel’t? ‘Watch,’ natel’t’d, ue nhi?”

“Yeah, it’s called a watch, a pocket watch.” She crossed her fingers, both that the TARDIS was at least translating her words, and that she was offering whatever information the guard was looking for. “When you open it, there are numbers on it, and the little hand — pointer — tells you the hour, points to it. And the longer pointer tells you the minutes. In Earth time. But you have to wind it, usually, uhm, add mechanical energy every so often so it keeps running, because it hasn’t got a battery or anything. It’s really, really old. That one, it doesn't work quite right. I just keep it for sentimental purposes. Reminds me of home.”

“And you always keep it on your person?”

Relieved, Rose let out a breath. “Yeah —” Of course she would, though that might not be the safest — “I mean, no, not really. I’ve been keeping it with me while we traveled, just, for safekeeping and all. But I don't carry it everywhere with me. I usually keep it someplace at home, nightstand, dresser, you know.”

Ey hummed thoughtfully, noncommittally, regarding her closely. “And how long have you had it?”

“Not very long.” The fewer lies you told… “Picked it up at a bazaar somewhere, one of those antiques sellers.”

“And yet you claim it carries significance for you.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, it's from Earth.” She shrugged, finally finding something like a rhythm, a role she could play. “I mean, I'm God knows how many billions of miles away. What's this all about, anyways?”

The guard shook eir head. “Above my clearance.”

Behind her, Rose heard the click of the latch, and turned to see the door sliding open again. Two more black-uniformed officers filed in, one after the other. One of them nodded towards the guard who had originally taken Rose out of the customs line. “You may go.”

Ey executed a half-bow, and the tension in eir shoulders dissipated as ey stepped out the door.

Rose swallowed, eyeing these new police, or whatever they were. “Security enforcers,” or some other pretty name, no doubt. They sported cuffs and holsters on their belts, and stripes of gold across their chests — the auburn-haired, more feminine of the two wore one sash-like diagonal band, and other, darker-haired officer, two. Drawing eir brows together, Two-Stripes stepped towards Rose, and she took half a step back, on pure instinct. One-Stripe clicked eir tongue, and when Two glanced at em, ey looked meaningfully at the upper corners of the room. Rose saw nothing as she followed eir gaze, but Two grumbled inaudibly.

“Please take a seat, Rose Tyler.” Two enunciated eir words loudly and clearly as ey gestured towards the chair closest to the chains.

Eyeing em warily, Rose saw nothing for it but to lower herself into the seat. She glanced at the nearest ceiling corner. At least they acted like there were cameras. “I'd like my stuff back, please, and I'd like to know what all this is about.”

Two narrowed eir eyes, and One pressed eir lips together, glancing crossly at the first, who glared right back. They'd reminded her of whatever unknown, critical eyes might be privy to the footage of this, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to use it. This was going to be a theater performance, not an interrogation, and everyone in the room knew it.

Two-Stripes sat down opposite her, while One remained standing, behind and to the left of what seemed to be her superior officer. “Your… device is being held as possible evidence in an investigation. Once said investigation has concluded, you or your sponsor may petition for its return.” Calmly, coldly courteous, if barely that.

Rose sat back in the chair, a small noise of disbelief escaping her. They had to be kidding. She needed — the Doctor needed — “Well, that's just fan-bloody-tastic,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else in the room. “What's this investigation about, then? How long do you think it's gonna go for?”

“We can't predict that.” Smoothly, deliberately, Two-Stripes laid eir hands on the table, palms down, and leaned forward. “Let's cut to the heart, Rose Tyler: what do you know about the Doctor?”

She’d been expecting — fearing — something like this. “The Doctor who?”

“He simply goes by ‘the Doctor.’ Quite a unique sort of man. Last of his species, and rumors say he can change his face.” Two sets of eyes, possibly more, watched her carefully.

She lifted one shoulder. “‘S that supposed to impress me?”

“Do not play with us, Rose Tyler. Answer the question: do you know of this Doctor?”

“I don't know, maybe?” Spreading her hands, widening her eyes, she did her best to play innocent ignorance, to think as if she were her role, the oblivious foreign housewife. (She was not at all meant for this position.) “Has he been on the news? I might've heard of him, but with the moving to a whole other planet and all, I’ve been sort of preoccupied lately. What do you want with this bloke, anyway?” Not a bloke anymore — hopefully that would work in her favor. “What's he done?”

“He is in possession of technology able to compromise security measures and personal identities.” The sonic could probably muck up all their scanners, yeah, and good riddance. Did the Doctor — did J'aen still have that on her? “He has attempted to reveal state secrets to the general public, and we believe him to be involved in the formation of an extremist movement.” A careful pause, then: “You are curious. Yet you say you do not know him?” The words were carefully polite, but Rose could feel the sharp edge lurking just beneath.

“No.” She shook her head, silently seething. Whatever the Doctor had done here, she was starting to think he hadn't done nearly enough. “Don't know a thing. I think it's pretty normal to be a bit curious about the reason you're being searched and bloody interrogated.”

“Hrm.” Two glanced back at One. “Depiction.”

Ey adjusted eir hands behind eir back, and a holographic model appeared on the table in front of her. It was her Doctor, her first Doctor, mid-run, sonic in hand, leather jacket flapping out behind him, the beginning of a panting, empty smile on his lips and a lost sort of look in his eyes.

She stiffened, and swallowed, and kept herself from smiling fondly. Of course he'd be running. “What's this from? I'm guessing that's the bloke you're looking for.”

“If you know anything, Rose Tyler, now would be the time to tell us,” One spoke up again. Two-Stripes swiveled eir head and glared at em. One bowed eir head and took a step back.

“My colleague is correct, though you have already been offered more than enough chance to be honest with us.” Patronizingly, Two continued, “But I'm willing to be lenient.”

They all waited, allowing silence to swell and fill the air. Finally, Rose shook her head. “I don't know that man, and I don't know why I'm here.” Her voice bent and cracked, part desperation and part just plain, sudden exhaustion.

“There was Time Lord DNA all over your device.” Ey let the statement sit in the room.

Rose closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head again. “I've got no clue how it got there. If it's older, the DNA, well, I haven't had the watch very long. And everybody wants to look at it, the customs agent when we left, the bloke on the shuttle wondering what that lump of metal in my pocket was, all of you…” She lifted a hand to indicate, vaguely, the generality of it.

“Are you insinuating you may have met and conversed with him recently?” Two's biting accusation came swiftly, like the crack of a whip.

“What I'm saying,” she enunciated, with some force behind her tone, “is that I could've met this bloke without knowing it, and that's how his — DNA got all over my stuff. You said he could change his face, yeah? So how on Earth was I supposed to know?” She lifted her hands in exasperation. “Is it even his DNA?”

She wasn't a xenobiologist (though she probably knew at least as much as any scientist Torchwood had hired for that official position), but she really doubted her new new new Doctor's signature matched that of her first Doctor.

She seemed to have hit the mark; they exchanged meaningful looks again. “I have already told you: he is the last known individual of his species.”

“Last known. So basically, you're not actually sure.” She crossed her arms.

“Both the Time Lords and the Daleks perished in the Time War, girl,” Two snapped.

No they didn't, she just stopped herself from saying, and pressed her lips together. Not the Daleks at least. Not every single other Time Lord either.

“All of them, because this one —” ey stabbed a finger at the hologram on the table — “killed them all. And while the universe may be grateful for that, we damn well know he's capable of anything. Wherever he goes, people die. By S'varekha's talons, if you don't tell me what you know…” Ey trailed into a growl more eloquent than any words.

“Have you ever thought maybe people die in spite of and not because of him?” The words just slipped out; at some point she couldn't not defend the Doctor. “People die whenever firemen are around, too, doesn't mean it's their fault!”

“You are taking the side of a man you claim to know nothing about.” The subtle triumph in eir tone hit Rose like a slap.

She tried to keep her shoulders from hunching up defensively, but she cast her gaze down. “No.” It stung, to force the word out. “I'm not taking his side. I'm just saying maybe you haven't got all the facts yet.”

“What did you think an investigation was for?” Two bared eir pointed teeth, leaning further across the table.

One-Stripe hissed, quietly, increasing the volume until Two stiffened, and slowly sat back. “You'll excuse my colleague. What ey meant to say was that this is not a trial, not of you nor anyone else, right now. Of course we don't have all of the facts yet, which is why we need you to enlighten us if you can.” One tilted eir head. “He was generally considered a special protector of Earth and Earthlings — humans — at one point, was he not?”

“So maybe he touched the watch ages ago, I dunno.” Rose shrugged, purposely obtuse, and twisted her features into what she hoped was a recognizable mixture of exhaustion-desperation-might-be-about-to-cry. “I don't know anything. I just want to go home with my wife.” The word came so easily. “Please.” There were only so many times she could say “I don't know” without the words beginning to sound meaningless even to her own ears.

“She nhar serlit zhel'j'i. Kherzir'j'i'sh en hel'av zharek'ed.” One was no longer speaking to her, though it still would've been nice to know what was being said.

Two looked like ey wanted to argue, but after a moment, ey swallowed and bowed eir head. “Kei es haye’t.”

“Nhar siem zhel't,” One snapped, before turning to Rose. “Vilay't zhel'j'i.” The accompanying gesture was small and brisk, but in human it meant “come with me,” so Rose stood. Maybe she'd gotten wrong who was the superior officer here.

A door slid open on the wall opposite from where she'd come in, and Rose stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, clutching it more tightly to herself. “Where are we heading?”

“Your sponsor has been summoned to claim you and answer some questions herself. Afterwards, we'll determine how to proceed.”

“Do I get to be, like, released into her custody or something?” How was she supposed to look after the Doctor if she was locked up somewhere? Though right now, if she and the watch were the main link between the Doctor now and the Doctor they were looking for, maybe it would be better if they weren't connected — except they already were connected, and she was just about sure something wasn't right with the Doctor's brain, and —

Thoughts whirling, she followed One down a stark white hallway, hearing Two's footsteps behind. “Don't you run out of space, keeping so many people locked up?”

“Confinement is widely considered the most humane method of dealing with potential dangers to society, and as a first step we've found it an acceptable compromise in matters concerning non-vhampiiri.” Left, right, then left again; Rose tried to compose a mental map of the place, but doors blended almost seamlessly into the walls until they slid open, and she doubted she'd be able to make her way through here on her own. Hansel and Gretel came to mind, though maybe not breadcrumbs. The floor was an off-white, slightly smudged. Was rubber still a thing here? Then the officer’s words registered properly. “Compromise for non-vhampiiri? What do you do with vhampiiri? And what comes after the compromise for the others?”

“We have a… not a truth drug, but a substance that makes vhampiiri more… compliant, submissive to authority, and this is our first course of action with them. Our second recourse for offworlders is generally to use the same on them, though we can never know precisely how it will react with any particular species or hybrid biology.”

“That's barbaric!” Guttural horror burst from her. If J'aen was fed this stuff...

“It's effective,” One countered from in front of her. “The truth is in everyone's best interest.”

“But you shouldn't take away someone's right to privacy!” She was likely digging herself deeper, she knew. She bit her lip, resolving to keep he reaction to whatever came next bottled up.

“We're not prying into their personal memories. The recipient still retains a significant degree of control of their faculties. And it's far more humane, and efficient, than most other methods.” One's tone brooked no rebuttal, as ey stopped and set eir hand to a small scanner pad. The door slid open, revealing a small, sparse room. A wall sectioned off what looked to be a shower stall, and a sofa-sized flat cushion and small desk occupied the other side.

The officer gestured for her to enter. Frightful certainty seized Rose. “What if I need to use the ladies’?”

They exchanged looks that wavered between puzzlement and exasperation. “The sanitary facilities are multifunctional,” Two finally added, in a tone probably intended to be professional but that ended up more condescending.

“How long will I be shut up in there?” Her voice came out smaller than she would have liked.

“That depends on your sponsor. Now, please.” One repeated the “go in” gesture, with a bit more force.

Seeing little other choice, Rose stepped inside. The doorframe intoned, “Rose Tyler, interned by: Z'herie, at: Sigma Six Delta Quad Era Khavesh,” and she heard the door click shut behind her.

***

First the suitcase radiating abnormal temporo-spatial particles (which they hadn't been able to find the source of, but security had finally given up and let her and the luggage go, given said particles seemed benign ), and now this. Whatever this was about.

But J'aen submitted to this, too, closing her eyes as the relaxant entered her bloodstream, mentally running through all the different bonding and inhibition-lowering chemicals in the cocktail as she began to feel their effects. She still felt remarkably clear-headed, though her tongue and eyelids were heavy, the corners of her mouth automatically curling up.

“J'aen'haraya, what does the name ‘the Doctor’ mean to you?” There were several security officers in the room, and she wasn't quite sure which of them had asked the question. It didn't much matter.

“It's familiar, but I can't quite seize why.” Pain seared through her temples, for only a split second, and left her gasping in its wake.

“Have you or your charge, Rose Tyler, ever had contact with a Time Lord?”

“Time Lord” was familiar, too, but she didn't know why, or what either term meant. And she was just about to to tell them this — but Rose. She had to protect Rose, and herself, so that she could continue protecting Rose, from — from anything. Her head throbbed, but she kept her mouth closed until she had carefully chosen her words. “No encounters that I recall.”

#ficandchips #femandchips #doctor x rose #thirteen x rose #a fobwatch and a sapphire-studded choker #rinari's fic #vampires #police intimidation #interrogation #terrorism mention #confiscation of property #imprisonment #angst #natural--blues #tinknevertalks #chiaroscuroverse

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 6 years ago

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Wan High Weeping (Part 10)

Little heads up that this is the bulimia chapter and I won’t be beating around the bush. So if this is a topic that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip.

“You’re very lucky.” The nurse noted.

Azula hated to admit it, but she agreed. She was almost certain that Chan had broken her ribs again, or at the very least extended the recovery time. She would have deserved it, stepping into something that didn’t involve her in the slightest. She wasn’t even sure of her reasoning; she thought that there was a small part of her that still cared for Chan. He had been her boyfriend for the longest time. Perhaps she had aimed to keep him from doing something that would get him arrested. In which case she failed spectacularly.

It could have also been that she wanted a friend, at least one. Saving Teo seemed like a way to make one.

The reasoning didn’t matter in retrospect. What did matter, was that her sides were throbbing and she had made herself look like an idiot again. She could have at least tried to fight back. But then, what time did she have to react. Even if she had the time she couldn’t see her condition allowing her a fight anyhow. But she should have tried.

She could always ask her father to peruse another lawsuit, she seemed to be on a roll with those. She knew that had only tugged at her own wounds when it came crashing back to her that her father wanted little to do with her until she lost some weight. She set her head back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling, deciding once and for all that helping Teo was just another mistake in her long line of them.

.oOo.

She spent most of her time in her bedroom these days, a stark contrast to how she used to bide it. Just last year she was hardly home. She would be almost anywhere but; at practice, the mall, a party, any one of her teammate’s houses. The only time she really used her bedroom was when she took the time to study—something she hadn’t the need for. It would seem that she was making up for all of the time she hadn’t been in her room.

Her phone was terribly quiet, giving her mind ample time to tear itself apart.

She stared at a folder full of unfilled worksheets. Powering through those, was becoming harder. She has come to think that there wasn’t a point. Ozai was angry as it were. She shoved the school work to the side and laid down.

“You missed how many days!?” She heard from across the hall.

And so it began.

.oOo.

Lately Zuko had been joining her for breakfast. That made things much harder. She could no longer skip it entirely without him making note. So instead she grabbed one small thing, usually a cup of yougart or a granola bar and forced herself to eat. Usually she would hit him with an ‘I told you so’. But she no longer finds the bruising on his face to be a laughable matter. In fact she was beginning to feel like shit for ever having thought so. Instead she quietly inquired, “why didn’t you just come to school like asked you too.”

“Because fuck school, okay!” Zuko slammed his fists on the table.

It wasn’t okay. “If you say so.”

“Oh come on, you know you hate it there too.”

“Yes.”

“You should just stop going with me.”

Somehow that request was the most reassuring thing she’d heard in a long time. It was an invitation to something after all. She almost wanted to say yes. She could shoot up some drugs with him and forget about herself for a time. She could toss it all away, destroy herself for good and be free of the pressure that came with still having a shot to fix things.

To be free of the pressure of hope.

She turned the cup of yogurt around, realizing that she hadn’t grabbed the non-fat one. She had only gotten halfway through with it but she pushed it aside. She was so terribly hungry, her stomach ached, begging her to finish the cup. Instead she focused in on Zuko’s offer. “I can’t.”

“Suit yourself, I’m staying home.”

“With, father?” She asked. “You need to come with me.” The sincerity of her concern, took her by surprise, so she didn’t blame Zuko for his skepticism.

“Why would I go anywhere with you?”

“Because you lost your license to a DUI. Once my car is gone, you’re either stuck here or walking.” She didn’t exactly mean to sound argumentative but he was frustrating her and an argument was a pretty solid distraction from the hunger that nagged her. “Would you rather come to school with me, or stay here with father?”

His hesitation to answer was a slap in the face. Much too suddenly, it occurred to Azula that she has been checking on Zuko not solely because she needed a bodyguard but because she was feeling guilty. She considered for the first time, that she was part of what led him to heroine in the first place. Just like she had led Mai to cut and Katara—and probably Teo and TyLee—to fear school. If she wasn’t so deprived, that would have cleared her appetite for sure. “Come with me, Zuzu.”

“Take care of yourself.” He got up and slammed his chair against the table.

She was trying, truly she was.

.oOo.

Chan wasn’t there to flick things at her, but Chu-Leng was making up for it, doubling his ammo as if to strike for the both of them. Occasionally some of the erasers would rebound and hit Katara instead, she imagined that Chu saw this as a two for one. She wondered how long it would take before Katara turned around and snapped. She decided to herself that Katara wouldn’t, somehow the girl had become just as pacified as she. But she could hear Katara grumbling to herself, putting all of her will power into focusing on the lesson.

Azula’s attention was anywhere but. At first she tried to pay attention to June, math wasn’t a favorite subject of hers to begin with, despite having some skill with it, it was terrifically boring. So her mind wandered away. Wandered to dark places.

Math wasn’t the only class to be sidelined; throughout the day much of her thoughts were spent in two places, neither of them are in the lessons. She first pondered upon what Zuko might be doing as she sat in her desk. In her mind’s eye she could see him taking another beating or taking another hit. She had trouble deciding which type of abuse would create for a worse situation. She was angry with herself for not dragging his ass into her car.

Azula pushed the visuals out of her mind, they were tormenting her too heavily. In doing so, she made room for something that might have been worse. It was nearing lunch and she scarcely had breakfast. All in all, she was completely, undeniably famished.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out for, eating so sparsely. And she had only been on this diet for maybe a week. She hated herself twice over for her weakness. Yet no mater how hard she fought, she couldn’t seem to think of anything but lunch.

She should have just kept thinking about Zuko. It was easier to think about how to solve someone elses’ problems.

.oOo.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough, but at the same time, it couldn’t come slowly enough either. The smell of food tantalized and tempted her and she hated it. She had nothing to draw her mind away from it.

She tried to drown out the scent by dousing herself in perfume. But somehow the small tinges of the cafeteria still hit most strongly. The ache in her stomach grew sharper. She drummed her fingers on the table. She clutched at her stomach as though that would relieve the pangs.

Azula stood and made her way to the food line. She already knew that she was going to regret her decision. She didn’t know a thing on the school’s menu that wasn’t sopping with grease. But she couldn’t take the pain any longer. The dizzy feeling that came with depriving herself.

She sat down with a teeming tray, enough to probably make up for the past few missed meals. She promised herself that she wouldn’t finish it all. But she did and she was still embarrassingly hungry. Just what was wrong with her, she couldn’t remember being this desperate for food. She wanted a second helping, her body seemed to crave it. The cafeteria had been mostly empty when she had first gotten in line, so despite it all, she stood in line again. She was losing control and losing it fast.

She sat back down, this time shoving the tray away, one last ditch effort to resist. But the harder she tried tighter her hunger seemed to grip. She wondered if this is what heroin did to Zuko.

With shaky hands she started on her second helping. The stress of the morning, hadn’t done her impulse control any favors.

“Mind if I sit down?” Teo asked.

Her face flushed, knowing that she had been caught. “Yes I do!” She snapped. She had to get his attention off of her. The last thing she needed was someone to watch her indulge. Teo didn’t seem phased so she added, “do you really think I’d be desperate enough to sit with you?”

“You spoke up for me.”

“A lapse of judgment.” She couldn’t tell if she was talking about playing the hero or about going for seconds.

“Good to know.” Teo scoffed. At least he was leaving. She could suffer her humiliations in semi-privet.

Having finished off the second tray, her plan comes to mind. It’s a failsafe, should she over do things. She promised herself that she would only do it once. Once and then she would get a grip on herself. Once and that would be it.

She stood, her heart pumping in anticipation as she made her way to the girls’ room. It was mercifully empty. She locked herself in one of the stalls and stood there for the longest time, occasionally brining her fingers to her mouth. But she couldn’t bring herself to induce the gag reflex. She was growing frustrated at her own hesitation. She felt heavy was screaming at herself to get rid of the feeling, but she couldn’t find it in her. It hit her hard, realizing that school wasn’t the best spot for a trail run.

She left the bathroom leaving more helpless and in less control than before.

.oOo.

It was hard for her to look her father in the eyes that night. Zuko was absent again, she didn’t dare ask where he was. She had an inkling that he hadn’t stuck around after she left and could only imagine the trouble he was getting himself into. She wished that it wasn’t just she and her father. Her father who was probably judging her for the progress she hadn’t made. He was probably judging her for the damages she had inflicted earlier in the day.

She was finding it hard to eat dinner. She had eaten too much for one day already and she was almost certain that the guilt was plain on her face, because Ozai was smirking. She longed for him to stop. To just let her be, and then she might be able to fix herself.

Still she fought to finish her dinner, she didn’t want to raise any questions—a part of her didn’t think he would care if he did notice her skip a meal or two, he’d probably praise that. She finished it off but the hunger remained.

Ozai knew what he was doing, and she didn’t know why he was doing it. Perhaps he was getting a kick out of her struggles. Maybe it was his twisted way of punishing her or testing her. No matter the motivation, he offered her dessert, practically daring her to accept it.

She wished again that Zuko was there to give her something else to dwell on. Someone to talk to instead of drowning in the inviting aroma of warm chocolate. She hadn’t had chocolate in so long…

“Go on.” Ozai muttered nonchalantly. She felt almost safe, maybe he felt bad for making her feel so awful in the first place. So she treated herself. It was only after she finished—leaving a good half of the cake slice untouched—that he remarked, “of course you would.”

That was all it took.

The final push she needed to do what needed to be done.

She stormed down the hall, leaving his smug expression behind. Yet it was imprinted in her mind, and helped drive her into her room and then into the bathroom within it. She trembled all over as she hunched over and pulled her hair back.

She readied her fingers only to pull them back as an involuntary sob worked itself out. She didn’t think that she had much time left before she’d be stuck with the food she had practically inhaled, so without allowing herself any time to contemplate it further, she slipped her fingers into her mouth.

It burned so terribly. It burned her stomach and her throat and her mouth. She felt rather weak and dirty. It was terribly unpleasant, just as awful as she had anticipated. Her breathing was ragged and her mouth and chin were a mess. She pulled her hair back a second time, because the heavy feeling still remained.

Gripping the seat and with tears streaming down her face, she despised herself more deeply than she ever had.

She wiped her face clean, the last thing she had the energy to do before dropping to the floor, wracked with sobs. She was such a mess. Such a mess and she didn’t know how to clean it.

#Avatar #Azula #Zuko #Mai #TyLee #Teo #Ozai #Aang #Katara #Suki #Sokka #Toph #Chan #Fanfiction

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chocolatequeennk · 6 years ago

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Always Her Doctor, 4/6

John Tyler is a teacher at Farringham, but he’s been dreaming of another life–the life of an adventure known as the Doctor. When Marion Smith appears in Farringham, he’s immediately drawn to her. And why not? Marion Smith is the mirror image of Rose Tyler–the Doctor’s wife.

Reunion set during Human Nature/Family of Blood, with Christmas overtones.

This was part of @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas. Now it fills the episode AU prompt from April.

Yes, this is now 6 chapters instead of 5.

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

After saying goodnight to John in the entryway, Rose practically floated up the stairs to her room. It had been so long since she’d had the simple pleasure of kissing her husband.

She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her lips. He’d been hesitant at first, almost shy. But when she’d sighed his name against his lips and combed her fingers through his hair, he’d shivered and let his suppressed memories of kissing her guide him. The sudden passion in his embrace had made Rose weak at the knees, and he’d gathered her close when she’d swayed against him.

In the end, the cold air seeping through their clothes had kept them from straying farther than a 1913 gentleman would go without being married. And while Rose chafed at the customs on one hand, a larger part of her wanted the Doctor to truly remember their entire past when they made love again.

Rose sighed and turned down the hallway her room was on, and an instant later, all of her soft, romantic thoughts were forgotten. Her door was ajar, letting light spill out into the hall.

Glancing around, she grabbed a figurine off of a curio cabinet. It wouldn’t do much to protect her if an enemy was in her room, but it was better than being unarmed.

She crept down the hallway, then took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The air rushed out of her lungs immediately, and she tossed the figurine onto the bed.

“You scared me, Martha,” she said to the woman sitting in the rickety wooden chair.

Martha raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been waiting for you for twenty minutes. I thought you’d be here when I got back, since Mr. Tyler was so concerned about getting you back where it was warm.”

Rose pushed the door shut, then started taking off her warm winter clothes. “We stopped for a bit and watched the meteor shower,” she said vaguely, though she knew her pink cheeks probably gave away the truth.

Martha snorted. “I’m pretty sure you were doing more than star-gazing,” she said drily.

Rose considered her answer as she hung up her coat and scarf. On one hand, it wasn’t any of Martha’s business. She and John were both consenting adults—married consenting adults, even. But on the other hand, she needed to work with Martha to keep the Doctor safe for the next two weeks. Maybe they’d better talk about this now.

“We might have done,” she said, keeping her voice even. She wished she had a way to make tea. It would warm her up and make this conversation more pleasant. “Why does that bother you so much, Martha?”

Martha shook her head. “Because John Tyler will only be here for another two weeks. Don’t you think the Doctor will be upset if he gets back and you’ve fallen in love with another man?”

Rose’s eyes widened. All of Martha’s vaguely antagonistic comments over the last few weeks suddenly made sense. If she didn’t think John was the Doctor…

She took the other chair and studied Martha for a moment, wondering how best to help her understand. He was always the Doctor, no matter what.

The memory of her own confusion after the Doctor’s regeneration came to her, and she nodded once. “When I met the Doctor, he didn’t look anything like what he looks like now.”

Martha rolled her eyes. “I know. He wore pinstripes instead of tweed and a long brown overcoat.”

Rose shook her head. “Try jumpers and a leather coat.” She pictured her first Doctor’s face, with his big ears and bright blue eyes. “There’s this thing Time Lords can do when they’re about to die. It’s called regeneration. It saves their lives, but they have to change every cell of their bodies. They get a whole new face.”

Martha frowned. “I think the Doctor started to tell me about that a few months back,” she said. “We were… well, long story, but there was a chance he could die. And he told me there was a thing… but he never got to finish the sentence.”

Rose’s fingers clenched into the fabric of her dress at the thought that the Doctor had come so close to regenerating while she was gone. But she forced herself to relax and continue with the story.

“I was… so in love with him. And then he changed right in front of me. I didn’t understand at first, but it only took me a day to realise that he is the same man, always.”

She stared at Martha and thought she saw a glimmer of understanding in the other woman’s eyes. “I haven’t fallen in love with another man. John Tyler is the Doctor. And he is always my Doctor, whether he has two heads or no head, or…” She let out a loud breath and ran a hand through her hair. “If he regenerated as a woman. They would still be my Doctor, and I would still love them.”

The room was silent for several minutes, Martha thinking and Rose waiting. Finally, Martha shrugged and looked up at Rose. “All right. I still don’t get it, but he’s an alien, and you’re his wife. If you say he’s still the Doctor…”

Rose smiled, then leaned forward across the table. “Now, I’m guessing you’re actually here to tell me what you found.”

Martha sighed and shook her head. “Jenny and I went to Cooper’s field, where it looked like the shooting star had landed. There was nothing there—just a big open space.”

“But there should have been something,” Rose argued. “Even if it was just what was left of a meteor.”

“I know. But there was nothing there,” Martha repeated.

A static charge ran down Rose’s back, making the hairs on her arms stand up. She’d experienced this more than once at Torchwood. Mickey had called it her Spidey-sense, and each time they listened to her inklings of danger, it had saved lives.

“A big, open field…” Rose stood up and started pacing. “An open field would be the perfect place to land a spaceship,” she muttered.

“But there was nothing—unless it was cloaked,” Martha said, realising it before Rose could tell her.

“Exactly.” Rose stood in front of the fireplace, enjoying the warmth of the dying flames. “Every instinct I have is screaming at me to get him into the TARDIS and have him open the watch, but I know the Doctor chose to hide for a reason. Until I know for certain that they’ve found us…”

“I can go back to the TARDIS tomorrow and watch the video again,” Martha offered. “I know he talks about what to do if the Family finds us.”

Rose nodded. “And I’ll get the watch from John’s study. I’d feel better if I had it with me at all times.” She smiled wryly. “Since I got here over a month after you and John started working at the school, the Family shouldn’t suspect me of being associated with him at all.”

Martha glanced at the clock on the wall. “I should go to bed. Four o’clock comes awfully early.” She got up and walked to the door, then paused and looked back at Rose. “Rose? We will keep the Doctor safe. I promise.”

Rose sank onto the bed after Martha left and rubbed her hands over her face. She wanted to believe Martha’s reassurances, but it was hard when she could literally feel the danger lurking around the corner.

Bad Wolf. The ability to feel timelines moving around her had only started after the Game Station. She and the Doctor had barely begun exploring all the changes the Vortex had caused in her before Canary Wharf.

She bit her lip. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Martha she wanted to run to John and make him open the watch right this minute.

But the Doctor had hidden himself away for a reason, and after watching the video on a loop, she thought she understood.

If the Family were allowed to possess the body of a Time Lord, they would have a nearly immortal life. And with that life, they would roam across the galaxy, causing destruction wherever they went.

As a human, John was vulnerable. He could be killed. But the damage that could be done to the universe with the power of a Time Lord outweighed the danger to his life.

She had to choose to save the world, even if it meant losing him.

oOoOo

John watched the clock on the wall as it ticked the seconds off. It had only been eleven hours, twelve minutes, and two… three… four seconds since he’d said good night to Marion, but every minute without her in his arms seemed impossibly long.

Thankfully, he was giving the final exam in his first class of the day. Trying to lecture when his mind was wholly focused on waiting for the bell to ring would have been impossible.

He bit back a sigh and shoved his hands through his hair. Not that watching the clock is much better.

Finally, the second hand landed on the twelve for the last time, and the bell rang through the hallways. John leapt to his feet, ignoring the titters of laughter that drew from the boys.

“Everyone, pass your exams to the front of the row, please.” John waited impatiently for the exams to reach the front of the room, where he hurriedly gathered them. “And now you are dismissed.”

The boys gathered their belongings and filed out of the class, a second reminder unnecessary. The Christmas holidays would start tomorrow, and they were all eager to leave the school behind for a month.

As soon as the classroom was empty, John returned to his room, walking as quickly as he could with any sense of decorum. He stuffed the tests into a drawer of his desk, then collected the day’s rose from the vase on his desk.

The library was rather inconveniently located on the opposite side of the building from his room. At least with class in session, the hallways were empty enough that John felt free to move at a brisk jog, instead of a more sedate, professorial pace.

He was halfway there, mind filled with the imagined smile Marion would greet him with, when a sly voice stopped him.

“Where are you racing off to in such a hurry, Mr. Tyler?”

John slowed and looked over his shoulder at the tall senior boy loitering in the hallway. “Why aren’t you in class, Baines?” he asked, rather than answer the question.

Baines pushed off the wall and sauntered over to him, an insolent sneer on his face. “I forgot my book in my room.” He raised the thick volume he carried. “Mr. Carothers gave me leave to go back for it.”

John would have recognised the lie even if Baines hadn’t raised his eyebrow in an obvious challenge for him to call him on it. But the tug to be with Marion again overruled his normally strict attitude about rule-following.

“Well, you have it now. Best get to class before I have to tell Mr. Carothers that you dawdled.”

Instead of answering, Baines stepped closer to John and sniffed. John leaned away from him and stared the lad in the eyes. “Anything the matter, Baines?”

Brown eyes darkened, and a furrow appeared in between his eyebrows. “I thought…” He shook his head. “No, sir. Nothing, sir.”

“Then do as I said and get to class,” John said, his impatience making his voice sharp. Baines sketched a salute, then wheeled around and marched off.

“Impudent boy,” John muttered as he watched him go.

And then he felt the soft glow of Marion’s presence pull him forward, and all thoughts of Baines were forgotten.

oOoOo

Rose watched the clock above the library door as the second class period ticked away. John was usually here by now, and even though she could tell through their muted bond that he was fine, anxiety crept over her with each passing minute.

“Excuse me, Miss Smith?”

Rose started when Timothy Latimer called her name in a louder voice than she’d ever heard him use. “Library voices, Mr. Latimer,” she admonished.

His ears turned red, but he didn’t look away. “I apologise, Miss, but I tried to call your name three times before you heard me.”

It was Rose’s turn to blush. “Then the apology is mine, Timothy. What did you need?”

“I wanted to know if I could take a book home with me over the holiday. I haven’t finished reading about the Boxer Rebellion.”

“Of course,” Rose said, only feeling a twinge of guilt for the next librarian. She, Martha, and the Doctor would all be long gone before the next term began—as long as she could keep the Doctor’s watch safe.

Timothy narrowed his eyes, but before Rose could ask if something was wrong, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. The brown hair was more unruly than John usually kept it, and years of watching the Doctor rake his hand through his hair told Rose exactly how he had gotten so disheveled.

The wide, beaming smile he gave her as he strode across the room was still the same, and Rose returned it automatically. My Doctor. He was here. He was still fine. She didn’t need to worry… and she wouldn’t, as soon as she had the watch in her hands.

Rose hardly noticed Timothy subtly edging away from her. John held out her rose of the day, and she brought it to her nose to sniff at the delicate pink petals.

“It’s beautiful, John.” She half-turned and added it to the full vase on her desk.

John caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Not as beautiful as you, Marion.”

His low, intimate voice affected Rose exactly as she knew he had hoped. She’d heard that voice in her dreams, whispering sweet nothings and seductive promises in her ear.

She twisted her wrist so she could lace her fingers through his, then stepped closer to him and stretched up to whisper in his ear.

“Flatterer.”

He shook his head, and she could feel his breath against her cheek. “Never.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Tyler, Miss Smith.” Timothy smiled wryly at them when they jumped apart and dropped each other’s hands. “Mr. Tyler, I still need to return the book I borrowed from you on Mafeking. Will you be in your study this afternoon?”

John tugged on his red ear. “Yes, of course Mr. Latimer. Ah, thank you for… being so conscientious.”

Rose felt her cheeks grow hot when Timothy barely managed to hide his smile as he hurried out of the library. John turned to her after he was gone, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“I suppose we ought to be thankful Latimer was the only student here,” he said ruefully.

“And I suppose we shouldn’t count on being that lucky next time,” Rose added, completing his thought.

They shared a smile, then John brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “I think I ought to get back to my study.”

“So soon?” Rose protested. He usually stayed until almost the end of the class period, even though it meant he stayed up late into the night grading papers and writing his lectures.

John shook his head. “If I stay much longer, I won’t be able to stop myself from pulling you into a secluded corner of the library so I can kiss you again.”

He chuckled when Rose’s mouth dropped open. “I’ll see you this evening at 7:00, so we can go to the dance.”

Rose tilted her head and pursed her lips. “There’s one question I haven’t asked, John. Do you actually know how to dance?”

A wicked gleam lit his eyes, then John leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Well, I’ve got the moves, but I wouldn’t want to boast.”

Then he straightened up and winked at her, before spinning around and walking out of the room—leaving a very flustered Rose Tyler in his wake.

oOoOo

Tim stood outside Mr. Tyler’s study and went over his plan once more. Miss Smith’s anxious thoughts that morning had been as clear to him as if she’d been speaking. Both she and Mr. Tyler—or the Doctor, as she called him—had been kind to him, and he wanted to help if he could. Hopefully, once he was in Mr. Tyler’s room, he would know what to do.

He straightened his shoulders, then knocked firmly on the door. It opened a moment later, and Mr. Tyler blinked down at him.

“Yes, Timothy?”

Tim held up the book. “I told you I would bring this back, sir,” he reminded, though he wouldn’t be surprised if his teacher hadn’t heard what he’d said.

Mr. Tyler frowned and took the book from him. He turned it over in his hands, then nodded when he saw the title. “Ah, yes. The Definitive Account of Mafeking by Aitchison Price.” He sounded just as surprised that he owned the volume as he had a month ago when Tim had borrowed it from him.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for suggesting I read it.” He hesitated. “And… And for your other suggestion,” he added. Letting his classmates and teachers truly see what he was capable of hadn’t been easy, but in the end, it had been easier than hiding.

“Part of my job as a professor,” Mr. Tyler said, and then stepped back to let Tim into the room.

The whispers started as soon as Tim passed through the doorway. He’d always been able to hear things other people couldn’t, known things he shouldn’t have known. It had gotten him in trouble more than once, but this time, it felt like someone else needed his help.

Tim belatedly realised he hadn’t replied to Mr. Tyler, and he pulled his attention away from the indiscernible voice. “Still, thank you. No other teacher took the time to notice.”

Mr. Tyler waved the book at him. “I told you you should be at the top of your class, didn’t I?” He turned and walked to the back of his room, before disappearing into the tiny closet he used as a library.

As soon as he was gone, Tim walked across the room to the fireplace. The voice was coming from this direction. “Yes, sir,” he said as he scanned the mantel, this time remembering to answer Mr. Tyler’s question.

The whispers were louder here, and when Tim pinpointed the source, his eyes widened. A watch, just like Miss Smith had been thinking about that morning.

“Aren’t you glad you stopped hiding who you are?” Mr. Tyler called from the closet.

At the same time, the voice in the watch became clear enough to understand. Take me. Hide me. Keep Rose safe.

Tim had only a moment to make up his mind. Once Mr. Tyler was back, his chance would be gone. He thought of the worry in Miss Smith’s eyes that morning, then snatched the watch up and dropped it into his pocket.

“Tim?”

He turned on his heel, his heart pounding wildly. “Yes sir?”

“I asked you a question.” Mr. Tyler raised his left eyebrow. “Aren’t you glad you stopped hiding who you are?”

Tim let out a slow breath and nodded once. “I am, sir,” he said truthfully.

Of course, now he was hiding something much more intriguing.

Mr. Tyler smiled and put his hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Timothy Latimer. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Tim stared up at his teacher, barely aware of what he’d said. Instead, his mind was filled with visions of Mr. Tyler and Miss Smith, running together hand in hand, always laughing.

“Thank you, sir,” he managed to promise, though his voice croaked a little.

Mr. Tyler pushed the door open, and Tim shuffled towards the hallway, his mind still buzzing with the sensation of the voice seeping out of the watch.

“Right then,” Mr. Tyler said. “If I don’t see you again before you leave, I hope you have a Happy Christmas, and I look forward to having you in class again next term.”

“Happy Christmas, sir,” Tim replied. Then he fled the room, the pilfered watch heavy in his pocket.

Instead of going to his room, he made for a tiny cupboard underneath the servants staircase that he’d discovered made an excellent hiding place. Once the door was shut behind him, he pulled the watch out of his pocket and turned it over, letting the light from the single bare bulb catch the polished silver from different angles.

His thumb rested against the catch, and he held his breath before pushing it. Golden light streamed into his little hidey-hole, along with more visions of Mr. Tyler and Miss Smith.

You are not alone. Keep me hidden.

Tim nearly dropped the watch when he heard the voice echoed in his mind, but he managed to catch it and snap it shut. That was Mr. Tyler’s voice.

He stared at the watch. Miss Smith was looking for this. She was worried about it.

I should take this to her.

As soon as he thought it, the voice in the watch disagreed. Danger is nearby. Keep Rose safe.

The desperate plea came through clearly, and once Tim grasped that Rose meant Miss Smith, he understood. He slid the watch back into his pocket, then peeked out of the cupboard and quickly walked down the hall. He would have to trust the Doctor to tell him when it was safe to take the watch to Rose.

oOoOo

John muttered curses under his breath as he undid the bowtie for the fifth time. The piece of silk was getting wrinkled, and he knew if he didn’t get it right this time, he would have to press it before he started again.

Luckily, a knock on his door distracted him and he stepped away from the mirror to open it. His mouth fell open when he saw Marion, a vision in red velvet. Her lip was caught between her teeth, and he wondered what on Earth she felt insecure about.

He held out his hand and pulled her into the room when she took it, leading her over to stand in front of the fireplace. “Marion, you are…” His gaze swept over her figure. “You are absolutely stunning, darling.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Thank you, John. You’re looking dapper yourself—I love the charcoal grey pinstripes.”

John hummed and slid his hands into his jacket pockets. “I wanted something nicer than what I normally wear.”

Marion nodded, and now she seemed to be biting back a smile. “However, it looks like you aren’t quite ready to go,” she added, gesturing to the untied bowtie. “Do you need a hand?”

John sighed. “Would you? I’ve tried five times and can’t get the thing to work properly.”

Marion giggled and stepped closer to him, letting him catch a hint of the subtle perfume she wore. “Well lucky for you, I happen to be an expert.”

She reached for the silk, and a moment later, John’s heart stuttered when he felt her soft fingers brush against his jaw as she worked. He tried to train his gaze over the top of her head, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the bit of tongue that poked out of her mouth as she concentrated on her work.

It took her less than two minutes to get it tied, and then she brushed her hands down the lapels of his jacket, straightening it along the way. “There!” She beamed up at him. “Ready to go.”

John’s hands had found their way to Marion’s waist, and when she stepped back, he followed her.

She blinked, then her lips curved in an inviting smile. “We can’t linger too much longer,” she warned him as he leaned down.

He shook his head, brushing his nose against hers. “No one will notice if we’re a few minutes late.”

She laughed, and he felt the puff of air against his lips just before he kissed her. Marion slid her hands back over his chest to link them behind his neck, pulling him closer.

There was no hesitation or uncertainty in John’s kisses tonight. Rose tilted her head back as his lips moved lower, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Desire burned bright over their bond, and when John groaned against her throat, she knew he could feel it too.

She gasped when he ran his hands down her back, then lower still until they rested on her arse. She felt his lips curve up in a smile, and then he pulled her closer, instinctively seeking the friction they both craved.

Rose speared her fingers through his hair and brought his lips back to hers for a searing kiss. John touched her and kissed her in all the ways the Doctor had learned would undo her, and she was quickly forgetting the reasons why she shouldn’t lead him to the nearby bed.

Her fingers were hovering over his tie when the door burst open, banging off the wall. Rose gasped and whirled around as Martha skidded into the room.

“Martha—”

Rose put her hand on John’s arm before he could berate his friend. The fear in the other woman’s dark eyes made her stomach sink, and she was afraid she knew what Martha had to say.

“What is it, Martha?”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “They’ve found us. I’ve seen them.”

Rose spun around to grab the watch off the mantel while Martha kept talking.

“They look like people, like us, like normal. I’m sorry, but he’s got to open the watch. Where is it?”

Rose blinked, hoping that she just wasn’t seeing the watch and it would appear when she opened her eyes again. It didn’t.

“Not here,” she said, forcing the words past her numb lips.

“What do you mean, it’s not here?” Martha ran over and looked at the mantel herself. “Oh, my God. Where’s it gone? Where’s the watch?”

John stared at the two women standing with their backs to him. There was something deeply unsettling about the way their attention was fixated on the mantel and the supposedly missing watch.

“What are you talking about?” he asked testily.

They shared a long look, then turned around to face him. “You had a watch,” Martha said, pronouncing the words precisely. “A fob watch. Right there,” she added, pointing at the empty mantel.

“Did I?” John scratched at his cheek. “I don’t remember.”

Martha opened her mouth, but Marion put a hand on her arm, and after a moment, Martha pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded stiffly.

John watched warily as Marion walked over to him and took his hands in hers. Nothing this evening had gone the way he’d planned. They were supposed to be at the dance right now, twirling around the floor together and laughing with the giddiness of new love.

There was no giddiness in Marion’s eyes as she looked up at him, and John braced himself for whatever she was about to say.

“John, do you trust me?”

He blinked, then shook his head. “What?” That was so far from what he’d expected her to say; surely he’d heard wrong.

“Do you trust me?” she repeated, squeezing his hands to emphasise the words.

John smiled and relaxed a little. “Always. With everything I am.”

Marion’s eyes watered, and he let go of one of her hands to reach up and brush a few tears off her eyelashes. “That was an easy question,” he told her sincerely.

She took a deep breath, then nodded slowly. “The next part won’t be as easy, John,” she warned him. “I’m going to say things you won’t understand, but you need to trust me and do exactly as I say. Your life—all of our lives—depend on it.”

John felt like he was floundering in waters deeper than he could handle safely, but Marion’s steady gaze held his panic at bay. “What do we need to do?” he asked.

She smiled, then let go of his hands and paced in front of the fireplace. “We need to get back to the TARDIS,” she said decisively. “She can keep us safe, and we can use her scanner to search for the watch.”

“What if the Family already has the watch?” Martha asked.

None of the words they were using made any sense, but John could tell they meant something important. He watched Marion, waiting for her answer.

She shook her head. “Then it doesn’t matter where we go. They will take this planet, and every other planet. The whole universe will end in destruction.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, then Martha cleared her throat. “Well. Let’s hope they don’t, then.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #dwfic #fic by Nancy #doctorroseprompts #cq's fic: always her doctor #reunion fic #human nature au #romance!#fluff!#adventure!#drama!

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a-table-of-fics · 4 years ago

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Cull to Adventure, Chapter 5, Draft 1

[[As Tumblr increased the size limits for posts, I can finally put this chapter draft all together.]]

Marie was already in a sour mood, having woken up far earlier than preferred. But it got worse as she realized she might as well have slept in; hardly anyone was around today. The heat wave, combined with the fact that all games were postponed until the respawn points have power again, meant that no one was around. Marie knew she couldn’t move too far from where the Outpost was without drawing unwanted attention, but it was a bit demoralizing. She was glad she had the parasol for the scant shade it provided in the midday sun, but she still tugged at her kimono every so often.

Well, if she wanted to find her cousin and the stolen Zapfish, she would have to do it herself. She didn’t want a second celebrity disappearance to cause more chaos, but she didn’t have much choice. Agent 2 would have to complete the rescue mission alone.

As she looked in the Outpost for her Charger, she debated whether Gramps should be alerted at this point. She decided against it, still; he was probably stressed enough about his mission with Agent 3, and she didn’t want him throwing himself in danger trying to find Callie. That was her job, darn it!

She opened a drawer and found her charger waiting, but…where was her uniform? The armored hoodie, the short, the boots, even the headset were all missing. She rustled around; maybe a bit of disorganized Callie rubbed off on her…but no, they were gone! Someone was in here! They took the Splattershot and one of the Ink Tanks, too!

A flash of panic came over Marie; someone had come in, and the outpost was breached! But… wait, why wasn’t her charger taken? Or any other supplies? Just the Agent getup and weapons—Oh.

Oh no.

She ran out of the shack, stumbling over her kimono a few times as she went for the manhole to Inkopolis. She had to get to Ammo Knights, and fast. It was lucky there wasn’t really anyone in the Square; while Marie took care to make sure she wasn’t immediately recognized by the adoring public, she didn’t care as much in the rush she was in.

The doors to the Ammo Knights store burst open the moment she unlocked them. Sheldon barely had time to look up in shock before the idol was in the back, frantically booting the computer up. Several monitors came up, each showing different angles of a new part of Octarian territory. None of the cameras could see anything, but when Marie put the headset on and heard panting and slight whimpering, her suspicions were confirmed.

Cull had gone into Octo Canyon alone.

Marie took a deep breath, turned the mic on, and coughed politely.

“Eh—” started Cull’s yelp, before he remembered where he was and clammed up.

“Oh good, you remembered the headset,” Marie said, keeping her voice level. “Okay, I think we can get you through this, but… I’m not sure where you are…”

“C-came in a-and made it to ch-checkpoint…”

Marie checked. The simulated sunny beach area in Octopolia did have a trail of green, including some inflated sponges. And it led right to a smaller respawner, directly in front of a massive road of pink ink. From where the camera was situated, Marie could see a Balloon Fish, but there were a few things behind it that were too blurry to see.

“They got some- some kinda robot b-bombs!”

“Octopods?” Marie asked. “Shouldn’t be a big deal, right? They just run at you.”

“…B-but that one at the start was so fast…C-can I really take more than one in a f-fight…?”

Marie leaned back in her chair, noting where the blurs were.

“You don’t have to, ex-Agent 4! If you can take that Balloon Fish, the Octopods should all pop with it!”

“B-but if I go up there, w-won’t they pop it and…?”

“Nah, they’ll run up to try to blast you. The Balloon Fish’ll be fine!”

Bad time for a joke, Marie realized, as she saw something shake in the respawner.

“Look, look,” she said, frantically trying to clear Cull’s head of some of the anxiety. “All you gotta do is keep your distance! Pop that balloon before the Octopods get to you.”

Cull finally surfaced, out of the respawner, and swallowed. He looked at the expanse of Octarian pink before him; it was going to take a lot of ink to even get to the Octo-bombs. He started firing, and Marie saw that his attention was divided between his path-making and the upcoming encounter.

“Hey, eyes on the prize, kid, not the road!”

Well, now the kid’s movement was slower, but at least he seemed more alert.

A thought came to Marie.

“…Ignore that when you start driving, ok?”

The Octopods started to rush in, but it was too late. Cull had already hit the Balloon Fish, taking the bombs and their weird red balloons with them. Octarians had the strangest ways of holding Power Eggs.

“Nice.”

“All right, so just pop those balloons and swim up there. Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay kid,” she said, attempting to hide her haste in correcting this, “I don’t usually recommend this, but you might want to try a running jump here.”

“O-okay…”

Marie couldn’t do much more than watch; explaining how to swim to a fellow Inkling would just be dumb, and she wasn’t good at motivational platitudes. Still, she could try to encourage.

“Almost halfway there. Just keep breathing.”

“Just got past the second Balloon Fish; you’re almost there!”

Cull finally slipped over the edge onto wooden floor again. He couldn’t even kidform, and Marie could hear him panting and fully view his squid form.

And Marie had sent him headfirst into danger. Worse yet, he refused to leave.

A few quick key presses, and Marie could watch him land on the next section, where there didn’t seem to be much going on. There was a single sponge floating in the middle of a gap in the road, but not much else to see other than a few pillars. As Cull tentatively clambered down in case there was something, Marie switched to the next available camera. She could see Cull fill the sponge with ink to make a bridge in the distance, but more importantly, there were patrolling Octarians moving in a synchronous circle on some grates that were jutting out of one of the pillars.

“Octotroopers above you,” Marie called out, as Cull walked forward. She could see him step back onto the sponge, looking up and spotting the enemies. He tentatively moved forward, but never so much that he committed to a plan before stepping back. Thankfully, neither Octo seemed to have seen him, their gaze focused squarely on what was in front of them rather than what was below.

“C’mon,” Marie said, after about fifteen seconds of this, “You gotta do something if you wanna get outta here!”

“Uhm…”

“Oh for— just go! Take ‘em out and find a way up!”

Well, at least he was moving forward. The bad news was, the Octarians saw him, and began firing shots through the grate. At least the ex-Agent 4 was aware of this, and trying to zig-zag a little bit. He made it under the grate, with only a few spatters of pink on him for it. When he shot straight up and splatted one of the Octotroopers, however, his reflexive ducking was not enough to stop himself from being coated in green ink.

Despite herself, Marie had to stifle a snicker. Maybe it was just a needed release from stress, but there was something adorable about that pratfall. It reminded her of something that happened when she herself was younger, when she played one-on-one with Callie. The exact same thing happened to her, except she completely missed Callie…

“Y-you there?”

Marie took a breath, composing herself. Cull didn’t need the idea that she was laughing at him, nor did he need to hear her worrying about the other Squid Sister.

“Yeah, um… look for a way up the pillar. Looks like the grating goes to another floor… Just watch for that Octoslob and you’ll be fine…”

But Cull wasn’t looking up now. His attention was caught by something out of range of the cameras. He fired ink offscreen, slowly and carefully. Marie didn’t hear any return fire or Octarian shouts from his microphone, but all the same, this was concerning.

“Uh, I said ‘up’ the pillar…”

“Th-there was a lot of pink ink over here…J-just want to be sure…”

“I understand that,” Marie said, quietly kicking herself for not thinking of the possibility of an ambush, “but they’d have a hard time chasing you up. You might be better off—”

She heard the sound of wood breaking, and hoped to the Crane that Cull was alone; she’d be hard pressed to help him if she couldn’t see.

“Huh…Is that…?” he said, after a pregnant pause.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“N-nevermind, I must be mistaken…”

Marie heard some paper rustling, and then some grunting and splashing before Cull emerged from behind the pillar, now on the second floor. He took a few breaths, leaning against the column, before finally heading to the wall.

After making a break through a few more Octarians and some kind of wall-cleaning robot, he made it to a dead end. Behind a bunch of crates destroyed by a nearby Balloon Fish, there was nothing but a sheer drop to the facilities miles below. To his left, he could just see a large wooden wall, with the launchpad there. He groaned.

All Marie could say was “Sorry, kid, but you gotta make it through this.”

Cull stepped back to look, but he didn’t know if he could make another climb like that so soon. Instead, he looked to the re-inflated Balloon Fish, and then at the wall; not even at the launchpad!

Marie was at a loss for words when she saw the kid start clambering onto the enormous ink bomb, and rather quickly at that. Sure, Cull slipped once or twice, but he never once lost his grip. Within fifteen seconds, he was wobbling on top of it, looking almost like an eight-year-old bouncing on a waterbed. He sat down and started rocking, as if he was trying to get comfortable.

“Okay, look,” Marie finally said, “I get it may be tiring, but that’s no excuse for lazing around and…”

She stopped when he stood up, the Balloon Fish rolling back so far that Marie stood up, shocked at how far over the ledge Cull was. Cull, for his part, had an expression like he swallowed a sunfish whole, but kept his eyes to the wall he had to climb. He took one step forward, waiting for the Fish to roll enough…

And then he jumped. His hands reached out, and he was able to grab onto the ledge. By all accounts, he shouldn’t have been able to keep his grip, but it was dawning on Marie that he was a whip-lash squid.

He hoisted himself up, finding another piece of Sardinium, then looked over the edge to see about that launchpad. It was a simple swing down, and Cull was on his rapid way to the next area.

Marie was there to witness each remaining step. The ambush from above, where Cull leapt screaming into his first Splashdown. The attack immediately after, where he managed to actually take one or two of the Troopers before they even landed. Cull getting splatted again by the remaining Octarians, though he didn’t gasp as frantically when he respawned this time. He was able to finish off the other Octotroopers and make it to some more sponge-scaling situations and an easy battle.

After a bridge made from sponges filled with Balloon Fish ink, Marie’s eyes widened. Up ahead, a bulbous flying thing she knew all too well, and she was about to cry out a warning, but stopped herself. She was already dealing with a bit of a nervous wreck; no sense in giving him a heart attack in all three of his.

Instead, she said, as plainly as she could, “An Octobomber. Gross.”

“What—” Cull started, before yelping. He just saw a Splat Bomb land by him, and it wasn’t his.

Marie sighed as he respawned. Even if she didn’t want to scare the kid, that warning may have been less than helpful.

“Sorry, squid,” she said, apologetically. “Didn’t want to scare you…”

Cull walked back over to where he was, far more slowly this time. Shooting gobs of purple at him was one thing, but now they were hurling bombs at him!

“Ugh… how close is the Zapfish?”

Marie blinked. She hadn’t even been looking for the Zapfish; she was just making sure this kid got out alive.

“Um…”

She could see Cull looking around, mostly up and at the corners of platforms. She assumed he was looking for the camera, but he was nowhere close. At least it kept him safe while she re-calibrated the ZapSeek program that Sheldon wrote.

“Let’s see… the Zapfish is… uh…”

“Ye—?” was all Marie heard in response, before the computer suddenly went black. Her eyes widened, and she frantically mashed the power button, but all she heard was the equally frantic clicking of the button.

Sheldon opened the door behind her, frantically pulling out a set of keys. He dashed to a caged area behind the computer, where he kept the generator.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, trying each key in turn as fast as he could, “Without Zapfish, we gotta rely on this generator, and as you know, this is an old thing, and the fact is, it’ll take a bit to refuel it and start it up again, not to mention the computer booting time—”

“Sheldon!” Marie said, sharply. “Just tell me what I can do to help get it back! There’s a kid lost in Octopia here!”

“Right, right,” Sheldon’s capped silhouette nodded. “Sorry. So, I need you to take the rip cord here and wait to give it a good yank! There’s a coupla things I gotta keep in place over here while you do that…”

Marie walked over, but saw multiple cords that looked pull-worthy.

“Um…”

“You got the rip cord?”

“No…”

“All right, hold on…”

The sound of Sheldon pouring whatever the generator needed slowed to a halt, and he patiently walked over, instantly finding the correct cord and handing it to her.

“I’ll let you know when to pull. It might take a few tries for it to start, but keep at it.”

Marie nodded, not understanding when she heard a variety of switches being flicked, as well as some clatters.

“All right, you ready?”

She pulled the rip cord. A rumble, but nothing else.

“Okay, try again.”

It took a few more pulls, but the generator eventually roared to life.

“Now, lemme take care of getting you started, and I’ll be out of here…”

Marie didn’t dispute that. She was a lot of things, but she was no computer squid. She waited for the slow booting, the password entry, the appropriate programs written by Sheldon…

It felt like hours, but everything Marie was used to was back up. Sheldon saluted, then went back to working on his weapons.

Right, so she could flip through the cameras again, and find Cull who was… still standing at that checkpoint. Her audio wasn’t working, but she could tell he was just calling out, trying to get a response.

It took a minute for Marie to find the volume and fix it, but she was greeted with a quiet, almost fearful “…hello?...Yes?...Is the Z-Zapfish close…?”

“Yeah, hang on,” Marie said, putting on a practiced smile. “It was just a technical thing, sorry.”

“O-okay…”

“Just keep moving forward, m’kay? That Octoslob might have bombs, but he’s pretty slow, so just keep on your guard, okay?”

Cull gulped, but still started taking steps forward. It was slow and halting, with him looking around as if he was expecting the Octobomber to have flown to where he was.

Marie wasn’t going to spur him too far forward; the camera systems for other areas were still loading, and she didn’t want Cull dying down there, especially if it would be from something super avoidable.

Suddenly, after some tentative advancement, Cull ducked into the ink. Marie switched from the loading screen back to him the moment she heard a splash. He was nearing the Octobomber.

“Remember, kid: those Splat Bombs have timers on ‘em. Keep moving, and don’t let ‘em catch you! That’s a rule of the battlefield!”

Cull wasn’t moving.

“Come on, this is no time for hide and splat! You gotta move forward! Once you get to the Zapfish, you can get out of there!”

“But…” Cull whispered, still not so much as swimming an inch, “I-I don’t know…”

“Look, kid,” Marie sighed. “If you want to find your way home, you need to get past this guy. I already told you; keep moving and you’ll be a harder target for him!”

After a second (presumably waiting for the fat flying octopus to look away, which Marie had to admit would be a decent strategy), Cull emerged and started running, firing wildly as he did so. The Octobomber flinched as ink hit them, and they spun around, quickly lobbing a bomb at the Inkling intruder. Cull kept running forward, barely out of the blast’s range. He kept shooting, somehow missing half his shots as he did so.

It gave the Octobomber enough time to fire another bomb. Marie would have congratulated Cull on his plan of circling to avoid the explosives, but she was too busy gasping as he inattentively moved towards the edge.

“Kid, watch it—”

“Yeah, just keep movin’! Works great!”

He cheered as he splatted the enemy, but the cheer was short lived as he fell off the ledge.

Marie didn’t see his ghost swim up. She waited, desperately scanning every pixel, rotating every camera, but she saw nothing.

She started breathing again when she saw his hands inch onto solid ground, followed by the rest of him.

“Oh, thank Cod,” Marie said, more under her breath than anything. “Right, so….”

The hacks into the next area of security cameras finally loaded. Marie wasn’t sure what the delay was. Something about cache? She’d have to ask Sheldon later, but for now she looked into the next set of cameras, and…

“Hey, good news!” she said. “You’re almost to the Zapfish and outta there!”

“Uh, y-yeah…” Cull said, sounding like Marie did when she first learned how to fake smiles. “Uh, al-almost might be a strong word…”

“What are you talking abou—oh.”

A quick pan of one of the cams showed the problem. A series of dry sponges formed a line from the floor Cull was on to the floating island the Zapfish was on. Even if he used the Balloon Fish lined across the sides to fill them up, this would be a struggle for him to swim up what most Inklings could with just a bit of effort.

“Er… yeah, this might be tough…” Marie trailed off. “I’m sure you can make it up there, though…”

“Nnn…”

She saw him standing there, craning his neck to see the sun-shaped wall far above him. She couldn’t see his expression, but she could tell he wasn’t exactly readying up for the climb. Heck, he was walking back to a ledge (thankfully, a part with a railing this time). He looked around a little, but he didn’t see anywhere else he could try to go.

The blue skies made from blue monitor light surrounded him on all sides, illuminating a sparkling blue sea under him. Looking out on the wooden platform into the distant waters like this was filling him with nostalgia, back when he could only be halfway between squid and kid at most. He remembered having to brush his tentacles off his eyes a lot, to see a cloudless sky like this, with rocky beaches and wooden docks. The false sun was still a good one, adding to the illusion pretty well. Even if the air was still the stale air you’d find in caves, it didn’t matter; the atmosphere was so much like that of a beach, giving a very surreal vibe of familiarity along with the floating platforms, debris, and screens. This was inspiring.

“You okay, kid?”

“Hmm? O-oh, yeah, j-just needed a moment…”

He pulled himself away from the view, having calmed himself a bit. He took a breath, and looked at the challenge before him.

He fired at the first sponge until it was dripping with ink. He took a breath, and climbed up to the top of it. It was easier to just climb up the one, and he still had a dry, shrunken sponge in front of him.

He stepped onto the dry sponge, and was about to fire to inflate it as well, but he realized he’d have to do still more climbing with the other pair up ahead. He wasn’t sure if he’d be up to that; even that one small swim took effort. He still wanted to get the Zapfish in something resembling a timely manner, so he looked either way. It’d be a tricky thing, but he’d done crazier tagging a spot on Moray Towers the one time.

Standing on the tinier platform, he looked at the Balloon Fish on either side, and popped one.

Marie’s jaw dropped. She just saw Cull get flung like a ragdoll as the sponge exploded out to its full size under him. He flailed and hollered, but not as intensely as she thought it warranted. Heck, it almost seemed planned, as he landed flat on his back on top of the next set of filled sponges. He grunted, but he quickly got up and leapt at the final wall between himself and the Zapfish’s platform. A couple of grunts and kicks against the wall, and he could move from dangling by his fingers to actually getting onto the platform.

From there, Marie could view him freeing and petting the Zapfish. He sat down as the platform moved to the exit, the Zapfish on his lap. It was kind of adorable, honestly.

#cull goes to octo canyon #cull to adventure #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 2 fic #chapter 5 #draft 1 #cull to adventure full chapter

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