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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years ago

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Late Night Scare

It took a while for Stephen to remember why he got out of bed at two o'clock in the morning. The moment he stood up, he completely blanked and stood by the bed in complete darkness for a few minutes, trying to remember. He felt ridiculous when he finally realized it was because nature was calling rather urgently. One would think that a full bladder would be enough of a hint, but sometimes when Stephen was tired enough, he could ignore it. He shuffled with a tired yawn toward the adjoining bathroom, and when he finished, he washed his hands and started to head back to bed.

Then he heard it.

A strange noise that almost sounded like a baby's cry, but it wasn't Lucy. She was fast asleep in her crib. Stephen went over to the bedroom door instead and opened it, and followed the noise down the hall to Diana's room. Maybe Valerie woke up and was too scared to walk down the hallway to the master bedroom? It was pretty dark. But when he opened the door, he found both girls asleep. The sound had stopped too so Stephen figured it had been a figment of his imagination and stepped into the room to make sure Diana and Valerie were properly covered.

Valerie was comfortably cocooned in her blankets, so all Stephen had to do was pull some of them away from her face to keep her from suffocating herself. Diana was similarly covered, but she only had the blankets pulled over her shoulders so he left her as she was. With another yawn, Stephen turned back toward the door but something caught the corner of his eye and he could swear he felt his heart skip a beat. There on a branch of the tree just outside the window were two tiny glowing eyes staring right at him. Then Stephen heard the sound from earlier again and realized that the eyes belonged to an owl. A very small one based on the yellow eyes.

"Mommy?" Diana sits up and rubs her eyes.

"Go back to sleep. I was just checking on you and your sister because I heard something." Stephen says softly. "It was just an owl."

"Oh. That's just Pudge." The little girl mumbles as she slips out of bed and walks over to the window.

Stephen wasn't sure what to say. He was curious to see what would happen, so he just watched as Diana quietly opened the window. She called quietly to him and to the sorcerer's surprise, the tiny owl flew over immediately and landed on her shoulder. Diana yawns and closes the window before walking back over to bed, and as she crawls back into bed, Pudge flies off her shoulder and perches on her headboard. Stephen was too tired to care and there had been no evidence of Pudge being in the room that he had seen before even though he was positive this wasn't the first time Diana let him inside. So he just walked over to tuck his daughter in.

"We'll talk about how this happened at a more decent hour." Stephen mumbles and kisses her forehead.

"Kay...good night." Diana whispers.

"Good night."

Stephen finally left the bedroom as quietly as he came in and walked back down the hall toward the master bedroom. He didn't go in before sending a small spell into Scott and Quill's room though. He could hear the god snoring, and even though it sounded like a large cat purring and Scott could sleep through it, Stephen was pretty sure that Sam wasn't appreciating it. Quill's snoring stopped abruptly and there was a confused 'what the hell babe' followed by some shifting, and then silence.

Times like this made Stephen appreciate the soundproofed bedrooms, but then again, everyone had their own floors that they shared with one or two other members.

He finally went to bed and gently pet Athena's head when she lifted it curiously, and that was enough to get her to go back to sleep as he laid down. She still had her spot at the edge of his bed, but after a while of trying to get up whenever he did in the middle of the night, she eventually learned that he would be right back and stayed on the bed. Athena was loyal, but she was smart. Stephen was sure that he could call for her if he ever needed her in the middle of the night, and she would come running immediately.

Stephen was able to fall asleep easily, but when he woke up a few hours later, a thought occurred to him. "It's another Disney reference." He mumbles to himself and sits up.

"What're you mumbling about Duchess?" Tony asks half-asleep and looking reluctant to sit up.

"Pudge the fish." Stephen answers with no context and figured he probably sounded a little insane.

"No more Lilo and Stitch for you." Tony groans and finally sits up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Morning."

"Morning. I think there's a new pet."

"What? You got an animal tingle now?" Tony teases.

"No. Checked on the girls earlier because I heard a noise." Stephen says. "Turned out to be an owl that wanted to be inside with Diana."

Tony looks at him while processing his words and then eventually sighs. "How come Peter is the only one that brought home a normal pet?"

"At least you admit that Gerald isn't a normal pet either." Stephen snorts

"I think he's more Sam's at this point anyway."

The two get out of bed and get dressed for the day, and then go downstairs to start breakfast when Lucy shows no signs of waking. They had a monitor downstairs in case she did, but it was nice being awake before all of the kids and enjoying a quiet morning. It wouldn't last. Athena had followed and slipped outside through the pet door, but she was back soon enough and Stephen had already put her breakfast in her bowl. Tony actually took the reins on breakfast so all Stephen did was start the coffee and make himself some tea before grabbing a crossword puzzle and sitting down at the kitchen table with it. It was something he tried to do every morning when his hands weren't too bad, and he was definitely going to take advantage of the few moments of quiet while it lasted.

He got a grand total of five minutes before Quill came down with Emir and Flynn and herded them out the door.

"Don't bring back any presents." The god tells them before shutting the screen door and leaving the main door open.

"Look honey. He has pants on." Tony cackles.

"Well now I gotta take them off." Quill retorts and reaches down.

"If you do, I'll make sure you have to take Viagra for the rest of your life." Stephen says as he fills in an answer.

He had to keep himself from laughing when Quill looked at him like he was trying to figure out if he was joking or not. He was, but Quill didn't need to know that. Stephen's magic had a decent effect on the man even though he was a god, so he had good reason to worry. Quill did instead sit at the breakfast counter and watch Tony make breakfast.

"There's a legend about Scott you know." Tony starts and Quill looks at him skeptically.

"Wait, what? What legend?"

"The legend goes that if you shake an orange juice carton, he'll appear out of nowhere."

Quill looks at him flatly. "You're an asshole but it's probably true."

Stephen and Tony burst into laughter and the engineer pulls out all of the juice and puts it on the counter in preparation for the kids that would no doubt soon be waking up. Stephen watches in amusement as Quill picks up the carton of orange juice and he stares at it intently before shrugging and shaking it.

"Hey, can you pour some of that for me?" Scott mumbles from the stairs and Quill jumps in his seat as the younger man joins him at the breakfast counter.

Tony and Stephen burst into hysterics again. It was probably just coincidence but the fact that it happened was the greatest coincidence yet. Scott usually wasn't awake this early in the morning.

"Here. Just drink from the carton." Quill mumbles and hands it over.

"Is there apple juice?" A small voice asks and Stephen looks back over to the stairs and forces himself to calm down when he finds Diana helping Valerie down the stairs.

Pudge was comfortably perched on her shoulder with his chin tucked into his chest. Likely dozing since owls were nocturnal animals. Stephen helped Valerie into the chair next to him when they finally reached the bottom and walked over, and Diana sat across from him after Pudge moved to perch on the back of her chair. He was kind of cute. He was copper-brown and white, and maybe the size of Tony's fist which is how he was able to sit on Dia's shoulder so comfortably. He was familiar with the little girl and didn't seem bothered by everyone in the house, so Stephen assumed the tiny owl had been around for a while now.

"What's the story with the bird piccola?" Tony asks as he starts plating food.

"I found him on the ground outside. His wing was broken so I healed it." Diana answers and accepts the glass of juice her father places in front of her. Valerie got a juice box. "Now he likes to play with me. He goes outside to eat but then he'll come back when he's done."

"Has he had any accidents in the house?" Stephen asks.

"Nuh-uh. I told him he has to do that outside." She sips her juice.

Stephen looks at her in surprise. "You know how to do that?"

"I wanted to, so it was easy."

Right. Diana could simply want for something to happen and she would easily be able to do it. She still needed training but she had natural control over her powers and Stephen wasn't too worried about it. Stephen also wasn't surprised when his husband simply nodded and started making more food for everyone else after he served everyone currently in the kitchen. Tony was used to kids and animals being brought home at this point, though Stephen was pretty sure that he would put his foot down if someone tried to bring home an elephant.

It sounded like something Harley would do.

"Hey Pudge." Peter walks over and gently scritches the top of his head and the owl spreads his feathers with enjoyment. "Did you tell Emir and Flynn they can't eat him?" He asks Diana and she nods since her mouth was full of scrambled eggs.

"Athena too." She says once she swallows.

"Let it be known that I draw the line at anything bigger than Emir." Tony grumbles and Harley groans as he walks downstairs.

"Man! I was gonna find a giraffe!"

Stephen knew his children well.

"Emir is pushing it but since he was abused and Quill and Scott have to take care of him, I don't care as much." Tony says and hands a plate to the boys.

"Emir is a good boy." Scott argues.

"I think he's part cow," Quill adds. "He makes a noise that sounds like he's mooing when he's happy."

The screen door rattles and Harley looks over to find Flynn peeking through the screen and swishing his tail. He walks over and opens the door and snickers when he finds that the fox had been standing on the tiger's head so he could look into the door. It wouldn't have made sense otherwise since the kit was too small standing on his own. Flynn happily ran over to his bowl to scarf down his breakfast but Emir bypassed his to walk over to Scott and nudge him with his head and almost knocked the man over.

"Alright, alright!" Scott grabs a piece of bacon off his plate and feeds it to the tiger. "There. Now go eat your own food!"

There was a whoosh of air and then one of the free spots at the breakfast counter was occupied by Thomas. "Are you making sausage too?!"

"I'm making pretty much everything." Tony confirms. "Can you go check on Lucy?"

"Steve is getting her. She was crying." Thomas says and Tony frowns.

"What? I haven't heard anything." He puts his spatula down to pick up the baby monitor.

"Probably because it's not on." Peter points out and Tony sighs.

"My poor baby. She could have been crying this whole time." Tony bemoans.

Peter shakes his head. "I didn't hear her when I got up."

"She just started before I came down." Thomas reassures just as Steve and Bucky walk down with the infant.

"I changed her for you." The captain says and Stephen melts a little when he hears her snuffle. "She's probably just hungry now."

"Just give her to Mom." Bucky says and smirks when Stephen glares at him. "I'm kidding."

Steve and Bucky sat in the living room with Lucy and everyone else eventually made their way down for breakfast. Wanda was kind enough to make the baby a bottle before taking over cooking so Tony could eat, and soon enough everyone had their breakfast. Diana went outside with Valerie and Pudge and when Stephen was finished, he put his plate in the sink before following the girls with Athena at his heels. It was a nice day and he decided to enjoy it on one of the lawn chairs outside with a book, and it was even close enough to keep an eye on Valerie. Diana knew how to swim but Valerie didn't...and even then he felt better supervising them even if they weren't swimming. Toddlers had a tendency to get distracted by things and unknowingly walk into danger to investigate.

"Oof!" Stephen grunts when Athena jumps onto the chair with him and lays on him. He chuckles once they're both comfortable and pets her head. "I take it the ground isn't enough today." She lays her head on his stomach with a content huff and Stephen smiles and briefly opens a small gateway to grab a book. "Good girl."

"Eww! Bug!" Valerie says from the makeshift tent.

Before Stephen could even sigh, he heard the brief sound of flapping and then an audible crunch, and then another sound of disgust from Valerie.

"Pudge ate it!" Diana announces.

"Now we have free pest control." Stephen mumbles to himself.

#mama bear au #ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #supremefamily #the avengers kids #the avengers

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

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To Be Continued - Part 3

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2288

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

“I know it seems ridiculous,” you stated as you led the constable to your home office, pointing at your desk where both the pen and message waited for him to inspect. “However, I didn’t hear a thing and yet this is all here.”

Sungjin quietly investigated the space, looking to the window and then went over to jiggle the catch. He stepped all around the room, searching for clues, his hand rising to his mouth to cover it as he processed his thoughts.

And then he turned to you. “I don’t really know what to say. This makes no sense.”

“I feel like I’m going insane!” you admitted emotionally, dropping to a crouch and holding onto your legs. “How could someone get in and out without my knowledge whilst everything is still locked?!”

When you glanced up at Sungjin, who came to your side, you noticed the look of scepticism within his eyes. There was nothing factual aside from the second fingerprints, which in your mind, was enough to convince you that someone else had been here. For a moment, the trained professional looked at you and assessed something before smiling gently. You realised then Sungjin was questioning your well-being.

Standing up suddenly, you took a step back from his proximity and looked out the window. “I might have proclaimed just now about feeling as if I’m going insane, but I can assure you, Constable Park, that I’m not already insane.”

“I know,” he answered, trying to catch your attention. When he gained it, he nodded genuinely. “I’m sorry, my brief thought was too brash.”

“I can understand why,” you breathed out with a sigh, shaking your head. “It would be easy enough to plant such evidence, right? I’ve watched enough spy movies and read enough novels to know that it’s relatively simple enough to obtain someone’s fingerprint.”

“Yes, but I believe you haven’t done this on purpose either, Y/N.”

There was comfort in the way he spoke your name and you nodded softly, tears spilling down your cheeks. Sungjin stepped into your space again, patting your shoulder gently. “What do I do?”

“We need to catch the person in the act,” Sungjin suggested and you stared at him curiously. “Have you tried messaging the person back?”

“No… I mean, how does that work? It’s not a social app they’re writing on but Microsoft Word. Even with a cloud sharing system, it would show me that another user is signed in.”

Sungjin shrugged. “Still. Worth a shot, don’t you think?”

“Do I try it now?” you asked and Sungjin shook his head.

“Nothing will happen with me here,” he guessed and you sighed, defeated. You kind of liked that nothing would happen with Sungjin here. But he had a job to do and you did want to solve this issue too.

If it was simply a fan, you would thank them for nursing you back to health that night and ask them to stop this. That seemed simple enough to request. Surely, if they cared that much about you, they would comply.

You didn’t want to consider that their fan status was anything more than just that. Once again, movies and books you had perused with obsessive stalkers cropped up and you shuddered.

Sungjin noticed and rubbed at your shoulders to relax you. “You’re going to be okay. You have my number and I’ll make sure to check in on your regularly too. Let me know if anything happens with the messages, okay?”

“I will.” Leading the constable back out to the front door, he turned and rubbed at his wrist.

“Did you need a lift to get your groceries?”

“Is that allowed in a police vehicle?” you wondered and Sungjin grinned.

“I could write it off as protection services.”

“I’m touched, really,” you responded, trying to rein in the smile you knew was splitting your lips all too obviously.

Sungjin nodded and chuckled back. “Knowing you would take the offer if my car wasn’t government-funded is all I need, Y/N.”

“You best get back to patrolling the streets for proper crime,” you suggested and he nodded. You then laughed. “And I have a date with the fruit and vegetable section to help improve my immunity after dealing with this cold.”

“Take it easy. First dates can be hard to deal with.”

You grinned. “I will. And if I’m in trouble from it, I’ll know who to ring.”

You could tell Sungjin wasn’t usually one for this type of banter, and despite his ears turning red, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Which was no doubt why he was reluctant to step off your front porch right now.

However, he finally did so with another wave and you stepped back inside, locking the door before going to write out your list. It felt weird to use the pen that reappeared so you put it away before reaching for another and jotted down the groceries you needed.

“Have you tried messaging the person back?”

Sungjin’s suggestion lingered in your mind as you prepared to stand and fetch your bag. Relenting, you looked at the screen and inhaled a deep breath before you began to type.

Thank you for returning the pen. And for helping me with my illness.

It felt odd to type anything more and you shook your head to loosen off the feeling, getting to your feet and taking the list out with you.

The words you had written then disappeared without your knowledge, reaching the person they were intended for.

You had almost forgotten all about the incident that led to the constable ending up in your house again today, but the interaction by your front door had replayed so much in your mind that you were too giddy to focus on anything else. As you put away your groceries, you contemplated what Sungjin was like to go grocery shopping with.

It was juvenile. You felt like you were back in high school crushing on a student you liked. You entertained the idea, all the same, slipping further into more domestic actions, swooning over your hypothetical relationship with the man.

You were destined to be a writer. You were far too much of a dreamer for any other profession.

By the time you had eaten a late lunch, you had already jotted down on your phone’s notes app more information to add to your police officer document once back at your desk. You did some house chores before stepping back in there, and before you could even sit down, there was a knock at your door.

It wasn’t Sungjin, however, but your mother, armed with an arsenal to help your illness improve.

You grinned even though you whined out loud. “Mum, I’m basically over it now.”

“You had me worried sick about you. Especially when you mentioned someone broke in!”

Taking what she held and helping the woman inside, you shook your head. “Well, there’s no evidence that’s solid enough to say someone broke in.”

“Should I stay with you tonight?”

“Why tonight when I was more frightened last night?” you asked with a teasing tone and the older woman swatted at you in distaste.

“I’m your mother! I’m allowed to be worried.”

“I’ll be fine! I’ll have the doors all locked, and my favourite police officer’s number saved into my phone. Besides, I’ll no doubt spend my night writing and-”

“Forget I’m even here. Yes, I know how you get when you step out of reality, Y/N.”

You grinned again at her understanding and then were gathered up in a hug. “At least let me cook you dinner. I’ll leave before it gets too late for your creative juices to start rolling out.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course I do. I have to be the best to be your Mum!”

After watching two feel-good movies from your childhood and your mother had fed you your favourite dish for dinner before wrapping the night up with fussing over you sufficiently, she headed back home and left you to your own devices.

So it surprised you to finally sit back down after hours away from your laptop to find the screen still active.

Peering closely at it, you blinked slowly at your message or lack of it. Where had it gone? You knew you written the two sentences and pressed enter.

Just as you were about to close the document, your eyes rounded with shock as words began to appear on the screen before you.

“I’m going insane after all,” you said jarringly, reading the sentence as it was typed.

I hope you will stop fearing me and calling that police officer. I’m really not that scary. You know me.

Instead of reaching for your phone, you felt compelled to reply.

Do I?

Again words started to appear before you. Of course. You know me better than I probably do.

How?

You created me.

“Maybe I’ve had too much coffee,” you tried to rationalise but it didn’t make any sense. Looking around yourself to see if someone was remotely plugged in somehow to your laptop, you even searched the connection settings before coming up blank.

So you challenged the writer of the messages.

If I know you and created you – which sounds absolutely absurd by the way – why won’t you show yourself?

You laughed when there was no immediate response and hovered the mouse pointer over the exit button to Microsoft Word, intending to then power off the device. The screen flickered then and you looked back at to see new words forming.

Don’t turn off the laptop.

“What would that have anything to do with this?” you murmured, feeling exasperated from chatting with some strange person within a word document in the first place.

More words appeared. Because the world you created was made on this.

“Okay, it’s getting too late for me now. I’m going to save this document and-”

The screen went blank and you sat back in your chair then, watching it to see what would happen next. Nothing did and you hit the power button on and off, laughing at the predicament. “My battery must have died. Great.”

Searching on the desk for the power cord, you plugged it in and the machine brightened up instantly, blinding you a little with the sudden change.

And then it opened Captivated again.

You watched as the story scrolled down at an unbelievably fast rate, reaching the bottom of the manuscript where you had changed the words back to The End for the third time. They disappeared and were replaced with To Be Continued once more, infuriating you.

“Leave my work alone! This is an intrusion on my intellectual property! You have no right interfering with--”

You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating or not. You weren’t even sure how it happened. One moment, whilst you were ranting to whoever may be listening in about your rights, you were all alone.

The next, a man was leaning against your desktop beside you.

“What the… how did you get in here?!” you cried, not looking up at him properly, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone.

“I really don’t think you need to call for him. But if it makes you feel safer, by all means, ring your hero.”

His voice, although you had never heard it before, felt familiar, as if you had imagined that’s how someone would sound. You glanced at his hand resting on the table beside you, wondering why it looked as if you had written about this hand so often it almost felt intimate. Following your gaze up his arm, you ran your focus along his shoulder and up to his face, hearing your phone clatter to the floor beside you.

As you looked intensely into his warm brown eyes that watched you back, and then took in the sharp slant of his nose that was definitely a characteristic point, before finally moving to his lips, you knew exactly who you were staring back at.

Brian Kang.

He grinned, scrunching up his nose a little in the process and it made you gasp. This seemed to please the man. “Well, I guess it works on more than just Charli Evers, huh?”

“You’re… wait… how can you… I mean, this is exactly how I pictured you but… it’s impossible.”

Brian nodded, glancing back at your laptop and tapped on the screen. “I guess it would seem like that to you since my world is created from your imagination.”

“Sungjin’s right, I’ve gone mad.”

“Darling, you’ve been mad for some time but I wouldn’t go thinking this is a hallucination.”

“You’re not real.”

“Well, I guess I’m not meant to be real. I’m not really sure how I figured this all out either. I’m still learning about the outside world so forgive me for scaring you with all this.”

“The outside world?” you repeated incredulously, grasping your head as you felt faint. “Why am I talking to my imagination?! This is an all-time low for me; even I have to admit it.”

“Y/N,” Brian stated, capturing your attention once again. His expression was resolute. You knew without him saying anything else that he believed in what he was about to say wholly. “Whilst you are my maker, I do exist. I’m real.”

“I bet I can’t even touch--” A whimper left you then as he reached out to take a hold of your wrist with the same hand you had inspected. And then he slipped it down so he was holding yours, marvelling at the connection.

And like any normal, logical person who just met their creation in the flesh, you completely blacked out from the experience.

_________________

Part 4

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #young k #young k fiction #young k fanfic #young k fluff #young k romance #young k au #day6 #day6 fiction #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 romance #day6 au #pwyl; to be continued #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop romance

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

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Robin and Gale Hood; Ben Hardy x reader Chap. 10

*Author’s note*

And here we are with the next chapter of Robin and Gale Hood guys. Now I’m thinking after I post up chap. 11 it’s either gonna be 2-3 more chapters after that idk I haven’t quite figured that part out yet, but hopefully soon I’ll have the next chapter up :) Also for King Richard I’m imagining a late 80′s early 90′s Roger Taylor look.

Warnings: extreme swearing C word is used here (and no I’m not meaning the other word for balls or a rooster), attempted murder, severe injury.

Chapter 10,

Return of the King

Taglist:

@simonedk

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@queendeakyy

@wormzteef

@sparkleslightlyy

@geek-and-proud

_________________________________________________________

“It can’t be……” Robin muttered.

“But it is.” Little John said as a smile spread across his face.

“Uncle Richard!” Marian proclaimed. All went quiet as the people cleared a path and slowly riding on top of his magnificent dark brown armored covered shire horse was King Richard himself.

Much like his son Prince James, king Richard was a handsome man. Piercing blue eyes that resembled the great ocean, hair still having a tint of blonde (but not as much as it did when he was younger), he wore a golden suit of armor with a lion crest at the center piece of his uniform, and a large sword sat at his side.

Looking at this middle aged man you could see that he was a true king. There was just this regalness about him, like a true lion.

As he walked forward towards the gallows, the people of Nottingham all bowed before him, even the Sheriff’s guards bowed before him. When he reached the gallows, the Sheriff, Sir Heston and Prince John all stared at him in shock.

“Richard, I—I did not expect you to…….” Prince John started but Richard snarled as he pointed at him.

“I’ll deal with you later.” Immediately Prince John coward to his knees as Richard’s eyes now turned to the Sheriff. “Now I ask again Sheriff, what is the meaning of all this?”

“A witch trial, your majesty.” He looked up towards his son who was protecting the so called ‘witch’ by shielding her with his own body.

“Were you willing to take my son along with her?”

“That was never my intention your majesty. I would never harm the future King.” The Sheriff tried to save his own hide by acting innocent.

King Richard spoke not a word as he dismounted from his horse onto the stage. He walked past the Sheriff and stood before his son. The two look-alikes stared at each other as Richard told his son.

“James, stand aside.”

“I won’t!”

“I know how you feel about these trials, but it is the law son.”

“I don’t care! She’s not a witch.”

“And how do you know that exactly?”

“Because this is the girl I fell in love with six years ago. The girl who’s always been on my mind even as you sent me away to London with Marian.” Richard’s eyes softly widened and he said.

“This is the girl? The one that broke your heart?”

“Yes. But that’s in the past now. Because I love her father.” All was silent in the village square.

“Your majesty. It’s clear that for six years your son has been under this witch’s spell, and…….” The Sheriff spoke into the King’s ear.

“Another word out of you and I’ll cut off your forked tongue!” Prince James threatened.

“How dare you speak to me……”

“And how dare you treat my son that way! Remember your place Sheriff!” The Sheriff backed off glaring at the young prince.

“Look around at what these two have done. They’ve oppressed the people and nearly killed an innocent woman without a proper trial. And she’s not just any ordinary woman. Her name is Gale Hood, sister of Robin Hood.”

James turned back towards Gale and pressed his forehead to hers as he wrapped his hand around the back of her head cradling it away from the stake.

“Together along with their friends, they’ve kept Nottingham from falling to ruins. Father would you willingly kill a hero of the people?” King Richard looked down at his people.

All of them looking up to their king, pleading for this execution to not happen. He then turned to see his niece locked up in a cage along with Robin Hood and his band giving him the same look. Finally he turned back to his son who held a fire in his eyes. A fire that was passionate about his beliefs and words.

Much like his late wife Queen Dominque.

King Richard withdrew his sword. Everyone waiting on bated breath on what would happen next, but to everyone’s surprise he held his sword in a surrender position.

“My son speaks with the wisdom beyond his years. When I returned to my kingdom I’ve seen anger and prejudice in my staff’s hearts. But he comes with courage and understanding. From this day forward; if there is to anymore killing, it will not start with my rein.” He placed his sword back into its saber.

He then turned to one of the guards down below and ordered him to release Gale and her friends as well as his niece.

The guard raced up and cut Gale from the stake and as soon as she was freed, James took her in his arms, spun her around and the two embraced each other tightly. The people of Nottingham all cheered for the renouncing claim of Gale’s blood.

Prince John couldn’t believe this and neither could the Sheriff.

“Do something you fool!” whispered Prince John harshly. The Sheriff glared at the prince and said to one of his loyal guards.

“Shoot them all down.”

“No.” the man said.

“What?”

“With King Richard back, we no longer follow you.”

“You’re insane. I gave you this position! You follow and obey me!” but none of his guards obeyed him. Only gathered around and dropped their bows at his feet.

Twitching his eye in anger he grabbed one of the crossbows and notched an arrow as he snarled.

“Fine. You won’t serve me so long as Richard is alive will you?” he aimed the crossbow right for King Richard’s head.

Gale looked towards the Sheriff and saw him getting ready to shoot at the King. She immediately got out of James’ embrace and cried out.

“NOOO!!!” she pushed King Richard out of the way, taking the arrow just above her right breast.

“GALE!!!!” Robin called from the ground. As Gale collapsed to the ground with the arrow in her chest, James knelt down beside her and held her in his arms.

The Sheriff’s eyes widened as one of his ex-guards snarled out.

“You shot the Prince’s love.”

“She-she stepped right…right into it. It was her own fault! Prince John! Heston! Tell them it wasn’t my fault!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I begged you not to kill her.” John shrugged nonchalantly.

“Prince James and Maid Marian were right all along!”

“We never should’ve believed either of you!”

“GET THEM!!” the three then tried to make a quick get away from the guards but all too quickly the people of Nottingham got to them and began to tear right through them angrily.

“UNHAND ME YOU FILTHY PEASANTS!!” the Sheriff exclaimed. He soon had the crossbow taken from him as Maid Marian stood over him and she proclaimed.

“Put them all in chains!”

“I’ll see you hanged for this you cunt!” the Sheriff growled.

“And sew this one’s mouth shut!” Marian said as amongst the people of Nottingham, the guards pulled the Sheriff away from Marian’s face.

Her pride soon turned back to fear as she raced up to join Robin, his friends, Arthur, James, Friar Tuck and her uncle up on the gallows to check on Gale.

Both James and Robin knelt down at Gale’s side each of them holding her hand. Friar Tuck and King Richard knelt down beside her head. Friar Tuck wiping her forehead as she kept hissing and groaning in pain.

“Sister, please just hold on. We’re going to get you help. Oh Friar Tuck please tell me she’ll be okay!” pleaded Robin.

“She’s a fighter, but I am no doctor Robin. All I can do is pray to the good Father that he’ll spare our beloved Gale.”

“Isn’t there any medical supplies your staff can use?” Little John asked.

“We have some but nothing that Gale needs. If we are to save her, she needs to go to London. There we might have a chance to save her.” Arthur said.

“Then prepare the royal carriages. Make sure we hook up the fastest horses we’ve got. There will be no stopping till we reach London.” King Richard said.

Within minutes the royal carriage was prepped and ready. Gale now lying on a small portable bedspread. The blanket covering up her bare body so that the arrow was the only thing being shown.

James came up and knelt down beside his love and took her hand in his. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and he told her.

“You’re gonna be alright my love. I promise. Just stay awake for me.”

“I’ve had worse than this.” Gale told him before hissing in pain.

“Try not to speak so much my love.” Robin soon came up and walked towards them. James kissed her hand before gently placing it down and walked away giving the two siblings some alone time. Robin knelt down beside his sister and stroked her cheek.

“You are either the single bravest woman I’ve ever seen. Or the craziest.”

“I learned from the best, brother.” Gale grinned weakly. “Will—will you come with me?” at that point Robin’s face grew solemn. He felt his sister’s hand touch his cheek and he said.

“Someone has to stay here and help rebuild Nottingham. Marian and I have elected to do just that.”

“Then……so will I.”

“No sister. You have to go to London.”

“But—but we promised each other we wouldn’t leave one another.” Gale said with tears in her eyes.

“And we never will. No matter what happens, I’ll always be with you. Just like you will with me. And—just like our mother always has.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his sister’s forehead.

He lingered on the kiss till he finally separated from her. The two siblings looking at each other teary eyed, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time they ever see each other again. As two of King Richard’s guards picked up the bed, Robin and Gale’s hands kept hold of each other till the distance finally forced them apart.

She was placed in the royal carriage with King Richard and Prince James.

“Godspeed Gale Hood.” Friar Tuck said as he gave his final prayer to Gale. The curtains closed around the royal coach and the coachman urged the horses onward and in a cloud of dust, the royal coach rode out of Nottingham straight to London.

The royal escorts rode up front to show that this was a dire emergency and that anyone on the path ahead needed to clear the way for the King.

Inside the coach, James kept his hand intwined with Gale’s, stroking the back of it and giving it a kiss every now and then. King Richard, who had been observing his son’s affections for the young female rouge, finally spoke to Gale.

“Answer me this child. Why did you take that arrow for me? Knowing you could die.”

“Father, Gale can’t……”

“I can speak James, just—not in so many words.” She then turned to the great King and replied. “People always do crazy things—when they’re in love.” Her eyes then shifted towards James who looked down at her with sad but loving eyes. Tears pooling behind his green orbs as he pressed her hand against his cheek. Richard reached his hand out and gently placed it on top of Gale’s head, softly stroking through her raven black hair.

“You’ll get the finest medical treatment London has to offer. I swear to you. England, my son, and I owe you a great debt Gale Hood.” Gale smiled tiredly before feeling the fever starting to take affect on her as she soon passed out.

James’ heart suddenly stopped as he looked down at his beloved in fear. He felt her forehead and winced at the sudden heat that radiated from her.

“She’s burning up father!” Richard reached for a bowl of water and a towel.

“Dab her lightly around her forehead and collarbone. It’ll have to do for now till we get to London.” James took the rag and wrung it out first before placing it onto her face.

“I can’t lose her. Not when I just got her back. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her again.” he wept as he continued to dab his beloved’s face with the damp cloth. Richard stared at his son with empathy.

He knew what his son was going through because he once went through that when he lost his beloved Queen years ago. That familiar feeling of heartbreak fearing that your soulmate will leave this world leaving you alone in this dark hell that was the living realm. Leaving nothing but pain and heartbreak in the wake of their death.

“Step on it will yah! Gale’s fever is spiking and we don’t have much time! Double time!” Richard banged on the roof of the royal coach, crying out to the coachman. He then turned to his son and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I can promise you this my son. We will do all that we can to save your beloved. But you have to be strong for not only yourself, but for her.”

“Yes father.” Richard pressed his forehead against his son’s and the two of them stayed in that position for a moment before turning their attention back to Gale.

It took almost an entire day but just a few hours before dawn, the royal escort finally arrived at the heart of London. The horses charged through the gates of the castle that stood at the heart of the city and with no time to waste, Gale was brought in and taken to the medical wing.

She was now awake for a brief moment as a doctor was prepping to first remove the arrow from her chest before proceeding to heal the actual wound itself.

James was forced to wait outside because he vowed that he wouldn’t leave his love’s side for even a second. Even if he was forbidden to enter the room, he still wanted to be there for Gale.

Inside the room, the doctor had candles lite all over the room so that he could have the perfect lighting for what he needed to do. He first numbed the area with some oils and turned to Gale and said to her.

“The area’s sterilized. Now comes the hard and most agonizing part. Are you ready?” Gale nodded then the doctor took out a towel and Gale opened her mouth so that he could place the towel in her mouth to prevent her from getting lockjaw. Gale’s chest anxiously rose and fell at a heavy pace as the doctor reached out for the arrow and took hold of it.

Soon all that could be heard was a muffled but agonizing scream.

James covered his mouth with his hand, feeling his love’s pain almost as if it were his own. All he could hear was her agonizing screams and groans coming from the other side of the door.

As the sun began to rise, Gale’s screams and groans went silent.

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96harmony96 · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 3

when Megumi and I stepped into an elevator, I hit the button for the top floor.

“I’ll be back in five minutes, if anyone asks,” I told her, as she stepped off at Waters Field & Leaman.

“Give her a kiss for me, will you?” she said, playfully fanning herself. “Makes me hot just thinking about living vicariously through you.”

I managed a smile before the doors closed and the car continued its ascent. When it reached the end of the line, I exited into a tastefully ornate and undeniably masculine entrance foyer. Smoky glass security doors were sandblasted with jauregui INDUSTRIES and softened by hanging baskets of ferns and lilies.

lauren ’s redheaded receptionist was unusually cooperative and buzzed me in before I reached the door. Then she grinned at me in a way that got my back up. I’d always gotten the impression she didn’t like me, so I didn’t trust that smile for a minute. It made me twitchy. Still, I waved and said hello, because I wasn’t a catty bitch—unless I was given good reason to be.

I took the long hallway that led to lauren , stopping at a large secondary reception area where his secretary, Scott, manned the desk.

Scott stood as I approached. “Hello, camila,” she greeted me, reaching for his phone. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

The glass wall that separated lauren ’s office from the rest of the floor was usually crystal clear but could be made opaque with the push of a button. It was frosted now, which increased my uneasiness. “Is she alone?”

“Yes, but—”

Whatever else he said was lost as I pushed through the glass door and into lauren ’s domain. It was a massive space, with three distinct seating areas, each larger than my boss Mark’s entire office. In contrast to the elegant warmth of lauren ’s apartment, his office was decorated in a cool palette of black, gray, and white broken only by the jewel-toned crystal decanters that decorated the wall behind a bar.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city on two sides. The one solid wall opposite the immense desk was covered in flat screens streaming news channels from around the world.

My gaze swept the room and caught on the throw pillow that had been carelessly knocked to the floor. Beside it were indents in the area rug that betrayed where the couch feet were usually planted. The piece of furniture had, apparently, been bumped askew by a few inches.

My heart rate sped up and my palms grew damp. That awful anxiety I’d felt earlier intensified.

I had just noticed the open door to the washroom when lauren stepped into view, stealing my breath with the beauty of his exposed torso. His hair was damp, as if from a recent shower, and his neck and upper chest were still flushed, as it became when she exerted herself physically.

she froze when she saw me, his gaze darkening for an instant before his perfect, implacable mask slid effortlessly into place.

“It’s not a good time, camila,” she said, shrugging into a dress shirt she’d had draped over the back of a bar stool . . . a different shirt from the one she’d been wearing earlier that morning. “I’m running late to an appointment.”

I gripped my purse tightly. Seeing her so intimately brought home how badly I wanted her. I loved her insanely, needed her like I needed to breathe . . . which only made it easier for me to understand how Magdalene and Corinne felt, and to relate to any lengths they might go to in trying to lure her away from me. “Why are you half dressed?”

There was no help for it. My body responded instinctively to the sight of his, which made it even harder for me to rein in my rioting emotions. His open, neatly pressed dress shirt revealed golden skin stretched tightly over washboard abs and perfectly defined pectorals. A dusting of dark hair over his chest arrowed down and darkened into a thin line, leading to a cock presently encased in boxer briefs and slacks. Just thinking about how she felt inside me made me ache with longing.

“I got something on my shirt.” she began buttoning up, his abs flexing with his movements as she crossed over to the bar, where I saw his cuff links waiting. “I have to run. If you need something, let Scott know and she’ll see to it. Or I’ll take care of it when I get back. I shouldn’t be more than two hours.”

“Why are you running late?”

she didn’t look at me when she answered, “I had to squeeze in a last-minute meeting.”

Did you now? “You showered this morning.” After making love to me for an hour.“Why did you have to shower again?”

“Why the inquisition?” she snapped.

Needing answers, I went to the washroom. The lingering humidity was oppressive. Ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to look for trouble I couldn’t bear to find, I dug his shirt out of the laundry basket . . . and saw red lipstick smeared like a bloodstain on one of the cuffs. Pain twisted through my chest.

Dropping the garment on the floor, I pivoted and left, needing to get as far away from lauren as possible. Before I threw up or started sobbing.

“camila!” she snapped as I hurried past her. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Fuck you, asswipe.”

“Excuse me?”

My hand was on the door handle when she caught me, yanking me back by the elbow. Spinning, I slapped her with enough force to turn his head and set my palm on fire.

“Goddamn it,” she growled, grabbing me by the arms and shaking me. “Don’t fucking hit me!”

“Don’t touch me!” The feel of his bare hands on the bare skin of my arms was too much.

she shoved back and away from me. “What the fuck’s gotten into you?”

“I saw her, lauren .”

“Saw who?”

“Corinne!”

she scowled. “What are you talking about?”

Pulling my smartphone out, I thrust the photo in his face. “Busted.”

lauren ’s gaze narrowed on the screen, and then his scowl cleared. “Busted doing what, exactly?” she asked, too softly.

“Oh, screw you.” I turned toward the door, shoving my phone in my purse. “I’m not spelling it out for you.”

His palm slapped against the glass, holding the door closed. Caging me with his body, she leaned down and hissed in my ear, “Yes. Yes, you goddamn will spell it out.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as our position at the door brought back a flood of heated memories from the first time I’d been in lauren ’s office. she’d stopped me just like this, seducing me deftly, drawing us into a passionate embrace on the very couch that had recently seen some kind of action forceful enough to shove it out of position.

“Doesn’t a picture say a thousand words?” I bit out through clenched teeth.

“So Corinne was manhandled. What does that have to do with me?”

“Are you kidding me? Let me out.”

“I don’t find anything even remotely funny about this. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been this pissed off at a woman. You come in here with your half-assed accusations and self-righteous bullshit—”

“I am righteous!” I twisted around and ducked beneath his arm, putting some much-needed distance between us. Being close to her hurt too much. “I would never cheat on you! If I wanted to fuck around, I’d break it off with you first.”

Leaning into the door, lauren crossed his arms. His shirt remained untucked and open at the collar, a look I found hot and tempting, which only made me angrier.

“You think I cheated on you?” His tone was clipped and icy.

I sucked in a deep breath to get through the pain of imagining her with Corinne on the sofa behind me. “Explain to me why she was here at the Crossfire, looking like she did. Why your office looks like this. Why you look like that.”

His gaze went to the couch, then to the cushion on the floor, then back to me. “I don’t know why Corinne was here or why she looked like that. I haven’t seen her since last night, when you were with me.”

Last night seemed like it’d happened forever ago. I wished that it had never happened at all.

“But I wasn’t with you,” I pointed out. “She batted her eyelashes and said she wanted to introduce you to someone, and you left me standing there.”

“Christ.” His eyes blazed. “Not this again.”

I swiped angrily at a tear that slid down my cheek.

she growled. “You think I went with her because I was overcome with the need to be with her and get away from you?”

“I don’t know, lauren . You ditched me. You’re the one with the answers.”

“You ditched me first.”

My mouth fell open. “I did not!”

“The hell you didn’t. Almost the second we arrived, you took off. I had to hunt you down and when I did, you were dancing with that prick.”

“Martin is Stanton’s nephew!” And since Richard Stanton was my stepdad, I thought of Martin as family.

“I don’t care if he’s a damned priest. He wants to nail you.”

“Oh my God. That’s absurd! Stop deflecting. You were talking business with your associates. It was awkward standing there. For them as well as me.”

“That’s your place, awkward or not!”

My head jerked back as if she’d slapped me. “Come again?”

“How would you feel if I walked away from you at a Waters Field and Leaman party because you started talking about a campaign? Then, when you found me, I was slow dancing with Magdalene?”

“I—” God. I hadn’t thought of it like that.

lauren appeared smooth and unruffled with his powerful frame lounging against the door, but I could sense the anger vibrating beneath that calm surface. she was riveting always, but most especially when she was seething with passion. “It’s my place to stand beside you, and support you, and yes, just fucking look pretty on your arm sometimes. It’s my right, my duty, and my privilege, camila, just as it’s yours in reverse.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor by getting out of the way.”

His arched brow was a silent, sarcastic comeback.

My arms crossed in front of me. “Is that why you walked off with Corinne? Were you punishing me?”

“If I wanted to punish you, camila, I’d take you over my knee.”

My gaze narrowed. That was never going to happen.

“I know how you get,” she said curtly. “I didn’t want you jealous over Corinne before I had a chance to explain. I needed a few minutes to make sure she understood how serious you and I are, and how important it was to me that you enjoy the evening. That’s the only reason I walked away with her.”

“You told her not to say anything about you two, didn’t you? You told her to keep quiet about what she is to you. Too bad Magdalene screwed that up.”

And maybe Corinne and Magdalene had planned it that way. Corinne knew lauren well enough to anticipate his moves; it might’ve been easy for her to plan around his reaction to her unexpected appearance in New York.

Which shed a whole new light on why Magdalene had called me today. She and Corinne had been talking at the Waldorf when lauren and I spotted them. Two women who wanted a man who was with another woman. Nothing was going to happen for them while I was in the picture, and because of that, I couldn’t rule out the possibility that they might be working together.

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” she said tightly.

I waved that off, more concerned about what was happening now. “I saw Corinne get into the Bentley, lauren . Right before I came up here.”

His other brow rose to match the first. “Did you?”

“Yes, I did. Can you explain that?”

“I can’t, no.”

Injured fury burned through me. I suddenly couldn’t bear to even look at her. “Then get out of my way, I have to get back to work.”

she didn’t move. “I just want to be clear on something before you go: Do you believe I fucked her?”

Hearing her say it aloud made me flinch. “I don’t know what to believe. The evidence sure—”

“I wouldn’t care if the ‘evidence’ included you finding me and her naked in a bed together.” she uncoiled so swiftly, I stumbled back in surprise. she stalked closer. “I want to know if you think I fucked her. If you think I would. Or could. Do you?”

My foot began to tap, but I didn’t retreat. “Explain the lipstick on your shirt, lauren .”

His jaw tightened. “No.”

“What?” The flat-out refusal sent me into a tailspin.

“Answer my question.”

I studied his face and saw the mask she wore around other people but had never worn with me. she reached his hand toward me as if to brush my cheek with his fingertips, then pulled back at the last minute. In that brief instant in which she pulled away, I heard his teeth grind, as if not touching me was a struggle. Agonized, I was grateful she hadn’t.

“I need you to explain,” I whispered, wondering if I imagined the wince that crossed his face. Sometimes I wanted to believe something so badly, I deliberately manufactured excuses and ignored painful reality.

“I’ve given you no reason to doubt me.”

“You’re giving me one now, lauren .” I exhaled in a rush, deflating. Withdrawing. she was standing in front of me, but she seemed miles away. “I understand you need time before you share secrets that are painful for you. I’ve been where you’re at, knowing I needed to talk about what happened to me but just not ready. That’s why I’ve tried very hard not to push you or rush you. But this secret is one that’s hurting me, and that’s different. Don’t you see that?”

Cursing under his breath, she cupped my face with cool hands. “I go out of my way to make sure you don’t have any reason to feel jealous, but when you do get possessive, I like it. I want you to fight for me. I want you to care that much. I want you crazy about me. But possessiveness without trust is hell. If you don’t trust me, we’ve got nothing.”

“Trust goes both ways, lauren .”

she sucked in a deep breath. “Damn it. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m trying to figure out who you are. Where’s the man who came right out and said she wanted to fuck me? The man who didn’t hesitate to tell me I tie her up in knots, even as I was breaking up with her? I believed you’d always be brutally honest like that. I counted on it. Now—” I shook my head, my throat too tight to say anything else.

Grimness thinned his lips, but they stayed stubbornly closed.

Catching his wrists, I pulled his hands away. I was cracking open inside, breaking. “I won’t run this time, but you can push me away. You might want to think about that.”

I left. lauren didn’t stop me.

* * *

I spent the rest of the afternoon focused on work. Mark loved to brainstorm out loud, which was an awesome learning exercise for me, and his confident and amiable way of dealing with his accounts was inspiring. I watched him breeze through two client meetings in which he conveyed an air of command that was both reassuring and nonthreatening.

Then we tackled a baby-toy company’s needs analysis, zeroing in on poor return expenditures as well as untapped avenues, such as mom-blog advertising. I was grateful that my job was a distraction from my personal life, and I was looking forward to going to my Krav Maga class later, so I could burn off some of my edgy restlessness.

It was just past four when my desk phone rang. I answered briskly and felt my heart leap at the sound of lauren ’s voice.

“We should leave at five,” she said, “to get to Dr. Petersen’s on time.”

“Oh.” I’d forgotten that our couples therapy sessions were on Thursdays at six P.M.It would be our first.

Abruptly, I wondered if it would also be our last.

“I’ll come get you,” she went on gruffly, “when it’s time.”

I sighed, feeling far from up to it. I was already raw and irritable from our fight earlier. “I’m sorry I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that. I hate that I did.”

“Angel.” lauren exhaled harshly. “You didn’t ask the one question that matters.”

My eyes closed. It was irritating how she read my mind. “Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re keeping secrets.”

“Secrets are something we can work through; cheating isn’t.”

I rubbed at the ache behind my forehead. “You’re right about that.”

“There’s only you, camila.” His voice was clipped and hard.

A tremor moved through me at the fury underlying his words. she was still angry that I’d doubted her. Oh well. I was still angry, too. “I’ll be ready at five.”

she was prompt, as usual. While I put my computer to sleep and grabbed my belongings, he spoke with Mark about the ongoing work on the Kingsman Vodka account. I watched lauren furtively. she cut an imposing figure with his tall, leanly muscular frame in his dark suit and carried herself in a way that projected impenetrability, yet I’d seen her terribly vulnerable.

I was in love with that tender, deeply emotional man. And I resented the façade and his attempts to hide herself from me.

Turning his head, she caught me staring. I saw a glimpse of my beloved lauren in his wild blue gaze, which briefly exposed a helpless yearning. Then she was gone, replaced by the cool mask. “Ready?”

It was so obvious that she was holding something back, and it killed me to have that gulf between us. To know there were things she wouldn’t trust me with.

As we exited through reception, Megumi rested her chin on her fist and gave a dramatic sigh.

“She’s crushing on you, jauregui,” I murmured, as we made our way out and she hit the call button for the elevator.

“Whatever.” she snorted. “What does she know about me?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question all day,” I said quietly.

That time, I was certain she winced.

* * *

Dr. Lyle Petersen was tall, with neatly groomed gray hair and sharp yet kind denim blue eyes. His office was tastefully decorated in neutral shades and his furniture was extremely comfortable, something I noted on every one of my visits to him. It was a little weird for me to see him as my therapist now. In the past, he’d met with me only as my mother’s daughter. He’d been my mom’s shrink for the last couple of years.

I watched as he settled into the gray wingback chair across from the sofa lauren and I sat on. His keen gaze shifted between us, clearly noting how we’d each taken seats on opposite ends of the sofa, our stiff postures revealing our defensiveness. We’d made the drive over in the same way.

Flipping open the cover of his tablet, Dr. Petersen gripped his stylus and said, “Shall we start with the cause of the tension between you?”

I waited a beat, to give lauren a chance to speak first. I wasn’t terribly surprised when she just sat there, silent. “Well . . . in the last twenty-four hours I’ve met the fiancée I didn’t know lauren had—”

“Ex-fiancée,” lauren growled.

“—I found out the reason she’s dated brunettes exclusively is because of her—”

“It wasn’t dating.”

“—and I caught her leaving his office after lunch looking like this—” I dug out my phone.

“She was leaving the building,” lauren bit out, “not my office.”

I pulled up the picture and passed my phone over to Dr. Petersen. “And getting into your car, lauren !”

“Angus just told you before we got here that he saw her standing there, recognized her, and was being polite.”

“Like he’d say anything different!” I shot back. “He’s been your driver since you were a kid. Of course he’d cover your ass.”

“Oh, it’s a conspiracy now?”

“What was he doing there, then?” I challenged.

“Driving me to lunch.”

“Where? I’ll just verify you were there and she wasn’t, and we’ll get that part out of the way.”

lauren ’s jaw clenched. “I told you. I had an unexpected appointment. I didn’t make it to lunch.”

“Who was the appointment?”

“It wasn’t Corinne.”

“That’s not an answer!” I turned back to Dr. Petersen, who calmly returned my phone to me. “When I went up to his office to ask her what the hell was going on, I discovered her half dressed and freshly showered, with one of his sofas bumped out of place, pillows strewn all over the floor—”

“One goddamned pillow!”

“—and red lipstick on his shirt.”

“There are two dozen businesses in the Crossfire,” lauren said coldly. “She could have been visiting any one of them.”

“Right,” I drawled, my voice dripping sarcasm. “Of course.”

“Wouldn’t I have taken her to the hotel?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, reeling. “You still have that room?”

His mask slipped, revealing a flare of panic. The realization that she still had his sex pad—a hotel room he used exclusively for fucking and somewhere I’d never go again—hit me like a physical blow, sending a sharp pain through my chest. A low sound left me, a pained whimper that had me squeezing my eyes shut.

“Let’s slow down,” Dr. Petersen interrupted, scribbling rapidly. “I want to backtrack a bit. lauren , why didn’t you tell camila about Corinne?”

“I had every intention of doing so,” lauren said tightly.

“she doesn’t tell me anything,” I whispered, digging for a tissue in my purse so I wouldn’t have mascara running down my face. Why would he keep that room? The only explanation was that she intended to use it with someone other than me.

“What do you talk about?” Dr. Petersen asked, directing the question at both of us.

“I’m usually apologizing,” lauren muttered.

Dr. Petersen looked up. “For what?”

“Everything.” she raked a hand through his hair.

“Do you feel that camila’s too demanding or expects too much from you?”

I felt lauren ’s gaze on my profile. “No. She doesn’t ask for anything.”

“Except the truth,” I corrected, turning toward her.

His eyes blazed, searing me with heat. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Do you want her to ask you for things, lauren ?” Dr. Petersen queried.

lauren frowned.

“Think about that. We’ll come back to it.” Dr. Petersen turned his attention to me. “I’m intrigued by the photo you took, camila. You were confronted with a situation that many women would find deeply upsetting—”

“There was no situation,” lauren reiterated coldly.

“Her perception of a situation,” Dr. Petersen qualified.

“A patently ridiculous perception, considering the physical aspect of our relationship.”

“All right. Let’s talk about that. How many times a week do you have sex? On average.”

My face heated. I looked at lauren , who returned my look with a smirk.

“Umm . . .” My lips twisted ruefully. “A lot.”

“Daily?” Dr. Petersen’s brows rose when I uncrossed and recrossed my legs, nodding. “Multiple times daily?”

lauren stepped in, “On average.”

Laying his tablet flat on his lap, Dr. Petersen met lauren ’s gaze. “Is this level of sexual activity customary for you?”

“Nothing about my relationship with camila is customary, Doctor.”

“What was the frequency of your sexual encounters prior to camila?”

lauren ’s jaw tensed, and she glanced at me.

“It’s okay,” I told her, even as I conceded that I wouldn’t want to answer that question in front of her.

she reached his hand out, spanning the distance between us. I placed mine in his and appreciated the reassuring squeeze she gave me. “Twice a week,” he said tightly. “On average.”

Tshe number of women quickly added up in my mind. My free hand fisted in my lap.

Dr. Petersen sat back. “camila has brought up concerns of infidelity and lack of communication in your relationship. How often is sex used to resolve disagreements?”

lauren ’s brow arched. “Before you assume camila’s suffering under the demands of my overactive libido, you should know that she initiates sex at least as often as I do. If one of us were going to have concerns about keeping up, it’d be me just by virtue of possessing male anatomy.”

Dr. Petersen looked at me for confirmation.

“Most interactions between us lead to sex,” I conceded, “including fights.”

“Before or after the conflict is considered resolved by both of you?”

I sighed. “Before.”

He dropped the stylus and started typing. I thought he might end up with a novel’s worth by the time all was said and done.

“Your relationship has been highly sexualized from the beginning?” he asked.

I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking. “We’re very attracted to each other.”

“Obviously.” He glanced up and offered a kind smile. “However, I’d like to discuss the possibility of abstinence while we—”

“There is no possibility,” lauren interjected. “That’s a nonstarter. I suggest we focus on what’s not working without eliminating one of the few things that is.”

“I’m not sure it is working, lauren ,” Dr. Petersen said evenly. “Not the way it should be.”

“Doctor.” lauren set one ankle on the opposite knee and settled back, creating a picture of unyielding decisiveness. “The only way I’m keeping my hands off her is if I’m dead. Find another way to fix us.”

* * *

“I’m new to this therapy thing,” lauren said later, after we’d gotten back into the Bentley and were heading home. “So I’m not sure. Was that the train wreck it felt like it was?”

“It could’ve gone better,” I said wearily, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I was bone tired. Too tired to even think about catching the eight o’clock Krav Maga class. “I’d kill for a quick shower and my bed.”

“I have some things to take care of before I can call it a day.”

“That’s fine.” I yawned. “Why don’t we take the night off and see each other tomorrow?”

Thick silence greeted my suggestion. After a moment, it became so fraught with tension that I was motivated to lift both my head and my heavy eyelids to look at her.

His gaze was on my face, his lips thinned into a frustrated line. “You’re cutting me off.”

“No, I’m—”

“The hell you’re not! You’ve tried and convicted me, and now you’re shutting me out.”

“I’m exhausted, lauren ! There’s only so much bullshit I can take before I’m buried in it. I need sleep and—”

“I need you,” she snapped. “What is it going to take to make you believe me?”

“I don’t think you cheated. Okay? As suspicious as it all looks, I can’t convince myself you’d do that. It’s the secrets that are getting to be too much. I’m giving all I’ve got to this and you’re—”

“You think I’m not?” she twisted in the seat, sliding one bent leg in between us so that she faced me directly. “I’ve never worked so hard for anything in my life as I have for you.”

“You can’t make the effort for me. You have to do it for you.”

“Don’t give me that crap! I wouldn’t need to work on my relationship skills for anyone else.”

With a low moan, I rested my cheek against the seat and closed my eyes again. “I’m tired of fighting, lauren . I just want some peace and quiet for a night. I’ve been feeling off all day.”

“Are you sick?” she shifted, cupping the back of my neck gently and pressing his lips to my forehead. “You don’t feel hot. Is your stomach upset?”

I breathed her in, absorbing the delicious scent of his skin. The urge to press my face into the crook of his neck was nearly overwhelming.

“No.” And then it hit me. I groaned.

“What is it?” she pulled me into his lap, cradling me close. “What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?”

“It’s my period,” I whispered, not wanting Angus to overhear. “It should start any day now. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before. No wonder I’m so tired and cranky; I’m hormonal.”

she stilled. After a heartbeat or two, I tilted my head back to search his face.

With his lips twisted ruefully, she admitted, “That’s a new one for me. Not something that comes up in the course of a casual sex life.”

“Lucky you. You get to experience the inconvenience reserved for men with girlfriends and wives.”

“I am lucky.” lauren brushed loose strands of my hair away from my temples, his own luxuriant hair falling around that chiseled face. “And maybe, if I’m really lucky, you’ll feel better tomorrow and like me again.”

Ah, God. My heart ached in my chest. “I like you now, lauren . I just don’t like you keeping secrets. It’s going to break us up.”

“Don’t let it,” she murmured, tracing my brows with his fingertip. “Trust me.”

“You have to trust me back.”

Folding over me, she pressed his lips softly to mine. “Don’t you know, angel?” she breathed. “There’s no one I trust more.”

Sliding my arms beneath his jacket, I hugged her, soaking up the warmth of his lean, hard body. I couldn’t help but worry that we were beginning to drift from one another.

lauren pressed the advantage, his tongue dipping into my mouth, lightly touching and teasing mine with velvet licks. Deceptively unhurried. I sought a deeper contact, needing more. Always more. Hating that aside from this, she gave me so little of herself.

she groaned into my mouth, an erotic sound of pleasure and need that vibrated through me. Tilting his head, she sealed those beautifully sculpted lips over mine. The kiss deepened, our tongues stroking, our breaths quickening.

The arm she’d banded beneath my back tightened, pulling me closer. Her other hand slid beneath my shirt, cradling my spine in her warm palm. Her fingertips flexed, gentling me even as the kiss grew wild. I arched into the caress, needing the reassurance of her touch against my bare skin.

“lauren . . .” For the first time, our physical closeness wasn’t enough to calm the desperate wanting inside me.

“Shh,” she soothed. “I’m here. Not going anywhere.”

Closing my eyes, I buried my face in her neck, wondering if we’d both be too stubborn and stay, even if it turned out that it would be best to let go.

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years ago

Text

Dawn(4)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings:hurt, anxiety, missing(?)

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: I’ll be leaving this job when things settle down. I cannot work for a company that does not have humanity or sympathy for the people that keep it going. I would rather get a decent pay and be treated with the respect I deserve for the job I do. This pandemic really brought a whole different side to how much they care for you.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The rough kisses of the wind under the light of the moon bring with it the song of nocturnal birds ready to take the night. Every little ecosystem of the witching hour is alive as the light brings forth a new day and a new adventure, bursting out into songs of the twilight; or their supper. Everything except for the God on the horse that zooms past them, interrupting their daily chores to look at him in curiosity for five seconds before going back to whatever it is they were doing.

For Loki, it is less of an adventure and more of a race against time. He knows firsthand the sensitive areas of the Asgardian mountains, especially the ones lying close to Vanaheim and Alfheim that are hiding the remnants of old enemies of the throne. Once the war was over, it was a given that the invaders from other galaxies who had set their claws in the weakest kingdoms would have to face the Asgardian forces to draw them away, and so they had fled in the darkness of the many nights to prevent being captured and exiled to their planets or worse, being left on a barren moon to fend for themselves. And it would not be any barren moon but one which the Silvertongue would choose specifically for their suffering.

One of the reasons Loki had travelled to the borders just a day after his wedding was to take care of the still weak defences of the kingdom. Several aliens who had surrendered because of their children and to prevent violence were assured a safe refuge and means to make an honest living by both the Princes. But the once who had fled with the motive to not negotiate for a mere living had full intentions of coming back with resources. Loki made sure that guards were stationed near the villages by the edge of the cities so as to prevent the fiends from pillaging the hard work of the innocent while at the same time, releasing the wild animals under the care of the crown- more precisely, his command- to make sure they kept the threat in check.

It had been hard for Loki to get up in the morning with you by his side, sleeping without a care in the world. He’d watched you snore, your lips parted and your sleep reasonably heavy after the week you had had, and questioned himself to have found you more mesmerising than any time before. He knew Thor could have handled the situation without him, but seeing you sleep next to him with your guard down brought an unknown sensation from somewhere deep inside him, unfurling like a whirlpool in the midst of an ocean. The sensation, the instinct to protect you- to watch you like this more often. After all, how many people in his life had he witnessed to trust him enough to tell him his brother was afraid of spiders.

And now as he is flying in the wind through the forest trail to reach you, Loki can only think about your safety. Well, that and the endless rant he would have to hear from Tony if something happens to you and he finds out about it.

If his memory of the lessons of the kingdom’s Geography serves him right, the Nightweed can only be found by the rivulets flowing from Vanaheim’s direction. That would mean the group would have to travel south-west to reach it a few hours before the crack of the dawn. And the trail he follows suggests his observation be correct.

Just a half an hour journey later he finds a soft glow of lanterns up ahead on the trail, his pounding heart feeling an unexplainable rush that makes his grip on the reins tighter as he directs his horse to reach it with full speed.

What he does not expect to see is Sybll being the only one sitting on the ground next to a few horses while a guard keeps a watch for anything out of the ordinary. The lines of worry on her face are visible in the glow of the white lanterns but the fear that creeps into her eyes when she sees Loki emerge from the darkness is no match for them.

“Your highness,” she breaks while trying to get up from the ground and bow her head in the presence of her Prince.

“Where is she?” is all he asks.

The answer does not come abruptly. Instead, Sybll’s eyes well up and her fingers torment the flesh of her arms till she has grounded herself to finally speak.

“She’s missing. Someone took her,” she winces.

The visit to the forest feels like a dream. The smell of the flowers of the night, the cool breeze caressing you with the frostiness it brought you from the nearest waterfalls and rivulets, the happy songs not holding much meaning for you, the laughs and cheers. Everything seems to be blurring into a sweet memory.

Till you remember the urgent need to pee that led to you losing consciousness. And with that one thought gathering amplitude inside your head, your eyes open wide while your head throbs, looking in every direction for Sif or Sybll or anyone else who is familiar. Instead, you lock eyes with a gross creature sitting at the entrance- of what seems like a tent- looking at you with utter disgust in his eyes and a wicked smile on his...well, whatever this orc has for lips.

That creature runs out of the tent before you can ask him anything and you take that time to look around for any clue as to where you are. One thing that does make sense is the seal on the grain sacks and chests kept in one corner which does not belong to any royal families you were introduced to on your wedding day.

Wait, my wedding day was yesterday.

Just the thought of that fact gives you a headache.

Getting up from this quilt that you have been laid over, you feel the frost of the night over your exposed shoulders, really missing the cloak you'd kept on your horse when you dismounted it.

Steps sound outside the tent and you are obligated to turn towards the opening to see who is responsible for getting you unconscious and dragging you away from another Asgardian tradition.

Well, the master, or chief, looks nothing like the one he had stationed to guard you.

This one looks more like an elf with a backbone straighter than any protestant you would witness in a 'go away immigrants' rally. His golden hair falls till his hips, not a single strand out of its place; even when he walks towards you. For a second you really think he has walked in here by mistake till his yellow eyes start to observe you from head to toe.

Creepy elf.

"Hm," he breathes out, his head held so high he has to look down at you even though he is barely two inches taller than you are, "I thought the prince of Asgard would do better than...this."

"Hm," you mock back, not acknowledging that petty insult with an answer. But you really cannot help it. "I'm sure if you had asked nicely he would have considered your hand in the marriage too..."

"Torbarik," he introduces himself, never breaking that stoic ego of his, "and I would rather eat dirt than marry that bastard," the elf creature purrs all the while unconsciously avoiding anything that would get his white robe with sparkly embellishments dirty.

"So...you would marry him," you state, narrowing your eyes in introspection at that guy who is clearly irritated now.

He takes a step towards you, enough to bend a little when he wants to stare you directly in the eye. "Your father in the name of the law promised us a place in the kingdoms before your husband-" he practically hisses the word in your face- "and his high and mighty brother took over the territories to make it their little playground and drive my people out."

As much as you want to pay attention to his words there is something else that bothers you on another level.

"I'm sorry," you finally blurt out, "I cannot concentrate on what you're saying with those two little hairs standing up on your head. Right there. Yeah. Near the forehead."

Torbarik moves his head back, like a little jolt he feels at the thought of someone pointing at his imperfections.

"Look, I don't know what Odin promised you," you shrug, "and whatnot. But I do know that whatever Loki and Thor and doing is probably for the best of all people involved."

“What is best for their interest,” Torbarik interrupts you, walking around the tent, his eyes looking around, his marble-like face expressionless, “that is how the royal family has always been. I claimed the lands of Alfheim with power-” he pauses in front of a small mirror hanging by the pole in the centre of the tent and checks himself and those loose hair strands you mentioned- “and no one can take that away from me.”

You have to pause and take a breath. Initially for clearing your head, mostly for keeping you from throwing words at him he might not recover from.

“And where do I come into this?” you finally ask. “I do not have a political standing in the Asgardian court if that is what you are going for.”

Torbarik feels a shift in lips, a slight smirk forming on them as he turns to face you with an eerie look in his eyes. “Oh, but you are the most vital piece of the court, your grace.”

You know he means to mock you when he addresses you that way, and that look of madness in his eyes is not helping. “You, the latest addition to the royal court, a...low blood but married into the royals, nonetheless, are the key to it all. You are what I will bargain for power in these lands, my dear.”

So, he is insane, your inner voice shouts in a mad fit of hysterical laughter while you scoff at him. “And what makes you think anyone will negotiate with you? What makes you think Odin will negotiate for my life? Like you said, I’m just a human.”

For the first time that night, you watch Torbarik smile the broadest smile, revealing those unresting sharp white teeth. What is worse is his steps towards you, not halting till he has you pinned into the tent’s wall with his body, not even giving you much space to breathe.

“Oh, but not just any human,” he sings, his dirty-nailed fingers running lazily over your jaw, “you are the human who could bring havoc to Asgard with one simple scratch. Or maybe a broken bone. Or worse....your death.”

The nail from his index finger goes down the jaw, over your neck, deeper than before, definitely scratching something. “Imagine the destruction,” he whispers into your ear, sending uneasiness crawling down your skin, “when your family on earth finds out about something happening to you. The war they are going to wage. Bringing Hel on this land Odin is so proud of. And all-” his fingers wrap you by the throat, not yet turning it into a grip- “because Odin or his sons could not protect you.”

Even in the chill sweeping from outside on your feet, your back feels sweat trickle down while your heart tries its best to maintain a survivable pace.

“Loki would see this coming a mile away. Do you really think you stand a chance in front of hi-”

The grip tightens around your throat. You can feel the nails digging into your skin. “Oh, I want him to see this coming. I want him to know there will be blood if he does not agree with my terms. Even if your life means nothing to him, he will pay the price for it.”

It is not as much the words but the thoughts they conceive in your mind. Restless, unnerving thoughts. Thoughts of what weight do you exactly carry for Loki. Do you even carry some significance for him? Or are you just another peace treaty that was done and dusted?

Your heart feels a pain rush into it as quickly as you try to hide it on the outside.

“My husband does not negotiate with a terrorist. And you are a fool if you think he will not find a way through this web you think you are spinning for him.”

Torbarik breaks into laughter that chills your veins. Your skin feels something sticky where his nails are digging into your skin. “I would like to see him try.”

“...and by the time I came back to where I had left here, she was gone.”

The defeated sigh that leaves Sif’s lungs hurts her more than anyone for not being able to do the one thing she was meant to be doing.

“It’s not your fault, Sif,” Loki is quick to point out, knowing that look in her eyes well enough to know where her thoughts are spiralling right now. “Whoever took her must have been following you for some time to know when to strike. Are all the handmaidens accounted for?”

Sif nods, looking over his shoulder to watch them stand huddled together by the horses.

“Okay, here is what we will do-”

“Loki,” Sif interrupts the God before he can put a plan in action, “I can find her. Let me find her.”

Loki blinks. “Of course you will. You are the best asset we have right now. Baldur can take the handmaidens back to the palace. We have a lot of ground to cover so-”

“Pardon us, your highness,” Sybll’s voice stops Loki to make both the warriors turn around and face her form that is barely keeping it together underneath the tightly held cloak, “but we would like to be a part of the search too. We cannot go back to the palace when the Princess might be in danger right now. Please, we have been taught how to defend ourselves by the Queen. Let us be of some help as well.”

Loki has to pause and look at the eager faces standing their ground to do as much as possible. He turns to Sif for an opinion and she silently agrees with the lot.

A sigh escapes his nostrils in the form of visible air in this night getting colder by the minute.

“Fine,” he finally agrees, allowing the handmaidens to breathe easy, “but not without security.”

Loki gets down on one knee to touch the soil with his palm, reciting an ancient spell that reverberates through the land of the forest- its epicentre where Loki stands- with visible green and golden waves rolling right on the dust. Just as the recitation stops and his hand leaves the soil, everything goes silent; not even the owls hoot nor does a leaf.

And then Sif sees them. At the top of the nearest hill. Golden orbs- too many- in pairs, looking down at them, as if floating in their direction. The fear of the unknown takes root in a corner of her heart right before the moonlight shines on them.

Sif feels a touch on her shoulder and turns her head just enough to witness Loki’s hand shifting her and every other lady’s armour in something as black and as the night.

“Search for my wife,” Loki announces with a subtle hint of something dark without ever raising his voice- changing into a battle-ready black armour- and summoning his sword, “and they will take care of the rest.”

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kewltie · 5 years ago

Text

"Get out of my way, extras," Katsuki yells, pushing through a throng of busybody who all decided at that moment to move as sluggishly as possible like they got nothing to do but stand in his way. "Fucking move it already!"

"Sorry, sorry, he hadn’t has his lunch yet," Eijirou says behind him to the people Katsuki had offended.

Which is not an uncommon thing around him; he'd rightfully pissed off more than a few people in this lifetime. What is uncommon is Katsuki storming his way through a police station in the afternoon with adrenaline and anticipation hot on his tail since he'd received that message from Captain Omari.

Zero, I believe we just had a major breakthrough with the Nine case. I suggest you come to the station this instance.

Nine, that fucking ratface bastard has been thorn in Katsuki side for so long now that there’s not a day he doesn’t think about grinding his face in the dust. Ruthless and cunning, Nine had managed to keep a tight rein of terror in Katsuki's city.

He'd went head to head against Nine in countless battles before, came out on top more than half it, but had been denied his rightful victory every fucking time Nine had clawed his way out and escaped Katsuki's grip. More than just beyond frustrating, it is his greatest humiliation.

Katsuki has been on this chase for three years now, right after his agency had took over the main patrol routes of the city, but Nine remains elusive as ever and for all Katsuki’s accomplishment and accolades he'd achieved so far – owning his own agency in just only five years after his debut, unseating the previous number one hero, and a growing list of villains he'd taken down and thrown in Tartarus. Nine's entire existence is an embarrassing mar on his more than stellar record.

Now, he finally get a chance to put Nine away for good and keep it that way, with no hope of that slimy bastard wiggling his way out of it this time around, because Katsuki is going to fucking destroy him.

Katsuki's legs eventually carry him right outside of a secure interrogation room, where two armed officers are station by the door. "Ground Zero," one of them says, dipping his head in deference, "the captain is waiting for you in there."

He makes a grunt of acknowledgement. Just as he about to open the door with Eijirou close behind him, the officer on the left puts his hand out to block them from coming in.

"Sorry, sir, but the captain requested to only see Zero-san at the moment," he says.

Katsuki's eyes narrow. "What the fuck. He's my partner."

"S-sorry," the man says again, wilting under the force of Katsuki's glare, "but it’s captain's order."

Eijirou, who is less of an asshole than him and therefore marginally better at handling other people, just pats Katsuki's on the shoulder and shrugs. "Don't worry, just go on ahead without me. I'm sure, Captain Omari has a good reason for it."

Katsuki makes a face and lets out a resigned sigh. Nine is such a troublesome little shit that it became an inter-agencies mission to hunt him down with Katsuki leading the charge, bullying other agencies in the district to work with him because Nine is a public menace and UA had beaten him black and blue the lone wolf mentally out of him. Captain Omari had been supporting him from the side, doing menial investigations and interviews that Katsuki is too busy for.

They work closely together enough now that if the old man thinks this is serious enough to warrant secrecy, even though he trusts Eijirou with his life, then fuck Katsuki is going to respect it. "Fine," he grits out, giving Eijirou a nod, "you stay out here then. Wait for me."

Ejirou gives him a thumb up. "You got it, bro."

Katsuki rolls his eyes and turns to the officer, blocking him from entering currently. "Can I fucking go in now?" he demands.

"Uh, y-yes, of course, sir," the officer squeaks out, stepping aside so Katsuki can come through. Katsuki’s terrifying reputation precedes him once more. Good.

He opens the door with no resistance and walks into an even smaller room as the door shuts behind him. It's empty of occupant and a compact space with a large blackened glass mirror taking over one half of the wall, separating this room from another room where there's another door tucked to a corner.

There's no sound coming through from the other side, but he knows Omari is there and whatever lead he might have caught is there also. He thinks maybe it’s another witness to Nine’s crime or one of Nine’s associates finally coming in to turn against Nine for leniency later. The former is more likely than the latter, because nobody connected with Nine was stupid or insane enough to betrayed him; those fucking cowards.

Katsuki clenches and unclenches his hand, knowing that Omari wouldn't hail him here like this if he didn't expect something good to come out of it. He trusts Omari.

He walks over to the door, twists the knob open, pushes his way through and steps inside to a—nursery? There are kids on the floor, three bowed head shading away on pages of a coloring book and there's another one sitting nearby, watching them closely with a cool detachment.

Their quiet giggles and murmurs that had filled the room earlier stops abruptly at the sound of his entrance, and he's staring right into the eyes of youthful curiosity in some and heavy skepticism and wariness in others. These children make him feels stripped raw.

One, two, three, and four, he counts off in his head, from what look to be the oldest sitting in a chair against the wall with her hands carefully place on her lap and the youngest sandwiching between his other siblings, because they're clearly blood related with three of the four sharing the same eerie white hair and stormy grey eyes.

Only the youngest, no. 4, Katsuki quietly dubs in his head, sticks out like a sore thumb with a head full of green curl and an even greener set of eyes that avoided his gaze.

"It's Ground Zero!" the little girl, no. 3, on the floor says with a delighted gasp, reaching over no. 4 to shake no. 2’s shoulder excitedly.

No. 2, a sour looking boy, grunts in annoyance and roll away from her touch. "I can see that, Akira. I'm not blind."

No. 4 huddles closer to no. 3 as though he can hide from Katsuki's scrutiny, while no. 1 doesn't even react to his presence, continuing to watch over her younger siblings with careful consideration.

Someone clears their throat and it's definitely none of the kids because Omari says, "Ah, there you are, Bakugou."

Katsuki jerks his head up to meet Omari's amused gaze. He'd been so preoccupied by these kids, who shouldn’t be here in the first place, that he didn’t even take notice of anybody else in the room and eve forgot the reason why he's here.

"Sorry," he grumbles. "I just—who the fuck are these brats?! And where the hell are their parents?!"

"Language," No. 1 snaps out, speaking up for the first time. There’s an arrogance lilt to her voice as her eyes narrow at him, finally deeming him important enough to be acknowledge. "Please watch your mouth around my younger siblings, Zero-san."

Katsuki glares at that tiny ball of superiority, who doesn't even flinch under the heat of his fury. She's cool as fucking ice and he has a lot of things he want to say about that, but wisely keeps his mouth shut because he's not getting into an argument with a fucking fetus.

Omari stifles a laugh at the hilarious theater unfolding before him, because it's not everyday Ground Zero get scolded by a child, and clears his throat again. "Sorry that I called you in such a hurry, but," he rises from his seat and steps back, "this is extremely important. I would like you to meet someone," he says, gesturing his hand out toward the other person, who'd been sitting quietly across the table from him.

Katsuki's eyes widen as he looks past Omari and into the face he hadn't seen in more than ten years. "Hello, Kacchan," Midoriya Izuku says. It’s same green curls, green eyes, and freckles dusting across his cheeks, but he’s older and surer of himself, looking particularly comfortable in his seat.

"W-what, Deku?!" Katsuki stumbles out, half in hysteric and disbelief. "I-I thought you fucking died! What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Well, I see you have met my children," Izuku says instead, glancing over at the brats lovingly with a soft smile. "And they're the sole reason I'm here today."

The last time, Katsuki had seen Midoriya Izuku was when he was watching him get cart off into a car by the social services three days after Aunt Inko had died of a car accident; he was only thirteen. Quirkless, omega, and recently orphaned – Izuku was truly one of the world’s the unluckiest bastards.

Katsuki's mother had wanted to take Izuku in, but a young omega and alpha living under the same roof was ill advised and Katsuki would have fought it every single step. The social service simply wouldn't have it, and so Izuku became a ward of the state. Katsuki didn't see him again after that. Until now that is.

After more than ten years, he'd only assumed the worst.

Omegas, especially one that young, who had taken in by the state would eventually get fostered – auctioned - off to eligible bachelor alphas as soon as they turn sixteen to be mated, leaving them with little to no choice but to comply.

Afterward, they tend to disappeared off the map.

Sometimes that means they're dead, other times they're alive but enslaved. Katsuki doesn't know which the better outcome is because they're both shit either way. His mother had tried to look for Izuku afterward and even Katsuki made his own attempt because he realized what a shit he was, but years had passed by and still nothing, no sign of a Midoriya Izuku at all. Eventually, Katsuki had to write Izuku off completely.

Now, he's standing in a secured room at a police station and Midoriya Izuku is not only alive, but whole and healthy. The only thing he can think of is: "These horrid little monsters are your kids?!"

No. 3's head perks up and she scowls at him. "Hey, hey, that's not nice!"

No. 2's eyes narrow, raising his fist up and looking at Katsuki's thoughtfully. "Should I kick him?" he offers.

No. 1 frowns, lips thinning out in unimpressed line. "Kouki, do not do that," she scolds at her brother. "We don't lower ourselves to his baser level."

No. 4 leans close to no. 3’s ear and whispers, not quite quiet enough, to his sister, "are we monster, Akira-nee?"

"Yea," she curls her fingers like they are claws at him and a low growl rumbles from her throat, "and I'mma eat you, Hikaru!" Her fingers attacks his side relentlessly.

No. 4 tries to fend off her attack with a fit of loud giggles and flailing hands, hiding behind no. 2 ,who only scowls before raising his fists up to defend no. 4 from no. 3, which quickly descends into a tickle fight. No. 1 looks upon her younger siblings and sighs deeply like they pained her.

"Yes," Izuku says, watching the tickle fight unfolding before them with barely contained amusement and fondness, "they're my most precious children." There's an entire world in those few words; a fierce love that could weather any storm. He turns toward no. 1 and gestures toward her. "Over there is my eldest daughter and pride, Yuko."

Yuko rises to her feet and lowers her head just slightly enough to show respect, but her cold gaze locking on him says another otherwise. "Hello," she greets, and a heavy beat, then, "Kacchan."

Katsuki's left eye twitch, but he holds his tongue as Izuku fails to hide his smile.

"My twins," Izuku continues, waving to the tangled limbs on the floor, "the sullen Kouki and fierce Akira, who are pulling at each other's hair."

"Papaaaaaaa," Akira whines, kicking Kouki in the side to get him off of her as Kouki grunts in pain, "Kouki is embarrassing me in front of Kacchan!"

Kouki releases his sister with a shove and scowls, which is all he seems to be able to do. "Kacchan," he sneers, "can eat my—"

"Kouki!" Yuko snaps, grey eyes flashing with heat.

Kouki stares up at Yuko for a beat, and then ducks his head dejectedly. "Sorry, Yuko-nii. Sorry, Papa."

"As you can see they’re my lovely twins," Izuku says, smiling proudly down at his children like his kids didn't tried to kill each other in front of him and there are witnesses to it. "And lastly my youngest and treasure, Hikaru."

Hikaru scrambles up from the floor and hurries to Izuku, climbing into his lap. He buries his face into Izuku's shoulder, hands fisting around Izuku's shirt tightly like he's trying to hide himself from the world, but slowly he raises his head away from Izuku to quietly and shyly says, "Hi, Kacchan."

Ok, Katsuki’s heart quickens just slightly there but the fact that he’s also adopting his older siblings' choice of name for Katsuki is—annoying. These kids have no fucking boundaries at all.

Katsuki scrubs his face, feeling a headache coming on. "Yea, thanks for introduction and all, I guess, but I still don't understand what the fu—" Yuko shoots him another quelling glare and Katsuki grimaces as he corrects himself, because this kid is not letting up, "is going on."

Omari, who had been letting Izuku lead the conversation so far, pips up finally, "I told you in the message earlier that I need you here." His expression straightens out and there’s a heavy solemnness to it. “It’s Nine. Izuku-san is here for Nine.”

With just that name alone the entire room freezes as though a forbidding cloud have descended upon them.

Yuko's shoulders tighten just minutely enough that if Katsuki didn't pay close attention he wouldn't have notice. The twins get up from the floor to stand behind their older sister, holding to each other in a united front like they're going to war. Izuku squeezes his arms around Hikaru, who ducks his head under his chin and tries to pretend nobody else exist in the room.

Katsuki frowns at the sudden change in the family's friendly atmosphere earlier. "What does that have to do with Deku and the kids?" he demands, even though there's a nagging feeling in his head that he’ll hate whatever words to come out of their mouth next.

"He's my husband," Izuku admits quietly, and it’s strained like the words had to dragged out of him, "and the sire of my children."

Yea, he fucking hates it. Katsuki feels like someone had just ripped the rug under him. "You married the bastard?!" he demands, storming up to Izuku. "Do you even know what kind of person he is?! He’s a murdering psychopath whose kill counts are in the triple digits!"

"Get away from my Papa," he hears Kouki yells off in the distance, but fuck Katsuki couldn't care less right now as Yuko scolds, "Kouki! Kouki, enough! Stop it."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the two sisters struggling to hold Kouki back from jumping Katsuki. For such a small body, there’s a lot of rage in him. Something that Katsuki is keenly familiar with.

"Kouki, please," Izuku says gently. And that's all it take for Kouki to completely exhausts his fighting spirit. "Sorry," he says, looking at Katsuki apologetically, "my kids are just protective." He looks down at the table separating them, hand carefully stroking Hikaru's back.

Katsuki casts a quick glance at Omari, who quietly shakes his head and keeps his mouth zip, clearly wanting Izuku to dictate the pace of the conversation. There's a story here, he knows, and Izuku and his kids are at the very center of it and Katsuki doesn't like it one bit. "Deku," he says awkwardly, like blubbering fool, "just take your time. I'll wait."

He finds himself in the uncomfortable position of having to comfort a distressed civilian and his wayward kids, which is not something Katsuki is used to. It should have been Eijirou rather, who always been better at this than him, but somehow that's not good enough.

"And it is because I know who my husband is that's why I'm here before you," Izuku reveals, voice steady and firm with each word. "When I'd married him, I was sixteen and had no other choice, but now my children are older and I will do anything to secure their future so that they have the choice that I didn't." He lifts his gaze and meets Katsuki's own, eyes bright and fierce with all the power of a parental love behind it; it’s a force to be reckon with. "I will not let my children become a monster like their sire. They will not be a villain of their own story," he declares to the entire room.

Katsuki cast a quick glance at Omari, a silence exchange passes between them, and Omari gives a short nod before Katsuki’s focus falls back on Izuku. "It would take us a few hours and a bit of work, but we can arrange to take you and your kids away right now," he offers. His mind is already racing with the logistic of it. It'll be rush job, but he knows they can do it. They will do it. Izuku won't accept anything less for his family and neither will Katsuki, this is something they can both agreed upon. "We can protect your family from Nine. Just tell us what you know of him and his operation and we'll take it from here," he presses.

Nine is still a main priority of him and his team even though he’s now terribly aware that the monster he had been dreaming of putting away for life has a spouse and kid, but even then Nine had ruined the idea of a family too with his taint. You have to be a certain kind of rotten bastard to invoke enough fear and anger in your family to have them turned on you.

Izuku smiles, but it’s too wide and crooked. "Thank you,” he shakes his head, “but no."

Katsuki blinks, then reels back in shock and annoyance. Does he even know what he’s rejecting?! "What do you mean no? Didn't you come here specifically for our help?!"

"You can't help me," Izuku says, slowly but firmly. "Nine has been given free ranged of this city for years, Kacchan, and you and your people couldn't even do anything to stop him. You didn't even know my family existed until now, because you had nothing on him. The only one who can help me right now is myself and I will be the one to put him down for good."

Katsuki flinches, instinctively the young hotheaded alpha in him rumbles unpleasantly. "What can you even do?!" He sneers. "You're what—a househusband? Last a check you're quirkless and an omega, what can you even do that we can't? Leave this to the pros, we'll take care of it."

Izuku winces, a flash of hurt runs across his face as his eyes lower to the table and his hand balls into a fist at the back of Hikaru, who cries out a soft, concern, "Papa?"

"Bakugou," Katsuki hears the infliction of a scold in Omari's voice, but he doesn't care. Izuku's earlier words had sting harder than he like to admit. He always know how to get under Katsuki’s skin even after all these years. Something never changes.

"Fuck you!" he hears a young, angry voice from the side then a flash of movement before he gets a face full of spite in Kouki. "You don't know what sort of hell we'd suffered in that house, so don't you ever talk that way to my Papa. He's more of a hero than any of you people!" His small fists clenched at his side, body bristling in defense and ready for a fight with him.

Katsuki casts a hasty, furtive glance at the other two who remains silence, but their silence is deafening with the way a wrought of disappointment and hurt runs across Akira's face. While Kouki's anger is all fire and brimstone, Yuko's contempt runs much deeper and colder in it placidly, enough to chills him to the bones. The fact that she didn't rebuke Kouki right away for his language tells Katsuki that there's a storm brewing behind those her cold grey eyes and he's the culprit for it.

Katsuki is a rightful asshole. He knows this, his friends like to remind him often enough, but he isn't a malicious one. Not anymore anyway. Being around Izuku though brought back that angry and dumb boy who only knows how to lash out and hurt others for the damage he'd perceived they committed against him.

That isn't him though. He isn’t that boy anymore.

He really thought he truly outgrown it, but confronted with the living memory of all his insecurities, he had regressed once more. Midoriya Izuku always got the better of him. Quirkless and omega be damned, because Izuku always broke Katsuki’s carefully laid boundaries and expectations.

That truth made him furious back then. Now it leaves him empty.

Katsuki takes several steps back from them, scrubs his face furiously, and exhales. A long, deep exhale and shoves out all his crumbling self doubts and fucked ups down, because this isn't about him. Not, not about him at all. "Sorry," he murmurs, embarrassed, then he remembers the face of those kids and sighs. "Sorry," he says again, louder and stronger this time around. "That's inexcusable. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way."

Omari looks so shock by his sudden apology that he nearly chokes on air. Izuku also seems surprised by his outburst by the slight hang of his lips, but it softens out into a small, shy smile that makes him appear much younger than he really is. Almost like the boy Katsuki used to know.

"No. 2 is right, I know shit so I shouldn't have assumed," Katsuki presses on, cheeks flushing at his own admission.

"No. 2? Did he mean Kouki?" Akira not whispers to her sister, because nobody in this fucking family knows how to do it properly.

Yuko hisses a, "be quiet, Akira," in return.

"Thank you," Izuku acknowledges with a curve of his lips, because he always been kinder and better than Katsuki in that regard. "I accept your apology, Kacchan."

Kouki only glares at him as he settles next to Izuku, arms folded and hovering close by as some sort of silent sentinel, but really he just look like a miniature protector. Kinda useless but an A for effort, Katsuki guesses.

"I understand where your doubt and hesitation is coming from, so I came prepared to prove my point," Izuku continues, jerking his head toward the two girls. "Yuko, would you please?"

"Yes, Papa," Yuko says, pulling back to rummage through her small purse, and takes out a pencil case from the bag.

Katsuki's brows furrow as Yuko approaches him with the fuzzy panda shape pencil case. He glances at Omari who also adopts a look of total confusion on his face too.

"Hand, please. This is for you, Kacchan," Yuko says coolly, depositing it onto his open palm. "Open it and look inside."

A tiny bit miffed at having to take order by a damn fetus, but he finds himself obeying anyway and unzips the bag to find four USB flash drives tucked inside and nothing else. He jerks his head up, eyes widen as Izuku gives him a knowing and purposeful smile that is full of bite. Izuku hasn't said anything yet, but Katsuki's heart is already racing with the hints of what to come.

"Those four flash drives contain all the information I've collected over ten years about my husband and his crime wave. They hold everything about his associates, sources, and businesses," Izuku explains. "Pictures, documentations, and weekly logs of what he had been up to for the past years. I had painstakingly gathered them together and put it all in those flash drives as evidence. And this is just four of the ten I made so far. The rest is to guarantee my children safety." He places his hands on the table and stares at Omari and Katsuki with a pointed look. "As you can see it's not that I need you, but it is you who need me," he finishes. "Like I said before, there is nothing I won't do for my children, so do I have your attention now?"

It has been over ten years since they had last seen each other — Katsuki had went on and seized the number one ranking as the top hero in the country, and Izuku had all disappeared from Katsuki’s life . Only to reappear before him as the spouse of one of the most dangerous villains in the world. And he even got four kids in tow now.

What utter bullshit.

If someone told him that this is their future — standing on opposing side, he, a hero, trying to put down a villain and Izuku, a quirkless omega, who effectively engineered his own husband downfall. It's absurd. Laughable even. But here they both are, staring each other down like the clash of titans; an unstoppable force colliding with an unmovable object. Katsuki had fought more formidable foe than this married, quirkless omega in front of him, and yet, he shakes his head and sighs; a curious foreign feeling stirs within.

It's not awful and that's the thing, the rage and despair doesn't kick in even though he realizes who had come out of this battle of wills victorious. "Fine. Fucking fine. You win, Deku," he says with wry twist of his lips. "We'll do as you say and follow your lead."

A true smile spreads across Izuku's face that isn't hinder by any passing secrets and machination. It was one he reserved solely for his children. "Thank you, Kacchan," he says, tilting his head toward Katsuki. "I came to you because I knew I can trust you, but I didn't expect you to have grown this much too. It's a nice surprised," he admits, blush staining his cheeks as he looks away, unwilling to meet Katsuki's startled gaze.

"I—I, yea, uh, you too," Katsuki stumbles out like a total idiot as Omari sucks in a deep breath next to him, clearly amused by their entire exchange.

But he's the only one because Kouki's face crunches up like he'd ate something bitter, Yuko just glares at him with the force enough to level a city, and Akira's eyes widen as she glances back and forth between a blushing Izuku and Katsuki's foot in his mouth act.

"Ohmygod," Akira says horrified, a palm flying to her mouth.

"Be quiet," Yuko hisses at her.

But it's not them, who is the final nail in the coffin for Katsuki and Izuku. Hikaru pushes himself away from Izuku's hold, enough to get look at him and frowns. "Papa, why is your face so red?" says Hikaru, brows furrowing worriedly. "Are—are you sick?"

"N—no, I'm fine," Izuku immediately denies, hands flying toward his face to cover himself from Hikaru's curious inquiry, but Hikaru is relentless.

"Then why are you hiding?" he demands, reaching for Izuku to pry the fingers away. And it's a battle between father and son.

Katsuki finds himself watching Deku—Izuku—who had easily flipped their power game around and put himself on top of them like it was nothing, now he's currently fighting off his son's curious attention and failing.

It's. All. Just. So. Fucking. Cute. Fuck him. He's going crazy now. Losing his fucking mind the longer he spend in here.

Kouki reaches over and snatches Hikaru's hand in his grip. "Stop," he orders, low and pointed. "You're bothering Papa."

Hikaru's head dips and he says quietly, "Sorry, Kouki-nii." And Kouki releases Hikaru's hand.

Izuku lets out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Kouki."

God, kill him now. Adorable. This family is going to be the death of him. Every one of them.

He groans, rubbing his face as thought that will cure whatever fucking illness that had taken hold of him. He can hear Omari trying to smother a chuckle beside him.

Katsuki straightens up and clears his throat. "So shall we do next?"

Izuku places Hikaru on the floor, who quickly clambers toward Kouki to hold his older brother’s hand in his. "I'll head home with the kids for now and we go on as though nothing had changed as I gathered the last of my flash drives and the incriminating information for you," he tells them.

A brow shoots up to Katsuki's hairline. "Just like that? You're fine with coming back to him after all that shit?" Isn’t he scare of what Nine could do to them if he accidently slipped off somehow? Katsuki had seen all of Nine’s former associates choosing to be thrown in Tartarus rather than give up Nine, because of how much terror he had instill in all of them.

Izuku gives an amused snort. "I have been living with him since I was sixteen, young and helpless, and no power to fight back. I can handle him just fine."

Izuku may say it all nonchalantly, but there's strange flicker of his face that causes all his children tense up. It makes Katsuki want to reach out and grabs Izuku and his children so he can stuffed them away in a safe house so Nine can't touch any of them. Fucking slimy bastard.

Just because Izuku thinks he's okay doesn't make it so. Sometimes abuse doesn’t leave any physical imprints behind, but it grips the heart and poisoned everything else, leaving the victim just as damaged and broken in the same way.

But Izuku is no victim. He's a survivor. This is the most obvious thing he'd understood today.

"Okay, but if you need anything, you can contact me anytime," Katsuki says, holding his hands still at his side so he doesn't do anything stupid like reach out toward Izuku without his permission. "I'm here if you need me."

"Oh," Izuku breathes, a pink tint rises to his cheeks once more and Katsuki wonders how many times he can be the cause of it? And then proceeds to want to punch himself in the face for that train of thought. "I—I see, thank you for that offer. I wouldn't want to impose."

"No!" Katsuki says vehemently, feeling like he's losing his fucking mind here because he can't stop running his stupid mouth. "I don't fucking care. Impose away. It doesn't matter how small it is, just let me help you. You don't have to take on everything yourself."

Izuku's lips part, but no words come out as he stares at Katsuki with an inexplicable expression across his face, making Katsuki's edgy under the scrutiny like he’s picking Katsuki’s apart to see what make him tick.

Silence descends upon them.

Omari coughs into his hand, clearing the strange air between them. "If that will be all?

Izuku drags his gaze away from Katsuki enough to nods his head. "Yes, I'll contact you as soon as I finished my preparation," he says, rising to his feet.

Yea, the quicker they get the mission done with and throw Nine in prison, the sooner Izuku and his children can be free. And be out of Katsuki’s life and thought.

The only problem is the fucking waiting around, and he's not used to being still and holding out for others to take action first, but he's not leading this mission. It's all Izuku's. They're just following him along and aiding him, when Izuku is the one in control of everything.

It's a sore situation he finds himself in, but as Izuku steps away from the table to reveal his hand carefully resting over the tiny bump of his stomach. And Katsuki is not fucking dumb, okay? He knows what he's seeing. "Wait, you're pregnant?!" Katsuki demands, voice going scratchy high with disbelief.

Izuku pauses, glances down at his stomach as though he’d forgotten about it. "Ah, yes that's right." His face brightens as he rubs his slightly bulging belly. "I told you before, I would do anything to secure my children's future. No children of mine will be raised as monster. "

The children huddle around Izuku protectively, a united front against the world. This kind of bond goes beyond just blood. Forged in the fire of the hell they must have endure under Nine's fearful reign over their household.

He may not know their full story, but it's there. He can see it all over their face in the frigid glare of Yuko, the aggressive stance of Kouki, and the tightness of Akira's shoulders. But even among all that horror, there is hope still: "Hello, baby sister," Hikaru says softly to Izuku's belly, touching it fondly.

“Hey, it could be boy!” Akira protests.

“Girl,” Kouki says with a frown. “I want a little sister.”

“Don’t assume things,” Yuko lectures her siblings. “We don’t know yet!”

Izuku laughs, seemingly delighted by his children fighting over their newest sibling.

Katsuki is a pro-hero, fighting and protecting is part of his job, his duty; it's who he is, but looking at the family in front of him he has never been more seized by this wretched feeling to be better, to do better to earn their—trust and faith. Fuck, he just wants to be enough to deserve them. To be able to protect them against all the wrongs that had been dealt against them.

He wants them.

#bakudeku #stepdad au #fic snippet

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 5 years ago

Text

Go Play Your Video Games

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Teen (T) Word Count: ~5k Notes: This came from the prompt “You beat my high score? You... beat my high score?” from my anonymous pal. I went the high school au route - it turned into something a little more interesting than I anticipated. Might follow this one up if you guys are interested! Warnings: Steve Rogers is kind of a tool & there’s a bit of “violence”. Summary:

Tony grew up in a small town where everyone knows everyone and nothing ever changes. Then a new kid comes to town and flips everything upside down. Peter is everything Tony’s usual is not and he’s a big fan of that.

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

In Littleton, things still moved pretty slow. Not that progression didn’t happen – it was 2020, after all. Yet, there were many things that existed from the “past”; drive-in theaters, record stores, and most importantly – an arcade. For most of the youth in the town, nightly hangouts met up at the record store and finished the night off at the arcade. At least, that’s how things were for Tony.

Spending time at home really wasn’t an option – despite being insanely intelligent and successful in his athletic endeavors, Tony’s father hated him. He wasn’t sure of the reason, it felt innate from the time Tony could remember trying to gain his approval. The older he got, the easier it was to ignore it – not being in the house was one of the best ways to do that.

Because of that, the arcade quickly became a place that Tony could disappear into for hours on end. Whether he was meeting the guys there later in the evening or only had a couple of hours between school and football, Tony spent all of his free time there. It astounded him, how long he could play on one quarter – how each of the games on his row had AES in the high scorer column. Regardless of the way his father felt about him, the arcade never let him down.

Then, Peter Parker moved to town.

The fact that a new family was moving into Littleton had the rumor mill running. In all of the years of Tony’s life, he only saw a couple of new additions to the small town. Most of the families within it, including his own, were old and had rich roots in the businesses that kept the small community running. Stark Industries was over 100 years old and stood as a looming reminder of the next disappointment he planned to add to the pile of shit his family already disliked about him.

When Tony first heard about it, they were starting football training camp. They were a small 2A school, but the team and the 5 straight state titles the school brought home were important – so, most of the parents and friends of the people on the field were crowded around the sidelines. Ever since Tony could remember, practice was a social affair just as much as the athletic gathering that it should have been.

He and Clint were doing running drills when Steve ran over, a new sort of look on his face. “Have you guys heard about the new kid coming to town? Peggy told me that he was a senior just like us and smart as hell,” Steve babbled, excitement and a certain kind of fear lacing his voice. Tony knew that Steve hated changed the most out of them all – always had.

Stopping himself, Tony turned his full attention to the conversation, his aversion to change not anywhere close to Steve’s. The small-town life wasn’t for him, he secretly had a calendar that he crossed off the days left until graduation (only 297 to go!) A new person brought something different and that was more intriguing than anything else – even the football being chucked at his head.

Tony turned just in time, his hands coming up to stop the ball from hitting him square in the face. “Hey, fuck off, Barnes. Your boyfriend is telling us about the new blood coming to town,” Tony hollered across the field, a smirk slipping across his face at the blush that immediately pooled in Bucky’s cheeks. Things between him and Steve were still newer, and Tony loved to give them shit for it.

A throat clearing had Tony turning back to Clint and Steve, both of them looking a little worse for wear. “As I was saying – this new kid is supposed to not only be smart, but good at sports, too – “

Try as he might, Tony couldn’t get the thought of newness and what came from that out of his head. Last year, he started to get chatters from several different universities wanting to sign him to play football. Though his father wanted nothing to do with it, Maria took Tony to a couple of different overnight stays to see what the college athletics thing was all about; he fell in love with it instantly.

The thought of getting to appreciate something shiny and new before heading off to whatever school he could convince to take him made his heart beat a little faster. Littleton needed something to spark a little fire in the mundaneness of scheduled and unmoving life.

Steve’s pointed look and the repeated question of “what do you think about this, Tony?” brought him away from the daydreams, his eyes blinking for a second.

Running a hand through his sweaty hair, Tony shrugged his shoulders. It wouldn’t do him any good to go gushing or anything. “I haven’t thought about it,” he decided to reply, instead. “It’ll be nice to have some uniqueness in this godforsaken place.” Tony shot Steve a wink and reached across the way, his hand giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just keep your fingers crossed he doesn’t have a better arm than you.”

Practice went off without a hitch after that – Fury called them in for a huddle and they got to work. Luckily, Tony spent a bunch of time with the rest of the guys working out, so the drills and running felt like a piece of cake. It was good to be back to some semblance of a routine, even if that meant spending less time surrounded by his beloved video games. They’d still be there when he was done sweating for the day.

And they were – still standing there when he walked into Munchies later that day. It took him a while to shower and get away from the rest of the group, which meant he hit the games when the floor wasn’t busy. Changing in $5 for quarters, Tony headed to his most favorite game – Galaga. Most of his attention was usually spent on the dark screen with ships and missiles flying across it.

Tony set down the lot of quarters on the ledge of the game by the player 2 joystick, one of them already in his hand to slip into the coin slot. Yet, he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the top score screen flash in front of him. Instead of AES as usual, the initials PBP were sitting above his, the score more than a 1000 points better than his. Sucking in a breath, Tony felt his hand clench into a fist. 2 things ran across his mind in that instant – how the fuck was he going to score another 1000 points and who the hell was PBP?

----

He didn’t have to wait long to put a face to the initials.

The very next day at practice, the collective was staring over at the far end of the field – the bespoken new kid was putting his cleats on; it was obvious that everyone was staring, so it looked like he was trying not to stare back. When he looked up, Tony got the air knocked out of him. Whatever shit the other guys were saying completely blew past him. Getting up, Tony started over in his direction.

Not only did he look well built, which would come in handy on the field, this new kid had pale skin that seemed to go on for miles. His sleeveless shirt did nothing to hide the tight bundles of muscle covering his arms and upper chest. As if the long, lean limbs weren’t enough, Tony noticed that the stranger wore his hair longer, the curls at the back of his neck barely grazing the surface of his shirt. The longer bits in the front were pulled back by a gray headband to complete the look.

More than anything, Tony instantly wanted to know more about the beautiful person confidently striding over to him. Since things ended between him and Beck the year before, Tony hadn’t even thought about going after someone new. Yet, his eyes glazed over a little bit when the guy started to jog, his muscles clenched with every step and the sway of his hair was slightly hypnotic.

Tony forced himself to suck in a couple of gulps of air before the new guy was standing right in front of him, a smile on his face. “Hey man, I’m Pete.” He spoke without preamble and stuck his hand out between them like there wasn’t a group of 50 dudes staring the two of them down.

Thinking fast, Tony grabbed his hand and squeeze, the gentle up and down of their shake just as distracting as the movement of Peter’s hair in the wind. He probably held on much longer than necessary before reining himself in. “You must be the coveted new kid. Nice to meet you, Pete. I’m Tony,” he replied lightly, his head turning a bit. “I’m not sure you’re going to get anything other than that from those guys. Want to warm up with me?”

The ease in which Peter accepted brought a grin to his face – Tony caught Steve staring at him as the moved further onto the field, but he simply shot him the middle finger, put his head down, and jogged after Peter.

Leather flew across the air at him with a sharp snap – his warmup toss seemed to be more accurate than any of Tony’s best throws. Tony caught the ball a couple more times before turning his focus back to Peter. “So, where are you from, Pete? We don’t get a lot of transplants.” Though Tony didn’t really give a shit, the rest of the guys would be breathing down his neck for answers later on.

“I’m from Queens, actually. My aunt got a job at SI, so here we are,” Peter replied, his throwing mechanics never faltering as he spoke. “You can tell them my last name is Parker and I’ll be trying to play quarterback.” Peter smirked at him; the ball still held tightly in his hands. Tony watched his eyes move passed his shoulder to the group that was still looking at the two of them intently.

A laugh fell from his lips before he could stop it. Tony rested his hands on his hips and let the feeling wash over him. It was refreshing, to be around someone that didn’t have to think for 2 days before putting all of the pieces together. “I think I’d rather let them find out by themselves.” Then, because it also took Tony a second to piece things together, he realized he was talking to PBP – the Galaga genius.

“Have you been to Munchies?” Tony asked, his smile growing a bit wider when a look of recognition rolled across Peter’s face.

Peter threw the ball at Tony before responding – his hands were quick, the whole vision of it almost distracting enough to not put his own hands up in time. “You mean the arcade? Yeah, I went when we got in last night. I love all of those old games.”

Shaking his head, Tony let his fingers curl over the laces of the ball, the feeling comforting. “You beat my high score? You… beat my high score? You’re PBP! How the hell did you get to be so good?” Tony let the surprise roll off of him, the soft look on his face hopefully enough to make Peter understand the sarcasm of the words.

“Ah, so you’re AES. I wondered who had the top dog spot. Don’t worry – I’ll only beat your high score on a couple of those games. My real talent is skee-ball. Coney Island isn’t too far from where I grew up – I learned everything I know there,” Peter remarked, his eyes shining brightly at the exchange.

Chucking the ball back, Tony forced himself not to beam – this new kid was already an interesting addition to the masses, and he knew him for less than 20 minutes. “You’ll have to show me some time,” Tony said right before the whistle blew. He caught the ball one last time and closed the distance between them. “You’re going to be a good addition around here, Peter Parker.”

----

Despite how enamored Tony felt with Peter and his presence, the rest of his friend group did not share the same opinion. For one thing, Peter was gunning for Steve’s spot and that didn’t sit well with either him or Bucky. Peter didn’t help himself when he came out and blew them all away in sprints – he was fast and strong; a combination that not a lot of people could cop to. His knowledge of the game became apparent when he took to the plays like he ran them constantly, not just once before. Like everyone else feared – the new kid brought change, and not a single person around Littleton liked change.

A few weeks after Peter’s arrival, Tony convinced him to head to Munchies with him – they talked frequently about it and like he predicted, Peter took over his highest score spot on a couple more games. It was about time Tony saw the master in his element. After practice, Tony opened Peter’s door for him as they climbed into the black Mustang Tony restored himself the previous summer.

“The customization you did to this thing is incredible, Tony,” Peter mentioned when Tony climbed in and started to get settled. “You said you did a lot of work, but I didn’t think you meant – this much.” His eyes widened a little as he took in all the shiny things Tony added around the car.

His favorite thing, the new sound system in the dash, pulled his Spotify up and started to play the more recent Kings of Leon album – the deep sounds of Caleb Followill’s voice swarming around them. Smiling, he turned the volume down a bit; his father didn’t understand his obsession with creating things, but it felt good to sit in something he brought back from the dead. The car was just the first step in a long journey of creation – Tony wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to getting the car on and into traffic before he thought to respond. “It was basically just a rusty frame and a couple of axels when I bought it. I redid the engine, transmission, brake system – all the fun stuff under the hood. Steve, Bucky, and I did the exterior – Buck’s an artist, so the paint job is all him.”

Peter shifted a little in his seat, Tony caught the movement out of the corner of his eye as he stopped at the light. When he looked over, he was facing Tony. “So, you’re into engineering and stuff, then? Engine restoration isn’t rookie work,” Peter said softly, the cutest smile on his face. He seemed relaxed, which made Tony feel at ease, too.

The comfortability that existed in the small space between them was unlike anything Tony ever experienced.

“I am, yeah. The family business is so far outside of that scope that I kind of keep it to myself. I’m almost done with an Associate’s of Science so I can start into a Mechanical Engineering program wherever I decide to go to college. Littleton Community College does this degree transfer thing with the high school, so I’ve been using the garage there since my freshman year.” Tony blinked, the thought of saying that much in one breath pulling a blush to the surface of his skin.

“You’re smart, too?” Peter questioned, a hand coming up to his chest in fake exasperation. In the days since getting to know each other, Tony brought up many topics of conversation that were well beyond his other friends, but not Peter – it was clear that as intellectuals, there was a mutual appreciation of the other’s mind.

“Jokes aside, that’s really cool. Seems like we’re going to be competing for highest scorer in school, too.” As he spoke, he reached a hand out and grazed Tony’s extended arm, the touch like a scorch of fire against his skin. It lingered, the heat of it. Then, Peter dropped his hand and let it rest lightly on the edge of Tony’s thigh.

Before Tony could stop it, a hearty laugh left his lips – Peter brought competition into everything and set out challenges for them both to overcome; even in the few short weeks of knowing him, Tony understood that. It felt a different kind of good, being with him – he loved his friends, but like all things about Peter, his feelings towards him were completely unique. It felt easy to reach down and wrap his fingers around Peter’s – their hands resting on his leg.

“I feel like there’s no competition, though. I’ve never gotten anything less than an A in my life,” Tony remarked proudly, his fingers giving Peter’s a squeeze.

The snort he heard on the other side of the car made his heart pang – another point in the bank of things he liked about Peter. It was getting rather full, between his smarts and the quippy shit he had to say to any of the guys that ragged on him – it was hard to not be adding things to it on a daily basis. So when they drove by the arcade, Tony kept driving; Peter’s nod as they met eyes for a second made it easy to do.

Instead, Tony drove them out of Littleton and across the miles of empty space between there and the next town over. They talked about everything – Peter’s want to do Biomedical Engineering and the multiple sport talents he’d be showing off throughout the year. Tony learned about his uncle Ben and the unfortunate death that brought Peter and his aunt there to begin with.

In return, Tony told him a little bit about growing up in a small town and the immense pressure that came with being a Stark when he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the name or anything that came with it. When he talked about his dad, Peter let their fingers tangle together, the anchor of his touch making it a little easier to gush some of the details that he never thought to tell another soul.

It was so easy to lean across the center console and press his lips to Peter’s when they pulled up outside of the small house the Parker’s now lived in. The hand that was tangled with Peter’s all night reached up to cup his cheek lightly, the skin there soft and smooth under his fingertips. Tony let himself linger for a couple of minutes before pulling back, a shy smile slipping across his lips as he did.

“I had a good time, Tony,” Peter mumbled, his cheeks just as flushed as Tony’s felt. “Let’s actually go to the arcade sometime – I’ll cash out the first round.” With that, he leaned over and gave Tony a kiss on the cheek, then got out – all of it happening before Tony could even think to reply or give back or even say goodbye.

Blinking, Tony shook his head – the haze of being with Peter overwhelming him, making him lose himself for a second. The sound of On Call hit his ears when he resurfaced – the music pulling him back down to where gravity had ahold of him again. Before pulling away from the curb, Tony ducked down to see Peter leaned up against the door frame, eyes on Tony.

He didn’t look away until Peter was no longer in his sight. A goofy smile settled on his lips, the feeling of happiness settling in and taking hold.

----

The inevitable blow up Tony expected from day one finally happened right after the 1st game of the season.

Despite Steve being the starting quarterback for 3 years, Fury trusted his gut and put Peter in. It paid off, too – between his throwing abilities and the collective talent of the offense, Littleton was up by 30 at the end of the first half. It was obvious that a few people were upset by the change, but the juice the team got from the squeeze of Peter’s efforts was more important than hurt feelings (so was a win by 50 points, but who was counting?)

Tony met Peter at the edge of the field when the last seconds of the 4th quarter trickled down, his arms wrapping around the large pads that covered both their shoulders. The chemistry between them extended to the field, Tony went for 4 touchdowns that night.

Excitement was not the feeling that Tony walked into the locker room to, however – after Fury gave his post-game speech and hyped them up for post-game walk through the next day, the tangible tension came to a head. Tony got out of his gear, into the shower, and changed as fast as he possibly could. Grabbing Peter when he noticed he was ready, Tony directed them out of the locker room and into fresh air that wasn’t tainted with misplaced anger.

“Me playing is really that big of a deal? We won – the team played great. I don’t see what the issue is,” Peter said as they walked towards Tony’s Mustang. During the last couple of weeks of practice, the reality of Peter starting started to sink in for everyone – including Steve, who already felt the need to keep the grudge he formed before ever even meeting Peter.

“You know the answer to that question, Pete. This is a small town. Steve and his family and all of the people that know his family have seen him play all game every game for the past 3 years. There’s no getting around that dynamic, Pete – that’s why I want out so bad. It’s toxic and leaves no room for new or change or anything other than the usual. You have to understand that, at least,” Tony replied.

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulder bumping into Tony’s in silent agreement. “Okay, I do get that. I do – it’s just nothing personal. I know that’s not the fucking point, but it seems like it should be.”

Getting to the car, Tony dropped his bag by the passenger side door and let his arm trap Peter between himself and the car. He let a palm drift to Peter’s cheek, Tony’s thumb brushing over the seam of plush lips. “It should be, Pete. It doesn’t mean that it is.” Tony said truthfully, his own knowledge of being stuck in the box of the people around him fresh in his mind. “You just keep doing what you’re doing. I like it, at least.”

Their lips met in a soft kiss, Peter leaning forward to seal their lips together. Tony smiled into it and let his hand move into the still wet locks of Peter’s hair. The idea of getting away quickly vaguely registered – Tony broke the kiss and took a step away from him to break the spell Peter’s presence put him under. “Want to actually go to Munchies?”

It didn’t take anything other than Peter’s slight nod to have Tony opening his door, and walking around to his own side of the car, his bag getting tossed in the backseat as he got in. Tony made quick work of backing out and getting them on the road towards the arcade. It was a little more crowded than usual, but it was a Friday night – the crowds were inevitable.

As promised, Peter cashed out a $10 bill and split the quarters between them. Tony directed them towards the skee-ball immediately, his curiosity in Peter’s talent wining out over the need to kick some ass in Street Fighter. The way Peter’s eyes lit up said he made the right choice and for a solid 20 minutes, Tony watched in awe.

“The trick is to aim the ball high on the side so that when it banks, it catches the lip of the double bonus,” Peter muttered, his arm swinging gracefully, the ball doing exactly what he described. Ticket after ticket came barreling out of the game. The thought of having the skee-ball machines turned off because of too much prize distribution was quickly becoming a reality.

Unable to contain himself after Peter’s 8th game and the smiles that came with every play, Tony placed a hand on the other’s hip. The touch was enough for him to turn around, Peter’s hands wrapping around his shoulders tightly. They didn’t need to be making out in the arcade, but a kiss or two wouldn’t hurt anyone. Meeting in the middle, their lips met in a soft kiss – the shockingly familiar feeling of Peter against his front overtaking him.

The sudden shout of his name had him pulling back – the sound of Steve’s voice unmistakable. Tony thought about letting his lips linger, the forceful tone of his friend’s shriek one he didn’t like very much. Deciding against that, Tony detached from Peter completely, his hands drifting to settle into the depths of his pockets.

“Stevie – surprised to see you here,” Tony answered, his eyebrows quirking. Since he started to hang out with Peter, the rest of his friend group didn’t go out of their way to spend too much time with him. The usual nights of hanging out with a big group were reduced to Peter and Tony – something he actually wasn’t upset about at all.

Steve settled in front of him, Bucky and Clint on his flanks. “What did he do to gain your loyalty like this? Everyone else is pissed about tonight and you’re here making out with the person wreaking havoc.” Steve’s voice sounded petulant, the cross of his arms adding to the effect.

“Wreaking havoc? Steve, can you hear yourself? Peter is here living his life – which happens to include playing football on the same team that you do. What’s happening here has nothing to do with loyalty. He’s better than you, that’s all there is to it,” Tony stated bluntly – his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure if that was the right approach to take – but there wasn’t much to be done about it now.

His friend looked taken aback for a second, the blue of his eyes darkening. “How could you choose him over us? We’ve been your friends since birth, Tony.” The words were cutting and by the barely withheld smile on his face, Steve knew it, too.

“The fact that you’re playing that card is exactly why I’ll gladly stand by Peter. You’re too wrapped up in your own shit to realize that the team did well tonight – no matter how bad you felt about standing on the sideline, you should know how important that is. My friendship with you should not depend on my relationship with Peter. You’re my best friend, Steve – but I’m not going to let you make that sort of decision for me.”

In retrospect, he should have seen the punch coming – Steve got angrier with every one of Tony’s words. Throughout their life, Steve had been known to speak with his hands before thinking it through. It still stung, though – the throb of the punch and the fact that Steve delivered it at all. His hand shot up to cradle his cheek, a bruise already starting to form there.

It looked like Peter was going to try and retaliate, so Tony moved in front of him quickly. “It’s not worth it,” Tony whispered before Peter could protest or try and move him out of the way. He could do it, they both knew that; the sound of his voice must have reached something in him – Peter stopped in his tracks.

“I think you’re going to really regret doing that, Steve. Not because I’m going to hold it against you, but because you’re going to feel like a total asshole when I don’t.” Tony flashed him a smirk, his cheek smarting at the movement. Softening his voice, Tony spoke again. “Please get the fuck out of here, man. I think we’re done for the night.”

Despite the stupidity he just showed, Steve nodded stiffly and turned around to walk out the door. He shot a remorseful look over his shoulder, but Tony ignored it, his attention shifting back to Peter, instead. He let out a soft moan when the coolness of Peter’s hand touched his cheek, the other’s grip there locking their gazes. “Thanks for not letting me beat the shit out of him,” Peter whispered, his nose brushing against Tony’s.

Soaking up the touch, Tony felt himself smiling. “That’d make him right. The key is to always be one step ahead.”

Peter let him go then, his eyes drifting towards the entrance. “Want to get out of here?” he asked, the adrenaline of the situation obviously sucking the fun out of the great time they were having right before it.

Without thought, Tony nodded, his eye throbbing as he did. Grinning, he grabbed for Peter’s hand and twined their fingers together, his grip tight. “Yeah, I really do,” Tony answered, the feeling of how right that was on so many levels washing over him.

Between the contentment and the big grin Peter kept on shooting his way, Tony figured a punch in the face wasn’t the worst thing to take in the name of love.

#starker #ironspider #bobbie writes #nonnie #anonymous #go play your video games

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scribbles97 · 4 years ago

Text

Left Behind - Chapter 35

PART 1 / PART 2

Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29/ Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34

Read on on AO3

A few days rest, fluids to rehydrate, and a session of blood filtering to be on the safe side had set Scott right. Yet it hadn’t been enough to convince the three medics on the island that he was fit for duty.

Another week of down time was driving him insane.

Another week of looking at paperwork and agreements for the business he still wasn’t sure he completely understood. John was trying his best to help, but his brother's time was taken up by diverting and running rescues, a job that Scott was suddenly grateful he had taken on. It gave him eyes on his two remaining brothers out in the field, a chance to know their exact status and position.

It wasn’t stalking he had told Gordon, simply a safety measure.

It was something he was considering broaching as protocol with the IR Board.

Except, Mom was showing more signs of waking up. Scott hadn’t been there himself but Hugh had sworn she had opened her eyes, and since then Virgil had said he had felt her squeeze his hand.

It didn’t feel right to change things if Mom was going to come back soon.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to hand back the reins though. Not when they’d all fallen into such a happy rhythm, not when he was now used to leading and his brothers being led, not when he felt like he’d been doing the job of commander forever and it was simply second nature.

How could he both love and hate a job at the same time?

“Scott, have you heard from Kayo recently?” Ridley broke into his thoughts, appearing above the lounge.

He looked up from the desk, sitting straighter with a frown, “I spoke to her just before take off, why?”

Nothing had seemed untoward. Kayo had been missing her own ship and had moaned about having to put up with creepy businessmen used to getting their own way when flying commercial. It was nothing Scott hadn’t expected.

“London air traffic lost contact with the Fireflash not long after takeoff.” John appeared alongside Ridley, “We can’t raise Kayo on comms and the plane isn’t appearing on any radars.”

His mind went instantly to another ship that had vanished off of any and all radars. A ship they had thought had disappeared for good but was potentially somewhere in deep, deep space.

“Sabotage?” He asked, looking between the two holograms, “Gaat?”

John shrugged, “Could be. Do we call Kyrano in?”

The father was only upstairs, having a few hours to himself before he flew out to Sydney to meet his daughter. Scott knew they had to tell him, he would want to know, want to be involved.

“Fill him in.” Scott nodded to John.

“Do not worry, I’ve heard all I need Scott.”

He turned at the voice of the older man, pursing his lips as he nodded to him, “We need to launch.”

“Virgil and Gordon are on their way up,” Ridley filled them in, “Val is rerouting from LA.”

It was hard not to pout at the thought of his aunt flying his ship.

“I shall take Thunderbird Shadow, Thunderbird Five sent predicted coordinates for Fireflash.”

“F.A.B.” John nodded as Kyrano took the seat for his daughter’s Thunderbird. Scott didn’t need to say more as he pressed the button to deploy the chute, sending Kyrano down into the belly of their home.

“Scott?” Virgil announced his and Gordon’s arrival, “Ridley said that Kay’s flight had vanished?”

Jerking his head towards Two’s chute, Scott took a breath, not sure when Virgil had taken to shortening their sisters nickname.

“We’ll fill you in en-route.”

Virgil shot off without further question, leaving Gordon watching Scott with wide eyes. Spreading his hands he raised an eyebrow in question.

“We can’t lose her too.”

He didn’t disagree, “Go. We’ll find her.”

***

She had to be grateful for the small things. At least she had managed to unmask the ship and her brothers were on their way. At least she had managed to land a good few hits on Gaat. At least her father had turned up before Gaat could get away.

The conversation had been terse, both men holding on to so much hatred and anger for so many things.

“You’re lucky he turned up Tanusha,” Gaat grinned, backed into a corner but still watching them, still all too satisfied, “Someone capable of landing this plane, it’s just a shame you don’t have any landing gear, or fuel.”

The words were designed to sting, she knew he was simply trying to get to her in the only way he knew how. Even if the man that had spoken was someone she hated, somehow it still hurt.

“Tanusha get to the cockpit,” Her father ordered, eyes fixed on his half-brother.

She didn’t want to leave, she didn’t trust her Uncle enough to leave.

“Kayo.” Her father snapped, “The people on this plane need you.”

“Her?” Gaat scoffed.

Determination set in. She had to prove him wrong.

Fuel was leaking, the plane dropping. There wasn’t time to waste arguing. She just had to prove herself, prove to Gaat that she was every bit as capable as anyone else.

She could only thank whatever deity that was listening that there was a landing strip close enough. It was almost too convenient for her liking. Was it another part of Gaat’s plan? Were they all walking into some sort of trap?

Her focus should have been on the landing, but she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to what was taking her father so long. Worst case scenarios came to mind, decompression, Gaat turning out the stronger of the two men, heavy cargo being flung about and causing more damage.

They had only a single wheel deployed and a belly full of fuel. Gaat had been right; she couldn’t land, not even with her abilities as a pilot.

Suggestions of pods rigged to act as landing gear, shot down by Brains insisting the plane was too heavy and would crush them. Their only hope was to manually deploy the landing gear manually, but there was nobody else around to pilot, her father still hadn’t appeared.

Virgil was frantic over the comm but she had to ignore it. Had to ignore the guilt and fear that was gnawing, had to push down the thoughts of what happened next if they didn’t find a solution and fast.

“How much too heavy, Brains?” Ridley was asking, virtually her whole extended family on the comm.

His answer was missed, blocked out by Scott’s exclamation of the escape pod being ejected, its occupant unclear.

The fuel was gone, only enough left to line herself back up with the landing strip and pray for the best. There wasn’t time to think about her father, no matter how much she wished she could run and find him, make sure he was safe.

Thunderbird Shadow was still docked to Fireflash, an escape for her and only her that Virgil and Scott were insisting she took. That wasn’t what International Rescue did though, she knew she couldn’t take the easy way out, not with a plane full of passengers.

“We can use the Pods and Thunderbird Two, that should hold enough weight off to allow the pods to not be crushed.” Val stated, cutting Kayo off as she opened her mouth to begin goodbyes.

It was a long shot. She wasn’t sure if she breathed at all in the moments that followed, the fastest deployment of the two pods she thought she had ever seen as the runway came back into view.

“Hold on Kay,” Virgil bit out as the cables attached to the hull of her ship with four metallic thuds.

She felt the jolt as he pulled back, Thunderbird Two taking some of the weight, holding her back from the landing that would have killed her. There was little more for her to do, other than go through the motions she knew by heart to get the plane down.

Another lurch as contact was made with the pods, a low rumble through the whole ship and a surge of power from Thunderbird Two holding on tight.

She didn’t quite believe it had worked until the scenery around her stopped scrolling past. Engines powered down, the grapples disengaged, they’d done it. Fireflash had landed.

Up and out of the pilot's seat before she’d even thought about it properly, Kayo found herself moving through the cabin, returning to the cargo hold. She needed her father.

“Papa?” She gasped as she reached the bottom of the steps, spotting his figure sprawled near to where the escape pod had been.

He groaned, shifting where he lay, twisting on to his back as she reached him. She could see he was hurt, a deep cut in his hairline still oozing blood. Being her father though, she expected the smile he gave her, trying to reassure that all was well even as a hand went to his side.

“You’re hurt.” She murmured, peeling his collar from his neck and wincing at the red welt there. Anger bubbled at the recognition of what it must have been from, she had seen the device in her uncle’s hand spark.

“I will murder Gaat.”

He tutted as he reached out to her, a frown on his face, “‘nusha, you will leave that to me.”

She might have argued, might have insisted that she could take him on simply with the anger that was coursing through her veins. Except there was fear in her father's eyes, concern that maybe she would actually seek out the man that was their only living flesh and blood. They had lost her mother to the man, and for that neither had ever forgiven him. She refused to lose her father to him also.

The thought hit her like a tonne of bricks, as her father shook his head, begged her to promise not to go after him

Her father couldn’t lose her to him either.

“Kay!” Virgil broke the tableau as he jogged down the steps to crouch at her side, “Are you alright?”

His hand went to the graze on her arm, that she had stopped noticing as soon as it had happened. One of the crates brushing past her with its sharp edges during her fight with Gaat. She could feel his eyes scanning her, looking for anything that he needed to be more concerned about, even as she shook her head.

“I’m fine Virgil,” She murmured, forcing a smile as she touched his arm, “It’s my father I’m worried about.”

She was all too aware of him watching them both, eyes no doubt seeing much more than their words let on. Her father always saw more than she wanted him to.

And as naturally as any father, he waved his hand, “A mild concussion and a small electrical burn, I doubt I will die.”

Virgil still had his eyes on her, frowning deeply, “You both almost did. If Aunt Val hadn't--”

“He is right ‘nusha.” Her father raised an eyebrow, “We came too close today.”

The anger boiled again in her chest, they didn’t need to remind her. She had known exactly how close it had been, she had watched as the ground came up before the plan too fast and too close. If she had been more careful, if she’d have fought more cautiously they never would have damaged the controls, if she hadn’t have started throwing around cargo they never would have damaged the fuel line.

Lashing out was the worst possible thing she could do, and there was no bedroom for her to run away to.

But there was Thunderbird Shadow.

She could--

“Kay,” Virgil’s hand on her shoulder stopped her before she could stand, “It’s okay.”

Except it wasn’t okay. Her uncle had tried to kill her and her father. He had failed that time, but what was to stop him from trying again? How would she manage to stop him next time? What if she couldn’t?

She had almost died and had never even had her chance to say so much. What about Virgil? Did he realise how badly she had fallen for him? What would he have done if the worst had happened?

None of it was okay.

She couldn’t cry in front of him.

“I need to go.” She whispered, screwing her eyes shut for fear of her tears showing.

“I’m sure you could catch a lift with Thunderbird One.” Her father suggested, voice making it sound more like an order than an offer. She wasn’t allowed to fly Shadow home, her father knew her too well, knew the chances of her going AWOL.

It was better than hanging around and fighting her tears though, she told herself, and she could talk to Val. She would understand.

“We’ll see you at home.” Virgil murmured, eyes still full of concern as she stood without another word and left, doing the best she could to leave the memory of her uncle in the gut of the plane.

#thunderbirds are go #Thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfic #scribbles writes #lucy au #left behind part 1 #left behind part 2 #left behind part 3 #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Lucille Tracy #Kayo Kyrano #Kyrano #The Hood

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narkito · 5 years ago

Note

Mcdanno, #39. Long distance relationship??

Thank you for giving me a prompt!! :D

This story takes place in the “Chosen” universe, but you needn’t have read that to understand this little piece. Hope that’s okay

–

Steve scrambles for the phone, jumping over the coffee table and almost landing on one of Charlie’s Lego structures.

“Yes, hello,” he pants into the receiver, as he plops down into the couch, his leg already sore from the exertion. “Hello?”

The line crackles, followed by, “hey, babe.”

Steve sits up, never minding his cramping leg. “Danno! How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve got a hold of you.”

“Awww, you really think that sounds romantic, don’t you? I pity your game.”

“Oi, I have ten minutes to use the phone, you sure you want to use it up insulting me?”

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, kinky, but, how about not.” Steve pouts in response, and Danny continues, “tell me, how are you? How are things? The leg? The kids? My parents? Did Nahele find his lucky socks, did we bring them from Hawaii? How about—

Steve blinks, adjusting to the change of pace. This is not how he envisioned a long-distance relationship with Danny.

“Okay, hold your horses there, more conversation, less interrogation, okay? The kids are fine, or as fine as they can be, your parents are lovely as usual, and absolutely delighted to have the kids around.”

Danny snorts (and it does not sound pretty over the phone).

“You’ve been dumping them with my Ma every week, huh?”

Steve takes a beat before answering, “dumping sounds harsh, it’s more like…”

“Sorry, giving them the opportunity to enjoy the kids on a semi-regular basis.”

“Yeah,” he nods to himself, “much more dignified, that works.”

Danny snorts again. Steve can almost see him shaking his head.

“But in all seriousness, Steve, how’s the leg?”

“It’s fine, Danno, much better than last time we saw each other. I’ve been doing PT and everything.” Steve strokes his thigh as he talks, remembering how it used to be less than a year ago. “Today I walked all the way from the kids’ school to your parents’ house.” Steve wiggles his eyebrows satisfied with his accomplishment.

“Oh, wow, that’s actually a lot more than I expected,” Danny says, a huge smile in his voice. “Congrats for you.”

“Thank you.” Steve answers, satisfied smile of his own dangling from his lips. “So, uhm, how’s your thing going, you adjusting to training well?”

“Uuuuh, yeah, people are, you know, a bunch of average joes for the most part, and a good part of them wash out in the first week, so I’m holding my ground, comparatively I’m okay.”

Oh, that’s code speak for I hate it, Steven, I hate it so much.

“Does that mean you’re objectively a klutz and your drill sergeant hates you?”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Naah, I’m fine, I’m five-oh, we know how to keep it cool and interesting, you know?”

“Riiiight, you bored out of your mind yet?”

“Maybe.” Steve can sense the way Danny shrugs only one shoulder and finds it endearing.

Next to the telephone, there’s a whole wall of salvaged pictures in mismatched frames. There’s a handful of people there he’ll never get to see again, whose voice he’ll never hear again. Some of them were gone way before They came, but some other, he just couldn’t save.

There’s a shift all around him, reality sets in, the strangeness of it. Danny deployed, Steve pining for his boyfriend, unable to help, still convalescent from his various wounds.

“Did they test you already?” Steve blurts out, unable to rein it all in, profoundly aware of how these things go, it is after all what he does as a “hobby” since Danny went; get as much information as he can on the situation. He couldn’t pretend the test wasn’t happening at some point, all people who present the gene and are clearly not wash-outs, are tested. Danny was bound to get tested as soon as the alliance could get their hands on him. His background as a LEO is a huge asset that can’t go ignored.

There’s a small fraction of a second where the line goes silent, and then it connects again.

“Yeah, yeah, no, sure, I mean, yeah. I got tested. A bunch of us did.”

Steve frowns, that’s Danny deflection 101.

“How was it?”

One more time, the line goes silent for less than a second.

“Hmm, uhmm, babe, look, I’m pretty sure this call’s been monitored and as you know we can’t really discuss… the process: it’s classified.”

Steve huffs. He hates that ultimately, he can’t truly know, because he’s not there.

“Sucks been told that, huh?” Steve rolls his eyes, trust Danny to keep grudges alive

for the better part of a decade. “Can’t believe it took a major world-wide disaster to get you back on that one.” Danny tries to keep it light, but even before he says it, Steve knows whatever Danny comments will fall flat.

There’s a short silence where neither of them talks, and Steve can hear the hub dub behind Danny—wherever he is. It sounds familiar in a disorienting way.

On more the one occasion he had told someone from outside to not purposefully make it hard on his team guys. His stomach clenches, and Steve takes a deep breath as he racks his brain for safe topics to talk about.

“How about the food? We can talk about that, right?” He exhales after the last word, ordering his body to relax.

Danny clicks his tongue. He knows what Steve’s up to, and he’s game.

“Oh, yes, we can! I don’t know what’s the deal with these guys, one week everything is delicious and hearty, makes you want to go for seconds and thirds, some seasoning has been so inspired it I use my free time trying to figure out the recipes.”

A distant memory flashes behind Steve’s eyes, Danny cooking back in Pikoii street, barefoot and carefree. Steve sniffs against his will and has to cover his mouth with the back of his hand as to not disturb Danny.

“And then for a few days or a whole week, bland crap, gruel, Steven, veritable gruel—makes me want to go in an involuntary diet. Yuck.”

Steve swallows thickly. “Sounds like regular military experience if you ask me, in fact, above regular, all I ate was gruel for the first four years of my service.”

“Nu-uh! Impossible, I know from a good source you were happy to eat rations in the comfort of your own home when good steak was readily available.”

Steve swallows again, tears spilling over his hands.

“It was Italian food actually,” he croaks.

“Even worse, babe, you’re really not helping your case.”

“What can I say, I get nostalgic sometimes.” He trips mentally on the nostalgia and a sob slips past his tight emotional control.

Danny sighs. Heartbroken as well.

“Babe, babe, Steve. I’m sorry, please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he sniffs.

“I know I just mean…”

“I know, I’m sorry too.”

“Look, I don’t mean to beat you while you’re down…” Danny trails off, but Steve can connect the dots.

“Basic training is extending then? You gonna be a specialist now?”

“Ugh, you’re killing me Steven. It’s cla—no, you know what, fuck this shit, whoever is out there screening my calls, you listen to me you son of a bitch,” Danny yell-whispers to the third party on the line. “I’m talking with my boyfriend right now, who I would have married if not for the giant clusterfuck we are all living through right now, he’s the father of my children and my best friend, so I’ll tell him whatever the fuck I want, you censor this call and I swear I’ll hunt you down and bash your head in, you hear me?!”

Steve chuckles wetly, this is the hothead he loves.

There's a soft clicking sound in the background. It sounds definitive. So, he chooses to believe the censor’s gone.

“You would have married me, huh?”

“Of course.”

“What if I said no.”

“Pfft, please, you were a sure thing.” Steve wants to protest, but Danny keeps talking

over him. “Look, now that the censor is gone. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What?” Steve rushes to ask, fearing the worst.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. What else?”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you more. What else?”

“I already made it through basic and I’m being fast-tracked to pilot.”

Even though he suspected, having confirmation is like a punch to the lungs. No wonder the censor left, a pilot has different privileges, a pilot scares people away, even if they’re being hoisted as the only chance they have left.

“Steve, you there?”

“You’ve never been one to pull your punches.”

“No, I haven’t. Which is why, once I’m done with that I’ll be coming home for a whole month, okay?” Danny pleads, “I got special leave. I’ll be home for Christmas, okay?”

For Steve, it’s like the world’s ending all over again. The future path folding in on itself in front of him, rearranging into a yawning void made of the fearful and the unknown.

Christmas.

Christmas is only two months away. He can foresee his life up until Christmas. He can push through to that.

“Christmas it is.” He sniffles again.

“Yeah, Christmas. Look, I still have about five minutes on the line, why don’t you tell me about the kids, they adjusting well?”

More tears run down his face, but he talks. About homework, about tantrums, about movie nights, about burnt popcorn, about the kids begging to get a dog, about shortages of chocolate and coffee, about going insane with the bickering and the meaningless fights, about never doing so much laundry in his life, the herb garden Charlie and Nahele are doing together as a school project, Grace’s dissertation and newfound interest in nursing. Steve talks and talks, enough to carry Danny home, safe and sound, only two months away.

–

*beams* I’ve been wanting to expand this little verse forever, thank you again! :D

#h50 fic #narkito #chosen universe #mcdanno #long distace relationship AU #dystopian AU #pterawaters

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visions-from-reaver · 5 years ago

Text

Outlaw Legends

CHAPTER V: Taming A Beast

Arthur stepped outside the cabin to meet Dutch. “We ain’t run into Micah or John yet, so they must have gone on down the hill.” Dutch shivered as he spoke to Arthur.

“Sure.” Arthur said as he looked as far down the path as the snow would allow. “Dutch, I ain’t had time to ask. What really went down back there on that boat?” Dutch reached over and put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“We missed you. That’s what happened. Now come on, see if that beast of a horse will let you ride him.”

Arthur paled. “Are you insane? Even if he would let me, there ain’t no saddle or bridle that I could see in there for him!”

Dutch sighed as they both made their way to the barn “You got a lasso on you, don’t you?”

Arthur nodded “Well yes of course but-”

“Then use that to tie around his head like a bridle.” Dutch’s tone left no room for argument as they entered the barn.

“I’m tellin’ ya Dutch, I don’t like this.” Arthur tried again to argue since his last two encounters with Reaver didn’t go so well.

“Yeah well I ain’t askin’ you, son, I’m tellin’.”

Arthur groaned and removed his lasso from his satchel and slowly made his way toward Reaver. “Hey there feller…” Reaver turned his head toward Arthur curiously. “I need you to do me a favor...a favor you probably ain’t gonna like.” Reaver’s ears twitched and rotated back and forth. “Here...a peace offerin’.” Arthur reached into his satchel and pulled out an apple. “You like apples, right?” Reaver gently took the apple out of Arthur’s hand and gave a gentle huff. “Okay, here goes nothin’ I guess…” Arthur tied the lasso and slowly slipped it over Reaver’s head. “There you go...that’s it...good boy.” Reaver held somewhat still, besides pawing his right hoof against the frozen floor of the barn. “I know, listen if it means anythin’ to ya, this weren’t my idea.”

“That beast calm enough to ride?” Dutch spoke up, holding The Count’s reins by the open barn door. Arthur gently tugged on the makeshift bridle, leading Reaver to the door as well.

“We’ll soon find out I guess. Say, why don’t you try ridin’ him Dutch?”

Dutch rolled his eyes “‘Cause that horse don’t like me.”

Arthur scoffed “So you’re assumin’ he likes me? He kicked me, remember?” Dutch shook his head and led The Count outside before mounting the saddle.

“It ain’t up for discussion Arthur, now hurry up. The sooner we get this done the better.”

Arthur gently stroked Reaver’s neck and along his back “Dutch I really don’t think-”

“Do you not trust me, son?”

Arthur shook his head “It ain’t that I jus’...I don’t trust this horse is all. Whatever he did to you in that barn earlier shook you up pretty good.” Dutch looked away and acted like he was adjusting the reins. “What did he do, Dutch?” Dutch didn’t answer “Dutch what did he d-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Arthur!” Dutch snapped making Arthur hold his hands up in surrender and back up some. “I’m sorry son, I didn’t mean…”

“Ah it’s alright, I pushed you too far, I get it.”

Dutch sighed and glanced over his shoulder at Arthur impatiently

“I know, I know, I’m workin’ on it.” Arthur said as he caught Dutch’s eye.

“I could always get that girl out here to-”

“No I got it, don’t need to drag her out here in this goddamned weather.”

Dutch chuckled lightly

“What you laughin’ at, Dutch?”

The older man shook his head “Oh nothing, son. Nothing at all.”

Arthur took a deep breath to steel his nerves before clumsily clambering onto Reaver’s back. The beast huffed and snorted in annoyance and pawed at the ground in agitation. “Easy boy...easy…” Reaver settled finally and Arthur stroked his neck “There good boy. Here…” Arthur reached into his satchel and produced another apple, feeding it to the beast.

“I thought you said he didn’t like you Arthur?” Dutch teased him lightly

“He don’t like me.”

Dutch hummed in response “Whatever you say, son. Now, see if you can control him. Follow me.”

Dutch spurred his Arabian into a slight trot through the snow in front of Arthur and his new steed. Arthur lightly spurred Reaver in the sides...the brute immediately reared. “Hey, hey, woah!” Arthur gripped onto the makeshift reins, praying they would hold, as he tried not to fall off. “Easy! Easy boy! It’s okay!” Reaver settled back on his front hooves and snorted loudly before setting off in a trot to follow alongside Dutch. The older man was trying to hold in his laughter

“See, I told you he liked you better.”

Arthur glared at him “Shut up Dutch.”

Dutch cleared his throat and nodded his head “Alright then, let's head out there and see if we can find our boys.”

Reaver followed the leader without a struggle “I ain’t sure what we’re gonna find out here, Dutch.” Arthur called out over the wind “I can barely see anything as it is.” Arthur noticed that the black stallion wasn’t struggling in the deep snow as much as the other horses were. He leaned down and patted his neck gently as Dutch spoke up

“We have to try, just stay close and we will see if we can’t stick to this trail!”

Arthur shivered “You think this storm will last much longer?”

Dutch hunkered down over his saddle “It’s been two days or more, it’ll have to blow over soon!”

“I just....what happened to Davey...I can’t believe it.” The air grew thick with sorrow

“He’s the last one Arthur, no more.”

The pair had been riding for a while when Dutch stopped “Hang on, there’s someone coming down the trail.” Dutch held up his lantern, trying to see through the blinding storm “You up ahead! Who’s there?” A man with long blonde hair and handlebar mustache came into view. “Micah.” Dutch greeted

“Gentlemen.” Micah responded

“Have you found anything?” Dutch inquired as Micah spurred his horse closer.

“I think so. A little homestead down thataway.” Micah motioned his head back from the direction he came.

“Anyone home?”

Micah glanced a look over at Arthur and laughed “Didn’t know you could ride bareback, Morgan. Where’d you find that thing?” Reaver snorted and Arthur scratched his neck

“None of your damn business, now was there anyone home?” Micah shrugged “Sure. The place is blazing with light and noise. Sounded like a party.”

“Let’s go see, now you two quit arguing. Lead the way Micah.”

Micah turned his horse around “Follow me. How’s Davey doin’?”

Dutch just shook his head “Ah, he didn’t make it. Nor did little Jenny.” There was a pause.

“That’s too bad, Davey was a real fighter. Both of them Callander boys is or...was. What about Mac and Sean?”

Arthur fell to the back of the group, allowing Dutch and Micah to talk

“We don’t know, we got separated on the ride out of there.”

Micah grunted “Quite a business…”

The group rode on ahead for a while before Arthur finally spoke up “Ask him if he’s seen John!”

Dutch, being directly behind Micah relayed Arthur’s question “Have you seen John, Micah?”

Micah called back over his shoulder “Didn’t see much of anything once this storm blew in!”

“Micah says he hasn’t seen him, Arthur!”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, things always turn out right for that boy!” Arthur’s response was more, it seemed, for himself than the other two. He had his issues with John, sure. But at the end of it all, they were brothers.

“I hope...Mac and Sean, they’re still out there somewhere too!” Dutch voiced his concern for the other two missing members, to lose Davey and Jenny was bad enough, but to lose two more members? Dutch didn’t want to think about it. “Arthur, you move on up, I’ll take up the rear...I need to think a minute.”

As Arthur lightly spurred Reaver forward he pulled back on the reins to keep pace beside the leader. “You okay, Dutch?” The younger man was concerned, it wasn’t like Dutch to be this quiet

“I’ll be fine, son, I’m just worried is all.”

Arthur reached over and placed a hand on Dutch’s shoulder “It’ll be okay Dutch, like you said...Davey is gonna be the last one.”

Dutch looked the other in the eyes “I really hope you’re right, son. I really hope you’re right.”

#OutlawLegends #ReaverAin'tHavingIt #Arthur Morgan #Dutch Van Der Linde #Micah Bell #Chapter 5 #rdr2 fanfic #RDR2

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lowat-golden-tower · 5 years ago

Text

Hooked on Volleyball

I got inspired by @pistachiolan and the crossover art they made for Haikyuu!! and Sanders Sides. Basically an adjusted take on the scene they parodied with the character replacements. I tweaked some of the dialogue, and there’s quite a bit of Logan introspection, but otherwise the scene plays out as in the anime.

This is also my first time writing Remus, so... take that as you will fhusd.

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

Logan couldn't believe he was going to do this. After eagerly turning down the offer to join the students from the other schools in their free practice, he was crawling back to the third gym with bones still weary from the day's matches. Part of him wanted nothing more than to return to the dorms for a hot bath and a good, long rest. But a figurative fire had been lit within him, metaphorically burning away at his internal organs and filling him with the subtle buzz of a curious energy.

It was just a club. He might not even pursue volleyball after high school. There were more vital things he could be doing to nourish his mind and body than training it for a few years of matches.

Just a club. Just a tournament. Just an accolade.

Then why was he here, standing in the light pouring out from the open doorway of the third gym? If asked, Logan wasn't certain he could articulate a proper answer. He just... was. Following his gut, or his instinct, wasn't exactly his normal course of action and yet...

He could hear the sounds of the ball smacking against the hardwood, and the shouts and jeers of those older students who'd half-accosted him prior. His grip tightened on his towel and he practically glared through the protective netting ensconcing the doorway. Well, standing around on the stoop would earn him nothing but a chill and some new mosquito bites. If he was going to pursue this particular path, then he should take the proper steps. Even if half of him still wasn't sure just what he was doing there.

Up the stone steps, ducking through the netting so that he could come to another halt. His expression was still stony; brows slightly furrowed in that near glare as the three boys within stopped to acknowledge him. He felt the curve of his fingers dig into the damp material of his towel again.

"Oya?" The one with the silver streak, Remus, from Fukurodani piped up.

Roman, from Nekoma, was right on his heels. "Oya? Oya?"

"Oya? Oya? Oya?" Only for Remus to repeat himself, thrice, completing the irritating onomatopoeia and instantaneously making Logan have several regrets about his latest decision. De, also from Fukurodani, merely eyed him with that cool, calculating gaze. None of them seem surprised at all.

Logan wasn't sure if that made the whole situation more or less annoying. Honestly, he knew they could be bothersome, he'd witnessed their behavior to analyze their personalities long enough now. He shouldn't be surprised by any of it, either. Setting his jaw, he strode forward, forcing himself to close the distance between them. Roman and Remus were both hosting confident little smirks and it set off an infuriating itch, one which felt as if it were in Logan's veins; impossible to scratch. He halted, cleared his throat, and managed to keep his tone even when he spoke. "There's something I'd like to ask you. May I?"

"Sure!" Roman and Remus chorused almost in perfect synchronization, while De remained silent and observant. It was so uncanny to witness it actually took Logan aback for a moment and he had to blink, nudging his brain into a polite response.

"Thank you very much." He gave a slight nod. "Both of your schools are sometimes considered powerhouse schools, correct?" Logan assumed as much, as they were often discussed in volleyball magazines- or their members, at least, like Remus. But it was best to double check straight from the source before he went pursuing those assumptions. Strangely, both Remus and Roman seemed perturbed, with Roman actually looking offended. De's expression, of course, didn't shift in the slightest.

"Well, yes, of course! And not just 'sometimes,' all the time!" Roman was the one to practically snap back, clearly irritated.

Logan decided to press forward, hoping his question would smooth over whatever slight he'd committed against his elders. "Even if you were to make it to nationals, actually winning there would be difficult, correct?"

Unfortunately, that just seemed to aggravate Roman further, though this time it was Remus who was quick to snap up with a furious vigor in his voice. "But not impossible! Nothing is impossible!"

"Now, now, let's hear him out. This is just a what if." Thankfully, De was calmer headed than the other two, and did his best to smother the growing flames Logan was unintentionally fanning with his hypotheticals. Neither Roman or Remus complained further, but neither looked very happy.

Logan decided to just be honest. "I seriously cannot fathom how everyone can be so determined. Volleyball is just a club, an extracurricular activity, and perhaps you can write, 'I worked exceptionally hard in my club in high school,' on your resume, yes? But that's all."

Remus's already tense expression tightened even more, and a particular glint entered his eyes. "Just a club?" The words growled themselves out of his throat. As if Logan had suggested Remus was a criminal, or insulted him personally. Again, the visceral reaction took Logan by surprise, but Remus wasn't finished. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed into a pout. "That almost sounds like someone's name." He made the statement with complete seriousness.

"Ooh, like Mary Club?" Roman was quick to jump in, intrigued.

Remus considered for a moment, then shook his head. "No wait, I guess it was 'just some club.'" He rubbed at his chin. Logan could only observe the two, utterly flummoxed, though he felt validated in the fact De hosted a similar expression.

"Dash it all! So it doesn't sound like someone's name. So close to some witty wordplay!" Roman whined, stomping a foot.

Remus clenched his fist. "Damn it!"

Logan finally decided to try and rein the topic back to where it needed to be. "Are you basically asking me to retort?"

"Don't. There'll be no end to it," De assured him with a deep sigh.

Abruptly, Remus turned to Logan. "Say, four-eyes."

"It's Logan."

"Say, Logan-eyes... is volleyball fun?" There was a playful smile dancing at Remus's mouth while he stared Logan down expectantly.

Granted, it took Logan more than a moment to answer. He paused, gaze drifting from the wild-eyed teen to actually ponder the question. It was after much thought and deliberation he finally looked back to the person he was speaking to and spoke honestly, yet again. "No..."

"Maybe that's because you suck."

It was just about the last thing Logan expected to hear. It shook him to his very core. In a split second, he was simultaneously offended and flabbergasted. Remus had made the claim as if there was no question about it; as if Logan's ineptitude with the sport was simple fact. It figuratively made Logan's hackles raise to such a degree he could feel every muscle in his back and at the back of his neck tensing up. For better or worse, the statement had shocked him enough that he couldn't formulate any kind of response before Remus spoke again.

"I'm a third year and I've been to nationals, and I'm better than you. Far better!" He boasted his skills, briefly flicking fingertips to his chest in an arrogant sort of pose.

Logan heaved an exhausted sigh. "You're stating the obvious." Of course Remus was better than him. He was older and stronger, with more practice and experience under his belt. If Logan happened to be even a degree better than one of the top four spikers in the country then they wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Remus rolled right past his interjection with some honesty of his own. "But I only recently started thinking that volleyball was fun." That surprised Logan, and caught his attention, allowing Remus to continue further. "I believe it was when my straight became usable in matches! Because my cross hits that I was really good at kept getting blocked, I got frustrated and practiced the hell out of straights. Heheh, only on the court, though." Remus's grin was cheeky, as was his wink, which made Roman boisterously laugh and De roll his eyes. "And... at the next tournament, the same blockers couldn't touch it! I got right past them. Should have seen the looks on their faces, you'd think someone had taken a shit in their sneakers!" The frustration was replaced with an almost manic grin, as Remus clenched and proudly raised his fist. "Just that one shot made me feel like my time had finally come." His head dipped back in a grand laugh, his expression content.

Yet when his eyes opened, they were honed directly on Logan. They almost seemed to stare through him, trembling him at the core in a more subtle fashion than the earlier call out. He actually took a step back out of pure reflex. "It all depends on if you have that moment or not." Shadows flickered across the ace's face, an almost intimidating and palpable aura rising up from his broad shoulders while he stared Logan down. "It doesn't really matter what happens in the future, or if you can win your next match. The joy you feel beating the lout in front of you, and when you're able to pull out 120% of your potential, is everything. Everything!"

Logan could only stare at the other boy, utterly speechless, mind a whirlwind of thoughts and new information. Remus wasn't providing him with any facts, figures or statistics, or actual advice he could practice on. What Remus spoke of was something deeper than physical; a type of mental fortitude and will to improve, to best the opponent. Sentiments unfathomable to Logan.

"Well, at least that's how it is for me, and it doesn't mean that applies to everyone." Remus confessed with a shrug. Of course it didn't. That sounded like pure insanity to Logan. "I don't really understand why you say 'it's just a club,' but I don't think you're wrong. But once that moment arrives for you..." Slowly, Remus lifted his hand, raising a finger to point emphatically at Logan with a confident fluorish. "...that's the moment you'll be hooked on volleyball."

Logan's eyes widened a fraction of an inch. It was a lot to process, yet at the same time nothing at all. His logical thinking was quick to be split straight down the middle; acknowledging how such a mentality could be fruitful, while just as eagerly dismissing the advice as emotional fluff and nothing particularly impactful. He was at an impasse, figuratively struggling through the mental mire for what nuggets of wisdom the ace had clearly just been trying to offer him. As such, he failed to notice the older boys moving in until it was too late, and he suddenly found himself surrounded.

"All right. I answered your question, now help with blocking." Remus quipped cheerily to Logan's left. His head whipped around, eyes widening further with realization.

"Wait-"

Remus placed a hand on his back, and Roman followed up with a hand between Logan's shoulder blades. "All right, now. Come on, hurry it up."

They weren't going to take "no" for an answer. Logan was so stunned by the sudden turn of events he could only gawk, boggled, and walk stiffly towards the net. "Wait, what..."

To the side, De sighed, giving his head a slight shake. "A tit for a tat, how about that...."

#hq!!#sanders sides #crossover #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

game of survival, chapter five (branjie) - holtzmanns

AN: Already on chapter five. I haven’t written a multichapter fic in ages though am enjoying writing this one so much. Thank you for reading so far. Also thank you to writ for betaing this and being a great cheerleader and also for laughing at my attempts to write while inebriated the other night.

Brooke takes the emotions running through her veins (panic, anger, vengeance) that threaten to blow her apart and packs them up, storing them on top of one another in the deep recesses of her mind for safekeeping. She composes herself, lets the mask of calm fall back onto her face.

But it’s too late. The damage is already done.

Vanessa is looking at her with wide eyes that flit between her and the bodies on the ground. Brooke sees the gears turning in her mind, the way she’s trying to look for an escape route. As if Brooke is going to kill her next.

“Someone’s probably called 911 already, with the sound of the shots.” Brooke��s voice comes out quieter than intended. “It won’t take long for police to show up at your door.”

“Well, what do you suppose we do, then? Considering…this.” Vanessa gestures to the slumped figures for good measure, as if they’re not the current centrepiece of the room. Brooke has to give it to her - she’s relatively calm. Though Brooke can still see the tremble in her hands.

Brooke’s answer spills from her mouth before she can rein it in. “They were going to kill you. I had to.” Damn it.

Vanessa looks at her with a burning curiosity, words balanced on the tip of her tongue that she looks like she so desperately wants to say. It makes Brooke want to look away, to run from her gaze, to just get away from Vanessa and the way that she’s completely flipped Brooke’s tendencies and ability to stay in control.

She’s not used to this.

As Brooke wilts, her mind a spread of flower petals that are drying out from being too exposed to the sun, Vanessa seems to grow bolder, less afraid of pressing Brooke. “But why? If you have - had - the same goal. Shit.”

“Who knows, maybe I just want the money for myself.” Brooke’s voice is wry. Vanessa scoffs. “Sure.” She shakes her head, letting out a slightly incredulous laugh. “The fact that I’m even talking about this with you right now is an indicator of how absolutely insane this is.”

Brooke can’t argue with that. She did just, after all, save Vanessa’s life. Again. It’s starting to become a pattern.

She ignores the fact that she’d do it again, too. She’d save Vanessa’s life a million times if it meant that she was okay.

She’s so completely, utterly, screwed. Vanessa has turned her into someone unrecognizable.

The sound of a distant siren floats in through the open window - most likely heading in the opposite direction, nothing to do with them (or the carnage that Brooke has created), but it’s enough to make Vanessa’s head snap up and look at her in panic.

“They’re dead, they’re on my floor, what if the police come here what if they send me to fucking prison because there’s dead bodies on my floor, they tried to kill me, fuck- ” Vanessa’s voice comes out in short bursts, punctuated by sharp breaths that strain her lungs. Her hair falls in her face and her hands come up to blindly push the locks back.

“Hey.“ Brooke rests on Vanessa’s shoulders to steady her, ground the trembling that’s taking over her body. Tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Breathe.”

“I’m not going to fucking breathe right now.” Sassy. Vanessa’s sassy when she’s angry. Brooke likes it.

“Listen, I know how to make things disappear. I know people. I can fix it, make it go away and make it lead far away from you.” Vanessa finally, finally, looks up at her, letting out a ragged breath. “Make it seem like a coincidence, that it was your apartment.”

She can. She can call Yvie and figure something out and talk with her connections at the precinct and-

Keep Vanessa away from it all.

Brooke continues on. “But we can’t be here. Come with me. I can get you out of here before they reach us. You don’t have to, it’s up to you. But if someone comes after you again, I can keep you safe.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?” Vanessa’s voice is scratchy, breaking on her last word.

Brooke shrugs. “You can’t. I don’t expect you to.”

She can’t. She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing, either. She’s never done this before, never gotten attached to a target, never wanted to save the life of a target. But she’s damn going to try.

“I have a campaign, I have two appearances tomorrow and a debate in three days and way too many interviews - I can’t drop them.” Vanessa pulls away, starts to pace, wearing holes into the squeaking wooden planks of the floor. Brooke can see her mind spinning with each step she takes.

“They’re going to keep sending people. These two-” Brooke points at the bodies. “-were disposable. They’ll send more.”

“This is insane. I don’t even know who it is that’s trying to kill me! Well. Aside from you.”

Brooke knows that it isn’t the time for humour, but she can’t help it. “Uncalled for. You haven’t died by my hand yet, have you?”

Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, points a finger in her direction. “Don’t you start with me.”

There’s another set of sirens, closer this time. Vanessa’s eyes are wide, panic growing behind her irises as she tries to search Brooke’s face for an answer.

“I can figure out who sent them. We can figure out who sent them. Stop them from sending more. But not here. Come with me or not, but you need to leave this apartment now. ” Brooke tries not to make the words sound too urgent, she really does. Doesn’t want to make Vanessa combust. But itis urgent.

A stream of curse words tumble from Vanessa’s mouth, and Brooke watches as she crouches down to the ground and puts her head in her hands.

Then she’s up. Stalking to her bedroom, opening her closet door, pulling out two sweaters. She throws one at Brooke. “Change into this. Your current shirt looks like a fucking murder scene.”

“Well, it sort of is-”

“Do not. ” Vanessa changes her own shirt, her body seeming to calm down once she has no visible evidence of blood spatters on her. She then pulls out more gauze from the first aid on the couch, bringing it to Brooke.

Brooke’s eyes study her face as Vanessa tugs her shirt off, watches how Vanessa flinches at the blood soaked gauze. How she switches it for fresh gauze with shaking fingers, how she seems to be consciously trying to keep herself from looking anywhere other than Brooke’s shoulder.

Vanessa tugs the sweater over Brooke’s head, hiding the gauze. Lifts her hair out from underneath the collar, smoothes it over her other shoulder. When Vanessa is done she steps back, turning on her heel to pick up the gun from her counter. She tucks it into her own sweater pocket.

Brooke waits (ignoring the sirens getting louder, more inevitable), watches as something seems to click into place on Vanessa’s face. The fear in her eyes is still there, but an armour of resolve and steel is in front of them, like a shield. Vanessa’s regards her with a challenge when she shrugs her shoulders, as if she’s the one waiting for Brooke.

“Well? Are we going or not?”

Vanessa has to be insane. There’s no other explanation. It’s the only one that makes sense in her head, that can begin to rationalize why she’s agreed to go with Brooke to wherever it is that she’s planning on taking her.

She leans back against the plush passenger seat of the black SUV, peeking through the layers of her hair to look at the woman beside her. Brooke’s hands grip the steering wheel with enough force that her fingers turn white. Her face is fighting to hold onto the mask of indifference it is wearing, emotions flitting by her eyes and disappearing faster than Vanessa can decipher what they are.

Vanessa figures it’s a time as good as any to grill her. To find out a bit more about her while her hands are busy. She’s already come this far.

“So. Brooke Lynn Hytes.” She tests out the name, the way it feels unfamiliar on her lips. It still feels odd to put a name to the woman who has taken over all of the free space in her mind, refusing to let her focus on anything else. Knowing her name makes her think of Brooke as less of a mysterious entity and more of a person, with her own brain and heart and soul.

Brooke looks over sharply mere milliseconds after her name leaves Vanessa, tearing her eyes away from the road. “Excuse me?”

“That’s your name, ain’t it?” Vanessa lifts one of her legs up onto the dashboard of the car, sinks down into the seat. She ignores the fact that Brooke is the one driving, and very well could make them crash at any second - she’s enjoying this, provoking her.

It’s not like she has any sense of self preservation left, anyway. That had disappeared the very first time she met Brooke outside her old office. When she’d spilled coffee on her and thought she had been just another passerby. The precise moment that Brooke had started occupying her thoughts more than the campaign, and never did stop.

Brooke swallows hard and trains her eyes back on the road, fingers tapping on the steering wheel with movements too erratic to be considered a pattern. “How do you know that?”

“Did you think you were the only one who did some sleuthing? C’mon, you should know better than that.” Vanessa takes a twisted delight in the fact that now she’s the one who gets to make Brooke squirm, after being left unsettled by her for so long.

Brooke doesn’t answer, so Vanessa continues on. “Read a little about you. Police, huh? No wonder you know your way around a gun.”

She sees Brooke’s eyes darken, sees the hard set of her face. “Don’t.”

“What lead to that honourable discharge? Public sector not pay you enough?”

Brooke’s voice is a growl. “Vanessa…”

“Fine, fine.” Vanessa raises her hand in mock surrender. “Touchy. Just want to learn a bit about you, is all. Being partners in crime and all that.”

Despite the storm clouds brewing in between them, Brooke scoffs. “You’re not part of this.”

“How the hell are you gonna get me out of it, then? It was in my apartment.” She really does want to know. Brooke had waxed poetic about making everything disappear, of taking care of everything. Vanessa wonders how she’s actually going to make it happen.

“I know the right people. You’ll be back on the campaign trail in no time.”

“You seem real determined to get me there. Which is interesting, considering that you had full plans to kill me, didn’t you?” She watches Brooke’s face for a reaction, anything, but Brooke doesn’t take the bait, only lifting an eyebrow in response while keeping her eyes on the road.

Vanessa knows she should be scared, if it’s true. The way Brooke knocked her out with ease, left her to wake up alone in an alley isn’t far from her mind. But neither is the way that Brooke shielded her body from the explosion of her office. Brooke, injured, flinging herself in front of Vanessa and then taking down the men that came after her. Brooke is a kaleidoscope with a million different facets, unique parts that come together to form a picture that is forever changing.

Vanessa trusts too easily. She knows that she has an open heart, always has. She’s survived situations that it has gotten her into, bad exes and less than stellar circumstances, and hasn’t closed off the door to her soul yet. She wants to see the best in people, wants to believe that they’re inherently good until they prove otherwise. It’s why she got into politics, and why the profession hasn’t made her cynical in the way that it has her colleagues, where distaste and weariness is forever etched onto their faces and is responsible for the slump in their bones.

It’s what makes her think twice about Brooke, and want to push away the voices in her head that tug and whisper at her (she wants to kill you, she was hired to kill you) and focus on the fact that she’s saved her life twice.

Twice.

It has to mean something.

The evening sets in as they drive further and further, leaving DC behind as a sign on the freeway welcomes them to Virginia. The deep fog and overcast skies create a bleak backdrop, making the air feel heavy over their heads and giving the lights that line the roads an eerie glow. Brooke pulls off the freeway and onto a trail leading into the thick forest as the sky turns dark, lights disappearing along with the road behind them.

Vanessa can feel the precise moment that her heartbeat speeds up, the sudden whooshing in her ears overwhelming the rest of her senses. Huh. Maybe Brooke is going to kill her. Just in the deep forest where no one will find her body.

As Vanessa’s mind starts to go off on tangents, branches that concoct endless scenarios of how Brooke could possibly dismantle and hide her body, Brooke speaks. “We’re going to my friend Nina’s cabin. Well, her late husband’s cabin. Used to be his, now it’s hers. She said we can lie low here for a bit.”

They drive until the SUV’s front beams shine their lights onto a wooden cabin nestled amongst the trees, one that Vanessa would have missed had they not stopped. It’s small but feels welcoming, not activating her fight or flight response the way empty cabins in the woods normally would. A blessing, at least. If she dies, she’ll die in a quaint cottage and go out feeling warm and comfortable.

The inside of the cabin matches the exterior, the wooden surfaces illuminated in soft oranges from the overhead light that flickers after years of non-usage. Vanessa sinks down onto a nearby couch, the plush blanket and throw pillows making her want to never get up again. She feels exhausted, despite the fact that they’ve been sitting for the last few hours during the car ride.

Brooke drops her bags beside her, rifling through one to pull out the burner phones that they bought at a gas station on the way. She hands one to Vanessa.

“One call.”

When they had started to drive, Brooke had instructed Vanessa to put her cellphone on airplane mode, explaining through her very vocal protests(‘You really are tryna kill me, huh?’) that their phones could be tracked, that they could lead those after Vanessa right to them. Brooke had refuted her arguments that burner phones aren’t hackerproof, that they’re equally as traceable.

“I’ve had to disappear before. Trust me, they’re a safer option.”

Vanessa can’t really argue with that. She takes the phone, ignores the upturn of Brooke’s lip. Any cell phone is better than none.

She’s known Silky’s number since college, dialing and shoving the phone to her ear in seconds. Silky picks up her call before the first ring even finishes.

“Sil-”

“Where the fuck- ”

“I can exp-”

“Dead bodies-”

“No that’s a lie, I can’t really-”

“I need an explanation.”

Vanessa lets out a breath. “They tried to kill me, Silky.”

Silky’s voice cuts through on the other end of the phone. “So you killed them instead? Damn. Ice cold. And inconvenient from a PR standpoint.”

“What? No, not me.” She pulls the phone back from her ear, gives it a look as if Silky could see it on the other end.

“Not that blonde chick-”

“She saved my life.” Vanessa’s voice is quiet, a whisper as she brings the phone back to her ear. “Again.”

“Bitch, tell me that you’re having a crisis or a break or something. That this is not happening and that you’re not with some sort of killer queen bitch.”

“No. She’s real.” Vanessa looks up, sees Brooke coming out of the kitchen with her own burner phone pressed to her ear. She’s shed her jacket and is still in the sweater that Vanessa gave her. One that Vanessa never wears because it falls off of her frame but seems to fit Brooke perfectly. Brooke looks so much more vulnerable, the sharp angles of her leather jacket and boots having vanished and left in their place a soft creature who curls up on the couch and tucks her feet underneath her.

“Where are you?” Silky’s question startles her, makes her aware of her surroundings other than Brooke. It doesn’t last for long, her eyes continuing to flit back towards Brooke and the way she’s running her fingers through her hair.

She feels stupid mumbling her answer. “I don’t know.”

Silky’s voice jumps approximately three octaves in response. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t know, Silky! Some sort of safehouse or some shit.”

“Who-” Silky’s voice cuts off as she takes a deep breath. A long, deep breath. “You’re not with her, are you?”

Her. Brooke, who is biting her lip as she scribbles something down in a notebook. Who tucks a lock of hair that keeps falling forward behind her ear.

“Who’s her?” Vanessa winces at her own response, knowing Silky won’t fall for the feigned ignorance.

“You know exactly who, cut the shit.” Ah. There it is.

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

Vanessa doesn’t. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, how she ended up here. How she’s in a quaint cabin when she should really be preparing for the appearances that Ra’jah has scheduled for her the next day and how there’s absolutely no way she can go back to DC with her tail between her legs when there’s two dead bodies in her apartment.

Two dead bodies that have probably been found by now. Surrounded by police and forensic scientists in her apartment, trying to find out where she is, who the men are, who killed them.

Fuck. She’s so screwed. She can’t go back, not right now, not when there’s a bounty over her head and possibly police looking for her too.

Vanessa hangs up on Silky while she’s rambling on about Stockholm Syndrome and the warning signs, presses the end button with mumbled words (‘I’m okay, I promise, don’t worry about me’), letting the phone fall into her lap and resting her head in her hands.

Things were normal, a few weeks ago. They really were. She had been on the campaign trail, sipping lattes that were too expensive and walking in shoes that pinched at her heels but made her six inches taller. She had been in control, comfortable while on top of her game.

How did she end up here?

She hears Brooke hang up on her own phone, hears the rustle as she drops her notebook onto the coffee table. Watches as Brooke comes and sits beside her, hesitant in her movements for the first time that Vanessa’s ever seen. As if she’s waiting for Vanessa’s reaction. Waiting for her to run.

She doesn’t run when Brooke sits down, shuffles closer to her. She doesn’t run when Brooke’s arm brushes against her own. She doesn’t run when Brooke intertwines their fingers, looking at her with blue eyes that reflect ocean waves rather than ice, waves that somehow help to ground her, bring her back to shore.

She doesn’t run. She stays.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #assassin au #holtzmanns #submission #game of survival

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thelanguageoflovers · 6 years ago

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A Study in Fate - Chapter 6

Lucy took a deep breath, leaning against the door of Emily’s car and closing her eyes. Cool air swirled around her, calming her heartbeat as she pulled her phone and earbuds out of her pocket. Sighing, she put them in her ears, subconsciously moving along to the song flooding through her earbuds.

When her hands stopped trembling a few moments later, she opened her eyes to find Buffy and Amber standing in front of her.

“There she is,” Amber said, smiling gently. Lucy nodded, gathering Amber into her arms in a warm hug. “You scared me, Luce.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into Amber’s shoulder. “Where’s Teej?”

“Told him to take the other car home.”

“And Buffy’s here because…?” Lucy glanced over Amber’s shoulder, watching as Buffy’s eyes widened at the use of her first name. Lucy winked, smiling as Amber opened her mouth.

“She-”

“-Can speak for herself, I imagine?” Lucy teased, pulling away from the hug and looking to Buffy.

“I’m here to apologize,” Buffy supplied, stepping forward. “So, um, here goes. I’m...sorry. For everything. You’re here for what? 6 hours? And I was awful to you, and you didn't deserve that. At all. You’re more talented than I thought,” she admitted.

“That is how one apologizes, yes, good job,” Lucy chuckled, offering Buffy her hand. “I appreciate it.”

Buffy grinned, taking her hand and shaking it.

“...But I‘m still not joining the dance team,” Lucy said, grinning maliciously.

“Damn,” Buffy huffed.

“I’m just not a big ‘school dance team’ person. Cheerleading? Already in the works. Studio dance team? Already on it. But school dance teams? No thank you.”

“How the hell are you going to fit all that into your schedule? Maya told me you signed up for a 25 hour dance week,” Buffy said, eyebrows furrowed.

“Cheer is before school, with games on the weekends. I can make games after dance. And competition team will be during dance hours- I pulled some strings, and now it replaces strength and conditioning in Maya’s eyes. I guess that’s because it meets every day- also I now only have a 22 hour week- and I keep up with workouts. So anyway, I still get the key to the studio, and competitions will replace classes- shit. I forgot- I’ll be right back!”

With that, she was rushing back into the studio. They watched her go for a few moments before turning back to one another.

“Is she just...Permanently renouncing sleep?” Buffy asked, leaning against the car.

“She already has,” Amber said casually. “And yes, she’s always like this.”

“Hmm. Fair enough.” Buffy smiled as Lucy stepped back out of the studio. “What’d you do now?”

“Got Maya to let be choreograph the team’s numbers for the competition in two weeks,” Lucy said, smirking smugly.

“All of them?” Buffy asked.

“Mhm, why not?”

“That’s insane! How did Maya Beck let you do that? Her own son wasn’t even allowed to when he asked two seasons ago. Granted, Jonah Beck is awful. Should definitely just stick with his guitar. But he is her son. Like- the literal and actual continuation of her family. They’re not flesh and blood, but-”

“They’re family, we get it.” Lucy rolled her eyes in amusement as she and Amber slid into the car. “You getting in?”

“I- what?”

“Don’t you want a ride home?” Lucy asked, smiling like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“...Please don’t kill me,” Buffy mumbled, sliding into the backseat. “Jesus Christ, this thing is worth more than three times my mother’s entire pregnancy of American medical bills. And that woman needed an emergency C-section.”

“Interesting yardstick you’re using there,” Lucy chuckled, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, yeah. You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

“It’s like you said, Buffy.” Lucy briefly made eye contact with her in the rearview mirror. “I’m more talented than you might think.”

“...You are so fucking cocky, Kippen number 1,” Buffy said, gesturing for Lucy to take a right.

“So are Kippens 2-3,” Amber responded. “So what are you going to do for the competition?”

“I don’t know yet. But I do have a hell of an idea for a duo and one for a group routine. We don’t have nearly enough people for the group though, there are only seven girls including me. And no boys.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“...Probably some bullshit ‘7 Rings’ piece for the group. A duo to ‘Ghost of You’? That one’s gonna take a hell of a lot of work. Maybe a trio to ‘Hold On’-”

“Which one?” Amber interrupted.

“Extreme Music.”

“And you’ll be performing in all of these, I imagine?”

“Well, yeah. Maya said I’m probably best off taking the reins for a few competitions until I can get my girls in shape.

“Good. Anything else?”

“A solo. My solo.”

“Wait, are you going to-”

“Yup.” Lucy cut Amber off, hands tightening on the wheel.

“I thought you said you’d never perform that one again, no matter how much we liked it.”

“What? No! Not that one! That solo can rot, it’s awful. I mean ‘War of Hearts’.” Amber let out a low whistle, eyes wide.

“What’s ‘War of Hearts’?” Buffy asked from the back seat, leaning forward in interest. Amber waved her off, manicured acrylics dismissing her.

“Hang on. You’re going to pull out that solo on your first competition?”

“I don’t see why not.” Lucy shrugged.

“Because you almost died last time!”

“I did not ‘almost die’! I broke my leg and ankle, calm down. Plus, it’s never been performed in front of an audience, the choreo is done, and I only need one prop,” she bargained, rolling her eyes at Amber.

“A prop that almost paralyzed you last time!”

“I was not- okay I was almost paralyzed,” she conceded. “But it wasn’t the table’s fault! I just, uh, screwed up the fall. A little.”

“A little? Lucy, you had like three surgeries because they couldn’t figure out what the hell to do all at once!” Amber argued.

“What the hell is this routine?!” Buffy yelled. “It sounds like she has to like jump to her peril.”

“Not much better! She has to fucking fouetté off a table!”

“I do not fouetté off the table! I fouetté to the edge of the table and then fall off!” Lucy defended. She slowed to a stop at a red light, glancing at Buffy in the rearview mirror. “Very different experiences. Trust me, I’ve done both. Why are you so worried about this, anyway?” She drummed her fingers against the wheel, waiting for the light to turn.

“Lucy! You came back home a little banged up last time. But if you’d fallen a little further onto your neck? You wouldn’t have come home at all.”

Amber squeezed her eyes shut, pointing to the green light in front of them to distract from the fact that she was crying. Lucy sighed, waiting for the traffic in front of them to start through the light before she followed.

“Okay, I won’t-” Lucy was cut off by a flash of dark blue metal crossing her peripheral vision. Someone was about to run their light and kill them all. She’d always imagined she’d know what to do in this situation. Maybe she’d hit the breaks, maybe she’d turn out of the way. And yet somehow, she was on autopilot. She swerved to avoid the car, but it was too late. A loud shatter of glass signaled the car smashing into the passenger side of theirs.

Lucy paced back and forth in the hallway, phone pressed to her ear.

“Goddamnit TJ, pick up!” She nearly threw her phone across the hallway, but Buffy’s hand on her forearm stopped her. “Hey! You’re okay!”

“Just needed some stitches. Thank God I was sitting behind you, not Amber.”

“I am so sorry, Buffy. If I hadn’t offered you that ride…”

“If you hadn’t offered me that ride, maybe it would have been me and my mom in that accident. It wasn’t your fault, Lucy.”

“Is she on her way? Your mom?”

“Yeah, but it’s not her I’m worried about. Any word from TJ?” she asked, sitting down in a chair against the wall. Lucy sat down next to her, shaking her head and burying it in her hands.

“Nothing yet. I’m gonna try Aunt Em.” She put her phone to her ear, reciting the same word over and over. Please.

“Hello?”

“Emily? Oh thank God,” Lucy sighed. “Listen, is TJ with you? He’s not answering his phone.”

“No, he headed to the park to play some basketball, what’s going on?’

“I’ll explain later. Just get TJ and come to the hospital. Amber’s in a coma.”

“What?!”

“Just get down here!”

“On my way.” Lucy sighed, hanging up and running her hands through her hair.

“Em’s coming. She’s gotta run by the park to get TJ.”

“How many cars does that woman have?”

“How many billions was my family born into?” Lucy retorted.

“Do I want to know?”

“Nope,” she laughed, popping the ‘p’. “The Kippens are neither humble nor poor, though I wish we were the former.”

“You know, your lack of humility? It’s kind of your most signature characteristic in my mind to date. Care to change that?”

“...You do know that ‘to date’ is literally just one date to you, right? You met me this morning, Buffy.”

Buffy simply nodded in defeat, leaning back into her chair.

“...But, we are more complex than lack of humility,” she said.

“Alright, give me a rundown,” Buffy said, grinning. “I want the full out, ever present narrator in a teenage romcom description.”

And who was Lucy to say no to that?

“You ever seen Heathers?”

“...Yes? Do I want to know where this is going?”

“The Kippen triplets are kind of...that.” Lucy put on her best narrator voice, a dramatic expression on her face as she readied herself to speak about herself in the third person.

“Really?” Buffy asked. “Like- felony arson and all?”

“No,” Lucy laughed. “Like- they’re the Heathers. Chandler, Duke, and McNamara.”

“Then who’s who?”

“Well, there’s TJ, or Heather Duke in our case. Kind of seems like your classic white douchebag jock, but he’s actually a really sweet guy. He’s the baby of the triplets, but packs a hell of an angry punch. Don’t get in his way unless you absolutely have to. That goes for all three of them though; they’re a bit of a feisty trio.

“Um, then Amber, the middle triplet. And our Heather McNamara. She’s… A bit of a popular girl cliche. She and Lucy were co-captains of the cheer squad in New York. She, TJ, and Lucy are best friends, and together… They’re kind of a murderous group. Amber knows how to throw a punch pretty damn well for a rich girl with stiletto shaped acrylics- she’s just as good as TJ. Maybe better. If she wants something, she knows how to get it.”

“And that leaves…?” Buffy prompted.

“Heather Chandler. Lucy Kippen. In our case, one and the same. Lucy’s pretty much the head bitch of her life.”

“Fascinating,” Buffy said, propping her chin up on her hand. “Does that make you a mythic bitch?”

“Yeah alright, that’s over now,” Lucy said, reverting to her natural voice. “Listen, I’m just a normal person, Buffy.”

“You’re a Kippen.”

“Okay, I’m like… 70% a normal person.”

“Alright, but I’m only really concerned for your whole 100%?” Buffy said slowly.

“Alright fine. I’m a dancer. 100%.”

“One hell of a cop-out you’ve got there.”

“Ugh, fine! My favorite color is red, I get all A's in school, my favorite subject is math, my lucky number is 28, I am 6’1”, I weigh 127.8 pounds, my favorite animal is a cat. Anything I missed?”

“Hold up, you only weigh 128 pounds and you’re 6’1”? Alright, not my business. I know.”

“Good. Don’t criticize a ballerina’s weight, idiot,” she teased, knocking her shoulder into Buffy’s.

“I know, I realized it the second I said it,” Buffy apologized sheepishly.

“Don’t sweat it, Driscoll. It’s all good.”

“Have you met me? On the outside, totally good. But definitely gonna sweat it, Kippen. You will actually never hear the end of this apologetic tirade.”

“Please don’t bore me with that.”

“Ms. Kippen?” Lucy turned her attention to the doctor standing in front of her.

“Yes?”

“Your sister is still unconscious, but you’re welcome to see her now,” Dr. Lawrence said gingerly.

“Oh- thank you so much. Is- is she…?”

“We can’t be sure of anything right now, Ms. Kippen.”

“Okay, thank you. Um, Buffy, stay here and tell TJ and Emily where I am? Please?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Kippen. I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you,” Lucy whispered, turning to follow Dr. Lawrence.

She stepped into Amber’s room, breath catching in her throat. She’d never seen her sister like this; she was covered in bandages and stitched up cuts. Lucy pulled a chair up to Amber’s bedside, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Ambs. I don’t know if you can hear me, but, you know. I’m still going to talk to you. God, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say, Amber. I’m supposed to have this eloquent speech about how you’ve changed me as a person and I miss you so much and please come back, but… I don’t know what there is to say. You’re my best friend, Ambs. TJ and I would be lost without you. But you already knew that. And I’m not- I’m not going to tell you to wake up. Because, if you have to go, Ambs, I get it. I’ll cry and scream and I’ll break down and probably resent you a little bit, but I’ll get it. If you need to go, I want you to know that I understand. However, I am definitely going to plead with you here a little bit. Please, please wake up, Amber. I can’t do all of this without you. TJ relies on us for fucking everything, and I rely on you two, too. There have been three of us since the very beginning, Amber. And there will be three of us until the end. So just- God, just wake up.”

“You think that works?” Lucy turned around to find TJ leaning against the doorframe.

“Teej,” she breathed, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

“How’s our girl?”

“She’s… Alive. Somehow.”

“She’s a fighter. Learned from the best, I guess.”

“Who?” Lucy asked, meeting TJ’s eyes.

“You, dumbass,” he teased. “You are by far the strongest person we know.”

“I’m strong and a dumbass?”

“You’re a multitasker. Hell of a good one, too.”

“Well, if a girl an be a strong dumbass, there’s nothing else to want!” Lucy said with a roll of her eyes and a shove of TJ’s shoulder.

“My point exactly. Listen, do you mind if I…?” he gestured to Amber. Lucy nodded, squeezing his forearm.

“I’ll go find Buffy. And maybe also a coffee. Want anything?”

“Um… I could really go for some chocolate.”

“On it,” Lucy promised. “Be back soon.”

As Lucy stepped out of the room, TJ sat down in the seat she left behind. She gently let the door click closed, turning down the hall toward the waiting room.

“How’s she doing?” Buffy immediately asked, standing up when Lucy stepped out of the hallway. “Um, this is my mom.”

“Ms. Driscoll,” Lucy said, extending a hand to the woman next to Buffy. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You too, Lucy. Please, call me Pat. How’s your sister?”

“She’s good. I guess. She’s alive. Comatose, but well and truly alive.”

“I’m so glad.”

“Lucy!” Emily exclaimed, rushing forward to hug Lucy tightly. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“It was awful, Em,” Lucy sobbed into Emily’s chest. “And it’s all my fault.”

“Hey. This is not your fault, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, kiddo.” Emily’s voice was measured and careful as she pulled back to squeeze Lucy’s hand. “In fact, you did everything right. You tried to avoid the accident, you were quick to call 911. Hell, you have Amber’s blood on your leotard because you kept her conscious until the EMT came. You’re basically a damn superhero, Lucy Eleanora Kippen.”

“Eleanora?” Buffy hissed, eyes wide.

“I didn’t choose it,” Lucy defended, glancing down at her outfit. “Holy shit. That’s actually Amber’s blood.”

“You didn’t notice?” Pat asked.

“Not really. I- I’ll change… at some point. But for now, I am on a coffee and chocolate run.”

“Coffee… and chocolate?” Buffy asked.

“Long story. Come with me?” Lucy asked quickly.

“Uh, sure?” Lucy tugged her down the hall without a second thought, only stopping when they found a coffee machine.

“What’s going on? You good?”

“Yep,” Lucy said, pulling Buffy forward and kissing her. Buffy’s hands tangled in her hair as she stood on her toes to reach Lucy’s lips. They pulled apart after a few moments, and Lucy nodded decisively.

“Uhh…” Buffy said slowly. “What was that about, exactly?”

“Thank you.” Lucy nodded again, as if confirming something, before disappearing back down the hallway.

“...Any time.”

#Andi Mack #luffy #lucy kippen #buffy driscoll #amber kippen #tj kippen #a study in fate fic

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dontshootmespence · 6 years ago

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Supernatural AU: Episode 2 - Phantom Traveler

Part 1

“How do you do it? All this?”

People tend to ask us that a lot. Hell, I question how we do it on a nearly constant basis. The answer is complex to say the least and the answers tend to change on a dime. On the one hand…I just do it. It’s what I know and I do it well, so I do it. If I didn’t the guilt would rattle at my brain. Why should I be living the sweet life when I know what’s out there and I know how to handle it? It just seems wrong. It seems selfish. But only for me of course. My brothers should be able to do as they please - hunt or have a home without guilt. On the other hand, even through all the pain and misery my brothers and I have gone through, we’ve saved people and that’s a feeling you really can’t describe unless you’ve felt it.

Helping someone survive the things they can’t explain? The monsters? Allowing them to return to the normal life my brothers and I never had? That’s a great feeling. Some hunters would say it’s a drug. I would say it’s a drug.

I’m not one of those ‘if-I-can’t-have-it-no-one-will people.’ I don’t have it, but if I can give it to someone else…well that’s the next best thing.

After Jess’s death, an absolute storm began to rage within Sam. It was almost frightening what that kind of anger could do to the most vulnerable and kind-hearted among men. Sam had always been the most vulnerable of the three of them and if they didn’t rein him in soon he could easily become someone they didn’t recognize.

For nearly a week, they stayed near Stanford trying to find any trace of what it was that killed her, but they couldn’t find anything so instead of sitting around and wasting their time, Bobbie, Dean and Sam moved on, following the trail their father left from town to town.

One thing was certain. Their father going missing and this creature or spirit or whatever the hell it was showing up again after 20 years was absolutely no coincidence. It couldn’t be. Something bigger than the Winchester family was happening – the ball had started to roll.

It didn’t matter if the trail had gone cold – not really – not in the whole scheme of things. What it came down to was the fact that there was still evil out in the world and it was the kind of evil that could actually be stopped. Sam wanted to focus solely on finding their father because in his mind once they found him they’d be one step closer to finding whatever killed Jess and their mother, but they’d had no leads so Dean and Bobbie insisted on working cases as they normally would. His desire for revenge could easily steer them away from the thousands of people that needed their help.

“We kill every evil thing between here and there,” Dean spat forcefully.

In their fight against a wendigo and the vengeful spirit of a young boy who was denied the right to grow up, Sam became increasingly more impulsive, preferring to shoot first and ask questions later. It was so unlike the Sam they’d known and loved all their lives. Sure, the two elder siblings would’ve preferred that Sam have a proverbial fire under his ass in regards to hunting but this was the other extreme and it could easily get them or someone else killed. There had to be a happy medium. Happy. Ha!

In their motel room, Bobbie pulled Sam back to rest against her shoulder. “We are going to find Dad. I promise. And then we’ll all find what killed Jess. I won’t let all this be in vain.” This had been 20 years in the making; they could wait another few weeks.

Flying was the absolute worst thing in the world. There was no way anything could be worse. As he stood over the sink, splashing cool water onto his face, he wondered if there was any way for him to never fly again. What was natural about having a tube the width of a sequoia tree floating through the air with hundreds of people on it and just a few large wings to hold it all up?

Nothing!

If this convention wasn’t going to be keeping him abreast of the up-and-coming changes in dentistry there is absolutely no way he would be subjecting himself to this right now. He’d prefer to drive, but he just didn’t have the time.

One last time, he threw the now ice-cold water onto his face, wiping it away to realize he wasn’t alone in the restroom anymore. “Nervous flyer?” The man asked.

You think?! “Just a bit,” he replied. Snark probably wasn’t the best answer with a total stranger just moments before he was supposed to board a mobile death trap.

He was extremely jealous that the other man seemed to be a comfortable flyer. What he wouldn’t give. “You’ll be okay,” he said. “I mean what are the odds of dying in a plane crash? Like 20,000 to 1?”

“T-that doesn’t make it better,” he replied, following the other gentleman’s walk as he made his way out of the bathroom. Before he could say anything else, a cloud of something, black and almost smoke-like was staring him in the face. He tried to step out of the way but it followed him and when it touched him, he realized he was no longer himself. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. Something else was driving him through the crowded airport.

What the hell is going on?

How can I not have control over my own body?

He felt like he was drunk. But times 1,000 and he wasn’t unaware of what was happening.

As he walked onto the plane, he felt his grip on himself slipping. It was like an intense itch that was slowly taking over every feeling in his body. And then…

Sometimes people just didn’t want to face the fact that they had no control over anything anymore. “Enjoy your flight,” the blonde attendant said.

He had big plans for these passengers. “Oh, I plan to.” The little moment when a human was thrown off, when they couldn’t quite shake that uneasy feeling, oh that was delicious. Smirking, he made his way to his seat. He was practically giddy with excitement. How was he supposed to wait?

Once they were up in the air, he started to feel those exciting jitters; the kind he got anytime he indulged in a little mischief and mayhem. It was almost time! The next few minutes flew by but that was only because he made corny jokes with some of the other passengers. A favorite of his was “wow, time really must fly.” So much amazing foreshadowing and they had absolutely no idea. Just the way he liked it. “How long have we been in the air?” He asked the woman next to him.

“About 40 minutes,” she replied warily. His presence did tend to make people uncomfortable.

Perfect. It was time for the headlining event.

Amidst the recycled air of the cabin, he stood up and excused himself to pass the woman sitting next to him. If he had a little more room he’d skip down the aisle, but alas he’d just have to contain himself. When he reached the emergency exit door, he hesitated for a moment. Not because of doubt. No, not at all. He just wanted to take in the moment. Turning around, he caught sight of one of the passengers and then reached for the handle.

From behind him, he heard it – the stinging panic of incoming chaos. “Hey! What are you doing?”

The human flew out the window and as he vacated the meat suit and let it fly through the air to its inevitable death, satisfied with a job well done, he heard the sound of hysterical screams. Mixed with the wind whistling into the now open cabin, it was like a symphony – and he was the conductor.

The slamming of the door woke her up. Why did everything have to be so loud? Bobbie had always been a light sleeper, but still. “What the hell?”

She popped up, bouncing against the crappy motel mattress. God her back hurt. Was she already getting too old for this? “Sam? What are you doing up?”

Dean groaned into the pillow, cursing them both for waking him up when they actually had a chance to sleep. “What time is it?” He moaned, wiping the sleep from his eyes with closed fists like a tired child. Sometimes it was hard to remember that these were her grown brothers now – to Bobbie, they would forever be the little boys she had to protect and love. It’s just now they could kill shit.

“5:45,” Sam said matter-of-factly, holding up a tray of coffees and what smelled like fresh chocolate donuts.

“AM?” Bobbie fell back into the mattress and finally caught sight of the clock. It was in fact 5:45 in the morning. “You’re insane.”

Sam shrugged and passed them both coffees and donuts before biting into one himself. Woah. If Sam was shoving crap food in his face then something had to be wrong.

“Having trouble sleeping?” She asked, already knowing the answer. She wished there was some way to help him, but unfortunately, no matter how much she wanted to, she had to let Sam be at the forefront of this battle. If he needed the backup, she’d be there.

Dean sat up and placed his feet on the floor as he attempted to knock the sleep out of his eyes. “You still having nightmares about Jess?” He asked.

At first, Sam couldn’t meet either of their gazes, but he smoothed back his hair with his hands and gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Yea. It’s not just about her though. It’s everything.”

Bobbie raised an eyebrow in his direction that coaxed him into elaborating. “All of this. What we do. I’m not used to it anymore.”

More than anything she didn’t want any of them to ever get “used to it,” but unfortunately, she felt like she and Dean were already on their way to working on autopilot. “It’s petrifying.”

“I know,” Bobbie whispered. She was always afraid. How could she not be when she was staring death in the face on a daily basis? The difference was she wasn’t going to let that fear stop her from doing what she need to do and being who she needed to be.

Silence hung between the three for a moment. “What you’re never afraid?” Dean had been suspiciously silent. For years, it had just been Bobbie and Dean; she knew he was afraid. But she also knew he’d never admit it.

As if on cue. “Afraid? No way.”

Lies, Dean. Lies. Sam could see it too.

Suddenly, her phone began to ring on the bedside table. It was a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

“Hey, is this Bobbie?”

“This is she. Who is this?”

“This is Jerry Panowski,” he said, adding when he sensed her hesitation. “You, Dean and your dad helped me a couple years back with a poltergeist.” Oh yea, she remembered him. Unlike so many of their cases where they had to convince people of the scary supernatural shit, Jerry believed them the second they’d told him what was haunting his family.

A tenseness she didn’t realize she’d been carrying dissipated from her shoulders. “Jerry, hi,” she replied, turning on the phone’s speaker. “What can I help you with?”

His voice was heavy with sadness. “You hear about the United Britannia flight a couple days ago?”

“Yea.” Dean and Sam both nodded as they tried to figure out why the hell Jerry would be calling about the plane downed by mechanical failure.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said softly. “But that plane didn’t have any mechanical failures. I think this might be your area of expertise.”

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