#because even if mom is resting it wouldn’t surprise me if it child rearing was one of those communal things for them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

txemrn · 3 years

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In your hc, did Brynn have any strong cravings or aversions during her pregnancy from the mother's day fic?? How did Sam handle that??? I hope he wasn't a dickhead like with the other pregnancy when he cheated and gave her an STD. 😒

I was just thinking 👉👈🥺😇 that might be a cute little story. 😉

Btw I really enjoy reading about them!!! I'd L💗VE more. HINT proposal??? WEDDING?????

Hey, there! *big ol' hugs* thank you so much for the ask and the "hints". 🤣😂🤣 I hope you enjoy my interpretation of your suggestion! And yes, there is more to come from Sam and Brynn. Enjoy! 🍨🍓🍨

Warning: NSFW 🍋 (tiny little squirts; don't get too excited); language; angst; pregnancy-related stuff

***

The sparkle of fresh winter snow gathers along the window sill. A hint of gingerbread and fresh spruce waltz in the air. Melting with the smokey notes of kindled embers, the fireplace crackles in the darkened master suite--the only lively room left in the penthouse for the evening.

It had been an exhausting Friday. With Christmas and Brynn’s birthday next week, the Dalton family spent their day tirelessly getting things prepared before a very special winter vacation. Brynn attended Mickey and Mason’s holiday party at school, bringing her famous cupcakes and oven-baked Chex Mix, not to mention presents for all the teachers and faculty.

Because of the school’s early release, Brynn and the boys met Sam for lunch, where they served the entire company a catered, bountiful holiday meal, complete with generous congratulatory swag for another successful third year.

Sam spent the afternoon on phone conferences, which gave him time to pack up to work remotely from home; he wouldn’t be returning until the 28th. By the late afternoon, they had completed the grocery shopping, tidied up their home, fixed and ate dinner.

But for Sam and Brynn, the jam-packed day was far from over. There was still one more very important task to complete: sex. And lots of it.

Seductive whispers, tender giggles and lustful moans penetrate the quiet suite. Their exposed bodies hungrily intertwine together as their movements are kept rhythmically in time with the subtle creaking of the bed.

Sam grips tightly to his wife’s supple breast, brushing his thumbs over her erect pink nipples. With her left hand, Brynn sinks her nails onto the top of his hand, squeezing together with him; her other hand holds tightly to the headboard, straddling her thighs on top of her husband’s hips.

“Oh, God! Sam!” she exhales with each thrust onto his swelling, hardened girth, her voice becoming louder, more raspy. “Almost--! Almost--!”

“Brynn--! I--!” With one final buck of his hips, Sam spills over into euphoria. His fingers quickly drop to her voluptuous assets. He clenches savagely to her curves, pushing her drenched, tightening center to his hilt. Sweat drips off his brow as indistinguishable groans wail from his throat.

Watching her husband come undone teases Brynn’s own release. Tossing her almond locks over her bare shoulders, she is taken captive by the sensations tickling her voracious desires. She rocks her hips against Sam’s buried length, stroking her throbbing clit through her incessant waves of reckless ecstasy. Thunderous moans of pleasure escape her mouth as she gasps for a drink of air.

Almost too terrified to disturb the perfect moment, the couple savors the quietness of them simply being together, their hearts beating in-time, connecting as one.

“I love you, baby,” Sam whispers, breaking the silence as he gently massages Brynn’s thighs. His hands intimately roam, carefully finding their way to stroke her fully-blossomed pregnant belly.

A bright smile effortlessly spreads across her face. “I love you, too, baby.” Her delicate fingers meet his. She lifts his hand to her lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses.

“Hopefully,” he chuckles, “that’ll do the trick.”

She cradles her abdomen. “I can only hope so,” she titters, her fingers caressing her abdomen as she talks to their unborn child. “That was another eviction notice, precious one--”

Brynn and Sam had a preterm labor scare at 33 weeks, which landed Brynn in the hospital for a week being pumped with various medications to stop her contractions. She was discharged home, with the instructions to “take it easy.” Though it isn’t ideal to have a baby this early, her team of doctors agreed they weren’t going to do anything to stop her labor if it were to happen again.

Tomorrow, Brynn will be 41 weeks. For the past two weeks, she has been trying every trick in the book to go into labor. Her lab technician Meaghan swore by spicy food; that only gave Brynn ungodly heartburn. Lydia, the Dalton’s downstairs neighbor, gifted Brynn a bottle of castor oil; she spent a solid two days with uncontrollable diarrhea and belly aches. Carter’s wife gave Brynn a special tea blend; she would contract, but nothing painful; she actually fell asleep because of the delicious steep.

Then, there was her mother's advice:

“You’ve gotta have sex, Brynny--”

“Mom--!”

“--and I’m not talking about the mediocre, ‘are you done yet?’ , making-your-shopping-list-in-your-head kind. You need to orgasm--”

“Jesus Christ, Mom--!”

“You need his semen--”

“I can’t believe this is happening right now--”

“And fondle your breasts. Better yet, let him do it! Now you might leak a little, so if you have him suckle--”

*click*

“Brynny? Brynny?”

“I, for one, am not minding this eviction process--”

“Samuel!” she playfully slaps against Sam’s broad chest. Blocking her hits and laughing, Sam finally grabs Brynn, pulling her body down next to his. He wraps his arms around her, brushing his lips against her temple. He rests his large hands on her gravid belly, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Mhmm--” Brynn snuggles into Sam’s embrace, closing her eyes. “Just perfect, babe. G’night.”

“Night, baby.”

The delightful pops of the fireplace lulls Sam to sleep; Brynn, however, started having trouble. She turned to her right side, but soon flipped to her left side. When that didn’t get her comfortable, she sat up on the side of the bed, massaging her back and her abdomen.

“Brynn baby,” yawns Sam, “you okay?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you, babe.”

“It’s-k.” Sam fluffs his pillow under his head, keeping his eyes closed. “Contractions?” he slurs.

“Braxton Hicks. I’ll be fine. You go back to--”

Sam lets out a satisfied snore before Brynn can finish her sentence. Tickled, she tucks her husband into bed before she slips on a silk robe. Pulling out her exercise ball from the closet, she sits on top of it in hopes that rocking her hips will bring her some comfort.

She suddenly stops, clutching her chest. An all-too-familiar jolt of burning shoots through her belly leaving an unbearable sour sensation clawing at the back of her throat. Carefully balancing herself to a stand, she retreats to the bathroom for medicine. And to vomit.

“Brynn? Brynn?”

“I’m in here,” her pitiful voice echoes through the bathroom.

Sam slips on a pair of sweats, hurrying to her side in the water closet. Seeing his wife crumpled over the toilet, he drops to her side, pushing her hair behind her ears before rubbing her back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispers gravelly.

“No, you’re not,” he tenderly touches her clammy cheek. “What do you need, babe?”

Brynn leans back, sitting her rear on the cold tile. Embracing her body as another contraction subsides, she quietly states, “I need ice cream.”

Sam’s eyes widen with surprise at the request. “You want… ice cream?”

“Mhmm,” she nods. “That would feel so good against my throat.”

“Okay, baby,” he chuckles, brushing his thumb across swollen lips. “Is there a certain flavor--?”

“Strawberry,” she barks, “it needs to be strawberry.”

Sam kisses her forehead, and jogs to the kitchen in search of his wife’s favorite ice cream. Scooping up three massive balls into a bowl, he returns to the bathroom with two spoons.

“Strawberry ice cream, m’lady!” He sits on the floor with her, presenting the cold dessert like a trophy.

Brynn observes the creamy pink heap. She slowly takes the spoon, poking at the frozen treat. She watches her husband take a bite of it first before she reluctantly tries it.

“No,” she spits out her small bite, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Perplexed, Sam spoons another bite for himself. “Is there something wrong with it? Is it freezer burned or--?”

“No, no,” Brynn’s eyes begin to well with tears. “It’s just not strawberry enough,” she sniffles.

“Okay, babe, there’s no crying in ice cream,” he chuckles, wiping at her eyes.

“I think it’s because I want strawberry ice cream.”

“Honey, this is strawberry ice cream.”

“This is strawberries and cream.” She uses her spoon as a pointer, “See how there’s vanilla and strawberry with pieces of strawberry? I just," she sighs, "I need strawberry ice cream.”

Staring at the wall, Sam pretends to understand his wife’s request. “Of course, baby. I’ll go get, um--” he clears his throat to keep from laughing, “the strawberry ice cream.”

“Hey, Sam?”

“Mhmm?”

“I love you, baby.” She offers a toothy smile.

He chuckles. “Love you, too,” he shakes his head with a coy smile.

Sam returns with another heaping mound of strawberry ice cream. “Alright, baby, just what you asked for: strawberry ice cream.”

“Sam,” irritation saturates Brynn’s voice as it begins to tremble. “This has strawberry pieces in it.”

“It’s because it’s strawberry ice cream,” Sam bites his tongue, watching his words carefully as he gnashes his teeth. “It’s exactly what you asked for, sweetheart.”

Brynn hangs her head in her hands as she sobs. “I wanted strawberry ice cream, not strawberry with strawberries ice cream!”

“Babe, are you fucking kidding me right--?”

“Don’t yell at me!” Brynn begins to sob harder.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam sputters. He runs his hands down his face, letting out a sigh. He sits down next to his wife, taking her in his arms. “How can we fix this? Can you maybe eat around the strawberries?”

“It just,” her breath hangs tight in her throat as she tries to control her tears, “it doesn’t taste the same.”

“Of course, it doesn’t,” he mutters under his breath. He sighs heavily again. “What can I do, Brynn? Tell me what to do.”

“I just want strawberry ice cream--”

“No. What. Do. You. Want?” He grabs his cell phone. “Show me.”

She does a quick google search, pulling up a plain pink custard with strawberry flavoring--no pieces. “This. I need this. Please.”

“Brynn, we don’t have this here.”

“There’s a 7-11 two blocks away--”

“It’s eighteen degrees outside.” Sam shakes his head, as he walks back to bed. “No, this is getting fucking ridiculous.”

Brynn glares at the spot where her husband once stood, her eyebrows furrowing; warm streams of tears downpour on her cheeks. Red patches of skin grow across her neck and face as her breathing labors.

“Samuel!” When he doesn’t answer, she carefully balances herself from the ground and waddles into their room. “Samuel!”

“What?” his muffled words slur as he buries his head into a pillow. “I just need a little sleep.”

“Oh, you need a little sleep? You?” Brynn rips the duvet off of Sam, her small body shaking in anger. “I have given up my body for ten fucking months to grow a baby, an actual human being that will more than likely rip me to pieces just to,” she chuckles sarcastically, “look like you!”

“Brynn, I--”

“I’m not fucking done!” She breathes through another contraction, stepping closer to her terrified husband. “I have not complained once, and yet I have given up every ounce of my dignity. I can’t control my farts. I can't control my pee. I’m growing rolls and stretch marks in places that I never even knew a person could grow them!” She steps even closer, her eyes darkening. “I fuck you multiple times weekly--sometimes daily--where I hide the embarrassment that my hot, chiseled husband is staring at either my double chin or my fat, stretch-marked ass--”

“Baby, I don’t--”

Brynn holds up a finger. “I reverse cowgirl you until my legs cramp because you like it. I suck your dick off because you like it--”

“I thought that--”

“I just want some strawberry ice cream, Sam!” she sobs, “And then maybe you can get some sleep!” Brynn cradles her abdomen as another wave of discomfort grips around her belly.

Sam sits on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Fine”

“And I need to come with you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam sarcastically scoffs. He slinks on a long-sleeve shirt before grabbing his coat. He turns back to his wife who is grabbing her coat. “Um, no,” he chuckles. “I need you stay here and just relax--”

“No, we’re going together.”

Frustrated with the conversation, Sam darts his eyes around the room, trying not to yell. “Why, Brynn?”

“Because--”

“‘Because’ why, Brynn?”

“Because my water just broke.”

***

@ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @forallthatitsworth @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @pixie88 @sfb123 @shannonsaid @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @secretaryunpaid @thefrenchiemama

#the nanny affair #m!sam dalton #m!sam x mc #pregnancy #choices stories you play #choices tna

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corvus--rex · 3 years

Text

Next in this bizarre collection of abandoned, semi-abandoned, and deeply sleeping wips is one that has more direct time travel. It's more in the deeply sleeping category as I'm still picking at it. It's also another Omegaverse, so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip it. Also, both Lance and Keith practice polytheistic religions that have been altered to fit an ABO setting

~*~*~*~*~

A few years after the war, the Paladins made the newly rebuilt Castle of Lions their home. Shiro and Adam retired from the Garrison and into diplomatic careers for the Coalition. Pidge’s parents were still with the organization, but she and Matt preferred to be more hands-on, maintaining the places on the castle and with the now-former rebellion. The still close-knit team were still recovering from the recent bonding ceremony for Hunk and Shay, who were also staying aboard the castle, although it was still uncertain as to whether or not human and Balmeran genetics were compatible; they were just waiting on genetic compatibility testing. Lance and Keith, however, were ahead of the game. They had gotten engaged while on the way back to Earth, announcing it to Lance’s family on their return. Not wanting to wait, and with no way of knowing what would happen in their war with Honerva, they’d held a small bonding ceremony the night before leaving Earth for the second time.

Keith had it the worst when it came to post-Hunk/Shay bonding recovery. He wasn’t going to miss Hunk and Shay’s bonding for anything, even if it meant dealing with Lance’s fussing. It had gotten bad enough during the reception that both Krolia and Lance’s mother Mariana told him to sit down and let his pregnant mate be. Keith could understand where Lance’s caution came from. While their little one was only one quarter Galra, and developing as a human child would, Keith’s half-Galra physiology had other ideas, his body and hormones changing like a shorter Galra pregnancy. It meant that he needed to be monitored more closely than he would if the pup’s development and his body’s lined up. It also meant that they didn’t have a concrete due date, and that it was entirely possible he could deliver a premature pup. But at sixteen weeks Earth time, there were still another two months until they needed to watch for their little one’s arrival. They had stayed behind on Earth an extra couple days after Hunk and Shay’s bonding ceremony for some of Lance’s extended family who wanted to see them both before the pup was born. Keith was exhausted from the three days of parties surrounding the ceremony and the event itself, but they were headed back to the castle after that and wouldn’t be back for another eight months, and by then the pup would be at least two months old.

Nadia and Sylvio were excited about their cousin, and had to be reminded that Keith was tired from everything going on. Right then, they wanted to see the inside of the Altean pod the matepair were taking back to the castle. Keith and Mariana burst out laughing when Lance appeared with his niece and nephew each tucked under an arm.

He “dropped” the giggling, squirming pups in front of his oldest brother. “I think you lost something.”

“Who, me? I haven’t lost anything,” Luis said, feigning ignorance.

Still laughing, Nadia and Sylvio began scaling their mountain of a father. Once they got to hip height, he grabbed them both the same way Lance had been carrying them and took off running while mock screaming, making his pups shriek with laughter. Lance just laughed to himself and shook his head at his brother and niblings.

“Like you can talk. You know damn well you're going to be just the same with ours,” Keith called.

“Yeah, probably,” Lance admitted, walking over.

“‘Probably’ nothing, mijo. I know you will,” Mariana said, “Just don’t forget to call when that little one arrives. We’ll be praying for a safe delivery.”

Lance’s parents, grandparents, and aunts and uncles all practiced Santeria, and while Lance and his siblings had been raised in it and still believed, none of them actively practiced. His lack of participation didn’t lessen his appreciation of his mother’s intentions. He would have been worried when it came to telling Keith about his family’s practices if he didn’t already know about his Omega’s neo-paganism. Keith, likewise, had been relieved when Lance didn’t immediately declare him insane and instead explained about his own family.

“Thanks, Mami. So will we,” he said, hugging his mother.

“Doesn’t matter where you are in the universe, the Orisha will hear you,” she told him, then pulled Keith in, “And so will your gods, mijo.”

“I know. Thanks, Mami,” Keith answered.

The pod’s comms chirped, and Lance disentangled himself from his mate and his mother, disappearing into the small craft. Mariana wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist and he leaned into it, fully appreciating her maternal warmth. She was one of a very small number of people who had open permission to touch him. She understood that, especially after Lance had explained about Keith’s childhood in the foster care system and that he was largely touch-averse unless you were one of a select few who had earned his complete trust. She’d earned it through being the woman she was and treating Keith like one of her own children.

She reached over, resting a hand on his growing belly. “I pray for this pup every day. You two are going to be wonderful parents. And I know that you both will be safe up there – you and this little one.”

Keith breathed a laugh. “Altean technology makes humans look like we’re still playing with sticks and rocks. I mean, on an interstellar level, we kinda are. I’ve been thinking about that lately,” he admitted, “The ‘we’ part. I’m still half-Galra. Most of the time I feel like the only places on Earth I feel like I belong are out at my Dad’s place, and here.”

“Oh, mijo. It doesn’t at all matter that your wonderful mother isn’t human, or that you share her blood. What matters is what you do with it. And both of you used your heritage to do the right thing. And now she’s leading her – your – people to a new way of thinking. You both have done so much good. Never forget that. Or that you’re family. You’ll always belong here. And not just because you're carrying my grandpup.”

“We weren’t exactly planning on this.”

Mariana laughed. “Neither was I. For any of them. None of my five children were planned. We always wanted pups, but we decided to let it happen however it was going to happen. And we were blessed with five beautiful pups.” She nudged him gently. “Tell me, do you have any thoughts on what your pup might be? I knew for all of them, even when my mother was trying to tell me that I was wrong. Especially with Lance. She was convinced he was an Omega. And then he was born all Alpha.”

Keith nodded, understanding. “Yeah, that’s apparently not just a human thing. Mom said she knew I was an Omega before I was born. I think this one is too. I’m pretty sure it’s an Omega boy. Little brat keeps moving and won’t let us see, so we don’t know for certain yet, but I feel like it’s an Omega boy.”

“Oh, Veronica was the same. We didn’t know until she was an Alpha girl until she was born. And she’s still stubborn and independent.”

{What do you think, sweetheart? You an Omega boy?} she asked the unborn pup.

Her question was answered with a sharp kick.

“Is he always like that?” Mariana asked in surprise.

“Yes. Yes he is. I’ve been feeling him moving for almost two months, but it got more intense about three weeks ago. That, apparently, is a Galra thing.”

“What’s a Galra thing?” Lance asked, walking down the loading ramp.

“How hard the pup kicks,” Keith said.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “It really is that bad. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night before because of it.”

“Now imagine how I feel! Anyway, what was the comm call?”

“Oh, right. Just Allura asking when we were planning on going back up. I told her we were finishing getting the pod packed up and we’d be leaving within the hour. Varga. Whatever.”

Mariana hugged them both again. “Don’t forget. I want to know.”

Keith’s lips twisted in an amused smile. “As soon as we do,” he said.

Lance didn’t ask about it until they were settled in the pod’s cockpit and on their way to the wormhole point. “What are we telling my mother when we know it?”

“Huh? Oh, the pup’s primary and secondary sexes. I said that I feel like it’s an Omega boy, but that we haven’t been able to confirm it,” Keith explained.

“Yeah, he’s being a little brat about it,” Lance agreed, “We will find out eventually,” he added, poking the unborn pup only to be rewarded with another kick. “See? Brat.” He stood up, stretching hard enough to pop his spine. He let his arms drop and extended a hand to his mate. “Come on. Allura’s not opening a wormhole until we’re way out of system, and I want snuggles.”

When they first packed the pod to leave for Earth, Lance had shifted a few things around in the passenger compartment, making room for Keith to set up a nest. He was worried about their pup and was trying to just be a good Alpha for his Omega. Keith was particularly hormonal that day and broke down in tears when he saw the cleared space, his favorite nesting materials neatly sitting in the middle of it. Lance had been afraid he’d accidentally done something wrong until he found himself with his arms full of sobbing, pregnant Omega telling him how amazing he was through hiccupped tears. The nest was built and stayed there until they landed on Earth, where it was taken down and rebuilt in Lance’s old bedroom, right on top of his queen bed. Now it held their scents mixed with Lance’s family’s. Lance also knew about the sweater Krolia had given Keith for the express purpose of fitting it into his nest.

Keith let Lance lead them through to the rear of the pod and got settled into the nest. Leaning back against his Alpha, Keith reached into his shirt and pulled out the crystal he always wore. A clear quartz point, with a triple moon carved from rainbow moonstone woven into the silver wire wrapping the top of the crystal. He ran his fingers over the moonstone, feeling its carved lines and points, the smooth gem comforting. He was safe and comfortable in his Alpha’s arms, tucked into their temporary nest, but he still worried. He knew better than anyone that their pup could come earlier than anyone was comfortable with, especially him. He sighed, letting the quartz drop.

“What’s up?” Lance murmured sleepily into Keith’s neck.

“I’m just thinking again,” he said, the pad of his thumb following the back of his fingers in a small line on his belly.

Lance knew what he was thinking, read worrying, about, and wove their fingers together. “I know. But even worst case, even if he is three months early, he’ll be ok, and so will you. There is literally no one else like you in the entire universe, and all of this is new to everyone. Best we can do is take it one day at a time.” He grabbed the tablet from outside the nest, checking the autopilot. “We still have about an hour before we get to the wormhole point. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Keith yawned, curling up in the nest, Lance wrapping his arms around his Omega. “Nap sounds great,” he mumbled, half-asleep already.

Lance didn’t last much longer, drifting off the second Keith’s breathing evened out in sleep.

They were woken by alarms blaring throughout the pod. Keith shot up, startled and growling. Lance went for the tablet, checking the readings from the pod’s sensors. They should still have been twenty minutes out from the meeting point, but the star map showed them being in an entirely different galaxy, the familiar Milky Way nowhere in sight. He leapt from the nest, running for the cockpit. When Keith had calmed a bit and hauled himself out of his spot and to the cockpit, Lance was at the controls.

“Get yourself strapped in,” the Alpha said without looking up, “We’re headed straight for an asteroid field and there’s no time to change course.”

Lance changed the controls to manual and the front shielding changed from opaque to transparent, showing the looming ancient debris in stunning real time. Keith sat himself in the co-pilot’s seat, fastening the 4-point harness over his chest just in time for the first asteroid to go whipping past. He wanted to take the controls, but he knew that his awkward current shape made it nearly impossible for him to fly with the deftness an asteroid field required. Lance had no such problem, weaving through the asteroid field with his usual liquid grace.

When they finally broke through and into empty space, they still had no real idea of where they were. Keith brought up the galactic map. He noted several familiar planets and systems, realizing that they were on the far side of the Andromeda galaxy. As he was relaying all of that to his mate, the pod’s comm chirped with an incoming hail. It was the castle, but something was different and they couldn’t quite put their finger on it. Lance answered the hail, Allura’s face filling the screen.

“Hey, Allura. Do you have any idea what the fuck just happened? We were on our way to the rendezvous point for the wormhole and now we’re here,” Lance asked.

Allura stared at them in complete shock. “I – I don’t understand. How are you two there? You can’t be there. You’re both here on the castle.”

Lance and Keith shared a confused look. “No. We’re not,” Keith said slowly, “We just left Earth a couple hours ago and were on our way to the spot you designated for the wormhole back to the castle.”

“Earth?! What the quiznak are you talking about?! Stay there. I’m going to tow your pod into the castle and we’ll talk about whatever prank this is.” The shock was in her voice at first, before it became almost angry. She looked back at them from her projected control screen, and then looked at them both more carefully. “Lance, how in the quiznak do you have Altean marks?”

“From you?” he answered, now totally confused. Had she forgotten reviving him after he took the full damage of an energy attack meant for her? Did she not remember that he’d ended up with sky blue Altean marks as a result of the sheer amount of quintessence she poured into him?

“That’s impossible. I can’t give you our markings. And Keith, have you gained weight?” She was still confused, but turned it to the Red Paladin.

“Not in the last three days,” he said, then glanced down and back to her, “Not that way, anyway.”

They felt the pod guided into the pod bay and land softly. “Stay there, inside the pod,” Allura said, “I’ll be right there.” The screen cut out, leaving them alone again.

“What in the absolute fuck is going on?” Keith asked.

“I wish I fucking knew,” Lance answered. “Does she really think this is some kind of over-elaborate prank? She can’t. She knows us. Knows we’re mated. Knows you’re pregnant.”

“Yeah, that was weird. Asking me if I've gained weight. I mean, I know I've put on about fifteen pounds, but that’s almost completely directly related to him. I haven’t really changed anywhere else.”

Lance sighed. “Yeah. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. But at least we’re back. We can get your nest rebuilt in our suite and take a fucking nap.”

Something told Keith to leave his nest as it was, and he told Lance as much. They also decided not to get back into it while they waited for Allura. The matepair waited in the open seating, Keith nuzzling into Lance’s scent gland. It was something they’d come to realize was a side-effect of his pregnancy. He couldn’t get enough of his Alpha’s scent and would use any and every excuse to get close and scent himself, not that Lance minded it at all. It always stroked his Alpha’s ego that their Omega was so devoted to them.

They both looked up when there was a failed attempt to open the rear door of the pod, which was followed by a polite knock. “Hang on a tick,” Lance called. He extracted himself from his snuggly koala of a mate with a soft kiss to his temple and a gentle hand on their pup.

Allura stood in the doorway, possibly even more shocked than she was on the call. He was still in the faded blue t-shirt and grey sweats he’d been wearing all day, not having been bothered to change. He was expecting an off-hand comment about not being up to his usual standard at most, but she just stood there, staring like he was a new race they’d never met before.

“Allura?” he asked.

“Lance, what the quiznak is going on here? Where’s Keith?” she asked when she found the words.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. And Keith’s right here. The kids were all over him this morning and he’s still pretty tired.”

He didn’t think it was possible for Allura to be any more confused or her eyebrows to arch higher, but she was and they did.

“What kids? Why should he be tired?”

Keith listened to the questions being fired back and forth. Something wasn’t adding up. Allura knew they’d been with Lance’s family. She’d met Nadia and Sylvio before and knew what kind of energy they had. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he was worn out after dealing with them. Keyword shouldn’t. But she was. He decided to see her for himself, or more to the point, for her to see him. He slid out from the seating area, turning the corner to where she and Lance were asking questions without answering any. He stepped up beside Lance, sliding an arm around his Alpha’s waist, his free hand resting on his pregnant belly.

Allura’s jaw dropped. He knew she could tell that he wasn’t faking, and that she somehow either didn’t know or had forgotten that he was four months pregnant, even if he looked farther along because of his body’s reaction.

“I – how?! How did this happen?! When?! What is happening?!”

“Allura,” Lance said softly, “Has anything happened in the last two or three quintants?”

“What? No. Nothing. And you two are here onboard the castle. Keith, you said you would be in the training deck for at least a few vargas, and Lance, you were helping Hunk in the kitchen. How did you two end up out there and in a pod I didn’t know had gone missing? And don’t tell me you were on Earth. That’s utterly impossible. We can’t go back without leading the Galra directly there, you both know that. And how have you been hiding not only your apparent relationship but also – Keith, you're pregnant! How do you expect to be able to fly the Red Lion in your condition?”

The feeling of something being fundamentally off continued to tickle Keith’s brain. An impossible thought hit him. “Allura, I need you to answer this question honestly. How long have we been out here with you?”

“What do you mean? It’s only been about three phoebs, but we’ve made good progress in the war effort. I really believe we’ll win. But you already knew that.”

Lance cut her off before she could voice a suspicion about them being spies. He realized as soon as Keith said it. “I think we somehow managed to go back in time. We really are who we say we are, and so are you. But you obviously don’t know anything about us as we are now. I can promise that we’re not hiding anything from you.”

“Well…I don’t know that we can really say that…” Keith said, trailing off. If the them that Allura knew had only been in space for a few months, then he and Lance were already seeing each other secretly. But then they decided that keeping it from their friends made absolutely no sense, even if it meant that Pidge lost her bet with Hunk.

“Ok, fair,” he said, then turned to Allura, “What was the last major event that happened related to the war? It’ll help us narrow down when exactly we are.”

“You two seem awfully accepting of this,” she said, a note of accusation in her voice.

“We – we’ve been through a lot,” Keith said, intentionally not elaborating. They had been through a lot – alternate reality, quantum abyss, the quintessence field, Bob, finding themselves inside Honerva’s mind – but they couldn’t tell Allura any of it.

“And if we tell you anything, we don’t know if or how it could affect anything,” Lance added.

“Hm, I suppose that’s true. The last major event? Well, we’ve only just found out about your Galra heritage, but after meeting with Kolivan and Antok, I have come to realize that your blood does not define you. You both have only just returned from separate missions. Keith, you and Hunk went to retrieve the Scaultrite from the Weblum-” Keith shuddered involuntarily at the memory “-and Lance, you, Shiro, and Pidge went to rescue Slav from Beta Traz. He’s still here on the castle with us.”

“Wait wait wait – Slav’s still here?” Lance asked. He turned to Keith. “If Slav’s still on board, then he would be able to help figure out what happened. Maybe find a way to get us back to our own time. And hopefully before…” he trailed off, giving Keith a look that the Omega understood. Before the pup comes.

Allura also understood what Lance hadn’t said. “Um, how – how far along are you, exactly?” she asked awkwardly.

“That’s a little complicated,” Keith answered. “The pup’s developing like a normal human, but because I’m half Galra, my body is changing and reacting as if I were completely Galra. Pregnancies are shorter. Six Earth months, or about four and a quarter phoebs, to a normal human ten months or just over seven phoebs.”

“So, you're saying that with how your body is reacting, your pup could be premature?”

“It’s a distinct possibility. But to actually answer your question, sixteen Earth weeks. Almost eleven and a half movements. It gives us no more than five movements to figure this out and get us back to our time.”

Allura nodded, making her decision. “All right. We’ll meet in the lounge first. Paladins and Coran only. Shiro…doesn’t exactly do well with Slav.”

Lance and Keith laughed. “That’s something we will never forget,” Lance said as they followed her out of the pod. Keith turned, locking it with their biometrics. Given the alteration to Lance’s DNA thanks to Allura’s quintessence infusion, they knew that it would stay locked. Their younger selves didn’t have a chance.

They walked in silence for a while, following Allura down lesser used corridors to the lounge entrance that was never used. “Is there anything you can tell me?” she asked, “About your time. How far into our future are you?”

“I don’t know that that’s a good idea, Princess,” Lance said, “You already know that we make it to Earth safely, and I don’t know how that might already be affecting our time. I understand that you want to know if it’s all worth it in the end, but I can’t tell you.”

Allura thought for a few seconds. “I understand. My knowing about the future could affect the present. It could change our decisions about things that will change the outcome of the war. And I take it that however the war does end, it’s the best possible outcome.”

“We think so. There’s a lot more going on than just Zarkon, but if you knew what, I don’t know – there are just too many variables.”

She paused in the doorway to the lounge. “I really do understand. There are more factors and facets to this war than I am currently aware of. Knowing about them now could upset the balance. Well,” she said, gesturing to the room, “Make yourselves comfortable. You already know where everything is.” Her smile was one of genuine affection for the Paladins in front of her.

“Thanks, Allura,” Keith said, maneuvering past her.

Once they were seated comfortably (“Comfort is a bit relative for me at the moment,” Keith told her with a laugh) she called for the Paladins and Coran, and them only, to come to the lounge.

Lance was the first to arrive, ready to drop onto the sunken sofa from the floor above, but stopped himself when he realized he was looking at something that looked like the back of his own head. He only knew what that looked like after a prank involving his siblings and every single mirror in the house. He saw Allura sitting at one end of the semicircle and slowed, turning to her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Ah. We should wait for the others to arrive before we explain,” Allura said.

“Actually,” one of the unknown people said and Lance nearly choked at hearing his own voice. A little rougher and maybe older, but it was definitely his own voice. He realized the other owner of his voice was still speaking. “I think we should start now. I know we’ll have to repeat ourselves, but I know that you’re kinda nauseous right now,” a long, tan finger pointed in his direction, “And I really think this is the better solution.”

“If that’s what you –” Allura was cut off by the next arrival.

“Allura? Why are we meeting here?”

Pregnant Keith snorted at how young he sounded. His mate patted his head. “I know. We sound like babies.”

The younger Keith froze.

“Yes we’re real. No you're not hallucinating,” pregnant Keith said without moving. He knew what his younger self was thinking.

“Well, as long as we’re both here,” Lance said, “We should explain as much as we can.”

The younger Red and Blue Paladins walked around to the steps and froze again when they were suddenly face to face with themselves. Their older selves were snuggled together in the middle of the sofa horseshoe, not caring who saw them. There was too much for them to take in all at once, but they did notice Lance’s Altean marks and the undeniable fact that the older Keith was significantly pregnant.

“Yeah,” pregnant Keith agreed, “It’s a lot to unpack. We’ll tell you what we can.”

The younger Paladins sat together opposite Allura, not knowing what to say.

“As far as we can tell, we’re from your future. We don’t know how we got here. We were on our way back to the castle and decided to let the autopilot handle the flying while I had a nap and woke up to all the alarms going off about a half hour later. We realized that we weren’t where we should be and found the castle after clearing the asteroid field nearby.”

“And, I’m – or, you – I don’t even know how to phrase that,” the younger Keith stumbled through.

Older Keith just laughed. “We? Since we’re the same person, just at different ages. But yes, I’m pregnant. I'm due fairly soon, so we need to figure this out as quickly as possible.”

Both his mate and Allura noticed how he phrased himself, but said nothing, understanding why he had done it.

It was the younger Lance’s turn to stumble through a sentence. “So, you’re – and – is that –”

Older Lance snickered at his younger self. “Yes. Yes we are, and yes it is.”

“What?! But -”

“But nothing,” older Lance said, “Although that might have prevented this.”

“Yeah, sure. You try telling my heat brain that,” pregnant Keith said.

The younger Keith pointed at his older self. “That. But, how? I mean, I’ve always been so careful about taking it on time. Unless…”

Pregnant Keith shook his head. “No, that hasn’t changed. It failed. We weren’t planning on this. But it happened, and we wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Ok, so I just need to know one thing. Not about the future, not that.” His hand went to his chest almost unconsciously. “Just so I know. That you’re really me.”

Without moving from his spot snuggled into Lance’s side, Keith reached into his t-shirt and pulled the quartz and moonstone pendant out, letting it fall to his chest. “It was the first thing I ever bought for myself after Dad died. He taught me the basics of the Craft and I've kept it up ever since. Helps me feel connected to him even though it represents Omegas.”

Younger Keith nodded, holding his own crystal. “Yeah. It does.”

Looking from his not-so-secret boyfriend, the younger Lance turned to his own older self. “And he knows about…”

Older Lance cracked an amused smile. “Yeah, he does. But wait, haven’t you already told him about us?”

“Oh, well, yeah. I guess that didn’t really make sense, did it?”

“No, not really. But the last thing Mami said to me when we left her last was that it doesn’t matter where in the universe we are, the Orisha will hear us.”

“That – that’s –”

“What Mami said when I left for the Garrison. Yeah, she still says it.”

Pidge was next to arrive, and stopped when she saw the two older versions of her friends.

“No, you haven’t been up long enough to hallucinate yet,” pregnant Keith said through laughing.

“Come sit down, Pigeon. We’ll explain once everyone’s here,” Lance said, waving her forward.

They were all surprised that it hadn’t been Shiro to appear first, but he and Hunk were next, walking in together. If they thought that Pidge had been surprised, it was nothing compared to the double take from the Black and Yellow Paladins. Allura had yet to say anything once her Paladins began filtering in, and she still didn’t, letting the two older Paladins take the lead.

“Hi, Shiro,” pregnant Keith said. He still hadn’t moved from his mate’s side, enjoying the warmth and safety of his Alpha’s touch.

“What in the almighty fuck is going on?” Shiro asked, stunned.

“We’re just waiting for Coran, and then we’ll explain.”

Shiro and Hunk sat down, among the other Paladins. Hunk seemed to look for some kind of comfort from the familiarity of Pidge, and Shiro sat himself between his Lance and the older Keith with an expression told them that he was trying very hard to wrap his head around the idea of Keith being pregnant. Coran came running in a few minutes later.

“Oh, my apologies, Princess. The scanners went all wiffeley for a few ticks. They’re perfectly fine now.” He noticed the two new additions for the first time. “Erm, Princess…” he started, scratching his cheek with one gloved finger.

“Yes. It’s why I’ve called you all here,” Allura said, “When I was alone on the bridge briefly, scans picked up a single Altean pod. When I hailed it, well…”

“It was us,” the older Lance finished, “We seem to be from your future.”

Everyone stopped, if only briefly, before exploding into questions and demands. Questions about what happened, how they got here from their own time, how did the war end, what’s it like now, did everyone survive…

Lance put a hand up, silencing the onslaught. “We can’t answer most of those questions. Anything we tell you could possibly alter the timeline, and I can’t risk that.”

Pidge pouted, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Well, we already know you two end up together. And if you're here, then you guys obviously made it out.”

Pregnant Keith shifted, sitting up but not leaving his Lance’s personal bubble. “Yes, we did make it out. And yes, we know what it’s like now. But is it worth it to know about our future when it could change your own?”

For maybe the first time in her life, Pidge didn’t have an immediate answer. Her natural curiosity demanded to be sated. The older versions of two of her best friends were sitting in front of her with the answers to so many questions. So much of her own personal stress could be relieved just by knowing if she ever found Matt and Sam. She could know the outcome of the war. But thinking about those things, she realized that Keith was right. If she did know, it would change what she did, how she could react to things. The butterfly effect wasn’t real, or, if it was, it didn’t quite work that way, but a change to a major event could lead to a cascade of differences. And there was no way to know if those would be good changes or bad. But she didn’t get to answer the semi-rhetorical question because Slav walked in at that exact moment.

“So we’re in this reality,” he said, seeing the future Lance and Keith. He narrowed his eyes at them. “You haven’t told anyone anything, have you?”

“Nothing that wasn’t immediately obvious,” Keith answered, settling back against his mate.

“Ah. Right. I need to confirm things about you two before I can recalculate probabilities, but we should discuss this –” His owlish eyes narrowed again as he looked around the room. “- privately.”

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

#my writing #abandoned wips #klance #omegaverse #abo #omega keith kogane #alpha lance mcclain #mpreg #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith x lance

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avengerscompound · 3 years

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Until the End of the World - 12

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 1590

Rating: E

Warnings: pregnancy, light angst

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together. Things are calm and you feel like a family unit. When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem. When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created.

Chapter 12

It was with trepidation that you approached Geo with the idea of either Steve or Bucky adopting him. The feelings were a strange disconnect to what was actually happening in your life, but in a way that fit how things were going in your life. You felt more at home and at peace than ever, and yet your home was currently mid-construction and a complete shambles. You felt safe and yet you were basically being stalked by the paparazzi and you couldn’t go outside without fighting your fight or flight instinct.

Now here you were, having a child with two men not just willing, but exhilarated at the thought. Yet, when it came to them adopting the child you already had, it felt like you were losing something rather than gaining it.

Letting either of them adopt him, was letting go of the last link you had to John and John had given up everything for you and Geo.

Steve and Bucky were nervous too. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to tell that. They were scared that he’d reject them, and you knew how bad that would feel.

You decided to approach Geo after school, the three of you walking together to pick him up and then stopping in at a gelateria on the way home so there was something a little special about it. The paparazzi were out in force because the school pick-up was predictable and while all three of you had been out together since the pregnancy, it hadn’t been often, and usually, you drove first, so most of the time it wasn’t such a big deal. This time they were on you like a rash as the three of you walked up the street. Many trying to get Steve to comment on the pregnancy or the nature of your relationship.

“Are you sure you want to do this in public?” You asked.

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said. “We’ll sit inside up the back. They can’t follow us onto private property and take our pictures like that.”

You nodded and pushed your sunglasses up on your nose more. One of the things you hated most about the paparazzi since they had gotten so interested in your life, was it made it difficult to know if there was anyone else to worry about.

You arrived at Geo’s school to his surprise and on the walk back Steve and Bucky flanked you both in an attempt to keep you partially protected from the photographers. Ducking into the cool of the gelateria was a blessed relief and you took a table up the back while Steve went and bought ice cream for everyone.

“So Geo,” Steve said when you were all settled at the tiny red table with your deserts. “We had something we wanted to ask you about.”

Geo looked up, licking his ice cream cone and getting the mix of cookie dough and chocolate on his face. “What is it?”

“We’ve been talking, and we think it might be good if either me or Bucky adopted you,” Steve explained. “Make it official, you know?”

Geo looked from Steve to you a little startled. He furrowed his brow and his legs started to giggle under the table. “Mom?”

“It’s okay, bud,” you assured him. “Whatever you’re feeling is normal and valid.”

“Is it okay?” Geo asked.

A sick guilty feeling bubbled up in you. The fact that everyone had known that your reaction to this wouldn’t be positive made you feel terrible. Them wanting to officially be family should be a good thing and yet every single one of them, including your seven-year-old son, knew that you wouldn’t like the idea and you felt horrible that they’d been holding back because of you.

“Yeah, honey,” you said. “This is your choice.”

“But… my dad… my real dad…” he said, shifting nervously.

“Your dad loved you so much,” you said, tears pricking your eyes. “Even though he only got to meet you for such a short amount of time. You were the most important person to him in the whole world. He wanted you to grow up happy and safe more than anything else. If having Bucky or Steve adopt you will make you happy then he would want you to do it. It would definitely keep you safe if they do. It would mean no matter what else happened they’d be you dads officially.” Bucky handed you a napkin wordlessly and you used it to wipe your eyes. “But if you don’t want to, that’s okay too.”

Geo nodded and furrowed his brow as he began to lick his ice cream cone. He held out one sticky hand and looked at Steve. “Can I use your phone, please?”

“Uh, sure,” Steve said, getting out his phone as Bucky wiped Geo’s hand clean. “It’s okay if you don’t know what you’re feeling. You can talk to us.”

“I just wanna…” he said, taking Steve’s phone. Whatever he wanted, he never said. He looked down at the phone and his eyes started to flicker and electric green.

“Are you talking to FRIDAY?” You asked.

He nodded in response and you put your hand on Steve’s leg. “It’s okay. He just trusts her opinion.”

Steve seemed to relax a little and looked out of the window. There were still paparazzi out there but they seemed to be getting a little bored.

You kept your hand on Steve’s leg as you ate your gelato and waited for Geo to be ready to talk again. After a little while, he looked up at both Steve and Bucky. “Who’d be the one?”

“Well,” Steve said. “We haven’t decided that. We thought you should get a say.”

“But we’d both be really happy if you chose us,” Bucky said.

“You can’t both do it?” Geo asked.

“I can certainly petition to do it,” Steve asked. “Some places you can, but not many. And there was a case a while ago that was similar only it was two dads who were married to each other who had a baby with a friend. Both dads weren’t legally allowed to be guardians and this is even more tricky than that.”

You liked how Steve didn’t speak down to Geo and answered as honestly as he could even if Geo didn’t quite understand the finer points of why it wasn’t possible.

“This won’t change the fact we’re both your dad,” Bucky added. “It’s just that only one of us can adopt you.”

“Can you try?” Geo asked.

Steve nodded. “We can try. No promises that it will work.”

“Okay,” Geo said softly.

“So you want us to?” Bucky asked.

“Yes,” he said, quietly. “I want it.”

Steve smiled and rubbed Geo’s shoulder. “Come here, G.”

You took Geo’s ice cream from him and he hugged Steve and Bucky at the same time. The two men, wrapping their arms around the boy. Outside the paparazzi seemed to pick up their interest. Taking photos and you couldn’t even imagine what speculations would come out of those photos.

“If we both can’t,” Steve said, letting Geo go. “Do you have a preference?”

Geo shook his head quickly. “I don’t want to be the one to choose.”

“Okay,” Steve said, soothingly. “That’s okay. We can do something like flip a coin if you want? Does that sound fair?”

Geo nodded. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“You’ve made us really happy, bud,” Bucky said, smiling broadly.

“I’m happy too,” Geo said grinning. “Will I change my last name?”

Steve gave a half shake of his head as you felt tears threaten again. “If you really want to, I don’t think anyone will stop you. But I think - because of what your dad did for you - maybe it’s better if you keep yours because it was his last name. Bucky and I would be honored if you did take our name, but I think it might be nice if you didn’t for his sake.”

Geo frowned and nodded. “Yeah.” He looked over at you and patted your arm. “Are you okay, mommy?”

He hadn’t called you mommy since he was six and hearing it was almost like a time warp to when he was little. You hugged him and rested your chin on the top of his head. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“I’ll keep my name for him,” Geo said, his voice a little muffled because of how you were holding him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, honey,” you assured him. “You can do this for you.”

He nodded and looked up at you. “No, I want to keep it.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, holding him close until he pushed back. “Okay, mom.”

You laughed and wiped your eyes, handing him his ice cream back.

“Well, we’ll start the paperwork and petition to be allowed to adopt you together,” Steve said. “That might out us as polyamorous. Are we okay with that?”

“I’m okay with it,” you said and gestured out the window. “When they get answers, maybe they’ll get bored.”

“They’ll get worse before they get better,” Steve warned.

“I dunno though,” Bucky said. “I know we’re not hiding it, but it’ll be good just having us be a family and no one guessing anymore.”

You gave a small nod. He was right. This change was one of the ones that scared you the most, but in the end, it would be for the best. You were a family. It would be nice if it could become more official.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #until the end of the world

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bqstqnbruin · 3 years

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Always be my plus one teaser

Ok, here we are with the first ~1k of always be my plus one, so hopefully y'all enjoy this

WARNING: mentions of child birth

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

Christmas Day and the day after Christmas

December 21, 2021

“One fifteen means fifteen minutes before I have to clock in. Ten minutes before a twelve hour shift that I’m not ready for and don’t have enough caffeine for,” Anne muttered to herself, staring at her reflection through her car's rear view mirror. “But, fifteen minutes before getting to do something that I thankfully love, something that I enjoy doing.” No matter how long the shift in front of her, Anne had developed a habit of giving herself a pep talk before she got out of her car. “Whatever happens, you’ve helped someone.”

The last part wasn’t always true, knowing that there was the possibility that something could go wrong that she and the other nurses and doctors wouldn’t be able to fix. Lying to herself that everything was going to be ok was the only want to convince herself to go into the hospital everyday. Finally mustering up enough courage to get out of her car, she grabs her bag from the backseat, heading in for yet another long day right before the Christmas holiday.

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from the job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

“Hey, Tyson, come on!” comes from inside the open doors of the building, Anne not paying attention to who it was coming from, causing her to collide with a stranger, spilling her much needed coffee all over the both of them.

“Shit,” she says, not looking up from the brown splatter on what should be mint green scrubs. “I am so sorry.”

Standing in front of her was a curly haired boy, about her age, wearing what she was sure was a Colorado hockey jersey. Beyond that, she had no idea. “No, no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Let me buy you another,” he offers, ignoring the persistent calls from his friends to hurry up.

Anne checks her watch: 1:19. “It’s ok. I don’t really have the time, I have to clock in in eleven minutes, and knowing the cafeteria or the vending machines, it would take a lot longer,” she says, trying to get by him. Before he can protest, she gets to the elevator that would bring her to her floor, thankful that it was ready to get her there without her having to wait. The doors start to close, only to be stopped by a hand stuck through them, the curly haired boy with the coffee stain down the front of him getting on the elevator with her. Anne gives him a confused look, begging him to explain why he was trying to make her late for her shift.

“If you aren’t going to let me buy you one now to make up for it, at least let me see where you work so I can drop one off for you.”

Anne rolls her eyes, unamused by the man in front of her as he attempts to flirt with her. “That would be nice, but the chances of me getting it before it goes cold are slim to none, so you need to suggest something else if you really want to buy me a coffee.”

“Let me get your number so I can buy you one when you aren’t working?” he asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. 1:25. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”

The elevator dings, signaling that they were on Anne’s floor, opening the door to nurses and doctors running around, expectant fathers who were probably kicked out of the delivery room for making the mom too nervous pacing the halls, grandparents trying to control younger children who had little to no idea what was going on as they waited in the strange building. Anne walks to the back room to drop her stuff off and clock in, typing her information into the stranger’s phone as he followed her like a puppy, his friend’s texts coming across the top of his screen asking where he went so they could leave.

“I’m Anne, and I’ve got to go,” she tells him, handing back his phone. There was no way he was going to text her, and it’s not like the coffee was that big of a deal to him. She could go to the vending machine down the hall and grab one during her break, or have someone else on their break do it for her if she needed it sooner.

“Can’t wait for our coffee date, Anne,” he says, winking at her before shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering back down the hallway.

“Who is he?” her coworker, Jess asked, popping up out of nowhere. “He’s hot.”

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Anne jokes, “he’s also wearing my hot coffee on his shirt.”

“You didn’t,” Jess scolds her, turning her around to see the coffee that was spilled down Anne’s own outfit, knowing Anne’s tendency to be a little absent-minded as she gets wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Anne, you did.”

“Not on purpose!”

“DeFormicola?” Anne’s supervisor, Jackson, pops his head into the room just as she was clocking in, “We need you in room 414.”

“Saved by the bell,” Anne teases, walking down the hall to where all the noise was coming from, trying to throw on the appropriate clothing before she went into the room, struggling to get the gloves on as she entered.

“Ok, Erin, we’re going to need you to push,” one of the doctors says, Anne standing behind him as she watched the baby’s head crowning.

This was her favorite part of the job, helping the mother stay calm and trying to make sure that despite the child coming out of her, she was as comfortable as possible. Normally, she would be with the mom as soon as she came in, Erin clearly nervous as to what was going on. They had to be first-time parents, the dad going back and forth to Erin’s side and behind the doctor, looking mortified each time and clearly regretting what he was seeing.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor says, handing the new baby to a breathless Erin.

“A boy! A boy!” the dad yells, going out to the hallway, Erin clearly unamused by whatever antics he was going about.

“Don’t worry, he’s not the first one to do that,” Anne reassures her, knowing that something like that would happen at least five more times during her shift, hearing the father’s voice repeating the phrase. “I’m going to get him cleaned up and then get him right back to you, ok?” Anne asks, reaching for the baby as everyone else around her tries to clean everything else up.

“Be careful with him,” Erin warns, not meaning anything bad by it. She was definitely a first time mother.

“I will be,” Anne tells her, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket as she does. “So you have a name picked out yet?”

“We were thinking Matthew.”

Anne turns her head, smiling at Erin. “That’s a good name. My older brother is named Matthew.”

Erin smiles at her, the father finally coming back in, clearly overjoyed by the birth of their new baby. Anne hands him back to his parents, Matthew screaming his head off as they get wheeled into another room.

Anne goes over to the desk, sitting down where she was supposed to be for the start of her shift to do paperwork, but the uncertainty in the hour by hour of the schedule was not surprising. She pulls out her phone, ‘Maybe: Tyson’ coming up across her screen.

“He’s already texting me,” she alerts Jess whose head whips away from her computer to look over Anne’s shoulder at what message the mystery man could have sent her.

“He’s horny.”

“Jessica!” she squeals, wishing she was more shocked by what her friend had said. “Why is that always your first reaction to a boy sending a message?”

She shrugs, swiveling back to her own computer, “I’m normally right. What’s he saying?”

“He wants to know when he can buy me coffee.”

“Horny.”

“Enough.”

“You should date him.”

Anne turns to her, clearly unamused by Jess’s need to continue the conversation. “I don’t have to date anyone.”

Jess lets out a long sigh, Anne knowing that she was rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to, I’m saying you should.”

“Ok, I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Oh, come on Anne,” Jess says, getting up and plopping herself on the desk in front of Anne, fiddling with the wire connecting the mouse to the rest of the computer. “You work in a maternity ward where people become parents everyday, and you haven’t even thought of finding a man?”

“You don’t have a point,” Anne tells her, not making eye contact with her.

“My point,” Jess says, leaning over to block Anne’s view of her computer screen, “is that you can’t be single forever.”

“Says who?”

“Didn’t you tell me that you were named after the patron saint of the town your grandmothers were from?”

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing where this was going. It was going in the same direction that this conversation always went in when she had it with her mom every single holiday. “All four of us are named after the patron saints of the towns our grandparents are from.”

“St. Anne is the patron saint of child care, grandparents and mothers.”

“She’s also that patron saint of unmarried women, so your argument is invalid, as usual.”

Jess takes in a breath to say something, cut off by Jackson calling for Jess to go into one of the delivery rooms. “Just don’t say no because you think you have to be single,” she advises as she walks away.

Anne leans back in the chair, rubbing her hands over her face. “This is how Christmas is going to go, isn’t it?” she asks herself.

#tyson and anne #tyson jost #tyson jost fic #tyson jost oc fic #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche fic #i have no idea how to tag this someone help

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Agent Marinette

Okay I have struggled all week with a massive case of Writers block and today I beat it. This a crossover fic. Guess it by the end.

In retrospect, Marinette should’ve realized eventually other forces outside of Paris would take an interest in the masked heroine. At least they had been polite enough to wait until AFTER Hawkmoth was defeated.

Marinette was eleven when she became the hero Ladybug. And her world shattered a bit.

Marinette was fourteen when Hawkmoth was finally defeated.

Marinette was fourteen when Ladybug retired. And her world shattered again, this time a bit more.

It had taken nearly every miraculous they had to take the villain down but eventually, Gabriel Agreste was taken down, his memories of the miraculous erased. (Nathalie with him) His son Adrien Agreste surrendered his own miraculous, his position as Chat Noir, and his own memories of being a hero and everything he’d ever learned of magic and Kwami. All to prevent his father from ever learning of them again.

However, erasing his memories of his life as Chat Noir, unavoidably included erasing his memories of his friendship Ladybug, with Marinette. A friendship that had grown stronger, in and outside the mask, over fighting the evil that haunted Paris back together. Keyword: together.

On the same day, Ladybug had lost her best friend, Marinette did too. Both lost the boy she thought she’d marry one day. They could never be together. She’d have to lie to him for the rest of their lives. Marinette would never be able to do that. And she wouldn’t let Adrien’s sacrifice be in vain.

So she distanced herself from him. She couldn’t look at him without seeing Chat Noir. She couldn’t look at him, knowing she knew just about everything about him but he knew nothing about her. To him, Marinette was just some girl in his class; a sort of friend he was never really that close to.

Strangers, really.

It was why Marinette transferred out of Bustier’s class. The best thing for her heart was to stay away.

Still, she thought in a way, it was a happy ending. The best happy ending she could get. Hawkmoth was gone. Paris was safe. Ladybug was retired. Fu had reclaimed all Kwami and had disappeared. The world was good.

Until it wasn’t. Until one rainy Thursday. Her parents had gone out for a date night. They never made it home. There had been an accident. The other driver had been drunk. The funeral was on a Tuesday.

Marinette’s world had shattered once again, more than ever before.

Marinette was an orphan.

Her grandmother Gina sold the bakery, put the money from the sale and the life insurance into an account for Marinette, and moved Marinette into a nearby apartment, and then was gone. Legally, the older woman was Marinette’s guardian. But otherwise, Marinette was on her own. It was fine. Her dad had always warned her that his mom was a free spirit who never liked to be tied down.

She would talk with her grandmother once every other month if she was lucky. They primarily only communicated through email. The reception was spotted in the parts of the world Gina like to frequent.

At only fourteen, Marinette got used to paying bills, buying groceries, and virtually being an adult. She got used to living alone. Just like she got used to not being a hero anymore. Just like she got used to not having any friends after Lila came knocking on the class’s door.

A year later, the young girl was thriving. Her grades were at the top of the school, right after Max. She was class treasurer and on the track team, having missed the feeling of running as fast she could. She started Kuoshu classes; her mother had always wanted her to learn Chinse martial arts for defense. And Marinette missed the adrenaline she used to get after a fight.

It was a good life. A simple life. Marinette had only normal life worries to be concerned about.

…Again, she really should’ve known the other shoe would drop eventually.

Still, no fifteen-year-old girl who was minding her own business, casually walking down the street, wanted to suddenly have a black bag over her and tossed into the back of a van. In fact, it was every girl, woman, and human being’s worst nightmare.

She was tied up. She was gagged. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. Marinette had no idea how much time had passed. Or where they were taking her. Or who had taken her? She fought the tears that burned in her eyes as she struggled with the bonds around her hands. No matter how hard she tried, they wouldn’t break or budge. By the coldness of it, she knew she was either in handcuff or something similar made of metal.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Marinette felt herself be picked up and carried. She struggled against her assailant. She tried to kick her with her bound legs, hit with her tied fists. Nothing.

Marinette found herself being lower onto something. A chair she quickly realizes as she pressed her back to it.

Suddenly, the metal band around her hands released. Marinette quickly pulled the black bag off her head, undid the tap around her mouth, and took the plugs out of her ears.

She was in a mostly black room that only lights overhead, a vent the size of a phone, the table she sat at, and a large mirror across from her. Marinette figured it was a two-way mirror-like on cop shows, and that she was being watched. However, what concerned her most was that there was no sign of any door. Just walls and that mirror.

There was no escape.

Marinette glared at the mirror, at whoever was behind it.

She didn’t know how long she waited as she plotted her escape. Considering all variables for when they came back to her. Would they have guns? How many people would there be? Could she fight her way out? And just who her kidnappers could be? Child traffickers? Serial killer? Her past enemy, Hawkmoth, comes back for revenge? Who?

When a portion of the wall, next to the mirror opened, Marinette tried not to flinch back in surprise.

In walked a man at least twice her age. He wore a black suit and tie with a serious expression on his face. He was handsome with short dark hair and dark eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass.

The door closed behind him once he stepped through. He said nothing as he sat down in the chair across from her. They started at each other silently.

Marinette cracked first, “Who are you? What do you want? Where am I?”

A small smile appeared on the man’s face, “You’re a very hard girl to track down, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’d have thought it would’ve been easier considering all you’ve done.” He had an American accent.

“Track? What?” Why would he want to track her down? “I didn’t do anything. Nothing! Okay?!”

He gave her a curious look, “Really? Well, I wouldn’t call saving all of Paris on a nearly everyday basis for what two years, nothing.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t try to deny it. We have pictures, videos; evidence.”

It was like someone had thrown ice water over her head. Marinette swallowed the lump that had built in her throat. “Who. Are. You.” She managed to get out.

“Me? I’m a friend,” He answered. “You can call me Black Heart.”

“Black Heart?” Marinette snorted. “You’re serious?”

“Oh because Ladybug is so much better,” He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I have questions. You’re going to answer them.”

He wanted to know about the miraculous, she guessed. Or how she got her powers. Marinette crossed her arms, “I have nothing to say.”

Black Heart chuckled and stood up. He put his hands on the table, “Listen very carefully, Marinette. Because there are only two ways we can do this.”

Marinette smirked, “Is one of them the easy way?”

A look she couldn’t recognize briefly flashed over Black Heart’s face but gone just as quick. “No,” He answered.

“Oh.”

“Who are you?” He asked her.

She paused before answering, “…My name is Marinette but you know that. I was the hero Ladybug but you know that as well.”

“What happened to HawkMoth?”

She felt fine answering that. However, she gave the same answer she gave to the press, “Hawkmoth was defeated. He was stripped of his powers and destroyed.”

“You killed him?”

It wasn’t the first time Ladybug had been asked that question. “…Yes.” She lied though it didn’t feel like much of one. Hawkmoth was dead after all.

Blackheart nodded. “What happened to Chat Noir? And the other heroes? Dead too?”

Marinette fought to keep her face blank, her fists clenched. “Yes,” She said. “They were causalities of the final fight with Hawkmoth.” Technically not a lie. Every Parisian hero had given up their miraculous once and for all after Hawkmoth was gone. There was no need for them anymore.

�� The man raised an eyebrow, “Gabriel Agreste is still very much alive last I checked.” She reared back as if slapped. “So is Adrien is otherwise known as Chat Noir. Alya Cesaire aka Rena Rouge, her turtle boyfriend. The monkey guy. The tiger. The snake; Luka, I believe. All alive and kicking. So much for that lie…”

“They were retired,” Marinette growled. “Permanently.”

“Truth,” Blackheart nodded. “How did you erase their memories?”

It had taken the combined power of Fu, Marinette, Tikki, Wayzz, and Plagg to do it. “I didn’t do anything.”

Black Heart gave her a hard look, “Where do your powers come from?”

Marinette smiled, “I don’t have any powers.”

“Fine! Where do Ladybug’s powers come from?”

“I am Ladybug,” She told him. “And Ladybug doesn’t have any powers.”

“You mean anymore?”

Marinette nodded slowly.

Black Heart sat back in his chair, “You’re telling me that you busted your ass saving Paris for two years, only to have your powers taken from you? You were tossed to the side just like that? Like you were nothing? I’m supposed to believe that.”

“I wasn’t needed anymore.” By anyone.

“You took down one of the biggest threats to this world,” The man said. “You fought. You bled. You sacrificed everything. From what our intelligence has gathered, you even gave up the love of your young life. Only to be cast aside; alone, forgotten, abandoned…”

“That’s not what happened,” Marinette shook her head.”

“You weren’t useful anymore,” Blackheart tutted. “So you were thrown away; left to fend for yourself in a cold, cruel world. No friends, no family,”

“Shut up,” Marinette whispered.

The man leaned forward, “How many internships did you turn down because you were too busy being a hero? Two? Three?”

“Shut up!” She said louder.

“Wait, it was five. That’s right.” He continued on as if she said nothing. “Five internships with some of the biggest names in fashion today. And you gave it up. Now what you have to show for it? Nothing!” He said. “You live this mundane life halfheartedly, struggling to find your place again, trying to get back even a fraction of the feeling you had when you fighting for this world!”

“SHUT UP!” Marinette roared.

Black Heart shook his head, “I asked you who you are. But I already know who you are. I know who you were. You were a hero, a martyr, a leader, a little princess who believed in fairytales and the goodness of people. You were someone who believed this world could still be saved! So I just want to know three things. I have three questions to ask you and then you never have to see me again! You can go back to pretending to be whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

“What?” Marinette asked. “What could you possibly want to know?” Need to know that he didn’t already. “Huh? Just tell me!”

“Do you still believe this world can be saved?”

Silence.

“…What?”

“Answer the question.”

Marinette blinked, “Yes. I do.”

“Are you still willing to fight for it?” Black Heart asked.

“Always.”

He smiled, and leaned back in his chair, “Last question… What do you know about Shield?”

Well, that was a twist. Marinette’s eyes went wide. She knew a lot about shield. More than any normal teenage girl should. But a former Ladybug had been an Agent. And Tikki told her everything... It was founded by Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. Shield started the Avengers. They had been protecting the world for decades.

“A lot,” Marinette answered. “What do you want?

The man gave her a small smile, “World peace.”

The doors of the room opened again in walked a beautiful young woman with long hair a bright smile on her face, “You done traumatizing the poor girl yet.”

The man groaned, “Dammit, Skye.”

Marinette officially joined Shield the next day.

Skye showed her the ropes and explained until she garnered some trust, most would give her their full name; maybe only even their code name.

In another life, Skye hadn’t joined Shield until she was well into her twenties. In this life, she was recruited by a woman named Hill as soon as she graduated high school. It had been nearly ten years since. Skye had met Black Heart when she was about three years in, and they had disliked each other.

Now they mostly tolerated the others’ existence. Only really dealing with each other on missions.

Skye would be gone the next day. And Marinette would only see her once in a blue moon.

Marinette would withdraw from school and finish her education taught by some of the greatest minds in the world. She would give up her apartment, and leave Paris. She would call her grandmother one last time for what would be months to let her know she was going to travel the world; her grandmother was pleased as she had done the same when she was not much older than Marinette. Gina disregarded the fact that she had been a legal adult at the time.

It would be the last call she made from her phone. The line was disconnected and the phone tossed.

Then she visited the place that had been her parents’ bakery, not their graves; because she would rather remember them alive, happy, and loving, then dead in the ground. And she told them goodbye.

Before leaving Paris for good, she dropped off a perfectly wrapped green and black present off at the Agreste home. Adrien’s birthday was coming up. Inside the gift box was a black leather jacket with cat-shaped buttons. She handed the gift to Nathalie.

This time, however, Marinette was quick to tell the older woman that MDC was sewn inside on the jacket; multiple times.

Then she walked away; not looking back once.

It was the last thing Adrien would ever get from her. The last thing he would unknowingly have of Chat Noir. Ironically, the masked hero the blond had come to idolize in recent times.

The jacket was all she could give him of his as a hero, and not even a fraction of all she had wished to give him.

One day he would forget her altogether. One day she would just be a random former classmate of his whose name he couldn’t quite remember.

However, Marinette would never forget Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir. She would remember when Adrien was Chat Noir, one of the greatest heroes Paris would ever know. And she would remember Chat Noir was Adrien, and Adrien proved to be a greater hero than even he ever dared dream Chat Noir would be.

Marinette would remember because she owed him that much at least.

The night she left Paris would be the last time she dreamed of a life with Adrien. A life where they got to grow old together; one where wedding bells were heard. And he’d kiss her every time she left. And she’d kiss him every time she came back. A life where they got to see where their love would take them, and maybe one day hear the pitter-patter of little feet on their floor.

A life where Marinette did actually become a fashion designer. A life where she married Adrien, Alya was still her best friend, her parents were alive, the world was good and kind, and two heroes got the finale they deserved.

A life where love was enough, and they got their happy ending. The forever they never got would haunt her forever.

Marinette was fifteen when she went she joined shield and went back to doing what she did best; helping people, saving the world.

Marinette was fifteen when she became an Agent of Shield.

Marinette was fifteen when she learned how to shoot a gun.

Marinette was fifteen when she joined Black Hear became her mentor. The training had been a killer. More than once, Marinette had nearly quit.

Blackheart would just shake his head at her and say, “Life is tough, kid,” He’d give her an easy smile. “But so are you.”

Marinette smiled.

“You and me?” Grant said. “We’re the same. We’re Kevlar. We do whatever it takes to complete the mission. We get the job done. Keep our feelings and emotions; personal wants and desires in check. For the greater good. Its who we are. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes,” Marinette repeated back. “But that doesn’t mean we have to shut people out; each other out.”

“Yes, it does,” Grant said firmly. “Yes, I do.” He stopped talking and look Marinette in the eyes, “There are things about me you don’t know. I’ve done things I… Thing you wouldn’t like if you knew.”

“We all have,” Marinette shrugged at her father figure. “It’s a part of the job. I get it.”

Grant smiled at her, “I know you do. I know you would. We’re the same. We know this world isn’t all happiness and rainbows but we don’t stop trying to save it. We don’t stop believing it can be saved; that what we’re doing has a purpose. But there are things I can’t tell you. Things about me… that you wouldn’t like if you knew. One day, I hope you understand though. I know we will. We’re the same. But You’re good.”

“So are you,” Marinette said. “Grant, you’re like the best guy I know. You’re good.”

“Not always,” Grant looked away. “You need to know, Marinette, I’m not a good man.”

“I believe you are.” She stated, “You can’t convince me otherwise.”

It would a year later after much trust was built, and they had gone of dozens and dozens of missions that she finally learned his real name.

Grant.

Over the next few years, Grant became like a father to her. And to him, she was like a daughter. He taught her everything he knew. Marinette did everything she could to make him proud. He made her believe that they could really save the world, change the world for the better.

Where Grant went, she followed; most of the time. Sky would slowly start to show up more and more; until it was clear she wasn’t going anyway.

Whenever she was hurt, and the mission was over, Grant would tell a story about his past.

Her favorites were the ones about a monster who loved the sky. It was clear that it was about him and Skye. “Do you want to hear a story, princess?” He smiled. “It’s about a man who struggled with his demons his entire life. Who asked for love throughout his entire life. But he never got it. Until she came. She made him feel important. She made him laugh. She made him better. She became his world.”

Marinette couldn’t understand what was stopping the two from getting together.

She met Nick Fury when she was seventeen and was sent on the first on her first solo mission.

When she was eighteen, Grant and Skye were approached by a man named Coulson. The same Coulson that had supposedly been killed by a god named Loki. The strangest part was Marinette was tapped to join too.

The team consisted of Coulson, May, Grant, Skye, Fitz, Simmons, and Marinette.

They were a team. They became a family.

However, then John Garrett was revealed to be Hydra; a man Marinette had thought she knew well. (Grant killed him. And she mourned with him the man they thought John was.)

Then project insight happened. Nick Fury was killed. Captain America exposed all of Shield in an effort to reveal Hydra.

Shield was labeled a terrorist organization.

The team was on their own.

But, Marinette thought more than once over the next coming months, at least they had each other.

They ended up at a place called Providence. They were given lie detector tests by Agent Eric Koenig. “Fury designed this himself,” The portly man said. “He wanted a lie detector Romanoff couldn’t beat.”

“Did she?” Grant asked

“Like Fury would tell!”

Marinette sat in the machine and tried to relax.

“We’re going to start with some easy question,” Eric told her. “Can I have your full name?”

“Marinette Clarissa Dupain-Cheng.”

“Eye color?”

“Blue,” Marinette stated.

The agent nodded, “Have you ever been married?”

Marinette shook her head, “No.”

“Please list your immediate living family.”

“My grandmother Gina,” Marinette answered. “My grandfather. I considered my team my family though.”

“What’s the difference between an egg and a rock?”

Marinette gave him an “Are you Serious” look, “One's food, ones a weapon.”

“Have you ever heard of project insight?”

“Never.”

“Have you ever had contact with Alexander Pierce.”

“I have,” She answered honestly. “Once. Just after the New York Invasion. Agent Hill introduced me.”

“You wash up on a desert island, alone. Sitting in the sand is a box. What’s in the box?”

“How big is the box?” Marinette asked curiously. “How did it get there? What island am I on? Am I near freshwater.”

“Just say the first thing that comes to your mind, Marinette,” He told her. “What’s in the box?”

“A pair of earrings.”

Eric gives her a funny look but notes her age and shrugs it off. Spy teen girls were still teen girls, after all. “Shield no longer exists. The agency has been labeled a terrorist organization. So why are YOU here.”

Marinette thought about the question. She had thought about it before. Shield had fallen. No one knew who was or wasn’t Hydra. She should’ve been gone in the wind. However, she had never even considered it. “Shield is all I have. Ward, Skye, Coulson, May, Simmons, Fitz, Trip; they’re all I have. They’re my family.” She told him. “And truthfully, I joined Shield because I believe this world is worth saving. I believe it can still be saved. I believe that it is good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.”

“I love Lord of the Rings,” Agent Eric Koenig grinned. “Let’s get you a Lanyard, Agent Dupain-Cheng.

While Skye, May, and Grant stayed at Providence, Marinette joined Coulson and the others.

When Marinette returned to the base after saving the Cellist lady. The bus was gone. May was gone. Grant and Skye were gone.

What was left of the team had debated long about what had happened; why the three had left.

When Coulson said, “Worst case… We've had a wolf in the herd the whole time.”

Marinette didn’t believe that at first. Not until she heard the scream. Saw Agent Eric Koenig’s body. Saw the word written on the picture.

Ward is Hydra.

“Not Ward,” Fitz said.

“Not Ward,” Marinette repeated. “Not Ward.” Skye was wrong. She had to be wrong. Ward couldn’t be Hydra. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Then Simmons gave the analyze of Agent Eric Koenig’s murder.

“Ward did this,” Simmons said.

In a fury, Fitz smashed a few things.

Marinette could only stare in space as the words penetrated her mind.

Ward is Hydra.

The man she thought she knew the best.

The man she had sworn her loyalty to, had given all her trust to, had loved like a father.

The man who had gotten her to swear loyalty to Shield.

Grant Ward had been her S.O. Her mentor. Her leader. Her captain.

Grant Ward was Hydra.

And just like that, Marinette’s world shattered again.

And just like that, everything she ever thought she believed in was questioned.

It would be months before she saw him again, and by then it had been confirmed without a doubt Grant Ward was Hydra. He was the enemy.

He would try to kill the team multiple times. Grant Ward would do everything he could to get her alone to speak with and or to Skye. Like he could change their minds. He had gone full psycho Hydra and didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.

Marinette was captured by Hydra not long before her twenty-first birthday.

She was tied up and chained to a desk.

Grant Ward walked in with an easy smile on his face, “Marinette. This brings back memories.”

“Old Blackheart himself,” The bluenette hissed back. “Good to see you again. Oh, Wait! As your lot puts; Hail Hydra, right?”

He nodded and sat down across from her, “Ladybug.”

“Just kill me,” Marinette shrugged. “I won’t tell you anything. You know I won’t. I won’t Hydra. You and the rest of the freaking Nazi can go to hell.”

Ward looked shocked, “Kill you? You really think I would… I would never hurt you, Marinette!” He told her. “You have to know that. I would never want to hurt you.”

“Maybe not want to,” Marinette looked him dead in the eye. “But you will. All apart of the job, right.”

“Do you think this was easy for me?” Grant asked. “You of all people understand how hard it was; the impossible decisions that had to be made. You know what it's like to make a choice that breaks you inside. But we make them anyway. I made them anyway. Because that’s what I do. What we do.”

Marinette shuddered. “A Double Agent. Do what needs to be done. Betray everyone who loves you, cares about you. Because we don’t matter, only the mission does. Right? That’s what you tried to train into me; anything for the mission.”

“No!” Ward shouted. “That’s who you were before I ever met you. You don’t get to put that on me. That’s why Shield wanted you. Because you did whatever it took to stop Hawkmoth for good. Whatever it took for the greater good. That’s how I knew we were the same.”

Silence.

Ward stood up, “You’re good. I get that. I’ve always known that. But you understand me. You’re a soldier. I’m a soldier.”

“You are a monster,” Marinette said. “You finally convinced. There is no good for you.”

Coulson, May, Lincoln, and Skye rescued her not long after.

Grant and Marinette would face off with each other multiple; fighting to the death; fighting for the cause.

Then one day, Simmons would be gone, Coulson would go after her, and when they came back; Coulson would tell her Grant Ward was dead. He killed him.

Marinette wouldn’t ever admit it but her world shattered just a bit.

However, Marinette would see Grant again but he wasn’t Grant. He was hive. And Hive would nearly take Skye from the team. He would take Lincoln.

After months of fighting the monster for months; doing whatever it took to bring him down; Lincoln, a pretty blond man with light-colored eyes who dared to be a hero, sacrificed himself.

And for the first time in years, Marinette was reminded of Adrien Agreste. She had thought about him occasionally, sure. But seeing Skye cry over Lincoln had reminded her just deeply of her own loss. And remember that she was the one who erased his memories. He wanted the last thing he saw to be her before he never remembered her again.

Marinette was twenty-two when she went to the funeral of Grant Ward. It was in Paris. Marinette was the only one who went. There was nobody to bury but still, Marinette had him laid to rest, not too far away from her parents.

No matter how hard she had tried, Marinette couldn’t find it in her to hate Grant. She had loved him too much. He had been such a big part of who she was.

And she owed it to him to finally see him laid to rest. It was her duty, she supposed.

That was why she buried him in the once place she once thought she’d never return. The place where she once dreamed of another life.

As she stared at his grave, once again she dreamed about another life.

A life where Hydra had never returned. Shield had never fallen. The Avengers weren’t torn apart in a civil war. The world didn’t seem to always be on fire. Skye was still an Agent. Fitz and Simmons were married. Tripp was alive. Lincoln was alive. And Grant Ward was good.

It was a nice dream but she’d leave it in Paris with all rest of her childhood’s hopes, wishes, and dreams.

“You were right,” She told Grant, speaking directly to his headstone as if he was there. “We are the same. I do understand. I’ve always understood. In the end, we always do our duty. Its what defines us. Rest in Peace, Ward.”

Marinette walked out of the cemetery with her head held high. She would stop for ice cream, and cross paths with a tall, handsome, green-eyed, blond man. He’d look right through her.

And it only bothered her a little.

Months after she left Paris again, for good she swore, she would hear on the news about the untimely death of Gabriel Agreste.

She would notify an hour later that Master Fu has surfaced in Paris again. The man had been watched by Shield for years.

She would be told that Master Fu had been spotted around Agreste home.

Marinette didn’t blink twice. It wouldn’t matter. Everyone had moved on. Adrien had moved. Marinette had moved on. And as far as the world was concerned Marinette Dupain-Cheng was dead. She had died years ago.

Seven months later, Coulson would bring her in to help train a new recruit. She would walk into the training room of the bus and see a tall, a tall, handsome, green-eyed, blond man with hope clear on his face, standing next to Coulson, looking at her like he was seeing the sun for the first time in years.

“Kitty?” Marinette whispered.

“My lady.”

Marinette was twenty-three when her world shattered yet again.

#ml salt #Marinette deserves better #marinette dupain cheng #grant ward #agents of shield #Skyeward #adrien agreste #adrien deserves better

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ricksroaches · 3 years

Text

Jimin - Dysphoria ch. 2

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jimin gets in trouble defending Y/N. Later that night things get deep.

notes: Y/N is based of an OC so if a few traits don't match yours I'm sorry T.T. To clear things up, this chapter takes place like a year before the actual storyline. Present day, Y/N and Jimin are juniors.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: cursing, mental illness, drugs (weed, LSD), smut (fingering, spanking, v penetration), mentions of sexual assault

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Jimin lost his virginity when he was 14.

Too fast? Ight let’s take it back a little.

Jimin was the perfect kid. Obedient, polite, compassionate, the ultimate parent dream package. He was born to please everyone. To give everyone joy, even if that joy was his own. But it wasn’t enough when it came to his parents. Their marriage was rocky even before he was in the picture. They divorced, and his dad moved out when he was 8, leaving his mom to raise him and his older sister by herself. He got a good lawyer and ended up getting out of custody, but his mom managed to get decent child support out of it. If one thing is true about this world it’s that a man with deep pockets can get whatever he wants.

Jimin wouldn’t see his dad for another four years, but life went on as it does; he continued to excel in dance, make good grades, make everyone happy. That was, until Seunghyun came into the picture.

He seemed okay at first. His mom had met him through a friend, and it didn’t take long for them to start dating. He was nice enough, handsome enough, wealthy enough. Jimin remembered the day he met him for the first time.

“Hey, Jimin right?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Your mom talks about you a lot.”

“…thank you?”

He laughed. “How old are you?”

“11.”

There was a pause. He simply nodded a few times before clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid. Keep that up.”

Seunghyun began coming over more and more frequently, most times even staying the night. Jimin had grown to like him quite a bit. He always brought something for him like a candy bar or a pair of Ray Bans he didn’t wear anymore. He often took him out to get ice cream and other spur of the moment treats.

Jimin's sister, Roseanne, was also a dancer. In fact, she was the reason he started. She was the whole world in his eyes and the most beautiful dancer he’d ever seen. Her dancing was the kind that sucked the air out of the room. No one dared breathe as everyone’s eyes followed her fluid movements. You simply couldn’t take your eyes off her in fear of missing a detail. It didn’t matter what you were doing. If Rose was dancing, you were watching.

Rose had a dance tournament in L.A., a solid 6 hour drive from their home in San Francisco. Mom was too busy with work to take her, so Seunghyun offered which she gratefully accepted. Jimin wasn’t worried at all, he knew she’d beat everyone there, which was why it surprised him to see her come home with a broken spirit. When he asked her what happened she simply said, “I didn’t make it.” He consoled her while she wept throughout the next two nights.

It wasn’t until the boys’ trip Seunghyun planned as an extra birthday gift that he would understand Rose’s tears. He’d just turned 12.

Jimin separated his life into two books. One of his life before that trip. The other, his life since. He often kept himself up at night wishing he hadn’t gone, and that he would never become the person he is now.

What happened on the trip, however, it didn’t stop. In fact, it happened more and more often, and it wasn’t just him, it was Rose too. The night Jimin heard Seunghyun slip into his sister's room next door, he made a decision.

He started taking the brunt of Seunghyun’s doings to keep him away from Rose. He could tell she was wilting. Her dance had become lethargic and she rarely competed anymore. Jimin wouldn’t have that. If he had one purpose in this world, it was to make Roseanne happy.

The promiscuity began in 7th grade with his first kiss at the back to school dance with Megan Shelby, one of the most popular girls in school. Their brief relationship rocketed him to the top of the dating hierarchy. By the end of the semester, he’d had 3 girlfriends and 4 boyfriends. Oh yeah, he knew he swung that way for a while now.

By 8th grade, things became more sexual. He just needed more. That rush that he got feeling someone else’s lips on his, getting to touch their body any way he liked, being touched himself, it was addictive. In those moments, he could forget about everything and enjoy himself for once.

His first nude was leaked by a boy who pretended to be gay for a month so Jimin would send to him. He didn’t have much shame when it came to sending nudes. He never asked for any, he was a gentleman. But if asked, if the guy was cute enough, he would.

Jacob. God that boy. Jimin was head over heels for that boy. Whatever he wanted, Jimin did. His first time giving head was pretty scary. He gagged a lot and could barely fit half of him, but it was the hardest he’d ever been in his life.

It didn’t take long for Jacob to want more than blowjobs. It was a spur of the moment thing, really. It was the summer before freshman year, Jacob had gotten them invited to a high school party, and Jimin’s mom had just broken up with Seunghyun (for reasons unrelated to this story). That was also the first night Jimin had ever gotten drunk. This was his night to secretly celebrate his freedom from the burden he lived with for three years. He took to the stuff rather quickly and before long Jacob was carrying him slurring up the stairs to a bedroom for him to rest.

Jimin playfully initiated a make out session that got pretty hot and heavy thanks to the alcohol. It was then that Jacob pulled back and popped the question. Jimin thought about it for a good 4 seconds before smashing his lips back onto his beloved boyfriend’s.

A new chapter in the Book of Jimin was written that night.

Jacob ended up cheating on him to which Jimin proceeded to rack up the highest body count in the school. It’s ancient history.

Despite his vigorous sexual awakening, Jimin remained the same angel in every adult’s eyes. It was hard to live with the memories of Seunghyun that plagued him almost every waking moment. He was finding it more and more difficult to come up with excuses for his breakdowns that sent him home from school. He couldn’t tell his mom. It would break her heart. So he dealt with it on his own, hiding all of his pain and fear behind a polite smile.

~~~

SOPHOMORE YEAR - OCTOBER

“All I’m saying is, dying of old age is like dying from not dying.”

Jimin swung his locker closed revealing the unzipped hoodie clad Y/N leaning against the locker beside him. “It took you ten minutes just to say that?”

“If you won’t appreciate my philosophical ideas then I will take them elsewhere.” He eyed her down.

“Y/N, you probably can’t even stand up straight right now.”

“And why might you say that?”

“Because it’s the last day before fall break I know you're high as tits right now.” She let out a slurred chuckle. She leaned her temple against the red metal and gazed at him with a dopey smile spread across her face. “Yeah, uh huh. Didn’t even share with me, bitchass. Now let’s go.”

“Yessir.” She stuffed her hand in her shorts pockets in search of her keys when a rough slap to her ass made her stiff as a board.

“Nice ass, L/N. You should wear those more often.” She could barely recognize the voice as Will Jacobs before he was on the floor with Jimin on top of absolutely wailing on him. He paused his assault briefly.

“You never touch her! You hear me?!”

Will glanced at her before zoning back in on Jimin. “Her? Tell her not to wear something like that and not expect feedbac-” he was cut off by Jimin's fist connecting to his nose with a delicious crunch. He didn’t stop, though. He kept punching and punching and punching. By now, a crowd had formed shouting and chanting for either boy. Y/N didn’t do anything to stop it. She stood there, keys dangling from her finger, in stoned awe. Although the sober side of her would’ve enjoyed to see it happen nonetheless. She was also too stoned to warn him about the principle marching towards the pair.

“JIMIN PARK!” His fist stopped midair, fully reared back to strike. The circle scattered like rats upon their fighters’ capture. He was yanked up by the back of his shirt and Will was hauled to his feet by two security guards, a shit eating grin on his blood smeared face. Jimin turned to Y/N, who’s mouth was still hanging open, while being dragged to the office.

“Just go without me. This is gonna be a while.” To which she dumbly nodded and made her way out of the building baked and confused.

~~~

The sun had set and Y/N still had no word from Jimin. She assumed his mom took his phone as punishment or something so she went about her business, albeit a little bummed.

She had just settled on her bed with her bong nestled in her lap when a soft knock at her window made her jump. She whirled around to see Jimin crouched outside her window. She unlatched it and shoved it up with a half annoyed huff half sigh of relief. “What the hell are you doing?” He ignored her query and slipped through the window and rolled onto her floor.

“I told my mom I’m at Tae’s. I just wanted to see you after earlier.” With a nod of approval, she turned around to inspect her bong for any damage.

“I live alone dipshit you could’ve used the door.”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting that.”

Yes. Y/N lives alone. We’ll unpack that later.

“So what happened?” She settled back in her spot but set the hot pink crystal contraption on her nightstand. Jimin crawled onto her bed and collapsed into the soft blankets. The smell of weed mingled with the lavender fabric softener to create a devastating blend that could knock anyone out for hours.

“Most of it was just them saying how disappointed they were and how I tainted my ‘flawless’ record. They didn’t even address the reason I gave them for doing it.” His lips twitched into a hateful scowl briefly. “They’re suspending me for three days.”

“But it’s fall break.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m suspended the first three days we get back. Jokes on them, I just got my break extended.”

“What about Will?”

“He was in the nurse’s office the whole time.” She casually lifted her fist and he bumped it.

“That’s my guy.”

There was a comfortable silence while the two relived the moment in their heads. She was thinking about how stupid she probably looked watching the ordeal. He wished he’d done more damage.

“Hey, Jimmy boy?”

“Yes, bitch?”

“You wanna get high?”

Y/N had just gotten a new sheet and wanted to try it out. They placed the tabs on each other’s tongues and watched the little mushroom design dissolve. An hour later they were sitting across from each other staring at the other giggling incoherently.

She studied every one of his features like it was the first time she’d seen him all over again. His peach hair was parted down the middle, bangs brushing his temples. His clean, solid eyebrows were in perfect contrast to his sun kissed skin. His eyes formed tiny crescents when he smiled only adding to his adorable look. His smile…….his smile. Perfect, pink, pillowy lips she could only describe as belonging to an angel. Glowing white teeth that radiated beauty every time he opened his mouth. His face slowly began to look like an oil painting on canvas the longer she stared at him. Her smile grew ever wider as she traced the brush strokes along his jaw and the delicate shading of his toned neck.

Jimin gazed at Y/N’s face with pure adoration. All of his love for her magnetized by the dopamine dump in his brain, and he hoped she saw herself the way he did. Her wild curls wiggled in place like a cute version of Medusa’s snakes. Very fun to look at when there’s a whole mane of it. Her freckles sparkled like dots of purple and blue glitter and the moonlight that hit the apple of her cheek shimmered and twinkled like it was coated in diamond dust. A barely audible giggle slipped from her parted lips. It made him giggle too. “What?”

“I’m just so happy…” her spacey smile said it all. He could see in her eyes that she truly meant it. He watched as the color changed from blue, to green, to hazel, to grey. The colors mixed and faded slowly and if you didn’t focus you wouldn’t catch it. He counted each individual fleck of gold in the center of her irises and they glowed like fireflies on a summer night.

“…Jimin..?”

He snapped out of his daze to see that her eyes were wider than they were before. He also realized that she was laying on the bed, and he was on top of her. He was frozen. When did that even happen? He stared back at her with equal shock but neither moved away. Her eyes didn’t show any signs of fear or discomfort. She was just surprised.

Every thought he ever had about her was rammed to the front of his mind and he had the crushing need to show her how special she truly was to him. Without further ado, he smashed his lips down onto hers. She let out the tiniest squeak before quickly returning the favor. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled him father down to deepen the kiss. His chest was now pressed against hers and the grip on his hair tightened. Few breaths were taken between kisses while she pushed his jacket down his arms and let it drop to the floor.

Jimin took it upon himself to slip his hands under the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head. He slid his palms up and down and stomach and waist, completely lost in the distorted sense of touch that hypnotized him. He was reminded of his task by a soft tug on the hem of his own shirt which he hastily peeled off before diving back into another kiss. He took his course to her jaw and then found purchase on her neck, sucking and biting until wine colored marks dotted her entire neck and collarbone. He made quick work of her plain black bra and tossed it behind him to an unknown corner of the room. He got to work making his marks anywhere and everywhere he could reach. The sharp rise of her chest when she gasped only spurred him on.

His hands snaked down her naked torso and yanked her sleep shorts out from under her before slipping his fingers under the waistband of her undies. Simple black Calvin Klein cheeky cut. Modest, yet tasteful. Her thighs jerked when he found her clit and started rubbing smooth circles, drawing out a silent cry from her behind his lips. He made sure she was good and wet before sinking two fingers past her lips, earning another heavy gasp that made her chest heave against his. He broke the kiss and leaned back much to her disappointment. He pumped his fingers in and out, finding every little nook and cranny to massage. He pressed his palm into the space between her belly button and her entrance and curled his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, eliciting a satisfying cry from her. He burned the sight of her back arching off the bed at his handiwork into his memory permanently.

He curled and pumped his fingers faster and faster until her walls clenched around his digits and her body shuddered and twitched from the force of the climax he’d brought her. She collapsed against the bed a heaving mess and he gazed down at her with a devilish smile. Demon Jimin had come out to play.

In a flash, he was out of his jeans and back on top in only his boxers. His muscular thighs and arms caged her underneath him as he raked his eyes over her figure before landing on her last remaining article of clothing. Before she knew it, she’d been flipped onto her stomach. His hands glided up her thighs and kneaded the flesh of her ass. With a rough tug, she heard the sound of fabric tearing and cold air hit her core sending a shudder down her spine.

A single, dazzling smack stung her right cheek before the pain was kneaded away. He pressed his body into hers and spoke low in her ear, “You feel that? Only I’m allowed to do that. No one else.”

She could feel the familiar hardness grinding against her ass sending another shiver through her body. He chuckled darkly. “You like that, don’t you?” She nodded, her face pressed into her pillow. He dug his fingers into her hips and abruptly yanked them into the air. Her yelp was muffled by the pillow but he definitely heard it. His boxers were discarded and he lined himself up at her entrance. He teased his tip against her folds watching them flinch with every touch. He sunk his full length into her evoking a high pitched cry from her and a low groan that ripped through his chest.

He wasted no time setting a rhythmic pace that had them both a moaning mess. They could feel every single square inch in 4K and their brains could barely keep up. He was so lost in the feeling he didn’t realize he’d sped up significantly and she was gripping the pillow to muffle her pleasured cries. “Why are you hiding those beautiful noises?” He wrapped his hand around her neck and hoisted her upright on her knees. “I want to hear everything that I do to you. Don’t you dare hold back, because if you go quiet I’ll only fuck you harder.”

He sacrificed speed for force in the new position. More sounds of pleasure spilled from her lips with each snap of his hips. His arm snaked between her breasts to grip her neck and pull her to his chest while he fucked into her with devastating force. The harder he rammed her cervix the louder the cries he squeezed out of her. He increased his speed once again leaving her a rag doll in his arms.

With another flip, she was on her back again and he was back inside her before her vision steadied. He hooked her thighs over his own to get a better angle which sent her curling off the mattress once again. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were squeezed shut to concentrate on the feeling. He gripped both cheeks in one hand and pulled her face down. “Look at me.” Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to find his face among the stars that jumbled her vision. He lined her face up with his, “I want to see those pretty eyes when I make you cum around my dick.” She breathlessly nodded and tried to maintain his scalding gaze while her body was getting shoved into the mattress with every thrust. The headboard cracked against the wall, accompanying her escalating cries when his thumb moved to circle her clit again.

“..-m I’m-”

“Go ahead. Do it.”

Her walls instantly clenched around him eliciting a jagged groan and his daze darkened. He pounded into her while her climax had her screaming loud enough for him to break. He finished after a burst of inhumanly fast strokes, burying his shaft as deep as he could to shoot his load and riding it out with a few hard snaps of his hips. His eyes never left the sea of her irises.

He leaned back and sat on his heels. The only sound in the room was their ragged breaths. He let his head fall back to relish in the aftermath of his ministrations. She watched the beads of sweat trickle between his abs with each swell of his chest. She never thought she’d find herself in this compromising position with someone like Jimin. Yeah, they made out a few times when they were bored but that couldn’t hold a candle to what just went down.

Jimin slid out and rolled over to lay next to her.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you?”

After a shower that quickly turned into round two, they were dressed and tucked in bed. Her head rested on his chest while she fiddled with the collar of the oversized (on her) grey shirt she’d given him. His arm was wrapped around her waist and his fingers traced her ribs under her shirt in slow, meditative strokes. The old Jimin was back.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you freak so hard with Will? You’ve never gotten in a fight at school, ever.” Her head bobbed with the heavy sigh that escaped him. She lifted her head to look at him. He stared up at the ceiling with a distant look in his eyes. His pink lips curved in a slight grimace.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No. I had to tell someone eventually. It might as well be now with someone I trust.” She couldn’t help the rush of confidence at his comment. That good feeling died quickly when she processed what he said. “My mom used to date this guy, Seunghyun.” He had to pause to adjust to saying his name. “He was nice. I liked him. A lot.” She watched his eyes dart around the ceiling trying to remember details of the memory. “They’d been dating for about a year. He was gonna take me on a boys trip to his lake house for my birthday. My sister….She tried to convince me not to go and…and I didn’t know why.” His voice trembled with the last words. “The first night he made me sleep in the same bed as him…The second night…” He looked up to blink the tears out of his eyes. She reached up and wiped them for him with her thumb. “The second night, we were getting ready for bed, and he asked me if…if I knew what sex was. I said yes thinking he was trying to give me the talk. He asked me…..if I ever touched myself…I didn’t know what to say so I said no.” His voice caught in his throat, his words coming out at a higher pitch. “He-” His lips pulled back in a quivering frown and his chest beat with one single, silent sob.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, take your time.”

“He came up behind me…and he stuc-….he stuck his hand…down my underwear.” His free hand flew to cover his squeezed shut eyes, gripping his forehead. “He kept asking be if I liked how it felt…I said I-I didn’t know so he kept going.” It tore her apart to see him struggling to speak the way he was. Tears of her own started to stream down her cheeks. “I worked up the courage to tell him to stop and he did. I tried to sleep on the couch in the other room but I woke up in his bed the next day. I don’t know if he…did anything, but the third night I was standing on the dock connected to the house. It was too dark for the neighbors to see anything. He came up to me again. He asked how I liked the night before again and I was too afraid to say anything so I didn’t. He did it again, but this time he pulled his out and…tried to get me to…t-touch it. I didn’t so he took my hand in his and…,” he took a deep breath “and he…u-used it to-”

“You don’t have to say it.”

He nodded

“I never finished…he did. I don’t remember the last day but I remember on the ride home, he said that if I told my mom….it would break her heart. And I didn’t want to break her heart-”

His sobs came out in soft, rapid beats but she was quick to pull him into her chest to soak her t-shirt. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and squeezed both arms around her torso while his cries shook the pair in silence. She didn’t say anything, simply wrapping her arms around his neck and planting kisses on his ears and shoulders.

“That wasn’t the only time, was it.” He weakly shook his head into her neck. “You don’t have to talk about it. You already did so great. You’re safe.” She continued to stroke his hair while his shaking began to plateau.

“You’re safe.”

~~~

The next morning was peaceful. Jimin woke up not feeling like shit like he’d expected. He actually felt….good. Given the bomb he dropped last night. But, she didn’t treat him any differently than she did the day before, and he was grateful.

She cooked for him while he showered, and they hung out having their regular old conversations like nothing happened. Although he noticed something. She was sober. It was nearing 6:00pm and he hadn’t seen or smelled weed since he barged in on her session. She stayed sober….for him. He didn’t like to admit it, but he enjoyed sober Y/N better. Granted, he still loved her any other day of the week, but he loved seeing her natural personality when she wasn’t in a dark place at the moment. And she didn’t seem to be now. Sober Y/N was smart. Sober Y/N gave great advice, and before she dropped him off at home, she left him with some.

Jimin typed in the code on the door and the lock clicked with a mechanical whir. Making sure not to make much noise, he shut the door behind him. He made his way upstairs and down the hall. Framed photos of him and Rose dotted the walls, and as time went by, their smiles were more and more forced. No one could tell but them. He eventually stopped in front of the door he was looking for. He softly knocked and he heard a muffled ‘come in.’ He opened the door to his mom’s room where she was sitting in bed, reading glasses on her nose, looking over the blueprints she’d drawn. She was an architect.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

Cover photos by @BIGHITTED on Twitter

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts smut

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lemonz-and-limez · 3 years

Text

The Amends Consideration

A/N: @ailurophilia72 if you ask, you shall receive.

This one is a heavy one, I'm not going to lie. Saw this prompt on tumblr and it got my brain going I just couldn't get it out of my head. Death has reared its ugly head in my life again and that kind of fueled a lot of this story. I am in a lot of pain right now and I needed it out. This story was the product.

I know in Young Sheldon, George is portrayed a lot differently than what is let on in Big Bang. I tried to go for the way he was described in BBT, a darker version definitely compared to what we see in YS. Just for full disclosure.

Prompt: Sheldon gets sad when he realizes his dad will never get to meet his child

Sheldon didn't know what to think as he pulled his mother's unexpected package out of the mailbox. Mary hadn't mentioned anything about sending him something, so the contents of the small box in his hand was a mystery.

He sorted through the rest of the mail on the elevator ride back up to his and Amy's shared apartment. Bills, adds, a couple of congratulations cards for the upcoming birth of their son. But nothing interested him more than the nondescript box he cradled under his arm.

As the elevator doors dinged open, Sheldon paid no mind to the obvious chatter coming from 4A. Penny and Bernadette had teamed up to throw Amy a baby shower, which his wife wanted but never had time to plan. With her two friends already being mothers themselves, they decided it would be easier to take the responsibility into their own hands. Of course, that meant Amy would probably be gone most of the day, knowing how those ladies like to chat. Sheldon didn't mind though, he never cared if he was on his own.

He had planned on getting some work done that he had neglected during the week. No day like Saturday to get things done, after all. However, the second he stepped back into his apartment, he threw everything from the mailbox except his mother's package onto the kitchen counter.

Sitting down on the teal couch, Sheldon inspected the parcel on the coffee table in front of him. "Alright, let's find out what you are," Sheldon whispered to no one, taking out his tiny pocket knife and carefully cutting the tape. The box opened from the side, so he spilled the contents out before him. There was a loud clunk as something heavy, and plastic hit the table. A couple other things fell out with it, one of which was a note from his mother.

Shelly,

Found this while cleaning out the garage. Figured it was something you should have. Forgive me for watching it without you, but I needed to know what was on the tape.

Please watch it, baby. He would have wanted you to see it.

Love, Mom

Sheldon set the note back down on the table and picked up the item that had caused the most ruckus on its way out of the box. A VHS tape. Probably the last thing Sheldon expected his mother to send. Upon further inspection, Sheldon found his father's handwriting scrawled across the label.

Make Amends – For Sheldon

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sheldon sighed heavily. A part of him didn't even want to give this tape the time of day. His father had been dead a long time; there was no need to dig up dirt from twenty-six years ago. But his curiosity couldn't help but wonder what his father could possibly have said to him on this tape.

According to her note, Mary had watched it already. Should he just call her and just have her tell him what was on it?

No. Sheldon was mature enough to watch this recording without calling his Mommy for assistance.

He moved quickly around the small living space and in front of the television. After the "football game tape over" incident last year, Sheldon invested in a used VHS player. Amy had teased him about it for weeks, but he couldn't possibly tell her the real reason he got it. Not to watch old movies from his childhood, which he did so Amy couldn't call his bluff, but to listen to his father's voice again when he started to forget what it sounded like.

With a few expert moves, Sheldon had the video playing in no time. Cradling the remote in his hands, back on the couch now, he leaned forward with rapt attention.

George Cooper was already in view, adjusting the camera on whatever he had it perched on. Which, according to the date, also on the label, was in 1994.

It was only a couple of seconds before his father had settled into the chair of his old office at Sheldon's old high school. From the looks of things, it seemed dark, like it was late in the evening. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to think about it too much because the dead man started talking. Literally.

"Hello, Sheldon," George sighed. "I don't know when this video is going to find you or how you're going to take it, but this needs to be said, Son. I have to say this to you. Especially to you."

His father paused for a moment as if to compose himself. The moisture in his eyes told Sheldon enough.

"I'm in a twelve-step program, Sheldon. For my drinkin'. And before you think of it, no, your mother is not forcing me into it. I am going on my own free will, but I am doing it for her. I love your mom, Sheldon, I know you probably don't believe that, but I do."

Another pause.

"Step nine of this program is to make amends with people I have harmed. And a part of me knows you will never fully forgive me, but of all the people I need to apologize to, you're at the top of the list, Sheldon. Not just because of what you have seen, or the things I have said to you drunk, but because of my shortcomings as a father."

"I always had this idea of what a man should be. The typical, all things masculine, into sports, rootin' for the Dallas Cowboy's kinda stuff. But you never did fit that role, did ya, son?"

Sheldon watched his father smile at his question. There wasn't malice in his eyes like he was angry, but instead, he seemed almost proud of him.

"Georgie was always the one who liked to go outside and play catch with me, and go fishin', and do all of the things 'typical boys like to do'. You never had an interest in any of that, and because of it, I never treated you as I should. As a father should. Unconditional love no matter what your child does or likes. I tried to change you at any chance I could get, and that wasn't fair to you. I should have embraced your intelligence. I should have bought you that science kit you wanted instead of that dirt bike. I should have been the father you deserved, Sheldon, because you did. You are amazing, son, and I am so insanely proud to be your father."

Sheldon wasn't expecting this. He didn't think his father was capable of saying such heartfelt words about him. His father could sing praises about Georgie's accomplishments all day long, few as they may have been. But even though Sheldon never heard George say he was proud while he was alive, hearing the words said over tape struck a chord within him.

Before the man on the screen could start talking again, Sheldon pressed pause. At the beginning of the video, he had expected George to discuss the unfortunate affair that Sheldon had unfortunately born witness to. After all, that was his most blatant faux pas. But his dad had dug deeper, past the surface, past the infidelity. He looked for the root problem of his relationship with his son. Sheldon's father was a man much like himself, never liked to outwardly display emotions often, but when he did, they were sincere. So, for the great George Cooper to open up like this, to a camera albeit, meant a great deal to him.

It had been a long time since Sheldon had thought of his dad the way he was at the moment. Like the man who raised him, who helped shape who he was today, and not the man who simply cheated on his mother. That was the title he had held in Sheldon's eyes for a long time. There had been a few cracks here and there. Like he and Amy's wedding or the night they watched the pep talk George gave the football team in the locker room. But those moments were fleeting. Gone as quickly as they came.

Perhaps it was because Sheldon had yet to hear the contents of this tape. The fact that he never made amends with his father before he died had forever tainted his perspective of him. Sheldon couldn't be sure.

All he knew was that he suddenly felt much more at peace in regards to his dad. But in place of Sheldon's bitterness and anger towards him was a tug of grief in his gut that he hadn't felt for years. The twisting knot of pain that permeated throughout his entire body.

His dad in the video, had said he was proud of him. Insanely proud of him. And yet, he didn't even live long enough to see half of his greatest accomplishments. He never got to see him with a Ph.D., win a Nobel, and countless other awards. He didn't get to meet Sheldon's friends, never got to meet Amy. His father's absence was felt heavily at their wedding.

And now, as Sheldon was on the cusp of becoming a father himself, he wouldn't get to meet his grandson.

Even from his seated position on the couch, Sheldon doubled over from the crippling feeling that came with that thought. Missy had expressed similar views when she gave birth to her first child, but Sheldon hadn't expected that feeling to be so intense. So utterly heartbreaking.

Sheldon wouldn't get to see both of his parents cradling his newborn. His son wouldn't be able to enjoy two grandfathers. Or learn football from his Texan Pop-Pop and be forced to root for the Cowboys no matter how bad their record was.

His son would never meet the formidable George Cooper.

The dry sob that escaped his mouth surprised him. But then came another one, and again, and again, until his face was no longer dry. Sheldon could hardly remember the last time he had cried like this over his father. He had done it once in the twenty-six almost twenty-seven years his father had been dead. The day he found out his father passed away when he was alone in his dorm room miles away from home. But he was fourteen then, barely able to understand the true concept of death. Sure, he knew the science behind it, but not the emotions. Not the grief.

Still, the tears he shed in his living room were not unlike those he had shed in his dorm room. Alone, vulnerable, miles away from Texas. But one key element was different; he now could fully understand the scope of what his father being gone meant. How it impacted the lives of his family. How it changed what his son's childhood would look like.

Sheldon was now beginning to dread the day he would have to explain to his son why he only had one grandfather while everyone else at school had two. Hopefully, Amy's dad lived long enough so he wouldn't have to explain to his kid why he had none.

With his elbows rested on his knees and his fingers interlaced behind his head, he let his body feel the emotion running through it. He didn't try to surpass it as he had for years. But that just made it all the more intense.

"Sheldon?"

His head snapped up at the sound of Amy's voice. His heavily pregnant wife stood in the open doorway to their apartment, staring at him with concern.

Amy glanced at the TV for a moment. "What's wrong?" She asked, slowly walking the short distance to the couch.

Sheldon frantically wiped at his face, trying to make himself look more presentable. As if that mattered to Amy. "This came in the mail today." He held up the empty box his mother sent. "Mom was cleaning out the garage when she found this tape of my dad. She wanted me to have it," his voice cracked with the last few words as he threw the cardboard back onto the table.

Amy, now sitting next to him, rubbed his back soothingly. "Well, what was on it?"

"It's nothing, just my Dad explaining he was in a twelve-step program, and he wanted to make amends with me."

"So, why the tears?"

His face scrunched up again. "I don't… it just… it just hit me that our son will never be able to meet him," he sobbed. Sheldon gestured with his hands and tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. "I-I-I don't know that j-just hurt more than I-I expected it t-to," he eventually stuttered.

Amy sniffled beside him, which made Sheldon finally look back up at her. She gave him a sad smile as she continued to rub his hunched back. "What was on the video that made you realize that?"

"I thought he was going to apologize for the affair, the one I walked in on. Instead, it was for his mistakes as a father. How he never seemed as proud of me as he did with Georgie. I didn't think my dad was capable of digging below the surface, but he did. He found the true problem with our relationship, and he wanted to make up for it." Sheldon picked up the remote and rewound the tape a little. "I mean, I have never seen my father talk about me this way. Look."

He pressed play.

"I should have been the father you deserved, Sheldon, because you did. You are amazing, son, and I am so insanely proud to be your father."

The video stopped again.

"If he was proud of me then, how would he feel about me now? Just the fact that I found you… he would have been over the moon. I'm sure of it. But now we're about to have a son, and he won't be here for it? I just…" Sheldon trailed off, not knowing quite how to word what he was feeling.

But Amy nodded in understanding. "Above all else, you wish he were here for our son," she stated, not asked.

"Yes. Despite all of my father's faults, he did care about his family. He would've gone down protecting us, probably, if a heart attack hadn't claimed him first. In light of all of my professional accomplishments, this is what would have meant the most to him."

Sheldon glanced down at his wife's stomach, where their son was visibly wiggling around. He smiled fondly at the sight but swallowed thickly at the emotion that rose with it. In a few short weeks, he would be holding that baby, their families would be surrounding them. Rejoicing with them.

But George Cooper wouldn't be there.

Suddenly, Amy's hand was no longer on his back but on his knee. "Sheldon," she beckoned him to look at her. "There's nothing I could say that would make this any easier for you, but might I suggest something?"

He nodded.

She laid her free hand on her stomach. "What do you think about making the baby's middle name George?"

"What?" He gawked. "I thought you wanted it to be William. You know, for Darcy."

She stared at him long and hard for a moment and then patted his leg. "I did, but I already got Elliot; let me give you this one."

Sheldon shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "You're doing all the hard work; you should get to decide two of the names. Seeing as how you don't want to hyphenate his last name."

Amy grimaced suddenly and held a hand to her side, her face scrunched up in pain. And suddenly, Sheldon was on high alert. "What's wrong? Are you having contractions?"

"No." She waved her hand at him. "Just got kicked pretty hard, that's all." He opened his mouth to point out her hard work again but she stopped him. "Look, Sheldon, I am really not upset about our kids only being Coopers. Seriously. I want to do this for you. I want his middle name to be George."

"Are you one hundred percent sure? You don't just feel sorry for me because my dad is dead and you think this will cheer me up?"

It sounded stupid coming out of his own mouth. Sheldon could only imagine what it sounded like to Amy.

"Sweetheart," she endeared. "Our son's middle name should be special, not the name of a fictional character. We only decided on William because we couldn't think of anything else. Neither one of us suggested George for some reason. I have no emotional attachments to the name William, but I do to the name George. We both do."

Sheldon took her hand in his own. "You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely. Besides, don't you think Elliot George Cooper sounds better than Elliot William Cooper?"

"William did lack a certain panache, didn't it?" Sheldon smirked, finally coming around after more convincing than it should have.

Amy laughed at that, but her face went serious again rather quickly. "I'm sorry you miss your dad, Sheldon. I would have loved to meet him."

"And he would have loved to meet you."

Sheldon looked back at the TV, his father's paused face, still staring back at him. He really did look like his father. His mother had always said so, but he never believed her. Now an adult, it was like looking into a mirror. He really was his mini-me.

If Elliot got Sheldon's eyes, then he would really have George's eyes. Sheldon only had them because of his father. Suddenly, he selfishly understood Amy's hope for their children to have his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" Amy asked, pulling him from his reverie.

"It's just uncanny how similar my father and I look. I guess now I'm just being selfish in hoping our son looks like me." Sheldon looked over and was met with Amy's blank expression. "Not that I don't want him to look like you," he quickly tried to cover himself.

Amy giggled and motioned for him to stop. "I wasn't thinking that. I know what you meant. Your dad may no longer be alive, but he lives on through his children and their children. Not to sound overly sappy."

"Too late," he joked. "I know I am being overly sentimental right now because I'm thinking about my dad. But seeing his face again, hearing his voice, I guess I'm just trying to hold onto whatever I can of him."

"That's grief, honey," Amy said softly.

Sheldon nodded, acknowledging the truth and the harsh reality behind those words. "I know, and I haven't allowed myself to feel that for a long time."

They sat in relative silence for a moment, the gentle whirring of the VHS player the only sound filling the air. There was still more on the tape; George certainly had more to say. Sheldon was sure of it. He thought for a moment, then turned to his wife and asked, "do you want to watch the rest of the tape with me?"

"Really?"

He nodded slightly.

"I do."

George Cooper's voice sounded once more in a matter of seconds.

"Sheldon, I know you are going to do great things one day. I have known that since… well… forever. I know you're going to find amazing people to surround yourself with who will love you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

Check.

"I know you will make countless accomplishments academically, more than you have already."

Check.

"I know you will fall in love with someone someday who will make your heart soar."

Sheldon and Amy smiled at each other, squeezing each other's hand slightly. Check.

"I know you will have exceptional, amazing children one day because you and I both know you are too exceptional to not do so."

Almost check.

"I know you're going to live a full life, Sheldon. Because you have such a drive for greatness, and I know you have my stubbornness, so, you will settle for nothing less."

George leaned forward, on his desk Sheldon was assuming.

"I know I have a lot of making up to do, and I hope someday you will accept this apology. I know you have a kind heart, Sheldon; I have seen it with my own eyes. I will understand if you can't, I have failed you as a father thus far, but I hope that someday you will extend that kindness towards me. I cannot wait to see you grow up, do all the things I know you want to do. Hopefully, I'll be around to see you accomplish most of them."

Sheldon should have finished the video before he started crying earlier. The fact that this was taped less than a year before his father passed away did not escape him. Nor did that make his pain any easier.

He figured, at least now he had Amy by his side.

"I hope that when this video finds you, you will listen and not throw it away. Even if that's what I probably deserve. I'm going to try sending these tapes out soon, so call me if you see this. Just let me know you've watched it. If that's all you can do for now, I'll understand; I've got a lot of things to work on."

His father smiled fondly at the camera. Not the forced one that Sheldon could always remember from his childhood but a genuine, real smile. It was also his smile.

"I love you, Sheldon. Talk to you soon."

The video stopped and began to rewind to the beginning. Amy was rubbing at his back again, soothing him as tears once again fell from his eyes. But Sheldon was still too transfixed on the screen. He whispered it so quietly, he doubted Amy would be able to hear it. Which would be fine. It was one of the few things not meant for her ears anyway.

"I love you too, dad."

A/N: Well that ended darker than I usually end this. This story ended up being surprisingly personal to me for a lot of reasons, and since I am dab smack in the middle of grief it just didn't feel right to have some uber sappy happy ending, because that's not genuine. That's not real. It's bittersweet at the least I hope.

Thank you so much for reading, especially right now, it means the world to me.

#shamy #shamy fanfic

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dragons-socks · 3 years

Text

Baby Bumblebee chptr 3

“Hey, Captain Lennox, Bumblebee isn’t here if that’s what you’re looking for.” Sam said as Ironhide pulled up and the captain jumped out. Mikaela waved from her spot inspecting the old engine of Sam’s replacement car when Bee is out in the field.

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” Something about the way Lennox said it had both teens dropping what they were doing and turning fully to him.

“Is he alright? Did he die. I swear if you wrecked him, I’m going to beat-” Sam began frantically threatening Lennox when Ironhide’s passenger rear door popped open and tiny light-the-night yellow sketchers popped out followed by black overall-shorts over a yellow t-shirt, but was drowned out by an overly large bee-themed jacket. The kid slipped on the last few inches out of the truck, landing smack on his bottom. Instead of crying out like most children do, he let out a series of clicks and chitters.

“I said I’d get you in a second, kid.” Lennox sighed, walking over and picking the child up to his feet. Sam looked between the kid and Lennox. He turned to Mikaela to make sure she was also seeing the kid as well.

“Uh, I didn’t know Epps had a kid?” Sam asked. “What’s his, uh, name?”

“Bumblebee.” Lennox said, face flat. Sam wanted to laugh, but the kid just looked down at his shoes, scuffing his toes in the grass.

“No way.” Sam knelt down to take a closer look at the little boy. “Like, my car? Like the 18 foot alien robot?” The kid let out a sad whine.

“Why is he a child? Shouldn’t he be older, even if he was turned into a human.” Mikaela asked, standing closer to Lennox.

“We think that is the purpose of the weapon, not to just turn the autobots into humans, but also small and defenseless.” Lennox explained the battle and how Bee saved Optimus from their weapon. Sam ruffled Bee’s fluffy blonde hair.

“He looks more like you cheated on Sarah with some cute African mama while on tour, then Epps and his girlfriend’s kid.” Mikaela cooed at Bee.

“I think my babysitter has the same idea.” Lennox groaned. “We tried to say he was a dead friend’s kid, but I’m not sure she completely bought it.”

“Sarah would have you sleeping in the dog house if that were true.” Mikaela assured.

“Oh, I’m in the doghouse either way. Apparently it’s a little traumatising to experience being a human than just observing them.” Lennox laughed as Bee let out a series of grumbles and chirps.

“So I have to stick with the crapper?” Sam bemoaned. Bee turned to him, letting out chirps and chitters. His tiny hand rested on Sam’s cheek, a determined look taking over his whole face as he promised he didn’t become a human to shake his duties to and for Sam.

“It was a joke, buddy. Don’t worry.” Sam laughed.

Judy walked out and completely went heads over heels for the kid little kid in her front yard. She snatched him up instantly, pinching his chubby cheeks and gushing about the brightest blue eyes she’s ever seen.

“Ma! Mom! MOM!” Sam shouted as Bee struggled against the matriarchy of the Witwicky family. “You’re freaking him out. Will you put him down?”

“He’s so small, you were this small once. Oh, I remember when you used to just rip your overall’s off cause you didn’t like them at all. But look how cute he is!” Judy at least set Bee down, who ran and hid behind Lennox’s legs, glaring at the woman from behind them.

“Yeah, yeah, ma. Why are you out here anyway?”

“Dinner is almost done. We have enough for you two as well, Captain Lennox.” She turned to the other adult.

“I’ll have to decline. We’re supposed to be picking up the last of the supplies for Bee and then headed back to the wife’s dinner. She’d kill me if I came with a full stomach.” Lennox gave a tight smile. Judy went on about being a good husband and yelling at her own to take notes. Ron yelled back about having been her husband for long enough to know how to handle his marriage.

“We’ll be able to see Bee at the base, right?” Sam asked.

“No. Optimus isn’t a fan of having him with the other Autobots and my superiors feel the same with having a child running around base. So he’ll be at my house until we figure out how to get him back to normal.”

“And if you can’t?” Lennox didn’t answer, not verbally, but the look on his face said enough. Bee let out a grumble, folding his arms and shaking his head. He wouldn’t rest until he could kick ass and drive fast again. “Well, I could always look after him if you need someone. I owe him for looking after me all this time anyway.”

“Thanks, kid. We’ll be around.” Lennox said. Bee wrapped his arms around Sam, who picked him up and helped him back into Ironhide, finding a kid’s car seat. Sam suppressed the need to laugh. An autobot that’s been in wars, has killed, and can take a brutal beating, has to also resort to being put into a car seat for his own safety.

“See ya later, Bee.” Sam ruffled the soft curls one last time. Bee waved goodbye.

Lennox was a little surprised that it wasn’t like pulling teeth to get Bumblebee away from Sam. He was almost positive that the autobot-turned-boy would try to stay with his ward. Maybe it was the promise of seeing Sam again that eased the separation. But Lennox wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t lying when he said he still had to get Bee a few more supplies for his room and Sarah was expecting him home at some point.

Bumblebee’s eyes went wide as they walked into yet another store. Lennox had been dragging him in and out of them all day. He’s been shoved into clothes for hours, and made to choose sleeping supplies and shelves. He was placed in front of plastic toys, but he didn’t want to look at those. Lennox held out a newer version of the yellow toy car and put it in the cart. Bumblebee didn’t want to acknowledge it’s presence so he turned away. His hand brushed against something soft, which made him stop in his tracks. Peaking to the side, he found a large box filled with fake earth animals. It was staring into his spark with beady black eyes, long drooping ears rested around its face.

“You can have the bunny if you want, Bee.” Lennox said, lifting it out of the box and placing it in Bee’s hands. Bumblebee’s fingers gripped automatically to the soft fur. He let out a stream of happy clicks.

The bunny was now in his room at the house, safe, protected. This new store was different. It was just shelves and shelves of books. Lennox wasn’t really browsing as he had done the other stores. No, he was walking straight to the counter where a girl sat, typing away at her computer. She ignored the duo until Lennox cleared his throat. She let out a sigh, turning to him with bored eyes.

“The children’s section is down the hall and to the right. The education corner is up the stairs all the way in the back.” She went back to her computer.

“I’m William Lennox. I called earlier.” He said.

“Oh, yeha, my boss said something about that. We’ve pulled some books for you.” She spun around, digging around a different shelf behind her before she pulled out a stack of large books. “These are the ones we’ve found.”

“I’ll take them all.” Lennox said. Bee went on his tiptoes and pulled down a small thin book. The cover had a cartoon child smiling, their hands in an odd position. The title was colorful and in big letters, ‘American Sign Language for Children’.

______________

The first time Lennox got back to the autobot base wasn’t until a whole week after getting into a healthy routine with Bumblebee. The kid was picking up sign language faster than Lennox could relearn it, so communication was still rocky, but it was getting better. They also had a grid of pictures and words that Bee could point at to help let Sarah know what he needed.

“Lennox, good to see ya back.” Epps clapped him on the back. “How’s the kid?”

“10,000 years of prior knowledge really makes ‘em smart, you know.” Lennox tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite appear. He drops his facade, running a hand down his face. “He’s upset on good days, throws tantrums on bad ones. He gets stressed easily and frustration runs high every minute.”

“That doesn’t really sound like Bumblebee. He’s usually so upbeat even in tough situations.” Epps commented.

“Ironhide thinks Bee is reacting to his physical age due to the human chemicals and endorphins bumping through his body. I’m inclined to believe so as well. Also, it’s a situation none of us has ever gone through before. He’s in unknown territory without his family to help him. He’s been abandoned and outcast and everything is a constant reminder of what he’s lost. He sacrificed himself for his leader, for the one he looks up to for guidance and safety. And because of the outcome, he was pushed away by that very man.” Lennox tried to explain the feelings that have been tearing Bumblebee into pieces.

“Yeah, that does sound stressful.” Epps slouched. “How’s Annabell taking having an older brother?”

“She hates it.” Lennox groaned, sliding down to the floor.

“It can’t be that bad.” Epps laughed at his friend’s pain.

“She’s just fine sharing, as long as its in the way she wants, which Bee usually gets overwhelmed with her demands and ends up with Annabell throwing a tantrum and Bee hiding away in Ironhide.” Lennox took a deep breath.

“Do I even want to know how Sarah is taking this?” Epps helped Lennox to his feet.

“Oh, she’s loving how much room she has in the King bed without any company.” Lennox gave a dry bark of laughter.

“Seriously?”

“She loves Bee, didn’t even take a second to warm up to him. She is mad that I made this ‘life-changing’ decision without her.”

“Well, we’re wife and kid free here, man. So just come down to the hanger and see what the bots have been up to.” Epps led the way to the large warehouse where the autobots were walking around and talking with other military faciliants. Or they were trying too. Ironhide was shouting at Optimus and anyone else who tried to argue with him or try to calm him down.

“I’ve got tear stains in my leather upholster, because he thinks he’s been abandoned! And you know what, he ain’t wrong.” Ironhide folded his arms, glaring at the leader of the Autobots.

“We’ve been over this, Ironhide. He would not be safe here. I’m not going to change my decision.” Optimus huffed, getting frustrated at this endless cycle that was getting them nowhere.

“Oh, I know. But I want you to live with the guilt of that decision riding on your conscience till the All Spark has mercy.” Ironhide spins his cannons, but doesn’t engage in any violence with his commander. Lennox was surprised the weapon’s expert held back. Ironhide had been overheating with rage for the whole ride here.

“Don’t start a fight, Ironhide. Bumblebee knew the risk.” Wheeljack said. “Besides, being alone isn’t the worst. I’m by myself all the time.” Wheeljack didn’t get to continue his thoughts as Ironhide slammed his fist into the other’s face.

“Hey, hey, Ironhide! They’re not going to change their minds with senseless violence. We’re here to do a job. Just keep it civil, big guy.” Lennox said, running to break up the bots.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to the range.” Ironhide transformed into his truck and rolled away from the others.

“Thank you for understanding, Captain.” Optimus started, but Lennox shot a glare up to the large mech.

“Don’t think I’m on your side, Prime. I just hate cleaning up the messes that happen when you guys fight.” Lennox turned away from the bot to organize his men.

#baby bumblebee #transformers #human bumblebee #william lennox #bumblebee

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tnystrk-exe · 4 years

Text

we both know how this song ends 4

Jack Daniels x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Suicide and talks of miscarriage

Chapter Four

Being in the house was a struggle. Neither of you ever said anything about that night. You weren’t sure your mother would have believed what had happened. So confronting her wouldn’t be an option. Steve seemed to not remember just how he got the bruise across his face. You attempted to figure out if it was an act or he really was just a gap in his memory. He had gone quiet though, which made you doubt he had forgotten. None of Steve’s unnerving lines were yelled at you in the mornings anymore. A hate filled glance, then he’d leave to do whatever he did for the day.

“Give me your necklace,” your mom demanded, her hand already opened to take it.

“What?” You choked on the piece of toast you had been eating.

“You fucking heard me. Stop acting like you’re a stupid bitch and do what I say.”

You didn’t make a move to take off the locket. It had been yours since the day you were born. Your father had passed it onto you the second he had held you in his arms. A tradition that started with your grandpa. “Why?”

“You’re nothing but a freeloader. I’m going to pawn it to get some extra cash. Hand it over already.”

“No,” you scoffed at the idea of it, “It’s all I have, from dad now. You already took my bracelet.”

She motioned around the apartment. “You have a roof. A room. Clothes. Stop being an entitled brat and give me the chain.” This time she didn’t wait. Instead opting to reach and pull at it instead.

You pushed her hand off. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I’m not going to let you take it. You’re just to shoot up and drink with that piece of shit you keep around.” Her hand reared back and you managed to catch her wrist before it could land. “I used to think the world of you, you know? I understand you lost someone you loved, but I loved him too.”

She pulled away her hand roughly. “He killed himself because of you.”

“Get a new line,” you sighed, “I’m tired of hearing it already. You sound like a broken record.”

“You’re not his. He found out you weren’t. Then he killed himself. You’re the reason.”

“You’re lying,” you shook your head, laughing. “Nice one.”

She caught you in a stare, the one you knew meant no games were being played, “Didn’t you ever wonder why you’d always have play dates with Cindy? Why do you two kinda look alike? Or how come her dad was wrapped around your finger and got you anything and everything you wanted even when we said no?”

You swallowed thickly, the events not so innocent to you anymore. Sean’s usually cheerful exclaim of not having one but two daughters rang out loudly in your head. The memory of it being a sweet gesture tinted now. The resemblance with your once best friend was no longer able to be shrugged off by coincidence. “It’s not true.”

“It is. If you want to admit it to yourself or not. You’re Sean’s kid. But hey,” she clapped her hands, “It’s better than having a dead dad. Isn’t it?”

“It’s not true,” you held back your tears, not wanting to give your mother the satisfaction, “I know who my dad is and as much as I hate it, he’s gone. You can say Sean is my biological father all you want but he isn’t my dad.”

She rolled her eyes, “Isn't that sweet. Guess you’ll always take his side, Killer.”

“I didn’t kill him! That’s on your hands! Did I ask to be born? Did I tell you to jump in bed with Sean when you had someone that loved you more than anyone in the world at home? I’m not going to take the blame for your guilt.”

“Get out of my house and get me some money. I don’t care what you do to get it, sell yourself for all I care.”

You shook your head, disgusted but not surprised anymore. Wordlessly, you just left. All you needed was to be alone. Some time to process this new information. Grabbing your bike, you got on and started pedaling.

“Dad!” You yelled, “I’m home.”

“Kitchen!” He responded, “Just had to pick up real quick. Ready for your driving lesson?”

You grabbed an apple from the bowl, taking a seat on the counter as you watched him clean. “Ugh, you don’t believe how ready I am. I’m so tired of that bike.”

“Hey, that old thing has served you well. Don’t bash it. How was school?”

“Same old. Cindy has been pissed with me lately, no clue why. I think it’s because I talked to a guy she liked, but I swear it was just a couple of jokes.”

“That age is rough, Squirt. People get set off over the smallest things,” he shrugged it off, “Give her a couple of days, she’ll come back around.”

“I hope so, this whole thing is getting annoying,” you complained, “He isn’t even my type.”

“And who have you been seeing to make you know you have a type?” He asked, raising a brow.

You laughed around a bite of apple, “I’m just saying! I mean, how did you know mom was your type? You just knew right? It’s supposed to just click into place right?”

He rolled his eyes, “Nice diversion. It’s not that easy. Your mom seemed pretty ready for a relationship, but I had come out a really rough one when I met her. Things don’t just click, you know, things take time and you nurture it. You work with someone and you hope it’s all worth it in the end.”

“What happened in your last relationship?”

“A lot of lying and running around,” he admitted, “I didn’t want to see it, but it was clear.”

“Oh… I’m sorry dad, that sounds…”

“Don’t sweat it,” he patted your shoulder, “If it hadn’t happened then I wouldn’t have you around Squirt. A little struggle was worth it.”

You grinned, he had to work away from home often, but you always loved these little moments with him. Learning things about his past was always nice. “Come on you old sap, teach me how to drive so I can stop bugging you for rides.”

“Grab the keys. I can’t wait for you to sneak out in the middle of the night and steal my car.”

“It’s not teenage rebellion if you encourage me,” you complained, tossing the apple in the trash.

“I’m sorry, your highness. I’ll ground you for the rest of your life. You won’t even know what a car looks like.”

“Thank you. That’s much better.”

Making your way to the front yard. Sean flagged your dad down, trying to grab his attention. “What do you need Sean?”

“I need to talk to you,” he looked at you, “Privately. It’s, um, a family matter and I need some advice.”

“Can it wait? I promised the kid I’d teach her how to drive. We’ll take an hour at most.”

“Okay, fine, but see me first thing.” Sean walked away, your dad waited until he was out of earshot. “See? Her problem probably isn’t even with you. Sean and Cassandra are probably fighting.”

“Huh? You think? I hope it settles down soon then,” you trusted his view on the situation. “You ready?” You jingled the keys at him.

“Give me a second,” he crossed himself jokingly, “Now I am.”

“Please!” You laughed, “I can’t be that bad!”

“We can only hope.”

It was a nice time. The open windows let the air flow through, music playing loudly as you concentrated on your first drive. Despite his underlying panic, your dad managed to instruct you calmly. He wouldn’t say you were a natural, but a bit more practice and he’d be ready to lie through his teeth for you. “I’m not ready for the freeway,” he shook his head, “We're sticking to neighborhood streets for a while.”

“Aw! Dad! I got it!”

“Give me two more practice runs. Then I’ll let you try it.”

“Fine,” you parked the car in the driveway, “Two more only. I gotta learn sometime you know.”

“Yeah, kid, I know,” he looked across the street, at Sean who was waiting on his porch, “Can you make some spaghetti for dinner? Your mom should be coming home soon and I’m not sure if Sean will be done by then.”

You nodded, “I got it, dad. Any special request?”

“We do have a box of brownies…” he shrugged, “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a minute, old man.”

You hung up the keys and got to your task in the kitchen. It wasn’t long until your mom came home. The smell of brownies and the radio playing greeted her. “How was the drive around town?”

You grabbed a stack of plates and started serving. “I think I did well. Though I think dad would beg to differ.”

“What do you mean?”

“No freeways until I get some more time in,” you blew out some air, “I can handle it.”

“Sometimes you just gotta test the waters before you jump in,” she patted your shoulders, “There wouldn’t be any harm in you learning a little more.”

“If it was up to you, I’d never get to drive,” you said, sticking your tongue out at her, “Too afraid something is gonna happen to me.”

“Well, you’re my only baby. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

“Nothings going to happen to me. I’m invincible,” you grabbed the plates to take them to the table, “Mind getting drinks?”

She grabbed three cans of Coke, “You’re not invincible. You’re just young.”

“Mom, I can promise you, nothing’s happening to me anytime soon.”

“Where’s your father? In the garage?”

“Nope! Sean needed his advice with some family stuff,” you shrugged, “Didn’t want to talk about it in front of me.”

“...Oh.”

The front door slammed breaking your thoughts away from your mom’s strange tone. “You good dad?”

“Y-“ he coughed, “Yeah. Just… give me a second to freshen up a bit. I’ll be right there.”

“He sounds weird.” You moved to go check on him, your mother blocking you from doing so.

“I’ll check on him.”

You watched her walk down the hall. A bit worried, but you supposed she’d be able to handle the situation. She knew your dad better than anyone. Besides, you doubted he’d actually talk to you about what had gotten him emotional. Though you weren’t a child anymore they seemed to refuse the thought.

It took about fifteen minutes for them to come to the dining room. Your father looked distraught, but you weren’t sure if you were willing to push him to ask. Whatever was happening in Cindy’s home must have been major. The quiet while you all ate was deafening. Forks scraping against plates was all that could be heard.

Finally, it started to feel too strange for you to handle. “I think I’m going to go finish up my essay. It’s due tomorrow and I haven’t really been on top of it,” you excused yourself from the table. Quickly you dropped off your dish in the sink and left to your room. Some thirty minutes later, your dad walked into the room. You looked up at him expectantly, setting your notebook to the side. “‘Sup dad?”

He sat down beside you, handing you a bowl. A slice of brownie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream in it. “You thought I’d let you miss out on dessert?”

You smiled at him, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, kiddo.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. He grabbed your notebook reading through your essay as you ate. “You’re getting pretty good at this. Coulda sworn some big wig wrote this.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I can do better. I’m just being lazy.”

“Lazy or not. It’s good. Keep it up.”

“Are you okay, dad? You seemed a bit off during dinner.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he tugged on your necklace gently, “You know how I can get around this time of the year. I just wish you could have met him.”

“Oh… It is around that time. Sorry about grandpa, dad, but from what you tell me he was great.”

“He was pretty alright.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty great. I can’t wait to pass it on. Imagine seeing you as a grandpa. You’re already a pushover now.”

“No. You can stand to wait. Give that thing at least until you graduate college. We don’t need any ankle biters around anytime soon.” He moved a lock of your hair behind your ear, “You know I love you more than anything in this world, right?”

“‘Course I do. I love you too, old man.”

“I should get to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“‘Night, dad.”

It was a simple rinse and repeat kinda day. Nothing spectacular happened. School was school. Cindy was still pissed. You stayed for a couple clubs and rode your bike home business as usual.

“Dad!” You called out, “I’m home!” Hearing the car droning in the garage. Setting your bag on the floor you went to check on what he was working on.

Opening the door to the garage, you saw him just sitting in the car. “Dad?” You walked to the driver’s side. Everything clicked in that moment. A picture of you was held limply in his hand. A stray bottle of sleeping pills on the passenger seat. You tried to open the car door, but he had locked them. “Dad!” You knocked desperately on the glass, “Dad!”

You didn’t know what else to do. You ran out of the house as fast as you could, straight on to Cindy’s porch. “Sean! Sean! I need your help!”

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked quickly, seeing the panic written all over your face.

“M-my dad. I think… he’s in the garage. The car was on and I think he took some sleeping pills and I can’t get him out because the doors are locked,” you word vomited, still trying to process it all. “You need to help him!”

“Rachel, call the cops! You stay here kid, okay? I’ll go check it out.”

Your head kept on replaying those couple of hours again and again. Seeing your dad being rolled away had been imprinted on your memory. You let your bike fall onto the sidewalk and took a seat on the bench. Covering your face, you let out a groan into your hands.

“It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t,” you said quietly, trying to convince yourself.

It wasn’t, you knew that, but the guilt was there. Your father had made an irreversible choice and you had to figure out how to live past it. Still, maybe there was something you could have done. Pushed to make him talk. Missed class that day with a lame excuse. Gotten home early instead of going to a club you hadn’t even enjoyed. Anything could have saved him. You could have convinced him to stay.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump. “Bug?”

You relaxed slightly, wiping the tears from your eyes, hoping they weren’t too red. “Hey, Mr. Daniels,” you greeted, giving him a small smile.

He was dressed in work clothes. The outfit stained with oil that would never wash out. “Are you okay? It wasn’t my boy was it?”

“No, we haven’t seen each other all day,” you sniffed, “I’ve been home all day… Jack’s been really great. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Mr. Daniels nodded, taking a seat beside you. “You should know I’m not amazing at this, it’s more Mare’s kinda thing, but I can lend you an ear. What’s wrong, Bug?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively. “I dunno,” you shrugged, “Got to thinking about my dad. I guess it overwhelmed me some. Mom said something today and it just tipped all that over.”

“It hasn’t been long, right?” He sucked his teeth, “I can tell you, it’s hardest the first year, but it gets easier.”

“I can’t help but think I should have done more…”

“If you don’t mind… how did your dad pass?”

“Monoxide poisoning. He, um, took a bunch of sleeping pills and locked himself up in the car,” you stated, deciding to opt out of the newly learned information. “I just wish I had gone straight home. I could have… don’t know.”

“Oh Bug, I’m sorry. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I don’t. I just wish I could have done more.”

He frowned, “That’s too much to put on your shoulders, kid. Thinking about things like that is bad for you. Don’t put yourself through the wringer with a bunch of different scenarios. It makes the hurt worse.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“What you can do now is live a good long life. I know having a kid like you, he’d want nothing more than for you to be happy. Maybe you could talk to your mom about this?”

You shook your head. “We haven’t been good since the day it happened. I think she’s counting the days until I leave now,” you said, admitting more than you wanted to.

“Why would you think that?” He looked at you, brows furrowed.

“I guess, I’m just a reminder of the past,” a guilty conscious more like it, “Maybe it’s just better off if I find myself a job and leave after graduating.”

Mr. Daniels perked up at that. “You’re still looking for a job? I could help you out there at the very least,” he offered.

“Are you sure I’m qualified?”

“We just need a secretary. The shop is in shambles when it comes to organization. You’d expect us to run it better, but honestly most of the time our wives need to step in and help out. Maybe you can help us start a call ahead program, keep track of things, and go on quick runs for us.”

“I could help out,” you nodded, “When do you need me around?”

He stood gesturing for you to follow him, grabbing his bag. “You seem to have some time now. I can show you around the shop today and the things we’d need you to do. Throw your bike in the back.”

You did as he said before getting in the truck. “Thanks for the job, Mr. Daniels.”

“Don’t sweat it, Bug. In all honesty, you’d be helping us more than we’re helping you.” He started up the truck. “I’m thinking three hours after school and a hundred a week. Does that sound okay with you?”

“That sounds great.”

“You can have this Friday off, of course. Jack’s gnawing my ear off talking about his nerves over that dance. I’m sorry, by the way, that kid can’t dance to save his life but I’m pretty sure I caught him practicing.”

You laughed at the idea. Jack was absolutely too sweet for you. “I guess we’ll have to make do. I’m not sure I can do any better.”

“Trust me, you can. Oh and none of this Mr. Daniels stuff. Hanging out with you is gonna make me feel old enough we don’t need that to pile on too.”

“Whatever you say, Boss Man,” he made a face at that, “Fine, a work in progress Picky.”

The shop wasn’t too far from where you had been. Mr. Daniels said he needed some part they didn’t have in stock so he went to the store. Lucky for you. He was keeping your mind busy from the horrible morning as he showed you around the shop. His desk could be yours while you were there after school and you were welcome to do whatever made you comfortable.”

“Derek isn’t here today, but he’s the other owner. Those three are Larry, Moe, and Curly,” he pointed at the men working on cars. “They’re basically my other boys.”

The three were a bit older than you and Jack but far younger than Mr. Daniels. “Pops!” One of them called out, “This one’s ready for a test drive.”

“Okay, Slugger. Go take your break. You’re up to bat, Bug. Get the keys in our office and take that car out on a test drive,” he instructed.

“Ah, Buddy Pal, I’m afraid I’m already gotta disappoint you. Don’t know how to drive.”

“That’s not gonna work,” he shook his head, “Hey, Scout, toss me the keys. Bug get in the driver’s side.”

Slugger looked at you curiously, “What brings you around here, angel?”

“Needed some work.”

He nodded, “That’s good. That’s good. Got any plans this weekend?”

“Yeah. I do actually.”

“Shame,” he gave you a smile that probably would have flustered you before, but now you knew sweeter, “Anyone special?”

“I’d say he’s special.”

“C’mon sweetheart, ditch the kid. Come out with me. What do they know?”

You laughed, “I don’t know, Jack and I are pretty set on this date.”

“Jack?” He asked his eyes wide, “Our Jackie Boy? What game does he have? ...Hey, um, can we forget about that? Didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Water under the bridge,” you let it go, “Nice to meet you, but I should probably…”

“Yeah, sorry again.” He started walking away, “Can’t believe I hit on Jack’s girl,” you heard him mumble to himself ashamed.

Mr. Daniels thwacked him on the back of the head as they passed. “That’s for not stopping at giving her the keys, dummy.”

“Yeah, Pops, I know.”

“Get in, Bug.” Mr. Daniels got in the car. “Okay, so what do you know?”

“A decent amount. I’ve only gone on one drive with my dad. I scared him a fair bit honestly.”

“Don’t worry about that, Bug. After Jack I have nerves of steel. He drove us into a ditch his first time. Just take it easy. We’ll help you out and when you get decent we’ll take you to get your driver’s license. Already making yourself more useful as you go.”

Mr. Daniels didn’t instruct you much. He let you go at your own pace to get used to it. However, he was telling you things to pay attention for to correctly test out the car. It was the little things that you had to pay attention to the most.

“Okay, so the car is perfect,” he informed you, “The brakes could be better if anything else, but they could probably get away using them a while longer if they don’t want to change them now. Take us back to the garage. Next time we get a bad one, I’ll let you drive it. The only way you’ll know what to look for.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded, already making a U turn to retrace your steps. “Thanks for this by the way, I wasn't sure I’d get to learn anytime soon.”

“Well, Bug, I’m here for you anything you need, but… y’know, if you wanna say thanks sometime, I still haven’t gotten that berry cobbler.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Got it, dad.” It took you a second to realize what you had said. “Oh, sorry.”

He put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry kid, I don’t mind it. Got used to pops and dad a while ago between the Stooges and Jack. Besides, I understand you’ve been thinking about your dad. It’s okay.”

“How come the Stooges call you pops?” You asked, deciding to sidestep the awkward conversation.

“It took a long time for Mare and I to have Jack. We had been trying since we had gotten married. I was 25 and she was 21. She got pregnant four times before but those never got to stay with us and we had given up. So, to get a feel of being important to some kids, she started helping out at the elementary school and I coached little league and helped with the local scouts. We gained ourselves a couple kids that have been trailing after us like little ducklings since then. Jack was just a bonus we weren’t expecting when we were in our 40s.”

“Was it scary? Having Jack I mean.”

“The first six months were,” he acknowledged, “that was the farthest our third try made it. Once Jack cleared that it just felt like a constant miracle happening.”

“I’m glad, he did.”

“So am I. I’m not sure Maria could have handled another loss like that.” The car rolled to a stop in front of the shop. Jack’s truck parked across the street, the familiar vehicles bringing a smile to your face instantly. “You two really are some lovesick pups.” He shook his head, “I don’t think Mare and I were so infatuated.”

“Nah, buddy pal,” you denied him, “I’ve seen you together. Y’all are the lovesick ones.”

“Yeah, yeah, go do your job. Call the owner and tell them the car is ready to get picked up.”

You nodded and took a quick look to check what type of car it was. You walked straight to the office, seeing Jack looking into a motor and spitballing the problems that there may be with it. Flipping through a notebook, you found the owner and started dialing the number.

“Hello? ...I’m calling from Tovar and Daniels Repairs,” you startled slightly when arms wrapped around you, but you quickly relaxed into them when Jack pressed a kiss to your temple. “Your car is ready for pick up at your earliest convenience…” You elbowed Jack softly when you felt him bite at your neck. “Well, we advise you to change your brakes, but it’s not an immediate issue. ...Change them? Okay. I’ll get one of the guys to work on it right now.” The line cut off and you hung up the phone, “Do you mind?”

Jack took a break from your neck to press a kiss to your cheek. “Couldn’t help it. You looked cute talkin’ business. Heard you got yourself a gig here.”

“Yeah, your dad asked me to be the secretary and he wants me to be the test driver too, but he has to teach me how to drive first.”

He swayed the two of you lazily, “I’m glad for you, baby. I know you’ve been wanting a job.”

“How come you don’t work here?” You wondered.

“Didn’t wanna take a job away from the guys. Also didn’t like the idea of getting a position just because I was the owner's kid,” he said, talking against your neck, “Though, when I think about it, they’re not any better. I like outside work better anyhow.” Jack pressed a couple more kisses to your neck, earning himself a moan. “Sugar, that was a little too loud,” he scolded, his proud smirk couldn’t be kept at bay.

You laughed, turning around to face him. “I can’t believe you’re gonna get me fired during my orientation.” Pulling him close, you gave him a proper kiss.

Recently the kisses had started getting more eager. As Jack pulled you flush against himself, you couldn’t find any reasons to complain. His hands found some purchase under your shirt as yours tugged at his hair. Jack quickly sat you on the desk, his lips never leaving yours.

“Go Jackie!” You heard three loud whoops at the door. “That’s our boy!”

Jack groaned when you pulled away and hid your face against his neck in embarrassment. He raised his hand to flip them off.

“Jack! Stop kissing my workers on company time!”

Next Chapter

wbkhtse tag: @carringtonhill @dizzydazed

#agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #reader insert #kingsman #pedro pascal x reader

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cake-writes · 5 years

Text

Compromise (Part Three)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Angst, Fluff, Separation Anxiety

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

Interlude #1 / Master List

To say you slept terribly was an understatement.

You were too nervous, too keyed up to sleep. Not only were you worried about Winnie, but the prospect of car shopping with Bucky was an additional stressor. Why had you even agreed to it in the first place? Yours was just fine. A beater, sure, but it still ran. Kind of.

Deep down, you couldn’t help but appreciate that he cared about Winnie’s safety. You just didn’t like the nagging. He’d been on your case for the last few months about your car, ever since you got into an accident on the way home from the grocery store. A fender bender, nothing serious. It wasn’t even bad enough to warrant repairs – just a few dents and scratches on your rear bumper. The other driver gave you a couple hundred bucks for damages, which you used on birthday presents for your little girl.

That said, you weren’t poor, just frugal.

Most of Bucky’s child support – a couple thousand dollars a month – went straight into savings for Winnie’s college fund. The rest was used on doctor’s appointments and medicine. Despite the fact that she also had the serum in her veins, she still got sick like a normal child. Between croup and colds and ear infections, you’d dealt with it all; even her asthma, unpredictable as it was. It flared up at the strangest times, not from overexertion or allergies like one might expect, but randomly and you hadn’t yet figured out the cause. Neither had her doctor, let alone Bruce for that matter.

Of course, the serum did affect her some. She grew slightly faster than her peers; although she was a little over three years old, now, physically she was more like four. Then again, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise, as your pregnancy only lasted eight months instead of nine. Technically she was a preemie but she certainly didn’t seem like one, having been born at a standard six pounds, five ounces.

Standard. Normal.

When she ran, it was at a normal speed too, and she definitely couldn’t lift anything heavy. She had a tendency to trip and fall flat on her face, so her reflexes weren’t exactly enhanced like Bucky’s, either, though her skinned knees did seem to heal faster than the norm.

To you, Winnie was a normal little girl through and through. She played with dolls and stuffed animals, drew with crayons and markers, and had temper tantrums on a regular basis. She liked to dress like a princess, watch Disney movies, be tucked in and read to. She even snuck into your bed at night when she had a nightmare.

She was normal. Mostly.

The fact that her Mommy and Daddy were separated made her a target in preschool, and you hated it. Her friends often babbled about their parents, plural, whereas Winnie usually only got to talk about you. You knew how much it bothered her.

It bothered you, too.

Morning came before you knew it, and you were anything but bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. By the time you left for the compound, it was a little after nine and you’d already downed about a gallon of coffee. Even though you’d been a barista for almost a decade, you never really used to drink coffee much until you had Winnie. Then, all of a sudden, you completely understood why it was so popular.

There were no hassles at the gate this time. Bucky’s name held enough sway that you didn’t have to repeat yourself after yesterday. You kind of liked it – always had, if you were being honest. Not that you’d ever admit it. Especially not to yourself.

Yawning, you made your way up the handful of steps and through the glass doors. You’d texted Bucky right before you left and although he wasn’t there to greet you this time, you vaguely remembered where to go. At least you could take the steps more slowly this time, now that you weren’t being watched.

The compound was incredibly quiet for a Sunday morning in comparison to the tower. There was never a dull moment there, but here, even with all the buildings, it wasn’t noisy at all. Instead it was tranquil – relaxing, almost. You could even hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside as you knocked on Bucky’s door.

On the other side, you picked up the deep rumble of his voice. It wasn’t quite loud enough to make out, but you could easily assume what he’d said when Winnie asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Mommy,” you answered cheerfully.

You heard her squeal, and then she relayed the information like Bucky had no doubt asked her to do. “Mommy’s here! Can I open it now?”

He spoke again – louder, this time, closer to the door. “Sure, princess.”

There were a couple seconds while she fumbled with the handle; she was barely tall enough to reach it at home, and this one was the same. Bucky might have tried to help, you weren’t sure, but soon enough the door was pulled open and a little brunette blur promptly attached itself to your leg.

“Mommy!” Winnie said happily, peering up at you with her big blue eyes. “You’re back!”

“Of course I am, sweetpea! Did you miss me?” you asked with a smile.

While normally you would have ruffled her hair, you noticed that she had two braids on either side of her head, secured by tiny pink elastics you didn’t recognize. They were very cute, but who’d done them up for her? Natasha? You were sure that none of the boys knew how to French braid. Why would they?

That particular thought made you wonder if there was something going on between her and Bucky. She was here yesterday, too. She’d tell you if there was, though, wouldn’t she?

“I missed you lots, Mommy,” Winnie told you, letting go of you to hold her arms up in the air. She wanted to be picked up.

You, of course, hoisted her up with ease and propped her against your hip, holding her little body just a smidge closer than yesterday – not tight enough to hurt, but you were ecstatic to have her in your arms again. “I missed you lots, too, baby.”

Then you finally looked over at Bucky and found him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. The way his tight black t-shirt strained over his biceps made you feel a little hot under the collar, but what really caught you off guard was how his lips were just slightly curled up at the corners, like he was trying not to smile.

You made a joke in an attempt to distract yourself from the fact that he was always too damn attractive for his own good. “So can I come in? Or do I have cooties?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, then, blinking like hadn’t really thought of it – and then he stepped aside to allow you entry. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“If anyone has cooties, it’s Daddy,” Winnie made a point of saying. “He’s a boy.”

You let out an undignified snort as you crossed the threshold. “Is that right?”

“Yeah! Boys are yuck.”

“Boys are yuck, huh,” Bucky remarked, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Then he muttered under his breath, “Sure hope it stays that way.”

That comment coupled with the suddenly wary look on his face made you laugh outright. Bucky hadn’t made you laugh in a long time; you were too busy arguing with him to do much else. “Isn’t it a little early to be worrying about that?”

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “you’ve already got her college fund set up. Don’t talk to me about ‘too early’.”

You huffed, but it was in jest. “That’s different.”

“Yeah?” At that, he offered you a roguish grin that made your heart skip a beat. “How’s it different?”

Now, it wasn’t witty banter, per se, but something was different for sure. The dynamic had shifted between the two of you, somewhere between the time you told him goodnight and your mid-morning arrival. It was a small change, but you could feel it in the air: a distinct lack of tension.

Unfortunately, it also made an indignant flush come across your cheeks. He was teasing you. He hadn’t done that in a long time, either.

“It just is,” you responded unhelpfully, setting Winnie down on the sofa before you sat down next to her. You purposely kept your back facing him to conceal the fact that you were blushing like an idiot and you didn’t even know why.

No, that was a lie. You did know why.

This felt entirely too familiar.

Thankfully, Bucky seemed to pick up on your change of tone and let it go in favour of asking, “Have you eaten? We only got up a few minutes ago.”

By ‘we’ you assumed he meant Winnie, because he never used to sleep well. Nightmares usually kept him awake, and while you knew he wasn’t a morning person, he got up at the crack of dawn anyway. Bucky told you once that he liked to watch the sun rise. The peace and quiet helped him think.

“Not yet,” you answered, fussing with the wrinkled collar of Winnie’s dress. Another distraction. You’d dropped off a few different outfits for her in an overnight bag last night, along with her inhaler, some toiletries, and of course Mr. Squiggles. Now she was dressed in her Sunday best, but in all actuality, she probably just wanted to wear a pretty dress.

“Daddy said he wanted to make Mommy’s favourite pancakes!” Winnie piped up, and you instinctively tensed at the admission.

That’s right. It was Sunday.

Bucky awkwardly cleared his throat, but made no attempt to correct her.

There was a brief pause – stunned silence – until you regained your bearings enough to ask, “Did he, now?”

“Uh huh!” Winnie told you, nodding excitedly. “Blueberry!”

Your brows rose as you turned to him. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Why do you think I used to make them?”

Your heart instantly warmed at his admission – and ached, because of the memories. He was on missions more often than not when the two of you were together, but without fail, whenever he was home on a Sunday, he made blueberry pancakes. His Ma’s recipe, he said.

They were the best pancakes you’d ever eaten.

“Well,” you began nervously, “it is Sunday.”

He met your eyes, then – gentle, warm. Just like how he used to look at you.

“Daddy,” Winnie whined. “I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, Daddy,” you chimed in, feeling a little lighter than before. “I’m hungry, too.”

Bucky grumbled an easy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he got to work, but his tone didn’t match the amused expression on his face. You didn’t fail to notice the light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

That was when Winnie started to tell you about the show she was watching on Netflix, the same cartoon you’d glimpsed yesterday. You were interested in what she had to say, of course you were, but not as much as you normally would have been because her father looked so fucking good right now.

He’d remembered. As innocent as that was, your body’s reaction to it absolutely wasn’t. Call it Pavlovian conditioning, but the first time he made those pancakes for you was the morning after you first slept together. That was the same night Winnie was conceived.

When Bucky pulled out a frying pan from one of the cabinets and set it on the lit stove, you couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt stretched over his muscles underneath, not to mention those sweatpants which did nothing to conceal his fantastic ass.

You’d already seen and sampled what he had to offer, but hell if you didn’t want to have another taste anyway. Not that you ever would.

He started to lay out all of the ingredients on the counter, including a punnet of fresh blueberries but you were more focused on the way he worked with such finesse, like making breakfast for the three of you was a normal, everyday thing for him to do.

It was, once.

Then, as Bucky mixed everything together in a large bowl, he finally glanced up only to catch you staring.

Shit.

You immediately tore your eyes away, heart pounding a frenzied tattoo within the confines of your chest and you made sure not to look back again. Instead, you feigned interest in the show Winnie was babbling on about, squeezing your thighs together to alleviate the sudden ache in between.

You needed to stop.

He wasn’t good for you. He wasn’t good for Winnie.

Right?

But your thoughts just kept drifting back to him anyway. You couldn’t help it. It was during times like these that your memories got the best of you, because you knew he was more than capable of being a good father if he wanted to be. You’d seen it not only while you were pregnant, but during the first couple of months after Winnie was born.

What’s worse was that Bucky was capable of so much more, too. He could be downright wonderful. A good boyfriend. A supportive partner. An attentive lover. He was all of those for you once upon a time.

It wasn’t until the pancakes were done and you finally met his eyes again from across the kitchen table that you knew you were in too deep. You’d never gotten over him, not really – and being here with him and your daughter, so sweet and domestic for the first time in years, was what made you finally realize that.

You still wanted to be with him.

You wanted to be a family.

Part Four

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #captain america #avengers #mcu

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damianwaynerocks · 4 years

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Ghosts in Gotham

Danny Phantom / DC Comics

Dedicated to: @wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever

Summary: The Batfamily has been through their fair share of the supernatural. That’s why they originally weren’t worried whenever ghosts started showing up in Gotham City. Until one day, something happens; Batman is captured and taken into the Ghost Zone. With no way to go in there themselves, with no way to fight the ghosts inside, the bats decide to call the person who can; Danny Phantom. Together, Danny takes Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne into the Ghost Zone before the Batman is lost forever.

Words: 3599

Ch 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2:

"Wow. This is the gloomiest place I've ever been to." Danny rested his head against the window as he stared dully outside the vehicle.

"Now Danny, that is not true." Maddie looked over her shoulder at her son from the front seat. "We've been to some dark places in the Ghost Zone."

"I guess."

The Fentons were in a large white and green van. They had left Amity Park the day before and were finally arriving in Gotham City.

"Well, I think it's beautiful." Jazz said cheerfully. "My future home. Just look at it!" She gestured outside. Danny followed her gaze.

Dark clouds blocked out the sun above Gotham City. There weren't too many people walking around, probably due to the insanely high crime rate the city was infamous for. Danny raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"Don't be so glum, Danny boy!" Jack said, grinning at his son in the rear view mirror. "I've heard that there's ghosts afoot here! Maybe you can catch the ghost of Jason Todd!

Jason Todd was the second child of Batman, who died just a few years after being adopted. Recently, pictures had been popping up of a man who looked like an older version of Jason Todd walking around Gotham. A few people had even supposedly spoken to him, and apparently the man said his name was Jason. The Waynes vehemently denied the theory, but many people believed it.

Danny snorted. "I bet if I caught Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne would sue me."

Jazz scowled. "No way! He would be so grateful that you brought his son home! Bruce Wayne is a good man!" Danny laughed.

"We get it, you think Bruce Wayne is hot." he ducked a swing from his sister as he added to his father, "I don't think that guy is Jason Todd. It looks like a human, not a ghost."

"So did Johnny 13."

Despite his air of nonchalance, Danny was on alert. Gotham City had had an influx of ghost activity the past few weeks, and he knew he might have to go ghost at any moment.

He just hoped he would be able to eat first.

"I'm excited about the food," he voiced his thoughts, putting his hands behind on his head as he reclined his seat. "Like, this guy's a billionaire. The food is going to be so good."

"Oh ho ho, that's what I'm most excited for too! Uh, but not as excited as I am that Jazz is getting this opportunity!" Jack quickly added after Maddie's glare.

"Do you remember where the letter said our hotel is?" she asked. Jack nodded.

"Of course, Maddie!" he said. "It's right where Brucie said! Wayne Motel! And we get a master suite!"

"Sweet!" Danny and Jazz exclaimed simultaneously as the family pulled into the parking garage.

They opened the door to their suite, dragging their obscenely large amount of luggage with them. They had packed some ghost hunting gear just in case they encountered a ghost, and they took up a lot of room and a lot of suitcases.

Jack breathed in. "Home sweet Hotel!" he grinned. "Danny, Jazz, go pick a room! But not the one with the water bed, that belongs to your mom and me."

The two siblings exchanged a look and then darted in different directions. Danny skidded to a halt as he reached the last room at the end of the hall, and opened the door.

It was a massive room. It had marble floors, a canopy bed, a huge tv, and a private bathroom. Danny smirked, his eyelids relaxing. "This pleases me."

"Danny! Hurry up!" Jazz yelled two hours later. "The limo's gonna get here in twenty minutes!" Wayne Enterprises was sending each intern a limo to take them to Wayne Manor.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Danny grumbled, adjusting his bow tie. They were expected to wear the nicest clothes possible, so his parents had forced him into a suit. He sighed into the mirror. "Well," he muttered. "Here we go."

He met his family in the living room and grabbed a soda from the fridge. He was about to drink it whenever Jazz smacked it out of his hand. "Hey! What gives!?"

"You can't risk anything staining your suit!" His sister snapped. "Are you crazy? I don't want the Waynes to think I come from a weird family!"

Danny gave her an incredulous look. "Um, you are from a weird family. Your parents are ghost hunters and your brother is part ghost." Jazz scowled.

"Well, we don't need to make a scene!" she retorted. "Which means no going ghost."

"Fine, I won't go ghost unless I see one." Danny put his hands up in the universal don't shoot, I'm unarmed stance, almost unnerved by the ferocity in her eyes.

Jazz gritted her teeth. "Yeah, well, don't let anyone see you do it."

"Okay, if you say so."

Jazz nodded stiffly. She fished her phone out of her pocket as it vibrated. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh! The limo's here!" She opened the door excitedly and rushed down the stairs. She stopped at the entranceway to the hotel, Danny smacking into her at her sudden stop. She laughed nervously at her brother's glare. "Sorry. Just nervous," she cleared her throat and combed her fingers through her hair. "Let's go."

They arrived at the manor thirty minutes later, and Danny's eyes widened.

The manor was huge. Easily three times as large as his high school. He couldn't believe only one man a few kids lived in such a large house.

He was still gawking as he stumbled out of the limo and walked inside. His eyes widened even further as he took in his surroundings.

The manor seemed even bigger on the inside. It looked like a castle. And the people? They looked like royalty with how fancy they were dressed. And the food?

There was more food than he'd ever seen in one place.

"This. Is. Amazing." he whispered, almost salivating. Jazz glared at him.

"Please, don't make a scene," she hissed. "Eat like a normal person." Danny didn't seem to hear her, though, as he walked towards the food in a trance-like state.

The food bar had everything. Every type of meat he could name, as well as a plethora of vegan options. It was beautiful. And the smell? Danny had never smelled anything better in both his life and the afterlife.

His mouth watered as he picked up a plate and put a few chicken wings on it. "This is so cool!" he whispered to himself as he continued adding food. "This is amazing." he put a few ribs on his plate.

He inhaled the aroma coming off of his plate and sighed. The only thing that could mess this up is that rude kid Damian. he thought with a smile on his face.

"Excuse me." Danny jumped in surprise at the voice behind him, whirling around and spilling his food in the process all over the person in front of him.

The person in front of him? Damian Wayne himself. Danny chuckled nervously.

"Oh, uh- hey Mr. Wayne! Or is it Damian? I'm so so sorry, please let me clean that up." He stammered as he used his napkin to try to wipe the food off of Damian. The latter scowled, clenching his fist.

"Don't bother," Damian snapped, slapping Danny's trembling hands aside. He looked down at his filthy suit in disgust. "I cannot believe somebody so incompetent at the mere act of standing was allowed in!" he shoved Danny aside as he stomped towards a door that Danny hadn't previously noticed.

Danny winced, closing his eyes tightly as if to shield himself from what had just happened.

"Don't mind him," another voice from behind him sighed. Danny turned around, hoping it wouldn't be a Wayne that saw him piss off the youngest.

But of course, Danny had never had the best of luck.

Tim Drake-Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, was smiling at him. "He's just in a bad mood because he isn't allowed to go on a business trip with us."

"So, you're not mad? I'm not kicked out or anything?" Danny asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he knelt down to clean the food off of the ground. Tim knelt down beside him, assisting him in cleaning up.

"No, you're good," he reassured him. "I'm Tim Drake-Wayne." He balanced on his heels as he held his hand out for Danny to the shake. The latter grasped his hand.

"Danny Fenton. My sister has an internship with Wayne Medical." Tim's eyes flickered with something Danny didn't recognize before he smiled again.

"It looks like you got sauce on your jacket," Danny looked down and grimaced as he realized Tim was right, but before he could say anything, Tim continued. "Here, I can get you another one. Follow me." He stood up, extended a hand to help Danny off of the floor and led him to the door Damian had stormed into.

They stepped into a large room with velvet seats and two pool tables. Tim walked into a nearby closet and pulled out another jacket that matched what Danny had on. "Here you go," Tim said as he tossed the jacket to him. "Catch."

"Thanks," Danny said as he caught the jacket, slipping it on. "You're a lifesaver, my sister would have killed me."

"I know the feeling, one time I embarrassed Damian by moonwalking out of movie theater and he chased me with a kitchen knife when we got home."

Damian ran a hand through his hair. "And that is why that kid scares me."

"He's not that scary once you get to know him," Tim shrugged, and motioned for Danny to follow him. "Come on dude, let's go." Danny blinked. Did arguably the richest seventeen-year-old in the world just call him dude?

The pair walked outside, Tim leading him to the rest of the Fentons, who were chatting with Bruce Wayne. Jazz turned around and waved him over.

"And this is my little brother Danny!" she introduced through gritted teeth. "Where you been, little brother?"

Before Danny could think of an excuse, Tim spoke up. "Oh, he was just helping me with something."

"Yeah," Danny agreed with a relieved smile. Jazz smiled.

"Oh, well, yeah, that's Danny! Always being helpful." she chirped. Danny sat down in the seat beside her and clasped his hands together, tuning into the conversation.

"Yes, Jasmine has always been passionate about helping people," Maddie said, smiling at the billionaire. "She's always known that she's wanted to be a neurosurgeon!"

"That's great!" Bruce responded, flashing a bright smile. "That's exactly what we're looking for here; driven people. People with a passion for helping others." His icy blue eyes rested on Danny. "How do you like the food, Mr. Fenton?"

"Oh, uh, it's great, Mr. Wayne!" Danny stuttered as he smiled nervously. "Best food I've ever had. And I should know because I definitely ate some!"

"That's great!" Bruce replied. "You look like you're an athlete. Do you play any sports?"

Danny had an athlete's body because of how often he fought ghosts. That was the closest thing he had to sports. "Well, I really like e-sports!" he raised his shoulders and smiled nervously as he answered.

Bruce chuckled. "So does my son, Tim." he then turned his attention back to Jazz.

Danny breathed a sigh of relief, sliding down a bit in his chair. He felt a sharp, cold burst in his chest as he breathed out a wisp of blue vapor.

There was a ghost nearby.

"Hey, uh," Danny stood up from the table. "I have to go to the bathroom." With a final smile at Bruce Wayne, Danny quickly left the ballroom and went through the door he and Tim had gone through.

Danny shut the door behind him, and in a bright ring of light, he transformed into the white-haired green-eyed Phantom. "Okay," he muttered, "Where are you?" He turned his body intangible and flew through the wall. He looked both ways as he entered into a massive hallway the length of a football field, with many doors on either side. "Great. This place is a maze."

Danny's eyes shot to his right as he sensed the ghost. He walked that way, still intangible, into a library. Danny froze as he spotted a butler, but continued on his way as the man walked right through him.

He saw a glowing light through one of the shelves and shot through the books. He skidded to a halt as he saw-

"Box Ghost!" Danny yelled, "Are you kidding me? You got the worst timing, pal."

Box Ghost turned around and flinched. In a blink of an eye, Box Ghost had disappeared through the floor. Danny followed suit and went to punch the ghost, before freezing. Box Ghost had vanished, but that wasn't the reason Danny was in shock.

He was in a cave. A dark cave with a plethora of high-tech machines. To his left was what looked like a row of memorials. There was one that had an old Robin suit, the one without pants, encased in glass. Another had a Batman suit. Danny's eyes widened as he realized where he must be.

His head was spinning, and he took a step back. The Bat Cave. He was in the Bat Cave. Bruce Wayne was Batman. And if Bruce Wayne was Batman, then that meant that Damian Wayne was Ro-

"No!" an angry voice interrupted the silent breakdown. Danny, still intangible, floated down to the bottom of the stairs in front of a large computer. Danny's eyes widened again as he saw an even better sight;

"Cheese Viking!" he yelled, and yelped in shock as Damian plunged a knife directly where Danny's chest was. Thankfully, the knife went straight through him, but it startled Danny enough to revert back to human form.

"You!" Damian snarled as he stood up. "How did you get in! This is a secure compound, you should not have bee-"

"Dude, that's the newest Cheese Viking!" Danny interrupted, his eyes still trained on the screen. "They were all sold out when I tried to get them!"

"Yes, well, I did not wait and set an alarm so I would know what time to order. That's called being prepared."

"Well you sure are luc-" Danny's jaw dropped. "Wait wait wait hold on hold on." He put his hands on his head as he paced back and forth. "You're Robin? This is the Bat Cave? Bruce Wayne is Batman!? Tucker was right!?"

"You're Phantom!?" Damian said as he realized who he was with. He hadn't seen a photo of Danny as a human before, as he had been too busy memorizing what he looked like as a ghost.

"Oh. I see you've found it." Tim said from behind Danny. Danny's eyes were still as wide as saucers.

"When did you get here? And does this mean you're the restaurant guy!?"

"Yes," Tim answered tightly as Damian snickered. "Yes, Red Robin."

"This is insane." Danny put his hands down, bringing his pacing to a still. "I'm in the Bat Cave! Wait, what do you mean 'found it?'" he added, frowning at Tim.

"I was going to show you later, but you found it on your own," Tim replied with a shrug.

"Why were you going to show me?"

"Because we need your help."

Danny blinked. "Me? Batman needs help from me? Is it about the ghosts?"

"Bingo," Tim snapped his fingers, pointing a finger gun at Danny. "He really does. He's missing."

"What?" Danny asked, confused. "But I just saw him up there. He was fine."

"No, that was our brother, Dick," Tim explained. "He has a mask that makes him look like Bruce."

"Oh."

Tim put his hand on Danny's back, leading him towards the Bat Computer. Tim sat down in the chair, and pulled something up on to the screen. It was a video from Bruce's camera that was hidden in his cowl, which let the video feed of his night stream to the Bat Computer.

"We were fighting a ghost a few nights ago, whenever one grabbed him and pulled him into the portal," Tim narrated as the video showed exactly that. "We tried to follow him, but it just bounced us out. We've concluded that the only way a human or anything earthly could pass through needs a ghost to accompany them."

"That's not true," Danny said, crossing his arms. "Mine at home will let anything in. Trust me, I've lost things to the Ghost Zone." His mind flashed to when Jack's anniversary gift for Maddie had gone into the portal, and how chaotic things got whenever Danny tried to get it back.

"Well, it is true," Damian retorted, copying the action. "We would know. We've seen it. Yours must be different."

"So you need me to take you guys into the Ghost Zone to find him." It was more of a statement than a question. "I can do that, but that video didn't show who took him, and the Infi-Map doesn't work on humans."

"Infi-Map?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, it's a map that takes you anywhere you want to go. You can find anything in the Ghost Zone with it, besides anything with a heartbeat."

"Well, with or without it, we need your help," Tim turned around to face Danny, turning away from the computer. "He's been in there for three days. We need to find him."

"Yeah, I can help," Danny said instantly. "But we'll need some weapons for you two. The Infi-Map will take us to my place, and we can get some from there."

"No, Damian isn't going-" Tim began, but was cut off by Bruce walking down the stairs to join them.

No, not Bruce, Danny reminded himself as the man took off his bowtie and his face shifted to that of another. Dick Grayson.

"Damian's going," Dick said. "I know we agreed that he wasn't, but Jason can't go now. Something about Artemis, so Damian's taking his place.

Lovely, Danny thought, wincing at the idea of Damian snapping at him in the middle of a fight. He blinked as another thought entered his mind. "Jason? You don't mean Jason Todd, do you?"

"Yes sir, we do," Dick replied.

"He's alive?"

"Yeah, he was resurrected a couple of years ago. Long story. Don't ask him about it, he gets grumpy." Dick stretched his arms as he made his way to the group. "Steph is almost here, too, but she got delayed by some guy trying to mug an old lady."

"What a coward," Damian said.

"The lowest of the low." Tim agreed.

"So," Danny counted on his fingers, "Me, Tim, Damian, and someone named Steph?"

"Yep," Dick answered, and looked up as the group heard a motor running. "And here she is."

A teenage girl with blonde hair in a purple Bat-suit that drove into the cave. She skidded to a halt, and hopped off. Seeing Danny, she smiled a wide toothy grin.

"No way!" Stephanie Brown, yelled as she walked closer. "You're Danny Phantom! I'm a huge fan!" She encased one of Danny's hands with both of her own. "Stephanie Brown, also known as Batgirl, one-time Robin even though nobody ever remembers, nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you!" Maybe Damian wouldn't try anything if Danny had someone who liked him, someone he could use for backup.

"Alright, kiddos," Dick said, putting his tie back on, turning himself back into Bruce Wayne. "Suit up and then you better go. Bruce doesn't have much time to spare."

"Right," Danny said with a nod, simultaneously transforming back into Phantom. He pulled out the Infi-Map from his pocket. He looked back up, surprised to see Tim and Damian in their respective vigilante suits.

Holy fast dressing, Batman.

"All of you, grab on to me," Danny said as he unrolled the map. "Take me home!"

At the word, the map pulled the four out of the cave and into Gotham City at hyperspeed. The map found the portal and went through. In an instant, the foursome fell out of the portal in Danny's house, the Infi-Map having dragged them through the Ghost Zone in milliseconds.

"Home sweet home," Danny said as Tim, Stephanie, and Damian got to their feet.

"Oh, wow," Stephanie groaned. "That was crazy. Is this how Bart feels?"

Damian was already wandering around. "Hey," he turned his attention to Danny, "What are the chances you have a ghost sword?"

Danny waved him to the right, and the boy's eyes gleamed at the pile of swords Jack had been making. Tim and Stephanie were looking around too, picking up various weapons. Tim was putting grenades and other weapons into his utility belt, Stephanie doing the same.

"Fenton," Danny turned around to face Damian behind him, who had found a sword of his liking. "Do you have any capri-suns in this house?"

"Uh, yeah, upstairs in the fri- hey, you don't know where the kitchen is!" Damian had sprinted up the stairs as soon as Danny had confirmed that there were capri-suns in the house.

"I'll find it!" Damian's voice could be faintly heard. Danny rolled his eyes.

Tim had found a bo-staff, and Stephanie was looking at one of the vehicles. "What's this?" she asked.

"It's the Specter Speeder 2.0," Danny answered. "It's what we're taking. It's a ship that can fly in the Ghost Zone."

"Is it ready?"

"Yeah."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Damian, who was now sporting a mini cooler filled with capri-suns, opened the door to the Speeder. "Let's go save Father."

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prince-toffee · 4 years

Text

Season 1

Welcome to ‘Seasons’ dipshits. This might have four more follow ups, or this is the only one I’ll make, I don’t know, I get bored a lot. Anyway, the concept of this imprint is - ‘back during this season of Spop I had this outlandish crazy theory, and so now I write it’. Cause I thought it might be interesting. Plus canon sucks. This is set after the events of season one, so it’s kind of like episode 14. Forget everything we now know, pretend like all we knew was what season one showed us.

Also, special thank you to @tallysgreatestfan who was the one who gave me this idea for this canon divergence ball-pit. Enjoy, or don’t, I’m not your mom do whatever you want, I don’t care.

This took way too long.

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Beatrix scoffed and threw the brown ration bar and the rest of her food tray across the prison cell, she far preferred the grey ones. She gave a defeated sigh lowering her head down. She rubbed her fingers over the scratched part of her mask, in the spot where a chip of the Black Garnet used to reside. Her shoulders slouched down, all tension in her muscles left her as she gave up. She felt so powerless. So weak. Just a few days ago she was still one of the most powerful witches on the planet, every magic user feared her name.

Shadow Weaver.

Now, she sat in a prison cell, rank-less. She didn’t know if she should’ve felt honoured, or disgusted by the fact that the cell was specially attuned and adjusted for her specifically. Which meant it was probably designed and constructed, in secret, long before her treason. This place was full of secrets and surprises, usually unpleasant ones. Hec-Tor would’ve probably said it was an honour, he was an architect that truly thought of everything. And The Fright Zone was one of his most haunted creations.

Beatrix wasn’t disgusted, per say. She knew she didn’t have many fans, and plenty of enemies at every corner. This outcome was inevitable, she knew deep down she was getting too greedy for her own good. But the power felt too good to give up. What a fool she was. She saw it all clearly now. Where her addiction led her. Her very unsubtle disregard for orders, her greed peering through her emotionless, cold stature. She knew she was on thin ice with Hec-Tor, the control freak he was. He desired order and expected sub-ordinance. He always disliked her - everybody back home knew she was a wildcard, deceptive, insidious. Looking out for only herself - she never really cared about the cause.

Perhaps she should’ve been more surprised that he didn’t do it earlier. She knew he wasn’t fond of her, and vice versa of course - she couldn’t stand his patriotic and prideful attitude. Acting as if being apart of The Horde was a gift from god. He was an old blind fool. Beatrix wouldn't have thought twice before leaving this place and selling her loyalty and inside information to the most welcoming bidder - The Alliance, or even maybe try her luck with The Empire of Talon Mountain. So any choices to choose from, now if only she could manage to escape her imprisonment.

Unfortunately, if she knew Hec-Tor, and she did, the Hordak had probably thought of every possibility of escape she would think of, and countered it. He was paranoid like that. The spherical pure white containment cell she was unceremoniously thrown into was made out of Glowmoon-Dwarfstone, the surface layer anyway. A magical element only found on one of the moons of Etheria, able to absorb darkness itself - a favoured building material of BrightMoon, apparently. Bad news for the Weaver of Shadows, she was powerless here. She despised feeling weak, vulnerable. She was meant to be the predator, not the prey.

She had no shadow. The stone absorbed it. She felt two dimensional. She didn’t know if that made sense, but she heard the stone had negative effects on the mind if in close proximity for too long. Speaking of which, she had no idea how long she had been locked up, she lost the track of time. No windows. So no sky. No clock. No space. The spherical cell was the size of a small closet. At least they were still feeding her, but the food in there was never anything to gloat about.

She placed her face into her hands, she was loosing it. She couldn’t break! But she was close. She didn’t want anyone to have the satisfaction of seeing her beg, and pled. She was strong, stronger than them. She was going to win in the end, she just had to wait it out, play the long ga-

“Inmate-667. Place your forehead on the wall behind you and position your hands behind your back. The containment unit door will open, and a commanding official will commence your questioning. And Weaver, you’re gonna like this one, hehe.”

Beatrix narrowed her eyes and growled at the announcement. She recognised the voice, Force-Commander Grizzlor. She never liked him. The feeling was seemingly mutual. She did as she was ordered. A groan reverberated through her throat, she knew exactly what is was, she could tell from Grizzlor’s smug voice. Catra. She was back to berate her. It seemed like her former ward’s ego had grown three times the size, rather than her heart. Beatrix dreaded these visits. Catra came over from time to time, to insult and demean the dark sorceress, rub her victory into Beatrix’s face. Insolent little brat! She got lucky! Beatrix was weak when she caught her off guard, too drained by the toll the Black Garnet’s power took on her. If only- if only she could take hold of the Garnet’s power! S- She didn’t need much, just a little, it would’ve cleared her mind, beat her heart faster. If she had just a little more she could’ve had taken out Catra, and her two stooges. Everything would have been all better if only she had a little more. Damn that girl! And her mother!

The cell opened up. A side panel gave out a hiss as it dislodged, pulled out and off to the side. Weaver felt the colder air pour in. The closest shadow cast onto her was to weak for her to do anything with, the upper layer of the walls draining it’s ethereal cosmic weight. Or perhaps she was the one who was too weak. Catra loomed over her. The teen thought she could intimidate her, not a chance.

“Well? Come on then, you spoiled brat! Got anything to say? Came here to gloat and mock me, you think you have won, but one wrong move with Hordak and he’ll throw you to the dogs, he’s-”

“Weaver.”

The sorceress silenced herself. The voice that called to her was cold and smooth, in other words not Catra’s. The single word was followed by a pair of footsteps, metal boots clanking against the stone’s surface. The sound of cybernetics hissing as his joins moved. He was close now. The cell entrance slide back into place closing the cell. They were alone now. Beatrix had to admit, even though she knew Hec-Tor for most of her life, seen him at his most vulnerable, even shared some intimate moments with him, but still even after all that - he was terrifying.

She turned her head around, and there he was. He looked different in the light, stranger. She almost never saw him outside of his ThroneHall. Always cloaked in darkness and smoke. She sometimes wondered if he bought smoke machines on purpose to scare any kids that would accidently wonder into the room. Hec-Tor certainly had a taste for the dramatic. Beatrix turned around and seated herself comfortably looking up at the Overlord, well, as comfortably as possible. There he was, in all his glory, out of shadows - a glorified toaster. The same Hec-Tor that used to write poetry for girls that would never go out with him. The same Hec-Tor that dyed his hair blue, because kids from the neighbourhood made fun of him being ginger. The same Hec-Tor that beat his own father within an inch of his life, and conquered half of the galaxy...

Same old, same old.

She swallowed down quietly, she couldn’t show him she was weak. The mask helped hide most emotions, most weaknesses, she had to control the rest of her body language. Beatrix lifted one leg over the other and intertwined her fingers together, giving off a relaxed posture.

“Lord Hordak. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She looked over him - blood red eyes, and teeth, grey skin, military regulation hair cut, his two prostatic arms, which could crush boulders, his imperial purple cape, and the neon lit armour implants. She was actually curious as to what he was actually going to say. His eyes narrowed, anger was apparent, but an air of irritation was present too. He gave out a long tiresome sigh, as he moved his fingers to rub the bridge of his nasal cavity, even venturing as far as his eyes, she was in for it.

“Why? Why can’t you just follow orders? Beatrix Hallows, always struggling with adhering to reason and common sense.”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes widened she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, he actually had the audacity to school her, to talk down to her. This was almost worse than Catra, hearing her full name spoken out in a mocking tone, like lecturing a child, slapping them on the hand, this was humiliating. And from Hec-Tor too. When angered by her he’d usually give her the cold shoulder, take her off a mission, reassign command to someone else, like Catra. She thought he had given up on talking to her, and her, ages ago. But she wasn’t going to have it.

“Having fun? Look you’re not covering any new ground here. Catra already had multiple pitstops here to make me her new donkey. If you think you get to insult me like that, just remember your punk rear wouldn’t have made it back home if it weren’t there for me. You owe me. Several.”

It was true. Back on HordeWorld, back in Catrax, back on the streets. They had nothing. Had to rummage through trash, and steal for food. Stomach empty all day. Times were tough. They had to rely on each other. One distracted the passer-by and the other pickpocketed, on a lucky day, thanks to Hec-Tor’s puppy eyes the stranger would hand them some pennies on top of that.

But man, on days like these she wished she had never stood up to those bullies shoving little young Hec-Tor around, should have never allowed him to follow her. But how couldn’t she, he was so adorable.

“I am not here to appoint you my personal laughing stock. And I thought I told Catra talking to prisoners was forbidden. I’ll have a chat with her about the regulations... I am here to understand. Finally. I have been putting this off for far too long.”

This was curious, and unexpected. She would’ve lied if she said she wasn’t interested in what was about to exit that mouth. He had avoided her for years. Often said she was ‘not worth wasting words on’. The feeling was mutual. She heard that mouth declare rousing speeches, bone-chilling monologues, and the softest of kisses. Versatility was everything. He continued.

“We never saw eye to eye, never liked each other, you always went your own way. Chose to differ from others, always take the other path. You talk back to me, you waste resources on personal escapades, and often break protocol... But back there, at such a crucial point, disobeying my orders, for what? Just because of a child that did follow orders?”

Putting faith in that girl was going to be his undoing. Unless she was going to get to him first. Catra was always a nuisance, untrustworthy, going off on her own, not listening to what she was told. She had a rebellious spirit, that drove her away from Weaver’s lessons, she often managed to drag others away with her. She was too smart for her own good.

She’ll be biting down on Hec-Tor’s ankles soon enough. She supposed that an upside of being stuck in the cell was that he had to deal with Catra’s antics now. That was his mess to clean.

“How did she even get a drop on you? Was it the Garnet? I told you to tell me if the artefact displayed any negative effects-”

“Are you done? I know you didn’t come here to talk about my feelings. If you care to know your magic weapon is fine. And Catra. She’s nothing but a brat that you’re letting walk over you.”

She wasn’t having any of this, she had to speak up for herself. Call it a warning, that girl is not to be dismissed, she’s trouble - like her mother.

But deep down she felt a hint of embarassement herself, she was one of the most powerful sorceresses, years ago when she first drained the power of the Garnet she did it effortlessly. Even though Hec-Tor didn’t trust her, he handed her the responsibility, because he knew she was the only one who could hold its power. He knew she was mighty. But now, the Garnet rejects her, resists her, no longer bows down to her might. It hurt sometimes. But she could never show weakness.

The infamous Hordak stared down at her, judgementally, much like how he looked down at everybody. He looked off to the side at the thrown away tray, mashed potato and peas smeared on the floor, tray flipped over, and the brown rations crumbled on the floor.

“You’re not eating.”

What was that? She wondered to herself. Was that genuine worry? She noticed he stayed on the ration bars for a second too long, noting her preference perhaps. He seemingly had no idea where to go from there, so she helped him out, she asked.

“Why are you here Hec-Tor?”

This time using his real name rather than his title. More personal, it cut to the point. Plus he was always going to be Hec-Tor to her. That puppy eyed scaredy-bat, the one always picked on, by bullies twice his weight, the nerd allergic to flowers, and used to write poems for her. She dismissed them of course, just a bunce of nonsense if you’d ask her. The change never really quite settled in, even when the Council made the public announcement of picking the new Hordak. Even when Hec-Tor’s face came on every screen on the planet. Even when the death of He-Ro shocked the nation. Nothing changed.

Well, maybe not until that day at Vix’s Diner. It was the strangest circumstance. He was the one who called her over. She guessed it was just a nostalgic meet up, like in the old days. The Hordak was present, so they ate for free. Their conversation would be constantly interrupted by randos bowing and giving respects to the walking totem. He dismissed them.

But there was something different about the man that sat infront of her, he was colder, more stiff. Beatrix treated herself to the unlimited free breakfast meals, best she’d eaten in years. She half listened to his ramblings, something about the war with the Light and the Ones Who Won’t Be Named escalating, the Council was abolishing anti-terraforming laws, and Horde warships were launching on the offensive against the enemy. The wannabe poet gone, all that was left of the boy was a patriot, and a soldier. Well what do you do? That’s what the government spoon feeds people.

But the strangest thing was. He asked her to be his Weaver - his second in command. An honour placed apon who seen as worthy, or chosen by the Council. But this wasn’t an ask of desperation or of fear. This was an order. Firm, and powerful. That day in the diner, if Beatrix would’ve refused him, she didn’t know if she would’ve walked out of there with her head on.

The Hordak is no mere man you can refuse after all.

He is the Beast of HordeWorld.

And so, they set off. Boarded the warship: Annihilation, and rocketed into the stars. And the newly appointed Shadow Weaver pondered, that it was quite curious that HordeWorld was completely decimated only few days after they left. Curious indeed.

Blah. Blah. Blah. Couple of thousand years, some food shortages and dead bodies later: Etheria. Crash landing in the back fields of King Niro’s kingdom of Scorpion Hill. And it was through Weaver’s highly skilled dark magic on display, that the kingdoms bowed down to them, Mysticore even building a statue in her honour. They looked up to her, marvelled at her magical abilities. Her Horde magic was far more advanced than what the wizards held in their possession. She taught, and trained them. But good things never last. They turned on her.

“Like I said, Beatrix. I am here to understand.”

Now it was his time to use her name. She was still curious yet cautious. Whatever side-tracks Hec-Tor from the main mission, can’t be good. All this was strangely personal. Was the Beast infact capable of concern and closeness? She let him continue.

“We’ve known each other longer than most beings live. But in my quest into the unknown, I never even dared to explore what was nearest me. Tell me, why break, why snap at me at a point of victory? And why, why the girl? It’s that Magicat that sets you off at every moment. Why? Why do you hate the girl?”

“Well, you free me?”

“...No. We both know I won’t, I can’t. It is against the protocols, and I gave you too many passes, vouched for you too many times, I overlooked your actions for too long. And that’s why I am here.”

Well, that wasn’t going to work. No freedom, no deal, no talking. She was surprised by the fact that this entire situation was simply a genuine attempt at a heart to heart. But he knew nothing. And that’s how Beatrix liked to keep things. Much like Hec-Tor, she wished to be a bogeyman, imagination was always the greatest deterrent.

And what was there to explain? Catra was a pain, undisciplined, and unwilling to learn. Beatrix wasn’t about to just let that brat walk over her, of course she snapped! Everything Catra got, every punishment, was because she deserved it. Though... no. No, he couldn’t know. Could he? Did he? Hec-Tor was a master tactician and strategist, he always researched and analysed everything before the attack - what if the Beast already knew the answer to his own question?

Did he know about Melendy?

Beatrix never spoke to anyone about her personal life, especially not her love life. And she had sure she was back for check-ins, erased her tracks, she was sneaky. She didn’t slip up often. How would he know? Could it be? Was the grand Lord Hordak jealous? A curious stalker.

But perhaps it wasn’t that outside of the realm of possibly. The Queen of Magicats. The Lord of the Horde. Hec-Tor set up many negotiations in the time before the war, people talk.

And what now, he expected her to sit here listen to him give her therapy? As if. If that bastard knew about Melendy’s choice... about her leaving, and didn’t say anything, just holding it over her head as bait - then damn him to the Light! But did he truly know? He couldn’t possibly understand. She was in love. Nothing ever came close to making her feel like that. Not even him. Beatrix loved her, and she chose to leave, just because of tradition, culture. To Light with it!

But what prompted him to care? Perhaps he looked back fondly on the past, reminiscing? Hordak and her didn’t sleep together often, but when the duty became too much, too stressful - they aided each other to settle the nerve. Heh, it took practice to get used to each other, their first time, wasn’t pretty.

She still remembered that night, or well, it was day actually. She always misremembered, since the skies over Catrax were always grey from the city’s pollution. Kids used to come over to their windows and watch the rare instances when sunshine would penetrate the dark clouds above. Very little hope shone down on the people of the lower levels. But the kids of the higher levels, the ones on the first floor, above the clouds, they had all the sunshine they wanted, and took it all for granted.

So when Beatrix and Hec-Tor pickpocketed and stole a little, just to keep living, just to have. It wasn’t that selfish. When the two crash landed on Etheria for the first time they ventured throughout the land, claiming everything they could, stealing and conquering, taking - just to have. Just because they couldn’t, in previous lives.

On that day, after Beatrix stole old Mister Scurvy’s wallet as Hec-Tor distracted him, they both ran off away from the yelling man. Ran faster than they ever ran before, too afraid that the man’s screaming would attract the attention of any local law enforcement, if they got them, it was Confinement for sure, no matter that they were teens.

She huffed and panted so hard she almost fell off her own feet. She had to lean herself on the side of a brick wall in the alleyway she ran into. Just as Hec-Tor joined her, the rain began to pour. He bowed down, arms holding his knees trying to support his upper body. His ears tilted down. His exhausted cough turning into a cackling laugh, which clearly infected Beatrix since she burst into laughter with him. She didn’t really know how it happened, but he got closer to her, with her pinned against the wall, looking straight into each other’s eyes. As their chuckles settled, her hand ventured down to his hip as her lips made their way to his own. And then, well, they were teenagers, you know what else.

Good memories.

Perhaps memories were just the advantage she needed, perhaps Hordak didn’t despise her as much as she had previously thought. Could it be? The All-Mighty Lord of The Horde feeling, lonely?

“Do you remember the alleyway?”

“Eh, there were... many alleyways.”

True that, after it felt so good, the first time, it sort of became a daily routine for them. Partners with benefits. They used each other to feel better, to feel something. There was nothing between the two, or so Beatrix thought. But perhaps she was wrong yet again. She wished to test that.

She took off her mask. The Weaver mask was a totemic symbol back on HordeWorld - representing strength and authority. And underneath that mask, was a woman. A broken woman, with scars and stiches, missing flesh. Something many would call a monster. But Hec-Tor Kur of House Kur saw nothing but beauty. A magnificent beast that saved him many a times. The girl he fell for so long ago. And Beatrix knew that, knew it the moment she locked her toxic waste green eyes with his blood red, which shimmered in the light of the cell. She knew straight away, his weakness.

“Look at me, Hec-Tor. So frail. I wasted away. So little of me left... The Council was right. No matter what power I aim to tame, I fail, I never amounted to anything, like they predicted. I know you’re disappointed to have me as a partner on this venture... But… I miss the alleyways. When we had nothing. Back when so little felt like so much.”

It worked. The seemingly cold and calculated persona cracked. His facial expression changed, from irritation, and anger to a certain softness, maybe pity. He breathed in heavy, and out through the nose. He took a step closer to her. The cell was a snug fit so he was leg was already brushing hers.

“We do have nothing, Beatrix. We are last of our kind. We have little, but we can have it all. You are not a failure. We are not failures. There is a reason why I haven’t just simply executed you like a common thug... I miss those days too. But we still have time.”

The Hordak kneeled down, lowered himself to be closer to her. This was it - the moment of truth. He clearly had no idea what to do with his hands, so one rubbed its thumb and pointing finger together in anticipation, while the other hovered in the air half open awaiting her permission to proceed. The Weaver of Shadows accepted it, took hold of the old vampire’s hand into her own, intertwining their talons. Old scared skin taking comfort in one another, in something familiar, in an unfamiliar world.

“We will have our people back. We will terraform this miserable planet! And we will be the new gods of a new utopia... And... though we never seem to see eye to eye... even if all it was, was physical, there is no one I would rather stand with and watch this world transform into hope, because you are my partner. This is our mission.”

Beatrix was the first to move forward. And Hec-Tor quickly followed suit, he closed his eyes and opened his fanged mouth. And the blissful moment was brief, but glorious, the space bat even let a pleasing hum escape him. And perhaps Beatrix would’ve let it go on longer, it wasn’t often that she had pleasures like these. But this situation was dire, and also, she was really tired of looking at the same white walls all day. She decided she earned herself a little walk to stretch her legs.

Hordak knew there was something wrong - his mouth became colder, and something wriggled inside that made him choke on his own breaths. Shadow Weaver rose up, straightening her legs completely, while Hordak bent down, onto his knees. The Dwarf Stone absorbed all darkness present on all surfaces, rendering her powerless, but the magic stone’s reach was limited. Cause Hordak’s entire inside of his body was nothing but darkness - so many shadows coating all of his vulnerable entrails. She wasn’t going to paralyse him permanently, she wasn’t that cruel - just because of their history, she could show mercy.

Hec-Tor’s face pale and sick, his body limp, blood pooling around his organs, he fell on the floor. Shadow Weaver took a good long heavy breath, perfect. She placed the mask back over her face, and approached the wall of the cell through which Hec-Tor entered. Firmly placed her palms on the stone and harshly blew onto the wall. The ethereal shadows twisted and morphed and drilled into the wall, she didn’t have much time. Every second the walls drained away the shadows, Hec-Tor had very little left in him, and the bright magic of the material weakened her, so little strength was left in her.

But there it was, the sound of the stone cracking. She wormed her fingers into the crack, enlarging it, chipping on it. The rock crumbled down, exposing the metallic layer underneath it. That was it, her window of opportunity. She commanded the shadows to bore into the mechanisms, and the dimensionless beast tore the panel wide open. The steel bending and ripping was extremely satisfying.

Weaver loved the look on Grizzlor’s face as he took in what just happened. The witch made quick work of him, throwing him off to the side with the dark mass. She sighed in relief, she wasn’t free yet, but she had plenty of material to work with. The shadows from smallest corner to the largest corridor converged around her, swirling like a vortex.

“Now this is something I can work with.”

#shadow weaver #hordak #seasons #weaverdak #shadowdak #hordeweaver #take it or leave it #I love it #evil #ask me anything #I plan to do more but you never know #my writing

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

Text

A Darker Curse

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 33: Deja Vu

When they arrived at the Boston airport, it wasn't lost on any of them that they had never actually been on a plane. In their traveling around the country, it had always been by car and flying had always been too expensive for them. Fortunately, Emma knew the basics, having read up on what was needed in case she needed to fly as a bail bonds person. She guided them all through the process of security and they were soon on the plane.

"I know it's hard...but we'll find him," David whispered to her, as he kissed her hand.

"I love you for saying that, but Portland is a big place," she feared.

"It is...but I reached out to a couple of my contacts that I met; the one that trained me in the business. She says she'll help. She's already putting out feelers," Emma said, as she sat in the window seat of their three person row.

"That's amazing…" David said. She nodded.

"Her name is Cleo Fox...I trust her," she said. Snow gave her a tearful gaze.

"Thanks sweetheart…" she replied.

"I dug up an old picture of him as a kid and gave it to her. She's putting it out to her sources," Emma confirmed.

"Our daughter is amazing," David whispered to his wife and kissed her head. She smiled back at him.

"I know…" she agreed, as she rested her head against his shoulder and impatiently endured the journey to Portland.

~*~

Flashback

Maleficent's castle burned like an unending inferno and the wailing from her dragon form echoed throughout the land, as her egg lay trapped inside. Maleficent contemplated scorching the entire earth in her agony, but instead, she crumbled to her human form, devastated and defeated. Her child was gone and her allies that had helped free her now faced losing their own against the evil Cora. She could only hope that their child did not face the same fate that hers just did.

~*~

"Excuse me...but you'll let me through now. I'm expected by the Queen," the woman said harshly. Half her hair was black and half white, only adding to her eccentric appearance of a glittering black gown and elaborate fur coat.

"It's all right guards...you can let her through. She is supposed to have something for me," Cora said.

"You owe me a new coat! This one is ruined," the woman complained. Cora waved her hand and repaired the damage done to the fur coat.

"Now Cruella...I assume you have what I asked for," Cora cooed. Cruella smirked.

"One good thing about my powers is that I was able to send some dumb beast in after it for me. Then...I used the spell you gave me to miniaturize it," Cruella said, as she handed the egg over, which had been miniaturized.

"Keep it...because that is my secret weapon," Cora replied.

"What are you talking about?" Cruella asked.

"My curse will be perfect, but I still need a backup plan in case things go awry. That's where the egg comes in," Cora replied.

"You mean to control Maleficent," Cruella deduced.

"Exactly. Now, tuck the egg away and prepare for the curse," Cora instructed. Cruella smirked and walked out with a smirk on her face.

"Sorry Cora...but I've just decided that I have a different plan," Cruella murmured to herself.

~*~

Tamara pulled her car into the warehouse at Feinberg Industries and put it in park.

"It's about time you got here!" Cruella snapped, as she stood beside a table with a bottle of gin and a cigarette in her hand.

"The Feds have already seized all my worthless husband's assets in New York and the rest of the country. This is the last property they haven't seized, but that won't last long," she complained.

"Relax," Tamara said, as she pulled Pinocchio out of the car and led him to her by the hand.

"That's not what I asked for," Cruella complained.

"I know...but a magical child is what he wants," Tamara said, as the Dragon emerged from the shadows.

"So good to see that your cancer has been...miraculously cured since we last met, Miss Tamara," he said. She scoffed.

"Cut the crap...we both know that I never had cancer. I just needed your little potion. I sent it off to the Home Office for analysis and you know what they found?" she asked. The Dragon smirked.

"Enlighten me," he said.

"Nothing...they found no known substances in this world," she replied. He smirked.

"Well, that is not surprising since my cures are not of this world," he admitted.

"So I've learned...and I'm sure your Home Office has big plans for Storybrooke. Or they did...before they went dark," the Dragon said. Tamara's gaze narrowed.

"How do you know that?" she demanded to know. He smirked.

"I know a great many things...including who is behind your cause and why they no longer exist," he claimed, shocking her to the core.

~*~

Snow and David held hands, as they got out of the rental car and followed their daughter toward their destination.

"It had to be the old neighborhood," Snow mentioned, as they walked through the familiar streets.

"Sorry Mom...but her office happens to be around where we used to live," Emma replied.

"You okay?" David asked. She nodded.

"Yes…I was just happy to leave this part of our lives behind. Finding Storybrooke was like finally finding home...because we found you," she mentioned. He smiled.

"We won't be here long. This woman hopefully can help us find August and then we're going straight back home. You never have to think about this place again," David assured her, as they passed a diner and she spared a glance at it and he didn't miss her shudder.

"Is this it? Is this the one of the diner's you worked at?" he asked.

"Unfortunately…" she replied.

"I'm sorry Mom...maybe bringing you guys with me to this part of town wasn't the best idea," Emma apologized.

"No honey...it's not your fault. Just bad memories, but I'll do anything to find my son," Snow said. Geppetto opened his mouth to correct her, but a glance from Belle told him to wisely shut it.

"You're wise to stay quiet this time. Even I, as the Dark One, rarely got in the cross hairs of a mother trying to find her child. I myself did unspeakable things for my child. Even Snow White has her limits and you would be wise not to cross her again," Rumple advised, as Emma stopped in front of the diner upon approaching a woman.

"Emma...it's good to see you," the woman said.

"You too Cleo...do you have any leads?" Emma asked.

"Uh…I didn't, but my new partner said he has something. He should be here any minute," she replied.

"New partner?" Emma inquired, but she soon found out who it was, as he approached.

"Mary Margaret?" the man asked.

"Crap…" Emma grimaced under her breath. David felt her shiver beside him and then clutch his arm tightly.

"Wow...you look incredible still. It's been a long time...and you look the same," the man said.

"I'm sorry...who the hell are you?" David asked, as he put his hand out.

"Barry Burns, Private Investigator," he said, but David refused to shake his hand and he awkwardly pulled it back.

"And you are?" he asked.

"David Nolan...her husband," he bit out, as Emma pulled Cleo aside.

"New partner? What the hell?" Emma hissed.

"I'm sorry Emma...but he's good at what he does," Cleo apologized.

"He's a creep! He used to sexually harass my mother!" Emma cried.

"And I'm sorry for that Emma, but I thought you wanted to find this kid you're looking for," she said. Emma sighed deeply.

"Fine...but if my...my mom's husband ends up killing him after he tells us where August is...then you'll look the other way," Emma replied in haste.

"Wow...husband, that's surprising. All she ever did was turn me down, but that never stopped me from trying," he said, as he kept looking at her.

"Damn...still can't believe how good you look," he added and probably would have continued his objectification, but David grabbed him by the collar at that point.

"You're going to stop talking to her and you're going to stop looking at her," he growled, as the guy flailed his arms.

"Whoa...okay buddy, geez…" he complained, as David shoved him away.

"Do you have that lead or not?" Emma snapped coldly.

"Uh yeah...I have a source that says this woman," he said, as he held Tamara's photo up.

"That she was spotted driving into Feinberg Industries warehouse downtown," he said.

"How did you find her so fast?" Emma asked skeptically.

"I'm that good," he boasted.

"No...he got really lucky. Feinberg just got indicted by the FBI in New York. All his assets are in the process of being frozen. This is probably one of the last and only a matter of time before the Feds raid that place. That's why it's on our source's radar," Cleo explained.

"Then we have to go...we have to find August," Snow said, as she avoided looking at the creep that her husband was still glaring daggers at.

"We better go then. It's only a few blocks from here and it's best to approach on foot," he said, as they started walking, but David held back and they followed at the rear.

"Snow…" he whispered.

"I'm okay…" she said unconvincingly.

"If he hurt you...he's a dead man," David said.

"He...he didn't get that far, though I'm sure he would have loved to. But by the time we moved to Portland, Auggie was a teenager," she said, as she put a hand to her mouth.

"He came to the diner every day after school, just to make sure he would be there to go home with me. He knew...he knew how vulnerable I was to some of the patrons at the diner," she confessed, as she cried against his chest, even as they walked.

"We're going to get him back, Snow," he promised.

"He...hated Barry, but I begged him to not confront him. Barry knew that and he would get to cop a feel, knowing that I wouldn't stop him, because it meant a large enough tip so we could eat that night," she sniffed.

"I'm going to kill him," David growled.

"Only after he leads us to August," she corrected. He smirked and kissed her hair.

"Okay...he'll lead us to August and then I'll kill him," he agreed. And she did not protest that.

~*~

Tamara stared at him in disbelief.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"They have gone dark, have they not? You have not received any communication for the last day or so, am I correct?" the Dragon questioned.

"That doesn't mean they no longer exist," she said, as she took out a walky-talky device from her bag, but she noticed that it appeared not to be working anymore. She opened up the battery port and sand poured out. Cruella laughed.

"Oh dahling...you've been had," she said in amusement, earning her a glare from the other woman.

"What the hell is this?" Tamara asked.

"Your Home Office was none other than Peter Pan himself," the Dragon revealed.

"Neverland...they said it was real, but I wasn't sure," Tamara confessed.

"Oh it is very real...it's the mother load of magic, but that comes at a price for Pan," the Dragon said.

"But the Home Office wants to destroy magic! Why would they come from a place with magic," Tamara protested.

"Oh dahling...no one wants to destroy magic. That's silly. Magic gets you everything you want," Cruella said.

"She is correct...you were simply a pawn. You were a tool to obtain what Pan needed...a magical child. But it is a good thing his time ran out, because you have the wrong child," the Dragon said.

"No...they said bring a magical child. I saw magic used on him to transform him from an adult into a child. I saw it with my own eyes," Tamara protested. The Dragon chuckled.

"But he is not a magical child. Only one born of true love is magical. But the child that Pan really wanted was one born of two powerful, magical bloodlines. One of light and true love, maternal grandparents. Parents of the Savior," he said.

"Snow White and Prince Charming…" he announced.

"And the other, the bloodlines of the Dark One. Paternal grandfather and his child, who found love with the Savior," he continued. Tamara sighed.

"Then I took him for nothing...it was the baby I needed. That would have been impossible to get!" Tamara said.

"Good thing for you that Pan is no longer a problem. His time ran out with having that child to sacrifice for his youth. But all is not lost. I can take this one...he will be quite useful to me," the Dragon said.

"Fine...whatever, but you promised me a way to destroy Storybrooke," Tamara said, looking at Cruella.

"Oh dahling...that depends on what you brought me. I need something good," Cruella said, as the other woman handed her a bag full of the things she stole from Cora's vault.

"Ohhh...very nice," Cruella said, as she looked through the items.

"Then you'll give me something to use to destroy magic?" Tamara asked. Cruella cackled.

"Sorry dahling...but I have no idea how to destroy magic and none of this works in a place without magic. However, they will work in Storybrooke...so that's where I'll be going. The Feds will never find me there," she said.

"You're double crossing me!?" Tamara exclaimed.

"Well…I am Cruella De Vil, after all," she reminded her.

"Come on, young one. We have a plane to catch," the Dragon said.

"The hell you do…" Tamara growled, as she pulled a gun on them and took them hostage.

"Your cause does not exist and destroying magic is not within our capabilities," the Dragon warned.

"It can if I just blow up that whole town, so that's what we'll do," Tamara said.

"The hell you will," Emma said, as she and David held their guns on her. She smirked and pointed hers at them.

"Are you really willing to risk a game of whose a faster shot than the other?" Tamara challenged.

"We've got two guns on your one. Are you?" Emma challenged back.

"Hello dahling...it's been a long time…" Cruella purred, as she looked at David.

"Cruella...how the hell are you here?" he asked. She looked him up and down like he was something to eat.

"I have my ways…" she said.

"Cruella? Seriously?" she asked her mother.

"Unfortunately," Snow replied.

"Well…I have somewhere to be. I hear Storybrooke is lovely this time of year," she said.

"If you think you'll still have an ally in Cora when you enter town, you'd be mistaken. Cora is dead," Snow warned.

"Yeah...and Regina won't hesitate to put you down, much like you've done to various animals in the past to satiate your obsession with fur," Rumple added.

"Well…I can't say that I have missed you, Dark One," she retorted with a smirk.

"Besides…Regina will be too busy trying to keep Maleficent from burning the town down," she claimed.

"Maleficent is free of any control...she won't help you," David said. Cruella smirked.

"Oh…I have so missed you the most, dahling. But you're wrong...because with this," Cruella said, as she held up what looked like a snow globe.

"With this...she'll do whatever I want," Cruella said.

"And what is that?" Emma asked.

"It can't be…" Snow gasped.

"Oh yes...it's her egg. I had it fished out of the fire and Cora sealed it away for safekeeping. It was meant to be her backup plan, but I had other plans," Cruella said.

"Well, you're not going anywhere," Snow said, as she bravely stepped forward.

"Stop!" Tamara warned, as she pointed her gun at Snow. That was all David needed and he rushed her, quickly knocking her to the ground. The gun flew out of her hand and Emma ran to confiscate it.

"Cuff her and leave her. By the time she gets free, we'll be home," Rumple said, as David put her in cuffs and left her there on the ground. Snow and Marco both knelt down in front of Pinocchio and the little boy wrenched away from the Dragon. But to Marco's shock and surprise, he ran to Snow and she hugged him tightly, as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"My boy…" he uttered.

"Don't…" Tink chided.

"I had a dream...that you were my Mom," he confessed, surprising Snow.

"I am and that must be confusing right now. But I promise everything will make sense soon," she promised. David smiled and kissed her tenderly, before winking at the little boy.

"Hand over the egg," Emma said, as she held the gun on her.

"Oh poo…" Cruella complained, as she did so.

"Oh well...good thing I have that account in the Cayman Islands full of money that I squirreled away from my lousy husband," Cruella said, as she made her way toward the exit.

"Last chance dahling...the fun we could have if we ran away together," she purred to the Prince.

"Hard pass," he replied in disgust. She sighed.

"Alas...at least I have my fantasies. Cheers dahling…" Cruella said, as she made her way out.

"What the hell is going on here!?" Barry demanded to know.

"Just stay out of it," David snapped.

"Yeah...Cleo, thanks for all your help, but we need to go," Emma said.

"None of you are going anywhere," Barry refuted, as he pulled his own gun and pointed it at them.

"Barry...what are you doing?" Cleo demanded to know.

"I've been hired to find a missing detective...and I think all of you know where he is," Barry said, as he showed them a photo and walked closer to them.

"He was last seen heading to a town called Storybrooke, Maine. And then...he just went dark," he continued, as he looked at Snow.

"What can you tell me about that?" he asked.

"Nothing...we have no idea what you're talking about," David snapped quickly, as he put himself between his wife and this man.

"I think you're lying...so this is what we're going to do. She is going to come with me to this Storybrooke, while the Feds lock the rest of you up," he said.

"That's not happening," David growled. Barry smirked and put the barrel of the gun to David's head.

"No...no...please. I'll go...I'll go…" Snow cried. Barry smirked and grabbed her arm.

"Please...just let me say goodbye," she pleaded. He relented and she turned to her husband.

"Snow…" he whispered, as their eyes met.

"I love you," she said and he could tell by her look that she had a plan.

"I'll find you," he promised.

"I know," she replied, as they shared a passionate kiss and as expected, Barry pulled her away by the arm. She faked a stumble and elbowed him in the gut. It knocked the wind out of him, allowing David the opening to tackle him. The gun flew out of his hand and Snow grabbed it, as David overpowered the older man and got him into a headlock. He applied pressure and Barry passed out. Just for good measure and satisfaction, he gave him a punch to the face to ensure he'd feel it when he woke up. Snow sighed in relief and he pulled her into his arms.

"Let's go home," Emma said, as she joined her parents and hugged them.

"I second that," Rumple agreed.

"Thanks again...but we really have to go," Emma told Cleo.

"Wait Emma…" she called, as the blonde turned back.

"I don't know what's going on here and I sense it's way above my head, but I know this guy. He won't let up," Cleo said, as she briefly glanced at Snow.

"If he knows about wherever it is that you're going back to and thinks there's a case and even a possible payday...then you need to do something to protect yourselves," Cleo warned. Emma nodded, as they made their way out.

"She's right...any ideas?" David asked.

"During the curse, Cora had a barrier around the town. Only with a magical object could you gain access," Rumple explained.

"He's right...that's how I got in with Greg and Detective Bishop. Cora sent us an enchanted map," Tink confirmed.

"And we got in, because of Emma and the author's pen," Snow agreed.

"With the curse broken...the barrier is gone and the town is open for anyone to find," Rumple said.

"Do you have another barrier spell, Rumple?" Belle asked.

"One can be created. I'll need Regina's help and ingredients from Cora's vault. However, I believe we should go a step further," he replied.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked.

"It will take a powerful spell, but we need to create a barrier and cut off Storybrooke from all the realms. It's the only way we will ever know peace," Rumple replied.

"Then that's what we should do. Can it be done?" Snow asked.

"Yes...but we need to hurry back. Our sleazy private investigator back there won't be unconscious for long," Rumple said.

"Let's get back to the airport and get the hell out of this city then," David agreed, as they made their way back to the rental cars.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Emma Swan #Neal Cassidy #Swanfire #August W. Booth #Tinkerbell #Wooden Fairy #Rumplestiltskin #Belle #Rumbelle #CORA cast the curse #AU #romance #adventure #family #a darker curse

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pocketseizure · 4 years

Text

Disneybound

Case #0180602. Statement of Ted Nakamura, regarding a strange experience at the Haunted Mansion attraction in Disneyland, California. Statement recorded directly from subject on June 2, 2018.

Jonathan takes the statement of someone whose memories may not accurately reflect the events of his childhood. He then has a short conversation with Martin and learns something (perhaps not so) surprising about Elias.

The events of this story take place after Episode 103, "Cruelty Free" (the one in which Jon reads the statement of a farmer in New Zealand with a monster pig).

( This story is also on AO3. )

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jon cast a level gaze at the American sitting on the other side of the table. He was fit and clean-shaven, and he appeared to be in his early thirties. He wore a wide grin and a bright red shirt depicting Minnie Mouse posing in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Jon sighed and pressed the record button of his tape recorder.

“Statement of Theodore Nakamura – ”

“Call me Ted, please. Or Teddy, if you like. All my friends do.”

“Ted Nakamura, regarding a strange phenomenon he experienced at the Haunted Mansion attraction in Disney World – ”

“Sorry, but it’s ‘Disneyland.’ Disney World is the one in Florida.”

“In Disneyland, California. Statement recorded directly from subject on May 25, 2018.”

“This is exciting! I love the detail you’ve devoted to authenticity. The tape recorder is a nice touch.”

Jon grimaced. “Statement begins.”

A hint of uncertainty crept into Ted’s smile. “I’ve never done this before. Is there a protocol? Maybe some sort of standard introduction I should start with?”

“Just tell me about the incident you came to report. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

“All right, I’ll start at the beginning.”

Ted clapped his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. Jon watched as his eyes made a brief circuit around the densely packed shelves arranged in disorderly rows at the rear of the room before finally coming to rest on one of the objects jammed between the accordion folders and cardboard boxes. He’d witnessed this process often enough that he could pinpoint the object of the man’s attention – a cloudy snow globe with a tarnished metal base. It wasn’t connected to any of the cases on file in the archives, merely something Gertrude had brought back from one of her travels on a whim.

“I guess you could say that I’m not the sort of person who would be the star of a Disney movie,” Ted began. “I’m not an orphan, and I had a happy childhood. My mother was an architect who moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles during the construction boom of the 1980s, and my father went to business school at UCLA and never left. His family is from Seattle, and they made some money in real estate in the 1990s. We’re comfortably middle class, but I went to one of the big public schools in Orange County.”

He paused, seeming to expect some sort of reaction. When it became clear that no such reaction was forthcoming, he continued.

“Even in LA, where everyone tries to stand out, high school was all about belonging to a group. I didn’t have any interest in the grandstanding of my school’s Gay-Straight Alliance, and I didn’t have the looks or the talent for the student theater club, which is where a lot of kids like me spent a year or two on their way out of the closet. Mostly I kept my grades up and my head down as my circle of friends from middle school gradually went their separate ways.

“My mom worked from home, and she made sure our house had the first high-speed internet connection in my neighborhood. I don’t mind admitting that I spent a lot of time online. I posted an embarrassing number of bad stories about cartoon characters on LiveJournal, and I eventually ended up being invited to join a popular Disney fan community moderated by a friend of a friend. All the people I spoke with on the comm were strangers, at least at first, but we gradually got to know one another as we responded to each other’s posts and comments.

“Between one thing and another, we somehow managed to figure out that most of us were the same age. Oddly enough, a lot of us lived in SoCal, so we decided to meet up over the summer at Disneyland. Everyone showed up, and we had a great time. We met again the next summer, and then again after my senior year.

“Nothing bad happened, but I stopped updating my LiveJournal after that. I went to college in New York, got a job in the city, and fell out of touch with most of my online friends.

“I moved back to LA four years ago, not that I do anything glamorous. I manage the back end of a tech company’s website and intranet, mostly database stuff, but I still have an IG account. I started it just for fun, but I joined early and picked up more than a thousand followers in less than a year. Someone suggested that it would be cool for me to visit to Disneyland and post photos, so I thought, why not? Like, I love Disneyland!”

Jon cleared his throat. “And what is this ‘strange incident’ you came to report?”

“Hold your horses, I’m getting to it. It’s important that you know my background, right? What I’m trying to say is that I’d only been to Disneyland three times before. It wasn’t a major part of my life. But it was a good part of my life – that’s important.”

Jon nodded in acknowledgment. “Very well, then. Duly noted.”

“Disneyland was considered to be a little seedy when I was in high school, but it’s gotten fancy in the past ten years or so. It used to be that you could just walk in, but these days you practically have to make an itinerary. So I did some research, got a group of people together, and we went and saw the sights. Everyone wore an outfit to match the style of a character, and we took a lot of pictures. The photos were so popular that I hit 5k followers in less than 24 hours, can you believe it? Everyone and their sister is into DisneyBounding these days, but picking up that sort of following from on-location fashion photos was still a thing you could do in 2015.

“Like I said, I had a happy childhood, but no one ever paid me that sort of attention. It was such a dopamine hit, you have no idea. Or maybe you do?”

Jon grit his teeth. “Please continue with the statement.”

Ted laughed. “Pushy, aren’t you? But that’s all right. It’s weird, but I feel like I can tell you anything. Has anyone ever said that to you before?”

“You’re not the first.”

“Maybe it’s the librarian thing you’ve got going on – or archivist thing, sorry. Puts me right at ease. And I appreciate that. If there’s an adult who willingly goes to Disneyland for fun, especially someone like me, people tend to think that’s creepy. The therapist I was seeing at the time called it ‘Peter Pan Syndrome,’ of all things. I never went to another appointment with her again, but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that I kept going back to Disneyland, usually with friends but sometimes with my boyfriend, who I met on Insta. We bonded while sharing theories about the Haunted Mansion, which is… Well, it used to be my favorite ride in the park. It still is, I guess, but I can’t go on it anymore.

“It took me long enough to get here, but this is the part of my story that should interest you. The reason I like the Haunted Mansion is because it reminds me of my mother, who passed away from a heart attack while I was living in New York. It was very sudden, completely out of the blue, and I never got to say good-bye. I never cared about the Haunted Mansion when I was in high school – we all thought it was cringe for some silly teenage reason that probably involved how awkward it would be if we were in the dark with each other. It wasn’t until I visited the park again as an adult that I finally went on the ride. When I did, I had this sudden flashback to a childhood memory.

“I must have gone to Disneyland with my parents when I was young, because standing in the dark and listening to the music made me recall being on the ride with my mother. This was during the lead-up, before you get in the Doom Buggies and begin the ride proper. I remember being absolutely terrified by what I thought was an endless maze. I felt like that line, after it entered the building, lasted forever. Kids can be like that sometimes, but my memory of this is crystal clear – the corridor genuinely didn’t end. I felt like there were people all around us, there had to be, but somehow it was just me and my mother, alone in the darkness.

“And then I remember that this terrible thing appeared out of nowhere. I’m not sure how to describe it. It definitely wasn’t a person in a costume, but it was too realistic to be the projection of a cartoon, and it was talking to us in voice that sounded like laughter and crying at the same time. Like it was hurt, but it found its pain amusing. Meanwhile, the walls kept stretching, and as they got taller I started to see awful things in the gaps between the ceiling and the floor.

“My mother held my hand the whole time. She kept whispering to me: ‘It’s going to be okay. You are brave, and you are strong. Nothing in here can hurt you.’ Just that, over and over, until the ride was over.

“When we finally got out, I ran straight to my dad, who knelt down on the pavement on the other side of the gate and hugged me. He and my mother both patted my back as I cried. I was so relieved to be outside again that my tears wouldn’t stop.

“My dad seemed confused by how afraid I was. This didn’t occur to me until I started thinking about it much later, but isn’t it strange that he didn’t understand why a young child would be frightened by a scary ride?

“I moved back to LA almost immediately after my mom’s funeral, but Dad became a little distant with me. We were both grieving, and it must have seemed callous to him that I was posting shots of myself at Disneyland on social media right after Mom died. Really I just needed a break from the move, from my job, from mourning, from everything – and I guess a part of me felt like my mother would never die as long as I kept returning to that memory of her holding my hand in the Haunted Mansion.

“My dad eventually moved on and married a younger woman. She would probably be my evil stepmother if my life were a Disney movie, but she’s actually a princess, and I adore her. I spend more time with her than I do with my dad these days, but I’m trying to do better. I thought I could reconnect with him if I took him along with me on a visit to the park, but he turned down my invitation. He told me he enjoyed my photos, but that he had never been to Disneyland and had no interest in going. Too many screaming children, he said.

“That was a surprise to me, so I told him about my memory of the Haunted Mansion. While I was talking, his face went completely pale. I don’t mean that as a figure of speech – it was like all the blood had been drained from his skin.

“He insisted that he had never been to Disneyland with me and my mother, but then he told me something strange. When I was about five years old, we went to visit his family in Seattle. My grandfather had just taken on management of a property in Capitol Hill, one of the old Gothic Revival mansions that used to be common there before the neighborhood gentrified. It was an old house, almost as old as the city itself, but my grandfather was having trouble finding potential buyers. The property had been designed by the student of a famous British architect by the name of Robert Smirke, and he wanted my mother to come take a look. Do a walkthrough, point out any potential areas of interest and value, that sort of thing.

“According to my father, my mother had a bad experience in that house. She refused to talk about it with him or anyone else, and she never went back to Seattle. She took me along with her on her tour of the property, and I was apparently just as upset as she was when we came out, even though my dad says we spent less than ten minutes inside. If I thought this place was the Haunted Mansion, and if the ride at Disneyland evoked such a strong memory, it makes me wonder – what did we see in that house?

“I checked with my grandfather, and he said the property never did find a buyer. The only person who seemed seriously interested was a British woman by the name of Gertrude Robinson. Shortly after she made inquiries, the place burned down. Imagine my surprise when I ran a search and learned that this Gertrude Robinson was employed by an institute dedicated to paranormal research.

“So,” Ted concluded, meeting Jon’s eyes, “I gave you my statement. I hope it will be useful to you. I was wondering what you could tell me in return.”

“Not much, I’m afraid. As you can see, we’re still in the process of organizing our records. We’ll investigate to the best of our abilities and contact you if we learn anything.”

“I would love that, thank you. Well, you have my information so…”

“We’ll be in touch. I believe I see my assistant Melanie hovering around. She used to have a large following on social media herself. I’m sure she’d be happy to show you outside.”

“So you’re from LA,” Jon heard Melanie say as she held the door open. Ted directed his dazzling smile at her, which she returned before allowing the door to slam shut behind them.

“Statement ends,” Jon muttered as listened to their conversation growing fainter. He ended the recording and leaned back in his chair.

“Any thoughts you’d like to share, Martin?”

“Oh, I, um,” Martin stammered. “I didn’t want to interrupt the, you know. The statement.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he emerged from between the shelves.

“It’s fine, Martin. It was a relief. To know that you were listening.”

“I’m sorry, I… What? It was?”

“I’ve never been good with people like that.”

“People like… Wait, excuse me?”

“People who are so…” Jon made a vague gesture to illustrate his point. “Sunny. Bright. Content. When someone comes here to make a statement, they’re usually upset.”

“Ah, right. I can see what you mean. But he looks like he just got back from a trip to the happiest place on earth.”

“The happiest place on earth?”

“You know, Disneyland Paris.”

“Disneyland Paris? They finished construction?”

“A few decades ago, actually.”

Jon sympathized with Ted Nakamura’s father. Between the crowds and the relentless sunshine, he couldn’t imagine a more ghastly location, and by this point he considered himself something of an expert on cursed geography.

“I don’t suppose we’ll have to go there ourselves to investigate,” he said, making an attempt to smile. He failed. His muscles were still tense from the process of taking a statement, and his face felt frozen.

“Really? You… want to go to Disneyland Paris? I suppose I could come too, I mean, if it’s not…”

Jon was alarmed by how red Martin’s face was becoming. Did Martin want to go to a theme park? Jon didn’t know much about Disneyland – or Paris, for that matter – but his childhood had been unusual, to say the least. He’d never asked, but Martin’s family couldn’t have been much if he had nowhere to sleep but down here in the archives. Perhaps he could use a vacation. Perhaps they both could.

Jon turned to face his assistant. “Martin, I…”

“Did someone say Disneyland Paris?”

Jon frowned. “Does this conversation interest you, Elias?”

“I heard you were planning a trip. You really must go sometime. It’s fantastic, quite the experience. I went myself, back in 1996.”

Elias made a quick series of taps on the screen of his phone before holding it out in front of him. Jon and Martin leaned forward to get a better look.

In the photo, Elias was posing next to someone wearing a Mickey Mouse costume. He wore an aloha shirt over denim shorts, and he was grinning from ear to ear. The camera had caught him in the act of pulling a tall man with a square jaw and a severe expression into the frame. The image quality was poor, but the man seemed far too pale for the summer sunshine.

Jon’s frown deepened. “And that is…?”

“Oh, this is Peter. You’ll meet him soon enough, I’m sure.”

“Do you, um. Do you go to Disneyland often, then?” Martin asked.

“Just the once. Peter lost a bet, you see.”

“Right.” Jon couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had a bad feeling about this.

“I wouldn’t mind going back. We could all go together, make an office party of it. It would be fun. You do know what fun is, don’t you, Archivist?”

Martin’s eyes darted between Elias and Jon. “I don’t think it’s safe to…”

“Come now,” Elias interrupted. “Would you have any reason not to?”

“China.”

“Excuse me?”

“China. I need to follow up on a statement, something Gertrude was looking into before she traveled to New Zealand.”

“Excellent. I’m glad that’s settled. I’ll leave you to your preparations, then.”

“Damn it.” Jon clenched his fists on the table as Elias left. A trap had been set, and he’d walked right into it.

“Don’t feel bad,” Martin said, oddly perceptive. After everything they’d been through, Jon was coming to appreciate that about him. “At least we know that Elias is still human. He likes Disneyland, after all.”

Jon wasn’t convinced that a fondness for theme parks qualified someone as being ‘human,’ but what would he know? He had to admit that Elias was right about one thing – it would do him good to get out of the archives.

“Are you really going to China, then?”

“I suppose I am.” Jon removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead.

“I’ve always wanted to go someplace like that, somewhere far away,” Martin said, his eyes darting to the tape recorder on the table. “I’d like to hear about it. If you don’t… If you don’t mind, of course. Maybe I could, I mean, we could go out for a coffee together. After you get back.”

“All right,” Jon replied, replacing his glasses. That would be rather nice, actually. “After I get back.”

#The Magnus Archives #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #Elias Bouchard #Haunted Mansion #full episode format #canon compliant #ghost stories #my fic

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