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dccomicsimagines · 3 years

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Stalker - Terry McGinnis x Reader

Trigger Warning - Stalker Behavior, Darker Themes

Requested by Anon - Can I request one where Terry finds out his s/o has a stalker?

***

You shivered, standing outside of school. It was a cool spring day. You wished you had worn your jacket, but the sun shining through your bedroom window this morning made you too optimistic about the weather.

“Come on, Ter. Where are you?” you whispered, jumping up and down to warm up a little. The school bell rang. You sighed. “Late again.” You turned around to enter when a warm jacket suddenly wrapped around your shoulders.

“I’m not late. Just almost late.” Terry chuckled in your ear. He kissed your cheek before moving ahead to open the door for you.

“For once.” You winked at him, sliding your arms into his jacket. “Come on, we’re going to be late for Literature.”

Terry groaned, running a hand through his hair. “What’s the reading we had to do for today?”

“The Yellow Wallpaper.” You sneaked a sniff of his jacket, enjoying his scent. Terry rubbed his eyes and missed it. “I’ll catch you up. We’re just supposed to be in discussion groups.” The two of you strolled down the hall, tempting fate as the final bell was about to ring.

“Lucky I have you, babe. I think I’d have to drop out by now if I didn’t.” Terry wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him, still snug in his jacket.

“I doubt that. You’d just actually have to do your homework.” You caught his lips in a quick kiss before you both entered the classroom just as the bell rang.

***

You walked alone to the elementary school to pick up your younger siblings and Terry’s little brother, Matt. Terry’s mom and your parents paid you the big creds to babysit them every day after school. It was actually how you met Terry in the first place.

Terry would usually try to walk with you until you met up with the kids, but today Mr. Wayne needed him earlier than normal. You pulled his jacket closer, only realizing now that you still had it. Oops. You shrugged, smiling to yourself when you got a whiff of Terry from the jacket.

As you neared the elementary school, a shiver ran up your spine when you heard footsteps behind you. “Excuse me,” someone said from behind you. You turned, holding your bag tighter.

It was an older man, maybe mid-forties. He ran up to you. His hair was oily and his face was breaking out in hives. “Can I help you?” you asked. Something felt off about him. You took an involuntary step back when he stopped before you.

“You dropped this.” He held out keychain with a batman symbol on it.

“Oh thank you.” You gasped, holding out your hand. He dropped it into your palm after a pause. “I can’t believe I lost it. It must have broke.”

He nodded, smiling as he stared at you. “You’re welcome.”

You waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move. Just staring. Your stomach twisted, nerves on end. “Well, I better get going. Thanks again.” You turned and hurried away with your hand clenched around the keychain. Terry had given it to you. You usually had it on your bag. Once you turned the corner and were in front of the elementary school with a crowd of people, you opened your hand to check the keychain.

Your blood ran cold when you saw it wasn’t broken. How would it have fallen off if it didn’t break? You checked your bag, heart pounding when you saw your keychain was still attached. Your thumb ran across the one in your hand, noting it didn’t have the scratches yours had.

“Creepy.” You glanced over your shoulder, relieved that the man wasn’t in sight. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe it wasn’t as creepy as you were thinking? You swallowed hard and tossed the keychain into the nearby garbage can.

Matt and your siblings ran up to you, chattering away. You gathered them up and led them toward home. However, the entire way, you felt you were being watched.

***

“What’s wrong?” Terry frowned at you, noting how you clung to his arm as the two of you slowly stepped onto the tram.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You let go of his arm, crossing your arms tightly. Terry led you over to a seat.

Terry sighed. He rolled his eyes. “You been like this all week. (Y/N), what’s wrong?” He sat down beside you. You scooted closer to him.

You glanced around nervously. “I’m fine, Ter. I just want to get home.”

“Okay.” Terry frowned and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I just thought you wanted to spend time with me.”

“I do.” You smiled at him. It wasn’t a real smile. Terry kissed your temple. “I’m not feeling all that great today. We can hang out at my house. My siblings are at my grandparents this weekend anyway.”

“That would be great.” Terry felt you relax, closing your eyes as you laid your head against his shoulder. He pushed his worries aside. You probably weren’t feeling well like you said. It was probably nothing. He relaxed himself, keeping you close just in case.

***

You stared at the keychain lying on your doorstep. Your blood ran cold with terror. It was the same batman keychain, brand new, matching the one on your bag. Your siblings were a few feet behind you as you had rushed ahead to quickly get into your house where you were safe. Clearly, it wasn’t safe anymore.

“Wow, a batman keychain,” Matt said, moving around you to pick it up.

“Hey (Y/N), it matches yours,” your sibling said, giggling.

“Terry must have left it.” Matt made a face. “Gross.”

“Yeah, he must have.” You painted a fake smile on your face and took the keychain from Matt. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll let you have whatever you want for a snack.”

The kids cheered and rushed inside once you unlocked the door. You hurried after and slammed the door shut, clicking the lock. The feeling of uneasiness didn’t leave you.

***

“Terrance!” Bruce’s voice echoed through Terry’s ears. He jerked the batmobile into a climb to avoid crashing straight into a building.

“Okay, okay. We’re fine.” Terry chuckled nervously, shaking his head.

“If you crash it, you buy it.” Bruce growled. “Pay attention!”

Terry cleared his throat, turning to fly the batmobile for another lap of the city. He flew over your house and scanned the place. Everything was fine. However, the light in your room was still on. Terry glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. “Bruce, I’m going to make a quick stop.”

“This is no time for social calls.” Bruce’s voice sharpened.

“How about you keep an ear on the police scanner like you always do and let me know if I need to go anywhere?” Terry smirked when Bruce huffed and clicked off. “Got ya.” He flew out of the batmobile and glided toward your house. Terry balanced himself on the sill of your window.

You were in bed with the covers pulled over your head. Terry opened your window silently and stepped inside. “(Y/N).” You sat up suddenly and screamed at the sight of him. Terry’s eyes widened. He pulled off his mask. “Honey, it’s me. Hush.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, gasping for breath. The blood drained out of your face. Terry swore, shutting the window behind him and ducking into the closet as your family tore into the room.

It took several long minutes for your family to leave. Terry waited, hoping Bruce didn’t catch how badly he scared you. He leaned against the wall of your closet. His mask twisted in his fist.

The closet door opened a few minutes after the room went quiet. “I’m sorry.” You hugged him, burying your face into his chest. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Terry kissed the top of your head. “I saw your light was on, so I’d thought I would stop by.”

You jerked away from him, blood draining out of your face. “No, no, no,” you whispered, running to the window and quickly shutting the curtains.

Terry rushed to your side. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He laid a hand on your shoulder. “Why are you so scared?”

You looked at him, tears filling your eyes. Terry felt like he got punched in the gut. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please just hold me.” You hugged him so tight, he thought he might bruise.

“Okay, okay.” Terry hugged you back. He gently rocked you, still confused and concerned. Part of him wanted to demand you to explain, but seeing how upset you were, he couldn’t do it. So he let it go and held you until you fell asleep.

Terry gently tucked you into bed and turned off your light. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before slipping out the window, making sure to shut it securely behind him. “Bruce, you there?”

“Are you ready to get back to work?” Bruce’s tone edged toward scolding. Terry rolled his eyes.

“I am.” He wanted to talk about your strange behavior, but he stopped himself. Bruce doesn’t know anything about relationships anyway. He’d be no help. Terry rocketed into the sky to catch the batmobile as it went by on autopilot.

***

“Terry!” Max ran through the hall, bumping people out of the way to reach him. Terry turned to look at her, alarmed. “Come quick!”

“Where?” Terry grunted when Max grabbed his sore arm and tugged him down the hall. Max was leading him toward the school’s office. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s (Y/N). We were outside for gym class and they collapsed.” Max panted. It was only at that moment that Terry realized Max was in her gym clothes. Bruce was right, his detective skills really did need work.

His blood ran cold. “Collapsed? Are they okay?!” Max led him into the nurse’s office. Terry ran ahead and opened a curtain to find you shaking, gasping for breath as you curled up into a ball on the bed. The school nurse seemed lost. “(Y/N), sweetheart, I’m here.” Terry sank down beside the bed, wrapping his arms around you.

You looked at him, pupils dilated, eyes wide. “I...I...can...can’t breathe.” Tears ran down your cheeks.

“(Y/N), you need to calm down. Breathe with me.” He took a slow deep breath, looking you in the eye as he rubbed your back. You struggled at first, but eventually you slowed your breathing down with his. Terry could feel your heart calming down.

The school nurse said something about getting you some water and a snack, leaving you, Terry, and Max alone. “I’m sorry,” you said, leaning over to bury your face into Terry’s shoulder.

Terry shared a look with Max. “Okay, (Y/N). Something is clearly wrong. You got to tell us and don’t say it’s nothing,” Max began, sitting on foot of the bed. You pulled away from Terry, sniffling and grabbing a tissue from the box nearby. Terry took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“Okay, alright.” You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath. “I think I have a stalker.”

Terry’s stomach dropped as ice cold horror washed over him. “What?!” You flinched at his tone. Max glared at him, poking him.

“Calm down, Ter. Let (Y/N) explain.” Max turned back to you. “Why do you think you have a stalker?”

The nurse came back with water and a packet of crackers. She smiled when she saw you were calm. “Eat and drink, we’ll see how you feel. Terry and Max, you can stay with (Y/N). I’ll let your teachers know.” You took a sip of water once the nurse left again.

“Slag it. (Y/N), tell us what happened.” Terry’s hands shook. You looked at him, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. It started a month ago...”

“A month? This has been going on for a month?!” Terry got to his feet. The terror going straight to his head.

“Terry, sit down and shut up.” Max punched his arm. Terry flinched before forcing himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

You blinked back tears. “I...It started when I was walking to the elementary school to pick up the kids. You weren’t with me, Ter. Mr. Wayne needed you that day. I felt like someone was watching me and then someone ran up behind me. It was an older man. He handed me a batman keychain like the one you gave me, Ter, and I thought it was mine. I thanked him, but he just stared at me.” You shivered. Terry wrapped his arm around you, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. “It creeped me out, so I left. It was then I realized that the keychain wasn’t mine. It was brand new and my keychain was still on my bag.”

Max and Terry tensed. “That is creepy,” Max whispered, reaching out to pat your hand.

“I threw it away, but I felt like I’ve been watched ever since.” You swallowed hard. Rogue tears slipped down your cheeks. Terry wiped them away with his thumb. “More keychains keep popping up wherever I go. There was even one on my front doorstep. I’m so scared all the time. That’s why I screamed when you visited me last night, Ter. I thought someone was breaking in to get me.” Your entire body trembled. “Even during gym class, there was one in my spot on the bench. That’s why I freaked out.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Terry soothed, pushing down his anger and terror. It wouldn’t help you.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Besides, I was hoping it was nothing, but it’s not. It can’t be.” You burst into tears again. Terry pulled you into his chest, sharing another look with Max.

“I’ll go see if I can find the keychain outside,” Max whispered to Terry. She slipped out of the room.

Terry sighed. “You’ll be fine, (Y/N). I’ll protect you. Whoever this is, they won’t get you.”

You grabbed at his jacket tightly. “Okay.” You sniffled. “Do you think they’ll let me go home? I just want to be home now, Ter.”

“I’ll go ask if I can take you home.” He pulled away from you. “Just relax.” You settled down on the bed, drinking the water the nurse brought you.

Terry clenched his hands into fists. His heart burned at the thought you were in danger and he didn’t even notice. Something bad could have happened because he didn’t get the answer to your strange behavior before. He swallowed hard, going to the school nurse to talk about being able to take you home. Hopefully, Max will find that keychain for him before he left. It was time for him to use his detective skills. You needed him to.

***

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, walking over to Terry as Terry stared at the batcomputer. Terry was running scans on the keychain Max had recovered from the school. He hated to leave you, but Max was with you, helping you watch your siblings and Matt while also keeping you safe.

“(Y/N) has a stalker.” Terry slammed his fist against the computer when the keychain came up with nothing. “Slag it!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. Ace barked at him in warning. Terry forced himself to relax, rubbing his chin to think. “What do we know?” Bruce’s tone became more serious. Terry looked up to find Bruce studying the results.

“This is a dead end. The guy didn’t leave anything on the keychain and (Y/N) didn’t keep the others.” Terry sighed. He ran a hand over his face. “There’s got to be a way to catch this dreg before he does something to (Y/N). (Y/N)’s already scared out of their mind.”

Bruce huffed. “You need to think less directly, McGinnis.” He gestured for Terry to get out of the chair. Terry stood up, sighing as Bruce took the seat and started working on the batcomputer. “Do you know where these keychains are sold?”

“I bought (Y/N)’s at the mall. There was a kiosk selling all these retro keychains.” Terry blinked. “Do you think we could hack into the mall’s security footage and see who was buying them?”

Bruce’s mouth twitched into almost a smirk. “Yes.”

“(Y/N) gave me this.” Terry pressed a button to bring up your description of the man you first encountered. “This is the man who gave them the keychain the first time.”

“Interesting.” Bruce hacked into the security and brought up footage of the kiosk. “What day did (Y/N) have the first encounter?”

Terry rubbed his chin. “About a month ago.” He shook his head. “I’m such a dreg for not noticing sooner. They are so scared.”

“Focus, Terrence.” Bruce frowned as the security footage fast forwarded until it stopped when it caught a person buying several batman keychains all at once. “It looks like we found our person.”

“Wait.” Terry leaned forward to study the person. “Oh my god, I know them. They go to our school, but (Y/N) was approached by an old man with the first keychain?”

Bruce hummed. “They probably paid the man to deliver it.” The computer popped up with the person’s school record. “Their name is Tay Diabolos. Seems like they have a shaky school attendance record and their grades are worse than yours.”

“Geez, thanks.” Terry frowned. “But (Y/N) hasn’t had any interaction with them as far as I know. They would have told me if they were being weird.”

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter.” Bruce brought up Tay’s address. “Go to their home, see what you can find. Don’t engage them. We’ll need to do this carefully.” Bruce glared at Terry. Terry just blushed. “I will run more tests on this keychain. My gut is telling me there is something we’re missing.”

“Mine too.” Terry patted Ace’s head before running off to get on his suit. Bruce watched him go. Ace barked, butting his head against Bruce’s leg.

“I know. He’s probably going to make a mess of it.” Bruce scratched Ace’s ear and turned to examine the keychain in ways Terry didn’t even think of.

***

Terry turned on his optical camouflage as he neared the run-down part of Neo-Gotham. He swallowed hard, pushing aside his fear for you. Max already called him to reassure him you were fine, but his stomach was twisted in knots.

He landed on the roof of an old house that must have been built around the time Bruce was young. A smirk pulled at Terry’s lips as he thought that it was probably over a hundred years old.

“Are you at the address yet?” Bruce’s voice suddenly filled his ear. Terry jumped, thankful Bruce wasn’t able to read minds.

“Just arrived.” Terry climbed down and opened the second story window. “I got nothing on my heat scans, so no one is home.”

Bruce grunted. “I told you not to rely on that too much. There are ways to cheat the scan.”

“It’s fine.” Terry looked around the empty room he entered. He went over the door and opened it. The hallway was dirty, covered in beer cans and stains. “Looks like a party house of some sort.”

“I found a micro tracer on the keychain. It’s cheap, only a range of two miles if even.” Bruce hummed. “He was attempting to track (Y/N). Are you sure (Y/N) never kept the keychains?”

“Yeah, they threw them away because it freaked them out. The only one still around is the one we have.” Terry’s eyes widened. “Wait, did you deactivate the tracer?”

Bruce snorted. “Of course.” Terry moved deeper into the house, following the light that peeked under one of the doors. “Remember do not engage, McGinnis. This is recon only.”

Terry didn’t respond as he peeked into the room. His heart spasmed in terror when his eyes fell onto a wall covered in pictures of you. A few were your school photos, but most were taken without your knowledge. Terry touched one that was you walking home with your siblings. “Are you seeing this?”

“This has been going on longer than we thought.” Bruce sighed deeply.

“Oh no, no, no.” Terry’s blood ran cold when he saw strands of your hair pinned to the wall. “The dreg has (Y/N)’s hair.” His hand clenched into a fist, rage pounded into his chest.

“Terrance, calm down. Remember this is recon.” Bruce’s voice was so calm. Terry wanted to snap back at him, but snapping at Bruce never did any good. “Is there any sign of plans?”

Terry shook his head, clearing the red rage from his vision. He let out a slow breath. “No, this looks more like a shrine to (Y/N).” Terry knelt down to access the computer on the floor next to the shrine. One tap, and he gave Bruce remote access.

“It looks like they ordered flowers for (Y/N) tomorrow.” Bruce’s rapid typing filled Terry’s ears. Terry felt sick to his stomach.

“That’s it. I got to go be with (Y/N). This freak is going to do something.” Terry got to his feet. He froze when he heard a door open downstairs. “Slag it. Someone’s home now.”

“Get out of there. I’ll search the computer some more.” Bruce clicked off. Terry shivered, eyeing the shrine of you one more time before slipping out of the window and rocketing into the sky.

***

“Terry, are you sure? Doesn’t Mr. Wayne need you today?” You asked, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you curled up on your couch in your living room. The window curtains were all tightly closed.

“No, he doesn’t, and my mom called the school to get me off today too.” Terry sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m here to stay.”

You had stayed home from school once you explained to your parents what was happening. They called the police, but of course, they couldn’t do anything since Tay hadn’t actually done anything. Terry could see the trembling of your hands, how the color drained from your face. This was making you sick.

“Thanks Ter.” You relaxed into him. “I hate this. Why did this person have to do this to me?”

“They’re sick.” Terry bit his lips. “(Y/N), do you know someone named Tay Diabolos?”

You blinked. “Yeah, they go to our school. I had science with them before they got kicked out for mixing cleaners and almost killing the class with the fumes.” You looked up at Terry curiously. “Don’t you remember? I had to go to the hospital with Blade and Zip. We got the worst of it.”

Terry’s eyes widened. “Wait, isn’t that when I got you the keychain? I picked you up from the hospital and took you to the mall where we got it from...that’s it!” Terry got to his feet suddenly. Your eyes widened at the sight.

“What’s it?” You bit your lip.

“The connection. I was trying to think why. I couldn’t remember why Tay would start doing this.” Terry sank down to kneel on the floor beside you. “That must have been the event to start their obsession.”

“Obsession?” Terry could see the terror wash over you. Right, he didn’t tell you about the shrine he found.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Terry took your hand. “I’ll handle it, okay?”

“Okay.” You gave Terry a weak smile as you squeezed his hand. “Just be careful.”

“Always.” Terry leaned forward to kiss your lips sweetly. For the first time in a long time, you seem relieved.

***

“I think I should fly down there and scare them away from (Y/N),” Terry said as he paced the cave. Bruce and Ace sat by the batcomputer, watching him.

“Ter, you know that will cause more problems. How does Batman know Tay is stalking a classmate? Why is Batman involving himself in a stalker case?,” Max said, eyeing the huge cave around her. It took a long time, but Bruce finally let her into the cave. She wandered over to look at the old costumes display. Bruce eyed her with slight disapproval.

“True.” Bruce stuck his cane out and tapped Terry’s leg.

Terry stopped pacing, crossing his arms. “I was thinking I would confront him as myself.”

“No. That will just make things worse.” Max snapped and turned to look at Terry with wide eyes. “Clearly, Tay was triggered by seeing you with (Y/N). That’s the reason for the keychains. They must have seen you buy one for (Y/N).”

“Then what am I supposed to do?! This is killing (Y/N)! I’m sick and tired of seeing them scared out of their mind!” Terry threw his hands up in the air. Ace barked at him, nervous from his outburst.

“Calm down, McGinnis,” Bruce said sternly, turning around in his chair to study the computer. “We need to go through normal channels. I’ve spoke to Barbara Gordon, she says she can help (Y/N) get a restraining order, but we need evidence first.”

“Aren’t the keychains enough?” Max asked, coming to Bruce’s side to watch the security footage of your house. They had installed it just in case.

Bruce shook his head. “No, (Y/N) threw most of them away. Besides, there is no evidence that Tay gave them the keychains. They covered their tracks well.”

A groan came from Terry as he pulled at his hair. His phone beeped. He picked up the phone once he saw it was you. The sound of your tears met his ear, his blood turned to ice water.

“Terry, there’s a message on our machine,” you whispered. Your voice breaking with a sob. “It’s from Tay. He said he left a present for me outside...”

“It’s okay. Just have everyone stay inside.” Terry ran over to the batcomputer, having to focus to keep his voice calm and even. Max and Bruce watched in concern when Terry had the batcomputer zoom in on the footage of your front step to show another batman keychain lying there.

“Oh my god.” Max gasped. “But we were watching the whole time.”

Bruce hummed, a scowl on his face. He reached over to pet Ace, who was getting jumpy from the energy of the room. “Terry, I can’t live like this anymore,” you said.

“Hush. I’ll take care of it. I swear.” Terry’s heart was ready to pound out of his chest. He wanted to fly over to Tay’s house and beat the life out of him. “Just stay inside. Leave the keychain where it’s at. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” You hung up the phone, but not before Terry heard a full out sob burst out of you.

“I think I have an idea.” Bruce got to his feet and walked over to the workbench to get his pill bottle. Terry stared at his phone, lost in his own tortured imagination. “We need to get Tay off the streets, and the best way to do that is to catch them for another crime.”

“Another crime?” Max put her hands on her hips. “But isn’t harassing (Y/N) enough?”

Bruce grunted. “No. Harassment is messy. It rarely sticks unless you have hard evidence which we don’t have.” Bruce leaned on his cane as he picked up his pills and swallowed them dry.

Terry stuck his phone back in his pocket. “You have a plan I assume?” He ran over to the changing area to switch into his suit.

“I do. From what I seen in the vid from your search of Tay’s home, I saw evidence of slappers.” Bruce walked back to the batcomputer and sat down.

“Oh, so we get Tay for drug possession, which should get them away from (Y/N).” Max grinned. “Sway idea, Mr. Wayne.”

“Yeah, sway.” Terry ran out of the changing area in full Batman mode. He hopped into the batmobile. “Keep me updated on what I need to do, but I have to check on (Y/N) first.” The batmobile zoomed off.

***

After Terry made sure your house was secure and you were calmed down, he followed Bruce’s lead to Tay’s house once again. “What’s your plan?”

“Find evidence of slappers in Tay’s house, make probable cause for the police to enter,” Bruce said firmly. “If we can get Tay on drug possession charges, they can get off the streets and get the help they need.”

“And (Y/N) will finally feel safe again.” Terry rocketed out of the batmobile and landed on the roof of the house next door. “There’s a party going on.” Tay’s house was raging, filling with people drinking, laughing, dancing. Loud music boomed out of the opened windows.

“This might be to our advantage. The noise alone will be probable cause.” Bruce hummed. “But we need to make sure the police find the slapper evidence and connect it to Tay.”

Terry grunted, turning on his optical camouflage and glided toward the house. He slipped through the open window, avoid the people in the room as he slipped through the open door to the hallway. It took him a full minute to get into the room where the shrine was since a couple was making out against it. They finally moved and Terry slipped inside.

Tay was in the room, luckily facing away from the door and didn’t see it seemly open on it’s own. It took every ounce of will for Terry not to rip into them when he saw them adding another photo to the shrine. He paled when it was a photo of your bedroom window, showing you hugging Terry with Terry still clearly in his batsuit.

“Damn,” Terry whispered under his breath. Suddenly, a smirk pulled at his lips. He turned off his camouflage.

“Terry, what are you doing?” Bruce asked sharply.

“Tay Diabolos.” A wave of satisfaction washed over Terry when Tay jerked, turning around in surprise. “I need to have a word with you.”

Tay laughed. “You think I’m scared, Terry McGinnis.” Tay pulled out a gun, aiming it at Terry’s chest. “You aren’t good enough for (Y/N).”

“You think I’m Terry McGinnis?” Terry laughed darkly. “You aren’t very smart, but then again, you wouldn’t be if you can’t notice what you’re doing to (Y/N) is criminal.”

“Don’t mock me!” Tay fired the gun. Terry easily dodged by stepping aside.

“Careful of the civilians around you, Terry. I’ll make an anonymous call to the police,” Bruce said. The slight approval in Bruce’s voice made Terry’s heart soar.

Terry shot out a batarang and knocked the gun from Tay’s hand. “Leave (Y/N) alone.” He marched forward, picking Tay up by the front of their shirt. “If I ever see you even look at them again, I’ll pound you into the pavement. The police would have to take a DNA test to identify your body.”

“You won’t stop me.” Tay spit in Terry’s face. Terry held back a flinch. “I’ll be with (Y/N). I love them more than you ever could, McGinnis.”

Terry grunted and dropped Tay only to throw a quick jab at their jaw. Tay dropped like a pile of bricks.

“Well, you certainly made a mess now.” Bruce’s voice filled Terry’s ears.

“We’ll figure it out. The suit can still be on autopilot mode, right?” Terry took the photo of himself and you and slipped it into his pocket.

Bruce hummed. “Yes, but you’ll need to move fast. The police are incoming.”

Terry grunted, climbing out the window of the room and flying through the air toward your house.

***

“I’m telling you the truth! Terry McGinnis is Batman!” Tay shouted, fighting against the restraints as the cops tried to put him into the car. Barbara put her hands in her pockets and glanced back at Batman who stood a few feet away.

“Right.” Another car pulled up and Terry exited. Barbara smiled. “And how is it he can be in two places at once?”

The blood drained out of Tay’s face as they looked between Terry and Batman. “It’s a trick! He planned this! I’ll get (Y/N) away from you! I swear it!”

“Enough.” The cops pushed Tay into the car and slammed the door to lock him inside.

Barbara patted Terry’s shoulder as Batman suddenly rocketed off into the sky into the waiting batmobile. “Tay won’t be bothering (Y/N) anytime soon. We have enough evidence to keep him in juvie for quite some time.”

“And the evidence for the restraining order?” Terry asked, biting his lip to keep from smirking in delight. The cops drove Tay away. Their shouts could still be heard through the vehicle.

“Being processed. We’ll hand it over to (Y/N)’s lawyer in the morning.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll let you deliver the news to (Y/N).”

“Thanks.” Terry hopped back into the car and drove back to your place.

“So it worked?” Bruce asked through the comlink in Terry’s ear. “And slow down, that’s my car you’re driving.”

Terry laughed. “It worked. Tay looked crazy.” He bit his lip, slowing down a bit. “Did the suit get back to the cave alright?”

“Yes, it just arrived with the batmobile. I’ll shut down autopilot mode.” Bruce hummed. “I assume you’re going to (Y/N)’s.”

“Of course.” Terry’s foot hit the gas again. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

Bruce grunted. “Right.” He hung up bluntly as he always did. Terry shook his head, unable to keep the grin off his face.

***

You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. Taking a step outside your front door, you sighed in relief when you weren’t frozen from anxiety.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Terry said, running up the steps to you. You laughed and jumped into his arms.

“Hey yourself.” Terry spun you around. You screamed when he almost toppled down the stairs. “Are you ready for the club?”

“I am.” Your face hurt from how much you were smiling. “I want to dance the night away.”

Terry ran down the stairs with you still in his arms. “Sway, because I’m ready to dance with you all night too.”

“Put me down.” You patted his shoulders. Terry set you down, keeping his arm around your waist. You kissed his cheek as you both started down the street. “And thank you.”

“For what?” Terry smirked at you. His hand squeezed your hip.

You looked into his eyes. “Oh, you know.” The words didn’t dare leave your lips, keeping the fear at bay.

Terry smiled before kissing you passionately on the lips. You melted into him, content and safe in his arms.

#terry mcginnis #terry mcginnis x reader #terry mcginnis imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman x reader #batman beyond #batman beyond imagines #batman beyond x reader #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert

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salty-sith-bitch · 3 years

Note

Here's a little prompt for Din and reader! Hopefully it can spark something 💙

Maybe Din takes Reader to a snowy planet and they haven't seen snow before or in a really long time, so their just mesmerized by it and just amusing him.

I hope you enjoy! As always my mind just sort of takes off when writing so I’m hoping this is close to what you asked for 😘

Cin'ciri (snow)

Rating: G

Genre: fluff, angst

Words:2352

Ao3

Din stood over you and your cot, a wicked grin under his helmet. He watched as you snored peacefully, oblivious to what he was about to do. He almost felt bad for disturbing your slumber.

Almost.

This was worth waking you and definitely worth the brief moment you'd be upset at him. He knew as soon as you awoke and discovered the reason for being ripped from your lazy dreaming you'd be overjoyed.

Chuckling to himself Din packed the snow that was in his hand into a soft ball. Taking a step back from your cot, he chucked the lump of snow. The ball hit you squarely in the chest and upon impact disbursed Into a flurry of white powder causing you to shudder and startle awake.

Confusion filled your cloudy mind as you woke. You felt something cold spread through you as the air was ripped from your chest. The frostiness quickly turned wet making you uncomfortable and displeased. Still gasping for air you heard chuckling that quickly turned into full hearty laughter.

Sitting up you found Din standing at the end of your cot doubled over in laughter. Shrieking, you pulled the blankets over your head and flopped back down.

"Daaaaaaaad! It's too early. It's my day off." Your voice was agitated and muffled by your pillow.

"Ad'ika," Din said between breaths as he recovered from laughing. "Come look outside."

"Whyyyyyy," you wailed into your pillow. It had been a while since you got a good amount of sleep and were simply not pleased your father was trying to drag you out of bed on your day off.

Clicking his tongue at you, Din squeezed one of your blanket-covered feet. "Fine then. Grogu and I will go and enjoy the snow by ourselves."

Snow?

Your brain kicked into hyperdrive at the word. That coldness you had just felt was your father throwing a snowball at you. Your heart fluttered in your chest. Din wouldn't admit it but he has a soft spot and could be silly at times and it made your world oh so bright. And now it was even brighter as you thought about the snow outside.

You bolted upright in bed and quickly threw the covers off. Frigid temperatures greeted you as soon as you climbed out of your little nook and bolted for the open ramp. Din watched as you ran toward the ramp and slid across the slick floor of the Razor Crest in your warm socks; almost causing you to collide with the wall.

Squealing you jumped up and down pointing outside as you turned to look at Din.

Having removed his helmet, you could see the gleaming grin on his face. And even swore you could see his excitement at the thought of a day off playing with his family.

Giggling and shrieking you vibrated with energy as you danced around on your toes.

"Snow!" You exclaimed, pointing outside.

Din chuckled, coming up to you and ruffling your hair.

"Yes, ad'ika. Now go get dressed. Grogu has been waiting impatiently."

Running across the hull floor once again, you were unable to stop yourself from sliding into the wall where your pack was. Smacking into the wall with am 'oomph' you picked up your clothes and high tailed it for the fresher.

Shaking his head, Din set his helmet back on his head and went to finish bundling up Grogu.

***

Snow has a special place in your heart. It brought back memories of your family. Your blood family.

It brought back memories of snow days when you were younger and a true child, so innocent and not having to worry about anything in the galaxy. It brought memories of warm cocoa mother would make and build snowmen with your brother.

When it would snow back home your father would have the day off, closing his shop due to lack of safe travel, and your mother, being the caring woman she was, would still head into town and work a partial day at the cantina, making sure everyone who needed warm food was supplied with it. You'd spend a good majority of the morning playing in the snow with your father and brother, tossing snowballs, building forts, and occasionally making snow angels here and there. Your mother would always arrive back around noon with cocoa and soup to warm you. Snow boots would be shuck at the door and fresh clothes put on after a warm bath. You'd eat and laugh by the fire the rest of the evening playing games, reading to brother, and watching your mother scold your father every time he would chuck a snowball at her that he snuck into the house.

Even as the years went by and you got older you'd still find yourself outside enjoying the blissfulness of having nothing to worry about. You'd make forts and battle your father, pelting him with snow. You'd find yourself melting into the floor as you and your mother sang songs in your native language by the fire. And you would always still try to suppress that giggle when your father snuck in the snowballs helping him on occasion.

Now it was different. But also not.

Looking out towards Grogu he saw him waddling around collecting snow and making little people reminding you of your brother. And Din, who surprisingly was enjoying the snow, tossing snowballs at you ever so often reminded you of father.

But this was not your brother nor father. And mother wouldn't be there with soup to warm you or sing songs in the evening. The snow people Grogu made were smaller and Din was sneakier with his ambushes.

You, yourself were also not the same. Being older and now constantly worrying about losing your family again reminded you of just how much your life had changed.

Huffing you shoved your hands further into your coat pockets, continuing to watch Grogu as he waddles over to you, snow in hand. Tilting his head he extended the lump out to you and cooed as if trying to ask you to shape it for him.

Chuckling and nodding you squatted and took the snow from him, gently packing it. When you stuck out your hand to give it back the ball went flying from your hand and zoomed past you. Turning your head you watched as the ball made an impact with Din's chest.

Snowball in his hand, Din waggled his finger.

"Grogu," he said with a bit of laughter.

Grogu's ears dropped as he made a noise and looked at his father.

"That's cheating you little womp rat. I was gonna ambush ori vod."

Rolling your eyes you smirked at Grogu and swiftly picked up and packed your own lump of snow. Quickly standing you turned and launched the ball of snow at Din.

Both you and Grogu cheered when it hit Din's pauldron. Grogu threw his hands up and parked his ears as you did a little victory jump.

Stiffening Din looked at his shoulder then back to you. Placing his hands on his hips he nodded his head slightly.

"So that's how we're gonna play. Two against one?" Kneeling Din picked up more snow. "You get a ten-second head start. Ten, nine, eight-"

Eyes widening in horror you looked down and made eye contact with Grogu.

"Ready little buddy?"

Grogu cooed at you again, also wide-eyed, and reached up.

Scooping up the youngling you took off running for the snow barricade you had made earlier, leaving a trail of laughter behind.

***

You played in the snow for countless hours. Together you and Grogu kept sneaking up on Din and pelting him with snowballs. And on occasion - despite Din thinking it was cheating- Grogu would use the force to nail mando in the back.

At one point you looked at your father gleefully, sticking your tongue out.

"For a Mandalorian, we’re taking you down pretty easily with these snowballs."

You couldn't hear his laughter but you could see his frame shaking as he stood with his hands on his knees.

"You good old man?" You teased.

Looking up at the sky for a moment Din took in a deep breath. Pointing a finger at you Din lowered his head and you could feel his piercing gaze through the visor of his helmet.

"If I went any harder on you kid there would probably be crying."

Gasping you scooped up more snow and packed it into a ball.

"You calling me weak?" You stared at him through squinted eyes.

"You called me old!"

"And only one of those statements is true!"

Shaking his head Din started packing snow into a ball.

"Oh, it's on now."

Screaming joyfully you took off running, Grogu at your heels

***

Out of breath and cheeks sore from smiling, you collapsed in the snow, arms and legs spread out as you soaked up the sun. Grogu trudged through the snow to stand but your side. Looking down towards him you watched as he flopped over into the white powder next to you. Giggling you reached down and strokes one of his ears lovingly, causing him to smile and coo at you.

In the distance, sitting on the ramp to the Crest Din watched as you made snow angels with Grogu, a smile hidden underneath his helmet. He was practically glowing with joy and warmth seeing how happy the two of you were. Feeling as if his heart might burst out of his chest Din wondered what his own childhood would have been like if he hasn't lost his parents.

He wondered if his parents would have ever taken him out for a snow day much like he did for you and Grogu - his own children. Longing and wishing for what could have been his life only filled the hole in his chest so much though. What he has in front of him is what brought him true bliss. You ana Grogu were his world - literally and figuratively.

He should have been hunting for a bounty today, planning his next steps and heading towards whatever planet that resided on while you took the day to rest and have downtime. That was the responsible thing to do, but when the snow started to fall not long after you and Grogu went to sleep be couldn't help but enjoy the idea of a family day. A day where you could be young and have nothing to worry about. A day to stretch your legs and bond.

Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall Din continues to watch the two of you laughing and rolling in the snow in the distance. When you turned to wave at him at stick out your tongue his smile grew.

***

Lunch was later than usual but you were ok with that. You had enjoyed your time in the snow even if it meant dealing with a slight butt hurt Din Djarin who didn't want to admit he lost I'm your snowball fight. Non the less the soup you ate and the cocoa you sipped still warmed you. Not as much as the unexpected family time had warmed your soul, however.

You watched as Grogu fought sleep in his father’s arms as he sipped his cocoa. Eventually, his eyes fall shut and light snores filled the silence of the Crest hull. Din rose from his seat quietly and made his way towards his and Grogu's sleeping quarters. Sighing heavily you rubbed your own tiredness from your eyes. Standing you collected and discarded your dishes then made your way to your own cot.

It was chillier over here than by the heater so you opted to instead grab your blanket and a pillow and made your way back to the heater.

Sitting against the wall you let your eyes drift shut. Pulling your blanket up towards your face you nuzzled your nose into the worn fabric, smelling the lingering scent of your old home. The world around you disappeared as you drifted off to sleep

Half asleep you heard gentle footsteps approach felt a hand gently nudge you.

"Ad'ika?"

"Mm?" You looked up lazily at Din squatting next to you.

"You were humming in your sleep."

Yawning, you rubbed your eyes again and looked at him. He didn't have any of his beskar on and you could smell fresh soap; a telltale sign he must have been getting ready for bed.

"’ M’sorry," you mumbled.

Turning and sliding down the wall next to you Din smiled. "It's ok. It was nice. Reminds me of-"

"Home," you said weekly.

Din's face fell slightly. "Yeah."

"My mother and I used to sing around the fire every night it snowed. She would rock my brother to sleep as I sewed. Before my brother, she would sing and I would dance with my father." Swallowing the lump in your throat you swiped the blanket across your face to rid the fallen tears. "Snow days were special for us. It meant family time and getting to just be with each other. No other worries. No chores or worrying about mother making it home safe from the cantina. Sometimes I feel like I can still hear my brother's giggles or my father's feet crunching in the snow as he tried to sneak up on me."

Letting out a soft sign Din pulled you into his side.

"My mother used to sing to me too. When I couldn't sleep or when she would give me baths. My father would sometimes join in and my mother would scold him teasingly for ruining a beautiful song with his garish voice."

You both chuckled at the thought.

"I wish I could remember what her voice sounded like."

Frowning you looked at your adoptive father. "I do too."

Sighing heavily Din pulled you in tighter to his side and kissed the crown of your head.

"Get some rest ad'ika."

Shutting your eyes you rested your head on Din's shoulder and let sleep wrap you in its warmth.

You hadn't been asleep very long when you heard a deep humming filling your dreams.

Tag List: @g0ldenlush @sweet-silver @piscespussybabe

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

Text

unless you take your army back, ch. 6

First - Previous - Read on AO3!

college life go brrrrrrrr

cw: description of injuries, ptsd flashbacks, paranoia

Three more days, Katherine had told him. Three more days of resting with intermittent periods of stretching, then walking the length of the room. The first few times, the room expanded out endlessly before him. Even with Jack to steady him, it was a challenge that sent him straight to sleep afterwards, vision hazy from the exercise and lack of food. By the second day, though, it became easier and easier, until he could slowly make it from the bed to the door barely out of breath. Jack wasn’t exactly pleased with his progress, but Crutchie refused to stay at home a day longer. So, when the bell rang on the fourth morning, Crutchie roused himself with everyone else and slipped his vest on, excited to finally be back among his brothers.

The plan was fairly simple to follow. Jack and Tommy Boy would walk him to get a cup of coffee from the nuns, then they would loiter there and rest for a good fifteen minutes, until Davey and Les turned up with some papers for them to sell. Tommy Boy would go his own way, and the four of them would make the walk to Crutchie’s normal selling spot (“It’s a bit of a walk, Crutch.” “No. This is non-negotiable, Jack. I’m sellin’. At my spot.”), where Jack and Les would break off down the street and Davey would stick with Crutchie.

It seemed simple, at least. In practice?

It was still simple. Easy, even. There was no screwing this up. Which was why, after an exhausting hike, Crutchie found himself at his normal corner, ten papers in his bag and Davey shouting a headline.

The wind was strong today, strong enough that Crutchie’s hat nearly blew off and some dirt got kicked up into his face almost as soon as he stopped on the corner he usually sold at. Crutchie himself would’ve been blown over if he hadn’t been leaning against a wall, still trying to catch his breath from the walk. It was nicer than the scorching heat of earlier in the week, though. At least with the wind he wasn’t sweating through his bandages.

Crutchie limped forward to join Davey closer to the street, digging through his bag to pull out a pape. There wasn’t much of a way to wave it around, not with one arm holding onto his crutch and the other in a sling, but he could at least hold on to it to make for an easier transaction.

“Paper!” he called. “Paper! Man gets--uh, murder! Just last night, murder of . . . a child! You heard it here!”

Davey threw him a disbelieving look. “That isn’t what it says at all.”

Crutchie shrugged. “I didn’t read it.”

Davey sighed, showed him the headline. Something about the governor giving a speech. Boring. “Is there anythin’ better in there?” Crutchie asked hopefully. Davey nodded, flipping open the paper to an article about a fire at the carnival the night before. That was useful.

“Three children, stranded on the ferris wheel for hours!” Crutchie shouted, not bothering to read the rest of the article. Davey burst out laughing, but made a call of his own.

“Fairgrounds on fire, parents abandoning their own children to escape! Read the story here!”

Soon enough, Davey had a customer, then Crutchie did as well. An older gentleman, one who looked at him as if he was diseased. Crutchie tried to smile, but couldn’t make his mouth muscles work. Right, his face was still quite the sight. Not to mention the way he leaned heavily on his crutch, or his immobilized right arm. Still, the man dropped a penny in his left hand (briefly removed from the handle of his crutch) and yanked the paper away from him before hurrying off. Crutchie tucked the coin into his pocket. Only nine more to sell.

Why did nine papers weigh his bag down so much?

Next was the woman he’d seen Buttons selling to the previous week, and she greeted Crutchie with enthusiasm, going so far as to hug him (Crutchie gripped his crutch as tightly as his bruised fingers would allow to keep from making a noise). When she pulled back, her smile froze, truly taking him in.

“Why, Crutchie! Was this all from that children’s strike?” she asked, clearly shocked.

Crutchie didn’t know quite what to say. The hug had startled him, jostled his healing ribs, and he couldn’t quite get words to form. “Uh, no, Miss,” he stuttered, offering a paper. “Got unjustly arrested an’ the like.”

She gasped, leaning closer instead of taking it from him. “Did the police--?”

“Not exactly, ma’am,” Crutchie said. He stepped back to put a little distance between them. “But I’s all right now, it’s good ta see ya again--”

“It was that Snyder, with his children’s jail, wasn’t it?” she asked, and Crutchie’s heart skipped a beat. Mentioning Snyder was not good, not at all, never. In fact, the hairs on the back of Crutchie’s neck rose as he realized--Snyder could be on this very street, he could be anywhere--Crutchie looked around, searching for that bowler hat, those hands always ready to grab--

“Whatever happened, it is so good to see you again, Crutchie,” the lady was saying. She handed him a coin and gently pried the paper from his grip. Crutchie managed to nod at her, still checking everyone on the street. He was here, somewhere, he could feel it. Snyder was one of these people, hurrying by on their way to work or wherever they were headed, and he would spot him if he moved and drag him back there--

“Crutchie? You doing all right?”

Crutchie ignored David, doing his best to examine everyone while also not moving at all. His legs ached, but his back was screaming to not lean against the wall again. Knowing that Snyder was near seemed to be aggravating it, the memories of being whipped so near to his mind.

“Crutchie, if you pass out, Jack is going to kill me.”

“I’m fine,” Crutchie forced himself to say. It came out as a hoarse whisper, almost silent. He cleared his throat and turned to Davey, who was watching him with a considerable amount of concern. “I’m good,” he said louder, every nerve of his body jangling in alarm. He ignored it. “Jus’ . . . got distracted. Is all.”

Davey nodded slowly, brows furrowed. “If you say so,” he said. “But if somethin’ happens, I’m telling Jack it was your fault.”

Crutchie forced himself to laugh, knowing he wasn’t even smiling. Luckily, Davey seemed satisfied and went back to his business. Crutchie looked down to slip the coin into his pocket--a quarter?

A whole quarter?

He stared at it, mouth falling open slightly. The most he’d ever gotten for one pape, on the best day, was a dime.

“Dave--” but Davey was busy, interacting with a customer. Crutchie swallowed, then dropped the quarter in his pocket. It added a strange weight, clearly separate from the penny already there. Even at his most pitiful, he’d never gotten a quarter for a single pape!

He must look pretty bad, then.

Crutchie sold four more papers, three of them to regulars who sought him out. Each of those three gave him more than the penny price, leaving Crutchie almost wishing that he had bargained with Jack for more than ten papes. He was making bank today.

After the eighth paper was sold for a nickel, though, Crutchie realized he wasn’t going to be standing for much longer. His body pulsed painfully with each pump of his heart, he was emotionally exhausted from his constant scans for Snyder--he knew he was here, somewhere, just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce--and although it hurt his pride something awful, he knew it was time to tell Davey he needed to go. If he could stay, he would, but Jack would tie him down to his bed to keep him from going out tomorrow if he worked himself too hard today. He couldn’t risk it.

Crutchie waited patiently as Davey finished up a sale, then nudged his shoulder. All it took was one glance at Crutchie’s face for Davey to nod.

“You need to get back in bed,” he said, before Crutchie could even say anything. “Let me go tell Jack we’re heading back. Sit down, okay?”

Davey helped Crutchie lower himself to the curb, then looked around for a few seconds before heading off in a random direction. Crutchie tried not to freak out too much--not having Davey here didn’t make him much of an easier target, right?

It did, actually. So did sitting down. Not selling did as well, made him less noticeable to everyone around. He couldn’t--he was going to vanish, just like so many others, just like Albert that one time, but unlike Albert he couldn’t run away. If Snyder dragged him away right now, he wasn’t even sure that he’d be able to scream for help.

“You sellin’ today’s paper, boy?” A rough voice from above asked.

Crutchie looked up (how long had he been staring at his shoes?) to see a construction worker, holding out a penny. Crutchie nodded wordlessly, struggled with his bag for a few long moments, finally extracted a newspaper to hand to the man. The man coughed into the paper, dropped the penny into Crutchie’s open hand, then hauled off.

Crutchie vaguely hoped he didn’t get sick. He always seemed so much more likely to pick up any illness on the street than the other boys--something to do with his bad leg, probably. In his current weakened state, a bad cold might be enough to push him over the edge.

He still had one paper left--right? He could sell it while Davey was gone. No, wait, he had to save one for Mr. Myers, at the bakery. And one for Dr. Ellis, over at his office a few blocks away. He only had one, though--how was he supposed to get one for both of them? He couldn’t choose between them, they were both his loyal customers and now that he was out here he had to sell to them or else they might think he was ignoring them. What should he do? What could he do?

Crutchie glimpsed a bowler hat before it passed into an alley, bobbing out of view. He froze, even stopped breathing. If he didn’t move, maybe Snyder wouldn’t notice him. He wanted that, right? But maybe if he made a sound, maybe if he was noticeable enough, Snyder would open the door to the closet and let him see some light again, maybe even give him some water if he was feeling kind, maybe even let him out.

But was the risk of being stomped into the floor worth it? That was more likely to happen, what happened any time he got too loud. Sure, it broke up the monotony, gave him a point to focus on, but every attack brought him closer to the end. Was that what he wanted?

Was it?

It didn’t matter right now. Instinct kicked in and Crutchie huddled in closer around himself, protecting the most vulnerable parts of his body. He could stay safe if he was quiet and small, that had always worked. Back when he’d been a beggar on the streets, he’d avoided the bulls by making himself as unnoticeable as possible, tucked into the corner of an alley, mixed in the middle of a crowd of tall folk. It was a tactic that had always worked, it had to be of some use here.

Crutchie didn’t know how long he sat on the curb, head tucked into his knees and arms wrapped around himself. All he knew is that the world grew muted, the sound becoming as empty as the darkness of his closed eyes. His heart seemed to pound in his throat, blocking it and effectively silencing him. There was nothing but himself, his heartbeat, and Snyder--lurking nearby, waiting for him to make the first move and condemn himself.

He was crying, Crutchie realized distantly--only because his nose had begun to block up. He couldn’t open his mouth, couldn’t risk the sound--but he couldn’t breathe, not with his nose blocked, but he couldn’t open his mouth--

A hand--no, no, no--landed on his shoulder, fingers burning into him with a vicious pain, and Crutchie rolled away as well as he could--head knocking into something hard, bad arm and leg twinging as they got caught under his weight--knowing he was in trouble. He was in trouble for not breathing, for trying to escape, for existing--

Blood thrummed in his ears, growing louder and louder and louder as Crutchie coughed, choking on dust, and hands grabbed him again--so rough, just to drag him back to face more abuse--and yanked him by the back of his shirt, his legs kicking out desperately.

They let him go almost immediately, though, and Crutchie cringed, waiting--waiting . . . waiting for nothing? He drew in a shallow breath, ribs aching slightly, and forced his eyes open.

For a moment, the dim figure of one of Snyder’s thugs stood above him, rubbing his hands together, but Crutchie flinched and there was Jack, his face starkly pale, eyes rimmed with red.

“What was you thinkin’?” Jack yelled, breaking the muffled silence. Crutchie’s hand came up involuntarily to cover his ears--Jack speaking was like a dam bursting, and the cacophony of noise from his environment caught up all at once. “Rollin’ out into the road like that, ya nearly got yourself killed!”

Crutchie stared up at Jack, confused. He didn’t really . . . know where he was. Somewhere loud, unbearably loud, but unknown. As he came to that fact, Crutchie’s breath caught in his throat. Why didn’t he know where he was? He sniffled, trying to not cry even more. He didn’t know where he was and he was sure Snyder was nearby and Jack was mad at him, all of which was wrong in every sort of way. What was happening?

Crutchie noticed Davey behind Jack, holding Les’s hand and looking more scared than Crutchie had ever seen him. Why was he scared? Was Snyder behind him?

He glanced over his shoulder, heart racing, eyes scanning compulsively for a sign of the man. Nothing. Maybe--no, nothing. Well, not nothing, but no him. There were plenty of people, which explained why it was so loud.

“It’s okay, Crutch,” Jack said, and Crutchie looked back up at him. He seemed sad, now, less angry. “Sorry I yelled. But you gotta stay outta the road, okay? You was almost ran over.”

A tear slipped out of the corner of Crutchie’s eye, despite his best efforts to hold it back. He didn’t know what Jack was talking about. None of this made sense and he just wanted to go home. When could he go home?

“Can I touch ya, ta help you up?” Jack asked, crouching down. Crutchie nodded, wiping his eyes on his sling. Even with the warning, Crutchie shuddered when Jack reached under his arms to help him stand. Les handed him his crutch--why did Les have it?--and then he was stumbling off, Jack at his side.

Crutchie was shaking so much that he could barely stay upright, not helped by the fact that Jack had a hand on his back. All it did was put him on edge, anticipating a push to the ground. He knew Jack would never, but he couldn’t help but believe it would happen.

He wasn’t quite sure where they were going, but he hoped it was home. Everything was so loud and unfamiliar and overwhelming right now, and he just wanted to go to sleep.

“Ain’t all here, are ya?” Jack huffed. Crutchie nodded, then shook his head, confused as to what Jack was asking. Yes, he wasn’t exactly present; or no, he wasn’t exactly present? He didn’t know which answer made more sense.

They were moving slowly--Crutchie’s bad leg was seizing, his right wobbly. His back and ribs burned with every movement, leaving him gasping for breath in a matter of minutes. Something that was digging uncomfortably into his right shoulder slipped and fell, his belated efforts to catch it inhibited by the sling pressing his arm to his chest.

They halted for a moment, Jack picking up the thing--his bag, Crutchie registered--and swinging it over his own shoulder before wrapping his arm around Crutchie’s lower back, supporting him under his arms. Crutchie gasped as adrenaline pumped through his body, but tried to shake it off. This was Jack. Jack wouldn’t hurt him. Knowing that didn’t help clear his head, though, nor did it keep him from trembling.

“It’s okay, you’s okay,” Jack muttered, helping him along the moderately busy sidewalk. “Just keep movin’. We’s goin’ home, okay?”

Crutchie said nothing, just focused on walking. His head really hurt, but he tried to process what had happened. Something about . . . Davey? And selling papes, and . . . he had a decent bit of money, didn’t he? “Jack. . . .”

“Yeah?”

Crutchie bit his lip. “I . . . can afford a bed tonight,” he offered. Jack chuckled tightly.

“Don’t talk about it here, all right?”

What else had happened? Crutchie knew he was missing so much, everything was so cloudy and exhausting and difficult. Something . . . something like. . . .

He caught a whiff of a new scent in the air, one that grew stronger with every step. Bread, freshly baked. It smelled incredible, yet Crutchie felt his stomach turn. It reminded him--

“Jack, Mr. Myers,” he said, looking around until he spotted the bakery, across the street and a few buildings down. “I gotta--I bring him a pape--”

“I’ll get it to ‘im later, all right?” Jack said soothingly. “Don’ worry about it. Right as soon as we got you in bed, I’ll head over.”

Crutchie wanted to do it himself, but he was too tired to argue. Instead, he nodded, and gave more of his weight to Jack.

When they finally reached the lodging house, Crutchie drenched in sweat and panting, Jack not doing much better (in the last leg of the journey, Jack had had to practically carry the boy), Jack let them in and helped Crutchie up the stairs, slowly, laboriously. With care, he laid him in the single bed by the window, where he had spent so many days already.

“I need ya ta sleep now, yeah?” Jack murmured, pulling the curtains closed. Crutchie nodded blearily. It was so warm in here that he couldn’t help but start to nod off already. Maybe everything would make more sense when he woke.

Jack fell into the chair that he usually did as soon as Crutchie’s breathing evened out. It hadn’t been too rough of a day selling, at least for the half hour that he managed before Davey had come to find him. He’d gotten about twenty papes sold, which was surprisingly good for any day. It must have been the cool wind, breaking the heat wave that had been dragging on for days. Now that it wasn’t absolutely sweltering, more people were going places, more people wanted to know what was going on, more people were buying what he was selling.

He needed to get back out there, hawk those headlines, take whatever papes Crutchie didn’t sell and sneak the coins from it into the kid’s pocket later, but he couldn’t make himself leave his side. Jack looked down at Crutchie, the yellowing bruises still marring his young face, and swallowed down a lump in his throat. It was okay, he reminded himself. Crutchie was getting better. Soon the ring of bruises around his neck would fade completely and his ribs would knit themselves back together.

Jack didn’t know much of the extent of Crutchie’s injuries. He knew that both of his legs hurt something awful--his bad leg was expected, but both was . . . unnerving. Distressing. Not being able to walk at all sounded like a nightmare. He knew also that Crutchie had some cracked ribs and fingers along with his broken arm, all of which made Jack grind his teeth angrily. There was something up with his back (whippings, Jack assumed, or maybe Snyder had gotten out that cane) and Jack had seen blood staining the bandage on his chest when his shirt fell open enough, so some sort of cut there as well. But what sent Jack over the edge every time was the sheer amount of bruising on his face and throat.

Sure, the broken nose was tradition, but that had been set well and had almost completely healed by now. Usually Snyder had the guards go a bit easy on the face, though, in case of government inspections. A bloody nose, a bad cut, a couple of bruises--all of those were routine. This painful mural splashed across Crutchie’s face? Entirely out of the ordinary.

There were several identifiable reasons, if one thought about it (which Jack had spent a lot of time doing). The strike, for one--it must've rankled Snyder, to nab only one of the boys responsible, and particularly to miss Jack, even though he had not only been present but leading. And it was also clear that Crutchie was close to Jack, if who he had cried out for had been any sort of evidence. Jack bit his lip as he remembered how near he was, how he could have helped, how he could have been taken in his brother's place. A part of him felt the guilt, the shame that threatened to choke him at the idea of leaving Crutchie there alone. Another part of him, though, felt a sick sense of relief. The combined hate Snyder and Pulitzer held for the union leader would have ended in Jack's death, dragged out and painful, with the strike left in ruins behind him. It couldn't have been him to be taken.

Thinking those thoughts put a bad taste in Jack's mouth. He wasn't any better than any of these boys, deserved the Refuge just as much--and even more--than all of them. Davey would've continued the strike, just as he had when Jack had given up, both times. Katherine had come up with the plan to advertise a childrens' strike. She and Davey, as well as Spot Conlon, would have found a press. Crutchie would've been a decent leader as well, would have kept the boys in line and organized the protesting, while Davey worked things out with Medda to get Roosevelt. The four kids would've made it to Pulitzer's office the same way Jack, Davey, and Conlon had; Crutchie would've made proper deals with the man, Davey and Katherine would've shut down the Refuge, Spot and Crutchie would've called off the strike. And what would happen to Jack, stuck in the Refuge?

Maybe he would've died. Maybe he'd exit as weak as Crutchie had, not even conscious, taking weeks to get back on his feet while life continued around him. Maybe he would walk out, not hurt too badly but skittish and haunted, not fit to lead any longer.

Not that Jack, a two-time traitor, considered himself worthy to lead now.

He needed to tell Crutchie, tell him that he'd scabbed twice. It didn't matter that both times it had been for him, an attempt to protect his brother. Crutchie didn't want that. Jack knew Crutchie like the back of his hand, and the kid would go through all the torture and loneliness and despair again if it guaranteed success for the strike. It was that self-sacrificing quality that made Crutchie so much of a better person. When faced with a threat of possible death, Crutchie would go proudly. Jack would turn tail and run.

"Stupid," Jack muttered, dragging a hand across his face. He didn't know if he was talking about himself or the sleeping boy before him.

Specs knew where Jack was going to be without even looking for him--which worked out, because he didn't have the time to search the streets of Manhattan. A bad fight had been on the verge of breaking out when he’d left Romeo and Albert, and Jack was needed as soon as possible.

As expected, Jack was slumped in his usual chair beside a sleeping Crutchie (Specs made a mental note to ask Davey how selling had gone later). He looked up when Specs entered.

“Hey,” Jack said sleepily. He rubbed his eyes, then sat up straighter. “Whaddya need?”

Instead of answering, Specs nodded toward Crutchie. “He all right?”

Jack shrugged. “He didn’ really know where he was,” he said, affecting a tone of unconcern. “Thought he oughtta get back ta bed.”

Specs had never spent time in the Refuge, but he’d helped plenty of newsies recover from their time there. If Jack was having a bad day, he usually shut himself up on the rooftop until he felt in control enough that he wouldn’t seem weak around the others. Others, like Race, would push themselves to work until they ended up so tired they had waking-dreams that they were back there. Based on how Jack was acting, something like that had likely happened to Crutchie. Poor kid.

“Specs, was you gonna ask me somethin’?”

Right. Urgent need and all that. “Uh, yeah,” Specs said. He adjusted his spectacles as casually as possible. “Queens ain’t all that happy with somethin’, they wanna see you.”

Jack glanced at Crutchie, then back at Specs, biting his lip. Jack was nervous, Specs realized with a bit of a jolt, something that Jack wasn’t very often. Never before the strike had Jack ever shown that sort of weakness. Not to him, at least. Certainly not to most of the other boys. Not until Crutchie had been taken, Romeo smashed into the ground, Specs himself slammed so hard into a fire escape that his poor head was spinning. They’d never taken that bad of a beating, and it had shaken Jack badly--Specs had noticed it right away, when he found him at the theater.

“Can it wait?” asked Jack, once again looking at Crutchie. The boy was sleeping peacefully, but Specs didn’t let his eyes linger on his face for long. The still-fading bruises made him feel sick in his bones.

“Uh, not really?” Specs said cautiously. “They looked about ready to soak Al and Romeo, so it’s a bit needing-you.”

Jack groaned, running a hand along his cheek. There was stubble there, Specs noticed. Not for the first time, he wondered who would take over when Jack aged out. It might even be sooner than expected, given his scabbing tendencies. “Can I send you in my place?”

“They sent me ta get you, so. . . .”

Jack dropped his face into his hands, letting out a long breath. Specs shifted nervously. He really didn’t want to see Jack cry, not again. Not to mention, they really didn’t have time. The fight was definitely picked by a couple of boys from Queens, but they had a pretty fair claim that Romeo had instigated it, and Albert had made it worse by coming to his defense. The Queens boys had agreed to make a truce with Jack, and Jack alone--and even then, they had terms to declare. Because of course they did. Because of course one of the boys who had taken offense to Romeo stepping onto their turf had been the leader of Queens.

Jack mumbled something. Specs leaned closer, waited, then had just made up his mind to ask what he’d said when Jack sat up, staring out the window and into the sky.

“No, he’s so new ta this still, he ain’t gonna know how ta settle this,” Jack said, his voice sounding almost raw.

“They did sp’fically ask for ya,” Specs added helpfully. “They ain’t gonna sort this out with anyone else.”

Jack didn’t answer for a long time, so long that Specs started to wonder if he hadn’t heard. When he did, though, his voice was quiet, trembling. “I--I can’t leave him.”

As if sensing he was being spoken about, Crutchie inhaled sharply in his sleep, then shifted a little. Jack froze, watching him carefully. Crutchie, however, did not wake, just sighed quietly and lay still once again.

Specs hopped from foot to foot, curling his toes in his new (to him) pair of shoes. Every minute spent was another that could be a fight breaking out, a punch being thrown, a newsie being shoved to the ground. He hated fights these days, hated to hear of his friends being in danger. They didn't have the time for Jack's comfort.

"I saw Buttons on my way in, maybe I can ask him ta sell right on the door?" he suggested. Jack continued to stare at Crutchie. Whatever he was thinking about, it didn't show on his face.

"And ya know what, I can prolly find Tommy Boy and ask him ta sell with Buttons, that way you gets some muscle by the door. Sounds good? Ready ta go?"

"I don' want 'im ta wake up alone," Jack whispered pitifully. Specs resisted the urge to groan. Jack had always been protective of all of them, but right now he was acting all soft in the head. Refuge or no, Crutchie could take care of himself, and always had. It was common knowledge that Jack and Crutchie were closer than most of the others, the closeness of Mike and Ike without the rivalry. Other than Race a few times (when he was fresh from the Refuge), Crutchie was the only one to sleep on the rooftop with Jack.

Some of the boys had thought that maybe something was going on between them, Specs included. Race had assured him it was untrue, but there hadn't been much in the way of proof to the contrary. Even now, now that Jack was maybe Katherine's beau, Specs wasn't sure that he and Crutchie hadn't been misbehaving together. Maybe he should ask one of them, something that for whatever reason had never been an option before. Probably not Jack, seeing how he seemed to be falling apart lately. Crutchie might welcome conversation not focusing on his injuries.

"Okay. Show me where they are, get Buttons and Tommy, then get back ta work, yeah?"

Specs snapped out of his thoughts to see Jack standing, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He’d have to find time when Jack wasn’t with Crutchie to talk to him, but right now he needed to help Jack break up a fight.

#newsies #livesies #newsies live #crutchie morris #jack kelly #newsies specs #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #angst #yall how do these chapters just keep getting longer #not me posting fanfic during work study #holy cow i'm so tired #anyway thoughts?#can't wait for crutchie to be like: recently a darkness has begun to grow within me #don't you get tired of being nice???#angry crutchie is the best decision i've made for this fic #one sec let me look at the next chapter #OH HE FLIES OFF THE HANDLE NEXT CHAPTER #YESSSSS #i currently have eleven chapters written and i'm starting to wrap it up #it's following three characters rn and one of their storylines has resolved #the second one will hopefully happen with two more chapters of focus on them #and the third will end the fic hopefully with only two more chapters #so expect like fifteen chapters total?#love making an outline and then lot following it #love you guys

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inviting-nonsenseworld · 4 years

Photo

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Pairing: Zukka

Trope: Damaged Vocal Cords

Word count: 1,992

Summary: Zuko mouths something back at him and stops. He opens his mouth again, but only a garbled noise comes out. He winces, putting a hand to his throat, and Sokka’s eyes widen when he sees the bandages wrapped around his hand.

AO3

Here’s my first fic for the @badthingshappenbingo! I saw this trope and I wanted to write for this pairing, so here you go. Lots of hurt/comfort and hugs for our boys. You can read it underneath here, or on AO3. If anyone wants to make a request, feel free to do it <3

----

Sokka doesn’t know what clued him in.

After long days traveling with the Southern Water Tribe commission to Ba Sing Se and arriving late in the night, hours after dinner had been served to the guests in the Palace, Sokka’s eyelids are heavy. All his notes had been scattered through their sleeping quarters during the storm from earlier today, so he’s trying to sort the mess he made when he shoved them back in his bag before disembarking.

He tried to convince himself it’ll be worth it to sleep in tomorrow, but he has half a mind to just say screw it and burrow under the covers of the comfy bed against Zuko.

Zuko had been asleep when Sokka arrived - Tui and La, it had been later than he imagined - a scroll lying forgotten on his chest and dark rings under his eyes. Sokka had kissed his forehead, earning a sleepy smile, but Zuko had been too far gone to do more before sleep claimed him back.

Maybe that’s why Sokka freezes the moment the sound reaches his ears. It’s muffled, an unassuming little noise, and it stops just as soon as it came.

He stares unseeingly at his notes and holds his breath, waiting. And - fuck, there it is again.

Sokka is pushing away from the table and crossing the doorframe to his and Zuko’s room the second he pinpoints where the sound came from. It comes again clearer, and Sokka’s eyes flicker every which way, searching, hands twitching for his boomerang and his muscles tensing.

Then Zuko tosses on the bed, a strangled little gasp escaping his lips.

It takes Sokka’s mind a moment to make the connection over the sound of his heart thumping in his ears.

He curses the second it does.

“No, no, shit, Zuko,” he murmurs, climbing the bed and giving the empty, dark corners of the guest room one last glance. He resolutely doesn’t think about the letter he received just over a week ago and that has haunted some of his nightmares ever since, and shakes Zuko awake.

He tries to be gentle, but there isn’t any good way to wake Zuko from nightmares.

Zuko’s eyes fly open and he jostles. A choked little noise escapes him, and he stares in bewildered confusion at Sokka, a hazy sheen covering his eyes with something dark. Sokka exhales - that always feels like a punch on his stomach.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” Sokka shushes him when Zuko mouths his name. Zuko’s shoulders are trembling when Sokka pulls him into a hug, but his arms don't hesitate to wrap around Sokka, his fingers gripping the back of his shirt. Sokka tightens his hold on Zuko. “It’s alright.”

It’s the fifth anniversary since the end of the war. Zuko’s nightmares always get worse around this time.

And despite all the times he’s had to do this after all these years, Sokka still fucking sucks at comforting people. He never knows what he needs to do because apparently even the same people sometimes want different things.

Zuko is trembling in his arms, though, so Sokka presses him closer and just talks. He talks about the newest project he, Katara and Pakku were working on the South Pole before they had to leave. He talks about the improvements they’re making in the buildings, and of the first waterbender child born in the South Pole after so long - born from a Northerner family that moved south after the war, but Katara had still been ecstatic.

Slowly, he feels the tension leave Zuko’s frame, his shuddering breath evening out. He slumps against Sokka, who trails off.

He keeps drawing little patterns on Zuko’s back with his fingers until he pulls away. Sokka takes him in, the way his loose hair is a mess and how his golden eyes are staring at Sokka in that soft way that always leaves him warm inside, and Tui and La, Sokka had missed him.

“Hey,” he says, giving him a small smile.

Zuko mouths something back at him and stops. He opens his mouth again, but only a garbled noise comes out. He winces, putting a hand to his throat, and Sokka’s eyes widen when he sees the bandages wrapped around his hand.

He swallows, remembering that letter from last week.

“You lost your voice?” He asks, breathless all of a sudden. “Are you feeling- did someone- did you drink-”

Zuko shakes his head, but Sokka only has eyes for the white bandages.

“Are you sure? We should get a healer to check you. Katara- Katara is in the next room, I think.”

Sokka, Zuko mouths. I’m fine. I had-

Sokka doesn’t understand the rest of what he says. He fetches a piece of parchment and a pen when Zuko makes a writing motion.

I had a sore throat earlier today, he writes.

“Right,” Sokka says. “So you're sure it’s not…”

Zuko nods.

“Right,” Sokka repeats. He slumps against the headboard, running a hand down his face. When Zuko inches closer, his brow furrowed, Sokka lets out a mirthless laugh. “Sorry. I’m the one supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”

And Zuko still looks ragged, his dark circles highlighting the redness of his eyes even under the soft moonlight coming through the window.

Zuko gives him a judging look. He runs his thumb under one of Sokka’s eyes, and yeah, alright, Sokka gets his point.

He sighs. He can’t help but look at Zuko’s bandaged hand again. He presses a kiss to it, feeling Zuko's hand tremble, and before he knows it, they’re tangled in each other’s arms. Zuko’s lips rest against the skin of Sokka’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine, and he props his chin on Zuko’s head, breathing in his spicy but sweet smell. It comes from a Fire Nation hair lotion, but it’s familiar and so Zuko, and Sokka loves it.

“I'm so glad you're alright,” he says. “I mean, I knew you were alright, I got the message from the hawk not one day after I arrived at the South Pole, but I still...” He takes a deep breath, and the words come tumbling out. “I’m sorry.”

Zuko jerks away.

“Sokka, ” Zuko says in a strained whisper before dissolving into a coughing fit.

“Shit. Don’t try to talk.”

He goes after the pitcher of water he had left in the other room and fills a cup for Zuko.

Zuko drinks it, still scowling at Sokka over the cup. He makes a frustrated noise when he still can’t speak afterward.

“Take it easy,” Sokka murmurs.

Zuko struggles to find the parchment and the pen lost somewhere between the sheets. He brandishes the paper on Sokka’s face, and the words “NOT YOUR FAULT ” are underlined a few times.

“Pot, kettle, Mr. Fire-Lord-I-carry-the-sins-of-my-nation-alone.”

That’s different.

“Not that much.” But that was a conversation for another day when they weren’t both so tired and frustrated. And when they could both talk too. “I’m just, it's good to see you're alright.”

Zuko’s eyes soften. He cups Sokka’s cheeks and leans closer, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s reassurance and warmth, and Sokka melts against him, feeling a knot of tension in his chest unravel. He sighs against Zuko’s lips and pulls him closer.

“I missed you,” Sokka says after they part. He doesn’t get all the words Zuko mouths, but he understands that he was repeating the sentiment. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Zuko grimaces. He looks away for a few seconds. It was stupid.

"I bet it wasn't as silly as that dream I had about a pink hipo-elephant."

Zuko's mouth curls up at the memory, and Sokka grins back.

It's just. It was my father. Again. After the discussion I had with some of my ministers, I guess some things just came back to me.

"More Ozai supporters?" Sokka asks.

He hates the way Zuko's shoulders tense again. I think so. It seems the more of them we find, the more appear. I thought I was done weeding them out of my administration, but I guess not.

"Fuck."

Zuko nods with a wry grin.

“So, what, you had a yelling contest against them?"

More or less?

Sokka snorts. "How can you not know?"

It wasn’t that much yelling. Zuko shrugs. Just... long talks. Frustrating talks.

“I can imagine.” Sokka shakes his head. “I mean, I remember how loud you could be when chasing after us all around the world. You did a number on your voice this time.” He chuckles when Zuko rolls his eyes. "They didn't come to Ba Sing Se with you, did they?"

Zuko shakes his head. But we couldn't lock them up without further evidence on their standing. All I have is some unfortunate remarks here and there.

And Zuko didn't want to abuse his power and just go ahead and lock them up, even if leaving them unchecked for so long while Zuko went to this meeting was a receipt for a new scheme against him when he returned. "Then I'll go back to the Fire Nation with you when the meeting ends. Maybe it's time for the Gaang to make a new field trip."

You know you can't get too involved. The political uproar that would cause would be immense.

"Oh, but we won't get involved." Sokka grins at Zuko's confused look. "We'll just be there, visiting our friend, and if any assassins dare try anything, well. We can't be held accountable if we happen to be in the way. Nor if we happen to overhear any interesting conversations or find suspicious papers."

Zuko glares at him, but Sokka doesn't relent his smile until he makes another frustrated noise and mouths his name with an indignant expression.

"I know, okay? We'll be careful. But let us help you," Sokka says. He holds Zuko's hand, running his thumb softly over the bandages. "Let me help you, at least. I can't do nothing this time." He has had his share of keeping quiet and distant from this situation. He isn't about to leave his boyfriend to return home alone to an almost certain trap and wait until the next letter came, not knowing if it'll carry good or bad news. A court like the one of the Fire Nation is hard to clean, like Zuko often complains about, much less in a little time, but Sokka sure can try to gather as much information as possible at least. One of the perks of being the Water Tribe Ambassador in the Fire Nation is that people won't question him much if they see him wandering around. If the others join him - and Sokka thinks they will - then they can cover even more ground faster. And sure, they'll have to sit down and plan their steps carefully if they want to avoid any scandal, but it's achievable.

It won't be easy, but it'll be something.

Maybe Zuko can see some of that in Sokka's face because he pulls him in for a soft kiss.

We can talk more tomorrow. Zuko mouths. You need to sleep.

"You do too," Sokka says. "Do you think you'll be able to?"

Zuko hesitates. I don't know.

"I'll wake you up if you have another nightmare," Sokka says. He plants a kiss on Zuko’s temple, and revels in the small smile he gets in answer. "We can talk with Katara in the morning - she might be able to do something for your voice. It'll be better than not being able to talk during the meeting."

Definitely.

"I can already see it: the Fire Lord spits fire at a colleague after being ignored during the entire Four Nations annual meeting!"

Zuko swats at his shoulder, and Sokka laughs.

He considers changing out of his traveling clothes but deems it as too much work as Zuko burrows against him. He pulls the sheets over them, and soon they’re both asleep.

#atla fanfic #zukka #zuko #sokka #badthingshappenbingo #avatar: the last airbender #my writing

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amethystpath-writes · 3 years

Text

A Gentle Blade Part 18

Part 17 here

In case anyone was curious what the queen went to do when she left Sir Guard, here you are.

@tears-and-lilies

******

Leera stopped her fighting with her chains very seldomly after Sir Guard was taken. That idiot! she screamed mentally as she jerked a shoulder in frustration. Why, in anyone's name, would he stick his bloody finger in his mouth?

The assassin had nearly tackled Rennera for bringing the metal tin of liquid death to her cell. It was the reason she was chained to a wall now. Leera never even noticed the metal ring in the concrete before. The one on the floor, she'd quietly observed, but not the one on the wall. She stood now, wrists shackled behind her, and a length of clangy metal levitating as she strained it as far out as it could go. Her eyes were focused on the door in front of her.

Sir Guard was somewhere beyond that door. Leera didn't know where, but he was somewhere in the palace. That's what the queen said at least. The assassin didn't know where. Was there a hospital wing? And if there was, was Sir Guard allowed in it? Sure, he was the future king, but if what he said earlier was true then he was more prisoner than fiance. He would receive the barest care, only enough to keep him alive. Wherever he was, Leera needed to help him. He was living, but was he capable of doing anything on his own? The poison acted quickly. What if they didn't stop its spread? He could be paralyzed.

On another note, Leera thought of her lips. They still hurt, but not nearly as much as before. It was true that the liquid was brought to stop infection. It burned like hell, but that was the point, to kill off any infection in the cuts. That wasn't to say it was meant to be consumed. That's when it became deadly, and that's why Leera felt so, so ruffled when Sir Guard decided to place it on his tongue after seeing what happened with her lips.

Thinking of her lips still, she thought, I wonder if her name really was carved. Even if it was, it wouldn't show. If they'd carved a word or name into, say, Leera's arm, the scars would heal up nicely, would say exactly what was originally carved. Lips were different, though the assassin didn't think it was Rennera's intention to have her name well known on her lips anyways. The queen said what the purpose was. She didn't want Leera speaking during the dinner.

Dinner is today. Another rare occasion arose where Leera stopped her struggles against the chains. Maybe that's where he is. Sir Guard must have been forced to prepare something for the dinner. Perhaps the queen was having him dressed. He was the future king. He needed to look like it.

Leera almost laughed, thinking of how un-kingly Sir Guard was. He was a prisoner, wasn't he? He'd been wearing the same old clothes since the assassin came to meet him in the woods. They weren't poor clothes, but they certainly didn't belong to a nobleman, or a prince.

Sir Guard probably hadn't bathed at all either. He never mentioned being able to when the queen took him out or anything. Maybe Leera should have known if he bathed. Surely the assassin could have smelled it, but she couldn't. After the queen forced her into a coffin with a dead man...well, she supposed that sense made itself forgotten.

The swing of a door sounded. Leera's attention snapped up and she snarled as the queen stepped in. She was thankful her lips were feeling better. They were far from healed, but they were better.

"My dearest assassin-"

"-ere is he!" Leera yanked on her chains, causing herself to jerk as she was at her end. She would throw her shoulders out of place if she continued, but she didn't care.

Before the assassin had time to take in the movement, the guard in her cell launched at her, squeezing her cheeks together and causing a new pain to rise in her lips. Almost immediately, she melted at his silent command, letting her chain slacken to the floor. The guard followed her back until she met the wall.

He smiled. "You'll treat Her Majesty with respect. If you are to speak at all, you will address her, not talk to her like she's some commoner on the streets." The guard squeezed her face in one quick motion, then threw her head to the side.

"I don't need your interference," the queen said. "Get out."

"My queen? She's an-"

"I know what she is. I captured her, didn't I? My dinner is tonight, and I want her to be ready. You won't be by her side while we eat, so why should you be here now? Go watch my future king. Out."

The guard nodded once, darting passed the queen without another word. Leera felt relieved of any fear, but she still felt an anger rising in her. Now that the guard was gone, she didn't feel like holding back anymore. Yelling was the least she could do. If Rennera came closer, Leera would...what could she do?

Chains would be helpful if they were in front of the assassin, but they were behind her, unfortunately. There were the ones on her legs. If Leera managed to knock the queen down, maybe she could throw her legs on either side of the queen's neck. The chain would nearly strangle her. Leera could demand her answers.

"Leera!" The shout was gentle, more of a panicked whisper. Rennera was a head away from the assassin.

She looked at the queen's feet, not so far away from her own at all. Leera took in the short chain between her ankles. It would do the trick. Falling was quick, so if she knocked Rennera down then she would have to act fast. There was no way to knock her down with her head facing Leera though, not with as short of a chain as she had, and not without her hands. It was a faulty plan.

"I need you to listen to me, Leera." It was now that the assassin realized the queen called her by her name. That never happened. Leera was always 'my dearest assassin'.

Leera waited. What was she supposed to say to the newest change? It was larger than abnormal. Sometimes the assassin forgot she even had a name. It wasn't until Sir Guard used it last night and the night before that she remembered. It was bittersweet. In some aspect, it was nice to be reminded that she was human, that she was something other than a doll to scratch up and throw around. On another, it reminded Leera of her one and only mistake; sharing her name. She was an assassin. Names were supposed to be hidden. Being nameless was the greatest security you could have as a well trained assassin. She gave that up to Sir Guard and when he shared it, it put her in utmost danger

"Tonight, I need you-"

Leera's calm and cool fell away from her like a light cloak. "I -on't oo anything until yoo-" She took a deep breath. Her mouth stretched too much with some of the letters. For the most part, Leera could avoid moving her lips. Thankfully, the queen decided not to cut out her tongue all those days ago. "-ere. Iss. He."

"I am trying to help you. If you would just let me spe-"

"Helpuh?" Leera shook her head. Then, without thinking, she threw her shoulder into the queen's, knocking her back.

Rennera's jaw fell as she regarded the assassin. She took several cautious steps back. "Walk towards me," she demanded.

"Scared?" One side of Leera's mouth quirked up, and she didn't care that it hurt. Maybe if it began to bleed then the queen would bring more of the poisoned liquid. If the assassin was calculated enough, she could kick the tin, splashing some of it onto Rennera's tongue.

"Not scared," the queen said coolly.

Leera didn't believe that. Rennera wanted her to step forward to lengthen the chain as far as possible so she knew she couldn't be hurt.

"Intelligently cautious. You are an assassin. I was stupid to think I could come so close to you without you acting out."

"Assassins aren't an-ani-muh-mals." She hated not being able to say the most common of words. She worked them out through gasps and pain. "Though -efore I nuh-aim was released, they called ee Cat." It was impossible to sound intimidating with all of the half words and quick breaths between struggled speech. "Kiet, kick, and deadly. Ne'er saw ee, only the oudies I le-lefft."

The queen ignored the assassin's broken speech. She'd only understood bits and pieces anyways. Something about a cat. Quiet, quick, and deadly. Bodies. It was sad how little Leera could say without effort.

Rennera asked, "Will you let me help you?"

"Oar reh-diculous."

"Ridiculous? That's what you call kindness? Leera-"

"Duh-on't use m-aye namme."

The queen bit her lip. She threw a hand towards the cell door, which was left open. Rennera didn't have the key on her. "I am not sure what connection you and my future king made down here, but it needs to end. For both of your sakes." Her hand fell to her side again.

"You d-don't care," Leera took a ragged breath. "You don't care ab-bout him. Or me."

If Leera's lips weren't so obviously maimed, people would have thought she was crying. It's what it sounded like by the way she was talking. The assassin would never speak like this in front of anyone, but Rennera...Leera needed to find out from the royal woman where Sir Guard was, if he was- or would be- okay.

"Maybe I don't care personally, but I do..." Rennera's lips disappeared between her teeth. She released them with a breath. "I don't know you or my future king. I have no idea about your past stories, and I do not care to know them. But," She said this with certainty, "I care that you are taken care of. I- I shouldn't be telling you this. Why am I doing this?" The queen began to pace. Then, "One moment!" She lifted her dress and took off out of the cell.

Leera could hear her running up the stairs, but before she had any time to think, the queen was coming down again.

"If you mutter a single word of what I say now at dinner in a little bit, I will have to take action in front of anyone. As great as it would be for my image, I don't want to do that."

The assassin squinted at her, but she continued. "I don't like to hurt you and I don't- no, I do want that." Rennera shook her head. "I'm selfish," she said.

A mellowness settled into Leera's bones. She listened. Of course, this was all so much and she was confused, but she listened without anger.

"I torment you because I'm afraid if I don't then someone will hurt me." Her hands turned inward on herself. "Leera, you killed my husband and I don't mind that you did. A part of me is saddened because I hoped he would change so that didn't happen, but he...he wasn't capable of that change." The queen swallowed, taking the time to think of what to say next. Leera believed she was also trying to hold back her emotions. "I wanted to apologize to you for- for everything that I have done or have had done to you. You did what the people asked of you, and even if I don't agree with killing, I also don't agree with what I've put you through."

Not knowing what to think, Leera silently nodded. She wasn't quite sure she believed the queen. Everything she said was so...contradictory of everything else. Rennera said she didn't mind that Leera killed her husband, but then she had put the assassin in a dungeon and tortured her until she gave a 'real apology' to that very king. Then she said she didn't like torture, but Leera couldn't get a full sentence out because of the pain in her lips. Leera was lost.

"I know it sounds like...I might be releasing you. I'm not, and I am sorry for that, too."

"Wuh-aye are you saying this?"

"Because I feel badly that there's no other way. I have to hurt you, Leera, and I wanted you to know why."

"You'd get," The assassin very lightly licked her lips. They were chapping, and for some reason she didn't want them to bleed anymore, didn't want to carry out her plan from earlier. Her tongue dragged across slowly, sometimes sticking to spots. When Leera was done, she continued. "You'd get muh-ore support iff you let Suh-er Guard and I go. The people-"

"It is not the people that matter. Or maybe they do. I don't know. Loel always- nevermind. It means nothing."

Leera squinted. "Loel? Was that the king's name?" The question was slow, not because it was a question meriting caution, but because the assassin was still trying to ease herself into normal speech. She only wanted it so she could talk to Sir Guard.

"Yes."

The assassin nodded. "So the king is the reason you do what you do?"

"He was cruel and so I have to be."

Sliding down the wall to sit, Leera began to tell the queen that she didn't have to be her late husband, didn't have to fill those shoes, but Rennera was already stopping her from sitting. The assassin figured they'd be leaving soon.

"I'm going to give you the same choices that I gave my future king," the queen said. Her voice was cold again, no longer any inch of caring. "You can come peacefully to the dinner table, just you and I, or I can be a little more forceful. I can leave you down here until I retrieve my other guard."

Leera took a deep breath, considering her options. "Do I get to negotiate?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I want to sit next to Sir Guard."

Rennera burst out in cheerful laughter. The assassin had referred to her future king as that before, but she didn't quite process that was who she was talking about. She supposed her two prisoners did grow at least somewhat fond of one another if Leera had a pet name for him.

Out of morbid curiosity, and because she truly didn't know, Rennera asked, "Do you know his name? The bounty hunter's?"

Bounty hunter. Leera forgot that's what Sir Guard claimed to be to the queen. How long ago was it that he'd found the assassin in the woods and brought her back? She remembered it all in mental images shot from a play. The assassin thought of these moments often, the journey she had with Sir Guard. It seemed so far away that he took the job of guarding Leera. Somehow it seemed even longer ago that he told her he was actually a prince.

It was easier to forget he was ever a bounty hunter than it was that he was a prince. Leera knew it made sense. Being a prince was huge under an enemy queen's roof. It was a dangerous secret to have, and that's why she wished she could forget.

"You're not answering. It makes me think you do know."

Leera shook her head. "I don't."

The queen hummed, and Leera swore it echoed. "You don't." It wasn't a question. It wasn't a statement. What it was was a prompt.

"Are we negotiating or not?"

Rennera's brows rose. "You tell me his name and I'll let you sit next to him at this dinner."

"I. Don't. Know." As many times as Leera asked Sir Guard, he would never give a name. She didn't blame him. It was scary enough to know he was a prince and not slip up. If she knew his name as well...it would be so much easier to fess up. It was safer that Leera only knew him as Sir Guard.

As the queen was closing in, stalking towards Leera like she was prey, she squeaked, "Wait!" It didn't occur to the assassin that she launched at Rennera earlier without fear. The change in demeanor threw off everything. "You don't know your own future king's name."

The advancement stopped. "No," the queen admitted. "I never thought to ask until today. It never mattered until now."

Leera opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped as the queen had a realization, one that made the assassin loose a breath.

"He is not a prince! What should it matter if I have his name or not? Your 'Sir Guard' is a bounty hunter who couldn't even afford to live on the streets. He doesn't need a name. Gods, maybe he was never given one!"

Good. Good, good, good. It was the only word floating in Leera's mind. Not only did the queen not know what Sir Guard was, but she even eliminated it. For now, he was safe, but she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the queen realized that Sir Guard was royalty. Would it change anything?

Yes, of course. Because if Rennera knew he was royalty, she could demand ransom. A prince was worth more than a few coins. A prince was worth a crown.

"Okay, here's the deal," the queen began. "I will allow you to sit next to my future king if you agree to find something out about him. I expect you to have at least one detail at the end of the night. If you don't...well, that is something I will think about."

"You are asking an assassin to spy on your next husband?"

Rennera nodded once. "You will do it."

"You said I have a choi-"

"Not anymore."

Leera's face dropped. What was there to find out? "Can't you ask him yourself?"

"Of course I can. But it would be at your expense." The assassin gave a quizzical look so she continued, "I ordered my guard away. You are walking out of here unscathed. If I don't do something, or get something out of this, he'll suspect I'm softening. I cannot afford that."

"What information do you want?" Leera added, "If you think he doesn't have a name."

"Where he comes from. Tell me that and I'll spare you from any misery for a week. You will get a full meal and wine or whatever you would like to drink during that time."

"That's a large reward."

"I am in a lot of debt."

The assassin began nodding, and despite knowing she had no choice, she mumbled a small, "Okay."

******

Part 19 here

#long post #leera and rennera #sir guard #part 18 #original series #whump #whumpee #whumper #royal whumper #poison #chained #carved lips #threats #a gentle blade

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ao3bronte · 5 years

Text

Obey

0 | 1 | 2

Warnings: Characters are aged up but still drinking underage (legal drinking age is 18 in France). Wild parties, hypnosis and NSFW themes will ensue.

It's barely a few strokes past midnight, but between the Armin Van Buren thumping through the walls of the houseboat and the alcohol coursing through her veins, Marinette can't tell whether she's coming or going. It's unusual for her to actually let herself go, even if her intentions had been entirely pure before the night began; unlike her friends who partied regularly every weekend, Marinette rarely ventured further than her bedsheets on a Friday night in case of an akuma strike.

But tonight was different.

Luka had just scored a record deal with the same label that represented Jagged Stone and Juleka was hosting a celebration party in his honour on their houseboat. This was huge news, especially for her friend and former flame, and Marinette was thrilled to support him. She'd spearheaded the effort by bringing him a guitar shaped cake and caved when Mylène offered her a shot of caramel apple flavoured vodka during their celebratory toast. After all, if she could handle half a dozen kwamis leaching off her energy, certainly she could certainly handle a shot of alcohol without falling on her ass, right?

Famous last words.

While her friends had garnered a certain level of alcohol tolerance over the last few years of raging lycéen house parties, Marinette had always been the DD, the group Mom, the one who would call her friends an Uber and send them on their way with a bottle of water and a pat on the head. Building up an alcohol tolerance was hardly something Marinette even considered simply because drinking wasn't an option when she was a superhero and her friends accepted the fact that she didn't drink, especially since she was nearly a year behind them in age. It was normal, until Mylène offered her a toast and emboldened, she scarfed it down with nary a care in the world.

Choking and coughing as the fire water burned a trail down her throat, Marinette braced herself against the ship’s deck and grimaced while Alya thumped her on the back. She blinked the tears from her eyes and gasped for air as her friends eventually took pity on her, offering her a glass of water which she gladly gulped down to try and extinguish the burn. Why did anyone willingly drink this stuff? It hurt!

“Trust me, you’ll understand why in a few minutes,” Alya assured her, taking the empty glass of water from her hands, “You just started off with the hard stuff. Hey Juleka, did you guys make any Jungle Juice?”

“Did I make any Jungle Juice...pfft,” Juleka parrots incredulously, rolling her eyes from behind her bangs, “Luka, grab the coolers from the galley!”

She felt a little more at ease by the time Juleka topped up her second helping of their infamous "Jungle Juice", a boozy, colourful concoction that no one really knew the recipe to. Usually, the Couffaines would charge a few Euros per person for access to the house drink but their friends hadn’t even blinked an eyelash when Juleka had given Marinette a stamp on her hand and a drink for free. This was their tiny, alcohol virgin Marinette after all; everyone knew that one red cup of Jungle Juice was all it would take before she passed out on Juleka's bed for the rest of the evening.

Except, one hour and a hundred new guests later, Marinette was still bouncing off the walls with the best of them.

The beat is addictive and Marinette moves her hips to the mesmerising tones, the rhythm of the bass pulsing in time with her heartbeat as she takes another sip of the mysterious purple concoction in her solo cup. She drops it low and whoops as Rose dances alongside her, their thighs grinding together as they giggle at the intimacy of it all. Is this what she'd been missing out on all this time as the sober sister? She felt so free! There was no responsibility here, no homework or crime fighting to keep her down. It felt strange, being herself like this without the looming sense of foreboding lingering over her head, as it often did, especially when she was alone at night.

“This is awesome!” Marinette cries above the music, giddy as Rose takes her free hand and weaves their fingers together. Her body feels lighter than it has in years, but she still feels enough like herself to keep her wits about her; when Aurore had warned her about the creepy boy pressuring a girl from their grade to dance with him, Marinette had approached Juleka about it and he was thrown out of the party on his ass within minutes! Marinette could handle a little alcohol after all and she was puffed up and proud of herself for being able to keep her head above water, so to speak, even if she'd lost feeling in her fingers and cheeks long ago.

Closer to midnight, Adrien and Kagami strolled across the gangway and the whole party seemed to pause and soak in the moment, nearly bursting with joy at the sight of them. Adrien and Kagami were never allowed to come to their ragers and Alya confirms Marinette’s suspicions straight away as she walks over and outright asks them how the hell they managed to get away from their helicopter parents. Elated, Adrien waves his hands around as he describes how he snuck out of his bedroom window and met up with Kagami in some stranger’s back garden, the latter having snuck out the same way. Together, they hailed a cab over to the Couffaine houseboat, choosing cash over a traceable Uber, and Marinette admired their forethought; if only she were as clever and organised as Kagami and Adrien...maybe she would have already defeated Le Papillon long ago!

"Ooo! I love this song!" Rose cheers, dragging Marinette out of her thoughts and deeper into the throngs of dancing bodies grinding against each other to the beat of Sofi Tukker's latest hit. Distracted by the music, she feels far from claustrophobic; if anything, she loves the way the crowd hugs her body, the heat and the pressure and the sensations nudging her even further into a state of trance unlike any she's ever encountered before. Her heart and lungs tune themselves to the bass line of CamelPhat, the synthesized vocals of Martin Garrix, the wayback playbacks of Tiësto and Marinette's soul seems to dilate to the rhythm of pure, floor-thumping dance music, lost in a drunken flurry of an almost voyeuristic escapade set at 125 BPM.

She runs into Adrien eventually, and Kagami shortly thereafter. He's bought them both a stamp for the Jungle Juice and Kagami looks like she'd rather be drinking water out of the Seine.

"It's not great, I know," Marinette smiles, gently clinking her red cup against hers, "But it's kind of fun, right? Are you having fun?"

Kagami's expression softens, "Are you?"

"I think so," Marinette answers, and it's mostly the truth, "I've been kind of stressed out lately. I feel better now."

"I understand what you mean," Kagami brushes some confetti off Marinette's shoulder and lets her hand linger on the seam of her cardigan, "Santé?"

Kagami holds her drink aloft and Marinette giggles, returning the gesture, "Kanpai!"

It’s hard to tell what hour it is when the world is spinning around her ears but she stumbles upon Adrien, quite literally, some time later when she goes to refill her drink. He's chatting with Kim and Alix, the latter of which is trying very hard to keep her eyelids open as she teeters against Kim's side, determined as ever to keep up with him.

"Sorry!" Marinette cries out, feeling a little silly as she extricates herself from Adrien's arms. He managed to keep his Jungle Juice from cascading down her clothing, which is more that she can say for him. He doesn't seem to notice that she's spilled some of her own purple drink on his shoes and doesn't admit to anything as she straightens, red as a beetroot.

"It's alright," he replies, his eyes smiling as he holds on to her shoulders. She's glad for the grounding, considering the way the details of his face seems to blur in and out of vision, "How was last period today? Did I miss anything important?"

It takes Marinette a few moments for her to realise that he’s talking about school, “I don’t think so, really. But maybe…” she trails off, staring skyward at the cloud cover overhead, “Oh, I think M. Legars posted the rubric for our next assignment on Google Classroom?”

“About time,” Adrien’s lips quirk at the corner, “I was beginning to think we’d be going into midterms blind.”

Marinette shrugs, “I guess not.”

“I guess not,” he mirrors, offering her a smile, “This is a pretty awesome party. I’m glad I could sneak out and make it.”

“I’m glad you could too!” Marinette exclaims, her voice coming out a little louder than she intended it to. Her tongue doesn’t feel like it usually does and she sticks it out passed her lips to give it a stretch, much to Adrien’s amusement, “I mean, it’s just like...it’s good that you could come to support Luka!”

“He is a pretty awesome guy,” Adrien takes a sip of his drink and makes a face, “Ugh, this stuff is awful.”

“You get used to it after a while,” Marinette assures him, bumping his elbow with her own simply because she feels like it, “I’m on my second cup and I can hardly taste it anymore.”

“That’s...encouraging, I guess,” Adrien takes a bigger gulp and swallows it with a hiss and a shake, “Hey, I heard you brought Luka a cake earlier. Is there still any left?”

Marinette’s eyes light up, “Oh yeah! There’s still a little bit left I think, but we put it downstairs in the galley so it wouldn’t get all gross,” Marinette explains, her words coming easily to her now. Since Adrien had begun his relationship with Kagami over a year ago, things between them had become much more relaxed than she could have ever expected, “If you go down those stairs over there, the galley is the first door on your...right, I think.”

“Thanks Marinette!” Adrien grins, squeezing her shoulder gently, “I can’t wait to try it. Alya says it’s red velvet?”

“With blue and purple cream cheese frosting!” Marinette wriggles her body, his inhibitions long forgotten, “You’ll love it!”

He laughs, “Perfect, I’ll go get a slice for Kagami and I right now.”

“Okay!” she waves him off as he walks around her, leaving her all by herself on the deck. There are feelings swirling in her gut and try as she might, she can’t seem to pull her thoughts together and understand them. What was she even thinking about a moment earlier? She peers across the throng of partygoers and notices Kagami standing on the sidelines, nursing her red solo cup as Nino chats beside her about something or other. Marinette feels a little bad for her, but at least she’s been able to make a few friends at the party. Adrien is a natural social butterfly and she’s glad his affable and generous nature is helping Kagami come out of her shell.

Smiling, Marinette shrugs and turns back towards the party on deck, already half forgetting her conversation with Adrien in the first place.

She’s over near the captain’s bridge taking her chances at another shot of vodka with the girls when a crackle of thunder and a bolt of lightning careens across the sky. Her hairs stand on edge as Marinette glances upwards, frowning as another crackle of energy lances through the clouds like a spiderweb. She follows the bursts of light with her eyes until her suspicions are confirmed and the horrible realization sinks like a stone in her gut.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain tonight,” Marinette murmurs, wincing as the light burns through her vision. She hears Alya pull her mobile out beside her and glances down at the weather app.

“It’s says it’s supposed to be clear,” Alya reads the temperature, then flicks the screen to the radar, “There’s something over Paris though.”

Mylène looks over Alya’s elbow, “That doesn’t look normal.”

“Nothing is normal in Paris,” Alya snorts, shoving her phone in her back pocket, “Hopefully it blows over soon.”

“Unless it’s an—”

Rushing up from the wind through the trees, the keening wail of the akuma alert sirens around Paris confirms it.

“AKUMA! GET DOWN!”

Another crackle of electric energy bends wildly across the sky and Marinette braces for the static that scrabbles at her ears and her hair, feathering fear up and down her spine.

“It is I, Mesmer!” a disembodied female voice cries from above their heads, the source still hidden within the clouds, “I will reveal your darkest desires to everyone, just like it was done to me!”

Marinette swallows and looks around for the nearest door.

“No longer will you be forced to keep your secrets inside! No longer will you have to hide what you truly are, what you truly long to be!”

The doors are shut. The way is blocked by panicking partygoers, all surging for the exits.

“Look at me!” the voice cries, and everyone’s neck jerks upwards unbidden, “You will heed the sound of my voice! Let me inside your minds! Let me see your souls, and set them free!”

Marinette tries, she really does, but the voice...it...she can’t...it’s…

“Hello Marinette,” the voice cooes like a balm of friendship whispered in her ears, “You have constructed a wall around your heart to keep it safe. You will feel much more comfortable if you tear that wall down tonight.”

Marinette nods in tandem with everyone around her, “Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like to be with someone, to let them touch your skin and kiss your lips with reverence? Haven’t you ever wanted to be adored, doted on, appreciated for your beauty, your grace, your kindness? Haven’t you ever wanted to throw away your responsibilities and let your hair down for a little, free to kiss and be kissed by anyone you choose?”

She feels her stomach quiver with anticipation, “Yes.”

“Then I want you to tear away your inhibitions. I want you to be yourself and embrace the girl you truly want to be. I want you to find the object of your adoration and show them what it would mean to be your lover. I want you to find your friends and show them that you’re not the pushover they think you are.”

“I will.”

“You are the strongest mind I have encountered,” the voice commends, dripping like honey, “I like that. I want to reward you, celebrate you. I want to make you their Queen.”

“I will rule them.”

“Release your inhibitions. Stand free and proud of what you truly want to be.”

“I will be free.”

“That’s it,” she commands, her influence combing through Marinette’s hair like wisps of cloud, “What will you do first?”

Marinette tugs the ties from her hair and gasps, the sense of euphoria overwhelming.

“Do you like that feeling? Would you like more?”

She nods, tugging on her lip with her teeth as red hot pleasure oozes at the base of her spine. It’s unlike anything she’s ever felt before and she thrives on the way it makes her muscles loosen and tighten at the same time, completely in control.

“Show them. Show them the true Marinette. Show them the force of nature you can be.”

#miraculous ladybug #hypnosis #ml fanfic #mlnsfw #Marinette Dupain-Cheng

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sparksbynightfall · 4 years

Text

Chapter Zero : Elaina

~Part 1~

"It's those fever dreams again … "

I walked among the darkness with my feet falling on cold still water, making small concentric circles with each step. I tried desperately to wake myself up … to escape this recurring dream.

No matter what I try to do I just can't be fully awake, like something is anchoring me into it. Feeling helpless, I tried walking further ... just to see what happens.

As I pressed on, I could faintly hear the wet, sloshes of the ground below. For some reason, my feet didn't feel wet only … cold to the touch.

I tried running, the wet splashes becoming louder as I did. I ran into the nothingness, freezing in my tracks when something in the distance caught my eye - a fire.

I continued running, ignoring the cold touch of the water below on my feet as I desperately reached the flame. Is this real? An illusion maybe? I did not care …

To my delight I seemed to be feeling warmth as I cautiously approached the flame. The warmth was more than enough to ignore the cold feeling of my feet on the ground.

I sat down and pondered for a while as the warm feeling of the flame soothed my unease for a little bit. I reached my paw towards the spark just to see if it was indeed real, but just before I could touch it, I heard a soft melody.

The mysterious sound whispered into my ears, unknown but haunting and calm. It rang like the high notes of a flute, eerily circling my ears like a predator toward its prey.

The melody gradually grew louder … until I could hear it screeching in my ears … I immediately covered them as I just sat there, silently begging it to stop …

~~~

I woke up drenched in cold sweat as I gasped out a breath and sat upright from my bed. I shot a glance at the sky from outside of my window. The sun had already risen. Wiping the sweat on my face with my paw, I lay down on the bed.

Stupid dreams … When will it ever stop? …

I glanced at my digital alarm clock to check the time. 5:45 … I should probably be doing my morning routine by now … Feeling groggy and restless, I decided to get up from my bed. I have classes to attend to after all.

~~~

Jubilife City has that calming atmosphere whenever I go outside in the morning. There's not much bustling going on and the chilly morning breeze is soothing, exactly the calm before the city's bustling storm at the peak hours of daylight.

I got an alert on my phone shortly after I walked a few steps away from my apartment. It was Spica, saying she will be commuting with her boyfriend on the way to Sinnoh High. I immediately texted her back saying that I'll just be seeing her there and put my phone away to continue walking towards the train station.

"Morning, Elaina!" A voice called out from nearby, making my ears perk up as I turned to whoever made that sound.

"Morning, Ms. Gallius~!" I greeted her back. She was tending to her garden with Vertri, her Trevenant caretaker. He didn't talk much but he did acknowledge my presence as he eyed me and gave me a nod.

"How's your garden coming along, dearie?" The Lilligant asked, giving me a warm smile as she stopped what she was doing for a moment.

"It's going swell so far, although the seeds have yet to get fully sprouted. The Oran berry tree though … it's growing steadily and has started to bear fruit."

"Now that's good to hear! You should be going somewhere, yes? Have a good day. Good luck in your garden." Ms. Gallius called out encouragingly.

"Thanks, Miss. I wish you the same." I gave her a wave as I made my way towards the train station. I still have plenty of time before my first class starts so I have nothing to worry about.

The walk towards the station took me a few minutes, there were quite a few passengers at the moment seeing as it was the early commute hours. I hopped on the train and waited a while before it departed, the usual train music giving me some relaxation as I traveled alone with my thoughts. As the train finally departed, I closed my eyes and let the music soothe me all throughout the way.

A few minutes into the trip, I noticed the melody change. Instead of the usual tune, I swore I can hear a flute playing ominously in my mind.

What? Something's not right …

I immediately opened my eyes to the usual bustling tune of the train. Strange … I thought to myself. I just shrugged it off as my imagination, as I went back to closing my eyes.

To my surprise, I heard the ominous flute melody again. It was as if it was waiting for me to close my eyes again to continue playing its tune.

Am I going crazy? Please … this better not be a trick.

I can feel the melody slowly getting louder, as if it was beckoning me to hear it. I had realized just now that this was the same melody I heard in my fever dream this morning.

Please stop … What do you want from me? Please … just leave me alone ...

I tried not to scream out my frustration as I didn't want to cause a commotion and it would be deathly embarrassing for me to scream out like that in public.

The train doors dinged, signalling that it had arrived at the station, that immediately stopped the flute melody that was messing with my head. I opened my eyes and shook my head a bit, relieved that the sound was over as I got up and walked to the train's exit.

~~~

I entered the school campus feeling a little disoriented, taking steady steps forward though I couldn't really focus on where I was walking. The well lit hallways of the classroom seemed a bit blurry in my vision despite the setting.

First class starts in 20 minutes … Why am I feeling so groggy at a time like this? Just focus, Ellie … As long as you arrive early it'll be fine ...

Not long into my disoriented walk, I felt a soft thud on my shoulder as I saw a few books fall to the floor. Noticing the commotion I caused, I slowly came to my senses and finally realized what had happened.

"Oh my goodness … I'm so so sorry!" I say as I picked up the few books that were on the floor, frantically making sure I got a tight grip on them. Just as I looked up, I came face to face with a Lucario , only her eyes were more focused on me than on her books.

"It's alright … no hard feelings really." She gave me a smile while focusing on my eyes. I noticed her wearing a purple dress under a long-sleeved teal vest, though I also sensed … something different from her.

"Umm … still … I may have blocked your path and …"

"Again, it's okay. You might as well just go to your first class. Thanks for picking them up though." The Lucario would immediately walk away to wherever she was going. I was left dumbfounded by the encounter, I checked my wrist watch to see that I have 10 minutes left before the class started.

I feel … something warm all of a sudden … clearly it wasn't her or … maybe it was her? …

I just walked towards my first class as I can already feel the disorienting thoughts slowly disappear, yet I still questioned those weird happenings that had been going on today. A familiar face greets me as I enter the classroom.

"Ah! Bonjour, étudiante~" It was Mr. Ptolemus, his fancy black and white butler's outfit made me think I was in a dinner party rather than in an actual classroom.

"Bonjour, Monsieur~" I responded back, I was expecting Prof. Krantz to be teaching this class but since they were both good at teaching History, I suppose it's acceptable enough.

"You are quite prompt to be arriving a few minutes early, mademoiselle." He asks, giving a nod of approval. I look around to see only very few students including myself are around. Nodding back, I felt the need to respond.

"Merci, monsieur le Ptolemus~" I smiled at him to which he gave me a gesture of approval. To tell you the truth, I am actually fluent with French because I grew up in Kalos, which I guess made me one of the professor's most liked students. Moments after the conversation, I heard a familiar face enter the classroom.

"It's ya boy! Coming in…" Fenris burst in through the classroom doors, only wearing his vest and backpack as he marched towards his assigned seat. His sudden screaming startled me, and he waved to me as he passed my seat.

"Elaina! Good to see you, fellow Brai … how are you doing?"

"Feeling a bit drowsy honestly … but I'm managing."

"Haven't had your morning coffee or something?"

"I'm not a fan of coffee, Fenris. I much prefer tea … though I was running late so I skipped that earlier …"

"Late? This is late to you? Damn … What kind of standards do you have?"

"I'm just trying my best to come early every time. You should try it sometime …" I giggled and smirked at him as Mr. Ptolemus signalled the start of his class.

"Yeah ... I should be going to my seat. I don't wanna get yelled at again …" He quickly paced towards his seat without a second thought. Funny thing is, he actually got reprimanded a week ago for 'speaking foul language' or something like that.

As my first class started, I just did what I normally did, sit and listen. Honestly, not a really bad start to the day in my book as the drowsiness slowly drifted away from my senses.

~~~

I roamed the halls again as my first class ended. There was less than an hour until my next class, so I pondered whether I should go to the library or the garden to pass the time. Still, I wondered why the next class didn't start immediately after another but I didn't really mind. I just saw it as an opportunity to get a mental rest or something.

Noticing the lockers, I immediately recognized this was the same hallway where my lockers were. I have to admit it took me quite a while to notice.

Have I really travelled that long aimlessly? I swear I get pretty dazed very often …

"Actually … I do have some stuff to get anyways …" I said to myself as I approached my locker as I intended to grab a few books though in the process, a few fire stones fell out onto the floor. Shortly after, I hear a yelp coming from behind the locker doors.

As I closed the locker, I saw a Vulpix looking a bit frightened upon seeing the fire stones on the ground, as if she was afraid to touch them. I noticed that she was wearing a sky blue tank top and denim shorts "P-Please! I-I … don't wanna evolve just yet!" She exclaimed, cautiously stepping away from the stones.

"Sorry about that … I'll pick them up for you~" I told her, casting a look at her as I did so. She met my gaze and nodded, trying to keep myself calm.

"I-It's okay … I was just worried for a bit …"

Shortly after she said that, I could feel two paws grabbing my shoulders from behind. Frightened, I nervously looked behind me.

"Well well! What do we have here? If it isn't the FireFox!"

It was a Blue Sylveon, a very familiar Sylveon to be exact. She was wearing a large shawl and a skirt, with a toothless grin to top it all off. Even as I turned around, she still hadn’t loosened her grip on me.

"Ohh it's you … Aren't you that Sylveon who's friends with Cipher? The one who carried him towards his apartment room when he passed out?"

"Well I sure am! And you must be Coolcat's best bud~!"

"Well you got me … can you please let me go now? It's getting a bit weird …"

She immediately obliged and walked over towards the Vulpix as I said that, still having that grin plastered over her face. I have to admit, it was giving me a bit of a weird vibe seeing that, but I didn't really mind that much anyway. "Now since we're here … what are you two doing here?"

"Ohh you know just … walking the halls until our class starts with my friend over here!." The Sylveon spoke up, pulling the Vulpix towards her.

"Y-yeah … we just happened to walk through the opposite building … which is here." The Vulpix also added, nervously maintaining eye contact with me.

They both seemed pretty nice, though the Sylveon was a bit too dynamic while the Vulpix was rather shy, though I can understand that. Perhaps I should introduce myself to both of them.

"Well anyways, my name's Elaina or … Ellie for short. Pleased to meet both of you, especially you again, Sylveon … "

"Rime, please … call me Rime. Permission to call you Firefox instead?"

"Sure I guess …" I nod in response as I turn towards the Vulpix. "What's your name by the way?"

"Sapphire … or Saph … whichever is fine …"

"Well, glad to be meeting both of you, Saph and Rime."

I checked my wrist watch to see that my next class starts in 15 minutes. Pretty bad timing to meet some new friends but, I'm sure this won't be the last time I'm seeing them.

"Ohh dear … my class is starting soon, I guess I'll see both of you around. I'm so sorry this has to be cut short …"

"It's alright, Firefox! I'll just find Coolcat. I'm sure wherever he is, you aren't that far." Rime responded, as she gave me a wink.

"I-It's alright … wh-whatever she said …" Saph smiles and gives me a wave as the two of them walk away in the opposite direction.

Well, that was something but oh well … new friends are always fine.

With that, I immediately walked towards my next class.

Cameo List:

Fenris from @fenrisfawkes

Rime from @the-void-between-worlds

Sapphire from @sapphirevulpix

Also, huge thanks to the mod of @crewel-intentions for helping me with some of the text here in the story~

#sparksbynightfall #pokemon au story #elaina braixen #lucia lucario

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theaterkid821 · 5 years

Text

A Flash of Time Pt. 1 (Jack Kelly x Female Reader)

A/N: Hey all! Here with a new fic! My goal is to get onto a once a week basis. Let’s hope I can stick to it! I just wanted to give a brief shoutout to my friends who agreed to let me vaguely describe them at the end (I’m not gonna mention names, but thank you guys!). I put in a history joke for all the history nerds out there, hope y’all enjoy that. I did this as female reader because in part 2, there will be smut. Also wanted to let you guys know that this is probably not the best editing wise as i got three hours of sleep last night (not by choice). If you want to be tagged for part 2, or added to any taglist in general, let me know. As always, requests are open and love you all!

TW: very slight angst for a second. other than that, nothing.

Taglist: @molly-is-heere @deavvy

Part 2

Masterlist

All you remember was the blinding white flash as you wake up in an unfamiliar environment. Looking around, all the old buildings of New York City almost looked new. In fact, not almost look new, they did look new.

Everyone was in different clothing, different material paved the streets, and people talked immensely differently. The men were in fancy suits and the women were in very strange dresses.

You think you’d gone back in time.

You quickly looked around and saw a teenage boy around your age shouting a headline; a newsie. Which was very strange, since they weren’t around anymore.

You run over to him. “Hi, sorry, can I buy a paper please?”

“Sure miss. Anything for a pretty lady like yourself.”

He gave you a sly smile as you fumble for any spare change in your pockets.

“Don’t you’s got a coin purse or somethin’?”

“Long story.” You say as you finally find a nickel. You hand it to him and he hands you a paper. You don’t even look at the headline but look for the date.

1899.

You look at the boy in front of you. That’s all you remember before blacking out.

. . .

I watched as the girl in some very strange clothes handed me a nickel. She’s cute, no doubt, but there’s something off about her. I can’t quite put my finger on it. She doesn’t even read the paper. She just looks at something in the corner and looks at me in shock. She quickly starts to pass out and I catch her before she can fall. I go over to my selling partners, Davey and Les, and hand them the rest of my papes. “She just took a pape and passed out. I’m gonna go see if there’s anything I can do. Sell the rest of your papes and come back to the lodging house and we’ll see what we can do.” They nod hesitantly and Les goes to start selling again.

I bring her up to the lodging house and Racer is already there. “Oh, what’s this? Jacky-boy got a girl that quick?”

“Shut it Racer, she passed out.”

I lay her on the bed, waiting for her to wake up.

. . .

You wake up, again, in unfamiliar surroundings. It looked as if evening was approaching and you sat up.

“Well well well, look who’s awake.”

I look over and see the boy from earlier. He had a blue long-sleeved shirt and a gray vest. “Yeah, I guess I’m awake.”

“So, where’s a pretty girl like yourself from?”

You look down, unsure of what to say. Now that your head is on straight, you realized you shouldn’t have given him that nickel. “I really can’t say.”

“Aw, come on sweetheart. I promise I don’t bite.”

“No, it’s not that, you’ll just think I’m crazy.”

“How so? Come on, try me.” He crosses his arms and smiles.

You think to yourself for a moment. Should you tell him? Part of you wants to do it just so that you can wipe that smirk off his face. You take a deep breath and decide to go for it. “I’m from the future. I don’t know how I got here, but somehow, I went back in time.” Sure enough, his smirk falls and he looks at me in shock.

Another boy, this one much more put together, pipes in. “That can’t be. It’s impossible.”

“I’ll prove it. What was the headline from today?”

The boy in blue scoffs, “you bought a pape. Did you not check the headline?”

“Which reminds me, also check the nickel. It should say a year that hasn’t yet come. Also no I didn’t I checked the date and passed out when I realized I had travelled back 110 years.” He looks at the nickel and throws it back to you. Well there goes that problem. “I don’t want your fake nickel from 2007.”

“Alright, fine. But I will prove it. What was the headline today?”

“Seriously?” he asks, “you bought a pape and you didn’t even see the headline?”

You scoff, “well sorry, I was a little busy being unconscious.”

“Trolley Strike Enters Third Week.”

You gasp. You were about to watch history unfold. You smirk. “Okay, how about we make a bet. I bet you that tomorrow, Pulitzer will raise the price of papers form 50 cents per hundred to 60 cents per hundred and you will form a union and strike against him, deal?” You spit in your hand and hold it out to him, remembering that it’s what they did.

He looked at you, obviously shocked. “What happens if you win?”

“You help me get back home.”

He nods. “And if I win, you give me a kiss. Deal?”

“Deal.” You two shake.

“Get ready to lose your ridiculous bet.”

You giggle, “we’ll see about that.”

. . .

You waited in the lodging house in the morning. The second that the newsies came into the room, you knew you were right. Jack and Davey walked over to you with shocked looks on their faces. “So, how are we getting you back home?”

“I told you.”

“This the goirl?” a boy, Crutchie as you quickly recognized, walked over to you. You smiled at him, but your heart went out to him, knowing what would happen to him tomorrow. He seemed so nice and sweet. He didn’t deserve it. Well, no one deserved the Refuge, but him especially.

“Yep. That’s her. My plan is to win this strike and then help her get back home.”

“So, (Y/N). What can you tell us about the future, huh? What happens?”

“Well, I can’t quite say. it would ruin so many things and possibly alter the results of time. All I can say is that technology surpasses whatever your mind can imagine.”

“…fine. Can you at least tell us what happens in the strike?”

“Are you kidding? That would be even worse!” You giggle at their enthusiasm. You could get used to this while you wait.

You watched as Jack gave out orders to the boys and was a true leader. You hated to admit it, but he looked really cute.

God, you were falling for this boy. Hard.

. . .

“…mark my words boy, defy me and I’ll have you and every one of your friends locked up in the Refuge.” Was the last thing I actively heard from Mr. Pulitzer. All I could think about was if it was all worth it. All I knew was one thing, I had to talk to her. She’d know what to do.

“Can I have some time to reflect on my own?”

“Of course, just know we’ll be there at the rally. Snyder and one of my workers will be there. The choice is yours though.”

I walked home to the lodging house and said nothing to anyone as I walked over to her bed. “(Y/N), I have to know. Do we win?” She says nothing. “(Y/N) please, do we win!” Again silence. “(Y/N) I have to know! It changes everything if we do! I have to know which to risk! Do I risk going to the Refuge or do I risk betraying my boys?!”

“Jack I told you, I can’t say anything. The only thing I’ll say is that these boys will follow you no matter what you do.”

This was going nowhere.

. . .

The strike had ended and you were standing next to Jack, so happy with how things had turned out. Governor Roosevelt came over to you, “is this the girl who knows the future?” I nod, “how are you doing dear? Listen, I have a question for you. I’m thinking of running for president. Do I win?”

“I can’t say. It wouldn’t be fair. All I can say though is ‘speak softly and carry a big stick.’”

You walk off with Jack and he asks, “why’d you say that to him?”

“You’ll see.”

You knew he would eventually find out. During the children’s crusade, he realized what what you said to him meant. Hopefully he’ll follow your advice in the future.

He walks you down an unfamiliar street and you arrived in a small alleyway. It was subtle, but you could see the outline of a portal. You could see your street through it.

This was it. It was time to say goodbye.

“Thank you Jack.”

“No, thank you. You kept me going. I’ll miss you. My mysterious girl.”

“You won’t forget me?”

“Never ever.”

You look up at him. It was either now or never. You leaned up and kissed him. He returned the kiss and deepened it. After a few moments, he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, breathless. “You should go… it won’t last long.” You nod.

“Jack, I lo-”

“I know. I do too.” He starts to tear up. “I’ll find a way to see you again. That, I promise.” You nod and go through the portal, tears in your eyes.

. . .

Finally! I achieved it! I found a way to get to her! It took about a year, but it will be worth it when I see her face, I’m sure of it.

It was so strange around here. The buildings looked either familiar and faded, or very strange. The guys what looked like only undershirts on and looked so… casual. The girls were also wearing pants which was very strange to me. The ones that weren’t and were wearing skirts/dresses left little to the imagination. There were even some people I wasn’t sure if they were male or female. What was this world?

I look behind me and I see her. She was talking with a girl and a boy. The girl had curly hair and had a green jacket with a gray dress that came to just above her knees. The boy had short black hair and a maroon shirt with jeans.

“(Y/N)!” I shouted her name and she looked up. Those (Y/E/C) eyes entranced me, like they had all those months ago. “Can I help you,” she asked.

“Don’t you remember me? It’s Jack! Jack Kelly?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you. Maybe you’re thinking of a different (Y/N). I gotta go, but have a nice day. And I wish you luck.” She got up and walked off with her friend.

She didn’t remember me. That feeling had me heartbroken. I’ll show her someday. I will find a way to get her memories back. I didn’t come all this way just to fail.

#Newsies #newsies fic #newsies fandom #newsies imagine #jack kelly #jack kelly imagine #jack kelly x reader #reader fanfiction

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axlolot · 5 years

Text

Ambre.

“There are still two persons you haven’t met today, but I hope you’ll get the chance to talk to them very soon.”

She stood quiet for a few seconds, before a small smile appeared in the corner of her lips. It was a tired smile, a giving-up smile. Let’s lighten the mood a little more.

“Should I try and guess who they are?”

Le Comte laughed, a tender and warm laugh for a golden and warm gentleman. Sebastian only smiled, but hid it well.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Let’s see… I suppose they are very famous as well… French?”

“One of them.”

“I see… Victor Hugo?”

“Not quite,” he smiled, amused.

“Louis XIV?”

“He died without regrets, unfortunately.”

“I see many reasons why he should have died with regrets,” they laugh at the joke. “I don’t know…”

She shook her head with a little smile, shrugging her shoulders.

“Jean d’Arc.”

“Jeanne d’Arc? Really!? So I’m not the only woman here?”

“Ha, not Jeanne d’Arc, I’m afraid, but Jean.”

“Jean?”

“History sometimes plays funny tricks.”

“… You’re telling me that Jeanne d’Arc? the woman who was said to be a witch? that same one who had to overcome many hardships because she WAS, indeed, very much a woman? was a man?”

“That is what I am saying. Yet, I can understand why you mistake him for a woman.”

Spinning on her feet, she mumbled how unbelievable that was. Did history books lie that much? What else could they have invented, after the false portraits of Napoléon?

“The other person, I believe, you will meet him soon—”

But le Comte was cut short by a loud thump coming from the door. She jumped a little in surprised, while the two others men didn’t look that much distressed when she turned to them.

“Just in time. I am sorry for the trouble, Manon, but could you open the door?”

“Y-yes…?”

Slowly, she walked towards the door and cracked it open on a centimetre, fearing something would fall right onto her feet. But nothing was behind. That was still a loud bang, something should be here. Opening the door entirely, she took a step outside the room, and looked around the hallway. That’s when she saw him.

A man was slumped against the wall, seemingly asleep, in a quite disturbing position. But after the loud noise, and seeing him in this position, her mind wandered toward the worst explanation, and she kneeled before him. She hesitated, before shaking his shoulder gently.

“Excuse me? Mister…!?”

The man cracked an eye open, and she sighed a little in relief. Thank Goodness, he’s not dead. She slumped on her feet, letting a hand on his arm, and was about to turn to le Comte when he suddenly pulled her closer in his lap.

She was shocked for a second, her heart biting an incoherent pattern, before her whole body relaxed when he gazed into her eyes. She felt strangely at ease, too much at ease in the embrace of a stranger, the dancing reflections of the lights in his eyes was all she could comprehend at that moment. They shone of an amber so deep, so vivid, that she could have sworn she saw them twirl, whirl and stir like a puff of smoke. She didn’t even want to push him away, she wanted him to hold her even closer. She let out a shaky breath when he spoke.

“… Never seen you before” he turned his gaze a little away, looking at the door, but she moved slightly as if she wanted him to look only at her—he didn’t notice the gesture. “Thought I’d wait patiently for my turn, but took you so long I fell asleep.”

So asleep he was.

Please, speak more.

He looked back at her and her fingers, which were still on his arm, tightened around his sleeve.

“So, you’re the one he was talking to?”

She knew he’d said something, but she wasn’t sure what, she wasn’t sure she had to say something, now that he looked at her as if he wanted her to speak. She couldn’t move. She just saw his lips move, maybe heard a muffled sound, but that was all. And he wasn’t letting go of her.

Seeing she wasn’t replying, and not even blinking at his question, he tilted his head.

“Hmm?”

She heard it, a curious and low hum escaped his mouth as if she was the strange one here and was wondering why she wasn’t doing anything.

Yet, as suddenly as she found herself trapped in her own body, she recovered from it when he chuckled, amused, letting go of her. She shuddered quite violently, bringing her hands around her arms and leaning away from him. He seemed to find funny the fact that she felt she wasn’t in control of her body any more. A soft ‘scusa’ left his lips, a beautiful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Did I surprise you?”

His voice was low, and warm, sounding caring when he asked her this question. Only them could hear him talk, like they were sharing a secret no one should know about. Her eyes found his once more, surprised that he’d talk to her and that, this time, she understood what he had said. Strangely, they didn’t have that same energy than a few seconds earlier.

“Yes…” she murmured.

“Heh. Your words match that look on your face. That’s unusual.”

He helped her to her feet. As he moved, a scent seemed to follow him, or emanate from him, she wasn’t sure. A light scent of cold tobacco was over-flowing from his coat, followed close by that of leather. She believed the scent of smoke to be repulsive, but his flowed strangely pleasingly in the air.

“And here he is. Our last resident.”

She spun around to see le Comte in the door frame, a fondness in his eyes.

“Hm? What? We’re introducing ourselves?” his voice sounded cranky, and he smiled once again when she looked back at him. “I’m Leonardo Da Vinci.”

Hearing his ‘scusa’ and the slight rolling of the R on his tongue, she could have guessed as much. Yet, Leonardo Da Vinci, that one was really impressive.

He must have understood her thoughts, just looking by the size of her eyes when she looked at him, and he chuckled, turning to his friend. She followed his gaze as well.

“You have met everyone, now, Manon. Aside from Sebastian and myself, nine of the greatest figures in History are gathered here.”

“I don’t know what happened, be you must have run out of luck to find yourself in this place.”

He ran a gloved hand through his hair. Now that he was speaking louder, she could hear the roughness in his voice, a sleepiness lingering in the back of his throat.

“W-why would you say that?” she dared to ask.

His eyebrows frowned slightly, joined by a small smile tugging at his lips. He looked at her like he would have at a small hurt animal. He didn’t need words to convey what his thoughts, she could have guessed. ‘You poor little thing, not having a clue what’s waiting for you…’, or something along the line.

“… Simply put, cara mia…”

Her brows rose slightly at the nickname. She had never spoken Italian, and didn’t know even the basics of this language, but ‘cara mia’ sounded quite the provocative nickname, if only by the inversion of the noun and determinant. She wouldn’t bother you readers with a scientific explanation of this phenomenon, but translated, this nickname resembled more a “darling of mine” than a simple “my darling”. It was inviting her to grow closer to him.

“I don’t think you’re going to enjoy it, here…”

But before she could think it any further, le Comte put himself between them, his sudden appearance making her forget about everything that just happened.

“We’ll talk this out tomorrow. For now, I’d like for you to rest,” passing his arm around her shoulders, he brought her along with him. “Sebastian prepared a room for you, further away from the other residents.”

“Thank you…”

She found the thought very considerate of them.

“It’s nothing, really.”

She wanted to turn around, maybe say goodbye to this Leonardo, or just check if he was still here, but she didn’t dare look over the arm around her shoulders.

The room they gave her could be described in one word: WOW. If the salon didn’t impress her much during the dinner, her room did. Like le Comte’s room, this one had for main colour a tender and soft beige. Unlike the warm feeling of the past room, and the austerity of the hallways, this room gave off a soothing vibe. She felt very much at ease, and let herself sunk into the bed. The bedsheets puffed a cloud of lavender, which relaxed her mind, and she sighed.

“Maybe it’s all just a dream, hm…” she whispered to herself, closing her eyes.

The stress and adventures of the night taking their toll on her, she fell asleep without even realizing.

But she woke up, her mind still hazy from the nap, to the creaking of the bed. Looking around, she noticed it was still night time, and wondered if she could have bumped something and woke herself up. But the rustle of the bedsheets made her freeze as she was about to turn around.

Someone’s here with her.

Someone’s here on the bed.

A second later, she could feel the bed sink slightly where her feet were, and she gasped before holding her breath.

Someone’s getting closer.

The bed sank, even deeper, just next to her waist, as if someone was leaning on their arm. She frowned and sensed her whole body tense as she felt a breath glide on her cheek.

“Who’s here!?”

She screamed, throwing her arm at where she thought the person was, only to have her wrist caught and pinned above her head.

“Let go of me! Don’t you fucking touch me!” she hurled, throwing her legs and her other fist at the person.

But they didn’t reply. All she could hear as an answer was the heavy breathing of that person as they tried to trap her under their own body. She couldn’t even move her hand from their grip, it didn’t even tremble, still and strong as a machine. Her wriggling didn’t make it easy for her capturer, but they somehow find their way to catch both of her legs under theirs, and pin her hands to the mattress. She moved and kicked, but to no avail. She was trapped like a prey, their weight holding her down. They weren’t even that heavy, yet they held her so firmly. Their strength was unbelievable.

Tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she started to scream.

“I’m screaming! If you touch me, I’ll call le Comte! They’ll call the police!”

She whined loudly when they panted in her ear, trying to at least free her hands.

She didn’t like the fact that they were so close. She didn’t like how their breath told her how exciting they found the situation. She didn’t like that they had the upper hand, didn’t like how much time they could have spent watching her in her sleep without her noticing.

And she despised the fact that, despite the situation, when they breathed and blew at the sensitive spot right under her ear, she felt that strange feeling pulsing through her neck and down her whole body.

“Don’t touch me…” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks.

She tried desperately to hide her neck from them, panting heavily.

“Don’t move…”

_____________________

II > III > ...

#the amber in her soul #ikemen vampire #napoléon #wolfgang #leonardo #arthur #osamu #le comte #sebastian #vincent #theodorus #isaac #jean #william #pivoinewrites

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blackcoffeeandteardrops · 6 years

Text

Keep On Wanting

Inspired in part because of a prompt sent from @firstofoctober. Also, because am always game from h/c and post finale angst, with a side of William angst. Le sigh. Under the cut, but also at AO3.

She doesn’t speak the entire way home. That fact doesn’t concern Mulder too much, especially in light of everything they’ve been through and all they’ve just seen, but when he pulls up to their house and she doesn’t even bother to move, he begins to worry. “Scully?” he calls, reaching across the console to brush the hair from her cheek. “Honey, we gotta go inside. We’re home.”

Scully looks up slowly, eyes glassy, and nods in resignation. There’s a baby growing inside her, a fact which would have made her leap with joy if this had been a decade and about a thousand memories ago, but all she can think of is the son slowly sinking into inky black water. A voice whispers inside, telling her Mulder has lost just as much as she has and therefore they should be sharing the burden, but she still can’t bring herself to move. Mulder reaches for her seatbelt, unclipping it, and when he gets out to open her door, she lets him lead her inside.

Mulder takes her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door, before doing the same thing with his own, even though it’s still caked with blood. He’ll handle it later, either by having it cleaned or burning it, he’s not sure which. When he rests his hands on Scully’s shoulders, intent on leading her to sit down, he realizes that she’s shaking. “Why don’t you go take a shower? It’ll warm you up, maybe relax--”

“I’m fine,” she replies, protesting with the last strands of strength that remain in her body. Taking a shower after her world has been turned upside down seems insignificant and wrong, but when Mulder presses on her back, urging her upstairs, she again lets him guide her. “I can do it,” she says, reaching for the hem of her shirt at the same time he does. He moves away from her to turn the shower on and she nearly whimpers at the absence of his presence, but he’s back before she has a chance to show it. She’s torn between needing him there and wanting to hollow out what’s left of herself until she disappears altogether.

If she minds him being in the shower with her, she doesn’t show it. Mulder lathers up a sponge and rubs it across her shoulders and then down her back, watching in silence as the soapy water cascades down her body. He gives her hip a gentle squeeze, rubbing his thumb softly against the small of her back. “Turn around,” he whispers, finding it difficult and somehow wrong to speak much louder when she isn’t saying anything at all. He runs the sponge across her chest, careful and slow as the hot water turns her a soft shade of pink, but he stops as soon as he reaches her abdomen. He squeezes the sponge, hovering like he’s not quite sure where it should land, until her hand grips his wrist and pulls it against her. The sudden movement makes him gasp, and he opens his mouth a few times before finally braving the question he’s wondered for the past few hours. “How long have you known?”

“I suspected a few days ago, but my doctor called earlier today and confirmed my suspicions,” she says, staring at the soap bubbles that have ended up on his chest rather than looking him in the eye. If she does, she’s certain she’ll crumble apart. “I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure. After everything…” she trails off, her chin quivering and he pulls her close. They stay in the shower, clinging to each other like a lifesource, until the water runs cold.

Later, once they’ve dried off and have changed for bed, Mulder pulls the covers back, watching as Scully cradles the snowglobe she’d stolen from William--Jackson, he corrects himself--when they’d been at his home months ago. He thinks of the small hotel room in which he’d found his son, and of the briefest of hugs he’d given him the second he opened the door. Maybe he was pushing boundaries, he knew that much, but the second Mulder saw him he hadn’t been able to help it. Scully hadn’t had the chance to see their son in such a way, and he ached for her knowing she wouldn’t again get the chance. Still, as she turns the snowglobe in her hands, slowly tilting it to and fro, he’s desperate to pull her out of the nearly catatonic trance she’s been in ever since they left the docks. “Can you--” he pauses, clearing his throat even as he finds talking more strenuous for himself. “Can you say something? Anything, please. I just--”

“What is it you want me to say?” she replies, finally looking up at him. His red rimmed eyes don’t come as a surprise, although guiltily she realizes she hasn’t been able to comfort him as he cried. Still, there’s a trickle of ice seeping through her, preventing her from staying warm for any length of time, in spite of the shower they just took and the blankets covering them. Something flickers in Mulder’s expression and for a second it’s not him she sees, but William, who looks (looked, she thinks, her chest all but caving in), so exactly like him. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Mean what?” Mulder asks, not quite catching on to her meaning.

“I know what Skinner said, and I also know who he got it from. I don’t care what that cigarette smoking son of a bitch said, William is our son. Yours, and mine. And now he’s...he’s gone, Mulder. And I said--” Scully stops, reaching for a box of kleenex on the nightstand and furiously pulling one out to dab at her eyes.

“Hey, come here,” Mulder says, pulling her to him. He hooks a finger under her chin, urging her to look at him. “You didn’t mean it, Dana. I know that. He does, too.”

“How can he know that?” she asks, reminded of the moment hours before when William had appeared to her as Mulder, telling her he knew she loved him. A parting gift, she thought, although neither of them knew it at the time. “He told me he knows, but how is that possible? I gave him up, Mulder. That was my choice. I thought by giving up our son, I’d be giving him a better chance at life. All of these years, that’s the hope that kept me going. To know that he was out there, learning about the world and growing up. But to see him like that, to know how he ends up?”

The question hangs like the blade of a guillotine, glistening sharply over their heads. For a few moments, Mulder can’t bring himself to do anything but hold her. He’d asked her to speak because seeing her so quiet scared him, but now that she’s voicing thoughts long held, he’s afraid of what it might do to her. He presses a kiss to her forehead and breathes in deep. “We should get some rest. It’s been a long couple of days.”

Stubborn as ever, Scully shakes her head, again dabbing at her eyes with the tissue. “How am I supposed to sleep when he’s out there? When he’s--”

“Okay, honey, I love you. I do. But you can’t do this to yourself,” Mulder says, wiping at a stray tear on her cheek with his thumb. “You can’t spend the whole night contemplating possibilities. You love him. I do, too. No matter what Skinner or anyone else says, nothing can change that,” he continues, hoping for now it will be enough. His next move is risky, but when he ghosts his palm against her still flat belly, he lets out a sigh in relief when she doesn’t pull away. When she’d given him the news a few hours ago, he didn’t understand how it was possible. He still doesn’t, but he knows now they both have something to fight for.

Scully laces their fingers together, letting their joined hands rest against her stomach for a second, until suddenly it’s too much, and she pries them away. How many moments like this, reveling at the impossibility of a new life growing inside of her, were they robbed of the first time around? How many appointments and check ups and milestones had Mulder missed? How many had they both been robbed of once she’d made the difficult decision to give William up? She throws her legs over the side of the bed and is halfway across the room before she even realizes it.

“Scully--”

“Don’t,” she replies, her back to him as she faces the window. “How can I bring myself to be excited at all about this child, when I couldn’t protect William? How can I expect to give them a good life?”

Muldes sidles up behind her, hovering a hand at her shoulder before letting it fall to his side, feeling like touching her at this point might cause her to come even more unglued. “We just...we have to do the best we can. Take things one day at a time,” he replies. The words are weak and don’t hold much weight, but there’s nothing much left for him to do. The memory of their son, eyes wide and full of fear, cocking his head to the side and making people explode, is a sight he won’t soon forget. Neither is the look on Scully’s face, part agony and part hope, when she explained there was another child on the way. They’ve been dealt far more than they can handle for one night, so much so that it’s a miracle they’re still standing. “I miss him, too. So much,” he says, his voice breaking. The way her shoulders sag and she starts to shake chips away the last of his resolve to not encroach on her space. “Scully, c’mere, let’s go to bed. We don’t have to sleep, or do anything else. Just let me hold you.”

“Wait,” she says once his arm curls around her waist. She presses a palm to the window, chilled slightly by the air outside, and stares through the dark at the treeline, fixing her eyes on a shadowy spot that even at night seems a bit too dense. There’s a flash of something, a pop of color maybe. A face--William’s face, she thinks, even if it can’t be true--slowly comes into focus, but it’s gone before she can give it too much thought.

“What is it?” Mulder asks, his voice laden with concern. When she turns towards him, curling into his side, there’s something in her expression that he can’t quite place. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she replies, the word a laugh more than anything else. She thinks of the figure she saw amongst the trees, and she knows it’s impossible--like so many other things they’ve witnessed as of late--and yet she can’t stop hoping that what she thinks she saw was true. Still, there’s no way for her to tell Mulder she thinks William might have made it after all without direct evidence to back it up. Giving him false hope at such a juncture would be a killing blow. “I thought I saw something. I don’t know,” she says, laughing despite the anxiety she feels bubbling in her gut. She wants to run into the woods, to holler and yell her son’s name until her throat is raw or until he shows his face, whichever comes first. If the second option is even reality, she thinks with a sigh. “Maybe I could get some rest. Time for bed?”

Mulder agrees, walking over to his side and opening his arms for her in invitation as soon as she settles in. “We should check with the hospital in the morning. See how Skinner and Agent Reyes are doing.”

Scully nods against his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat. “Yes. We should,” she replies, her words coming out at the end of a yawn. She may be bitter at Skinner for believing in and telling her a false narrative, but that doesn’t mean she wants him getting hurt. Or Reyes either, for that matter. She closes her eyes and snakes an arm around Mulder’s waist. When she sleeps, she sees their son. She sees him running through trees, his feet splashing through puddles, blood and dirt caked on his face while his hair sticks to his forehead. Eventually, she sees four white walls and a painting best described as generic, but there’s also a bed and a feeling of security and warmth.

I’m okay, a voice echoes inside her head. She’s only heard him speak via the security tape from the gas station, but she immediately knows it’s William. I’m safe. I’m sorry for everything, and I’ll contact you again when I can.

In the morning, Mulder wakes up in bed alone. He sits up, hand pressing at the indent on Scully’s side of the mattress in panic. It takes a few seconds for the scent of coffee brewing downstairs to register. When he enters the kitchen he sees her sitting at the table, mug resting between her palms, a lighter expression than he’s seen more recently written across her face. “Coffee?” he asks, pointing to her mug.

Scully shakes her head, eyeing him with trepidation. “Coffee’s for you,” she says, pointing at the coffee pot before gesturing to her own mug. “This is green tea.”

He considers a joke about caffeine during pregnancy and whether or not it’s good for the baby, but decides against it. This is all so new they haven’t had much chance to discuss how they feel about it.

“Mulder, when you’re done there, can you come sit down?” Scully asks, watching him move about the kitchen with an air of impatience. He does as requested, sitting across from her and reaching out his hand for her to hold. She stares into her tea rather than looking up at him. “I’m not sure how to say this, because I’m not sure I understand it myself. I think…” she trails off, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks up at the ceiling, searching for a better way to explain the things she’s seen.

“Scully, you’re scaring me. What is it?” Mulder asks, his pulse drumming loudly in his ears. He traces his calloused fingertips across the underside of her wrist, feeling for her pulse.

“William is alive,” she says, thinking it best to just rip the band aid off. His fingers freeze in place, his hand tightly gripping hers. She doesn’t have to look at him to know his eyebrows have shot up in surprise, but she glances at him anyway. “I know it sounds crazy. I know what you saw last night, but he came to me in my dreams, and I saw him, Mulder. I felt him. While I don’t understand how, he’s alive.”

It’s the most animated he’s seen her in a long while, and it’s her certainty that makes him believe what she’s saying. “Okay,” he replies, slowly nodding his head. “So he’s alive. That’s good. That’s...really good. But how is he?”

“He told me that he’s safe, that he’ll contact us again when he can,” she says, briefly wondering how many times she’ll replay the words he spoke to her and knowing she’s already lost count. “You’re not going to tell me to wait on scientific proof? To not get my hopes up?”

“A mother knows, Scully, and while you might not have raised him? You’re still his mother. So yes, I believe you,” Mulder replies, resolute.

“I thought I saw him last night, in the trees behind the house. I didn’t want to say anything because I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But he’s alive, Mulder. Our son is alive. He wants to reach out,” she says, an odd mix of awe and disbelief stirring in her veins. “You really don’t think I’m crazy?”

“As someone who until quite recently has been a federal agent tasked with investigating strange and unexplainable cases, I’ve seen my fair share of crazy. As have you,” he replies, giving her hand another squeeze. “But no, Scully. I don’t. If you believe he’s out there and he’s going to contact us again, then so do I.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding in reply. “We’ve probably lost our badges after all of this, haven’t we?”

Mulder shrugs, settling back in the chair and stretching his hands behind his head. The burden of losing their son hasn’t entirely been lifted, but he’s a little lighter now, having learned of William’s escape from what they feared to be certain death. “If the missed calls from Kirsch are any indication, then yes. We can stop by the hospital on the way to hand in our badges in. He can handle a few more hours of us avoiding him.”

“Are you ready to stay at home again?” she asks, knowing what it did to him, and to them by extension, the last time they were forced out.

“Things are different now, Scully. I’m better. We’re better. And, you know, we have a child to fight for. Two of them, actually,” he replies, his foot finding hers under the table and giving it a subtle nudge. “We’re in our fifties and we’re going to be parents to a newborn. Can we handle that?”

She draws a deep breath to steady herself. “I believe so, but it’ll certainly take some getting used to. Speaking of which, when we visit the hospital, I’d like to schedule an ultrasound. It’ll give us a better idea of how things are going.”

The fact he wasn’t around the first time this all happened doesn’t escape him, and as he stands back up, he doubts she’s forgotten that either. “Let’s get a move on, then. Scoot your boot and all that, Scully. We need to see how our peanut is doing.”

“Peanut? Mulder, we don’t even know if we’ll be able to get an appointment today, and even if we do, at this stage it’s likely that not much will be clear,” she replies, but even as she does, she gets the impression her words are useless. His excitement is infectious however, and soon a smile spreads across her lips. “You don’t think it’s risky? Letting ourselves look forward to this so soon?”

“Maybe it’s a risk, but it’s one I’m willing to take,” he says. When she joins him in the doorway, he nods, swallowing slowly. “William is alive. He’s out there somewhere, and he’s okay. And this baby is growing safe and healthy. We may be out of our jobs, but after everything we’ve endured, don’t you think we’re owed some kind of win?”

“We are,” she replies, thinking his words to be an understatement. She ushers him upstairs to get ready, and when they leave she risks a glance at the trees, hoping to see William there but already knowing she won’t. He said he’ll contact her again, and for now that’s all the hope she needs. As Mulder pulls out onto the main road she rests a hand against her stomach, imagining the life growing there, and she thinks of William. She doesn’t know when he’ll reach her again, let alone how, but she knows it can’t come soon enough.

#msr #txf #fanfic #kind of glad with how this one turned out #i just like them a lot

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write-bout-idiots · 6 years

Text

Safe place | Javid

Anon: can i request some javid angst w/ a happy ending? 👀👀

Summary: Davey wants to tell more people about his relationship. Jack wants to keep it as a secret. Why risking everything when they already have a safe place to be?

Word count: 2063.

A/N: Angst and happy endings are my favorite thing to do, thank you so much for the request! Also, who cares about complete historical accuracy when you can have happy gay and bi boys? not me. (Tell me of any gramatical errors!)

When Miss Medda Larkin found Jack Kelly and Davey Jacobs kissing at the back door of her theater, she offered them a safe place.

“Don’t worry about me, kids.” she said “I don’t care who you like or what you do, but there’s people out there that do. I know you’re aware of that.”

The boys listened, still in shock and with the fear of being caught still running through their veins. Medda guided them to one of the dressing rooms, deep down in one of the corridors in the theatre.

“You can come here wherever you feel like it.” she assured them, placing some old blankets on top of a table. She walked towards Jack, who hadn’t let go of Davey’s hand since they had been caught, and pinched his cheek. “I know you’re tough guys and I know there’s nothing wrong with this, but I’m just worried about you. Okay?”

The boys nodded in silence. Medda smiled.

“I have to go. Come here whenever you want and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” she winked at them.

“That’s leaves a lot of options” Jack laughed.

Before Medda could answer back, Davey had his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Thank you” he mumbled “it means a lot.”

Medda pulled Jack into the hug. “I love you, kids. You’re with Medda now.“

A few months later, Davey walked into the room in the middle of the night. Jack was already there, reading a book, he didn’t look up.

"Hello, beautiful. What took you so long?” he asked

“Les takes ages falling asleep” Davey gave him a kiss on the forehead before taking his hat off.

“I thought he ended up dead after selling all day” Jack responded, laying down.

They had put all the blankets on the floor. There wasn’t much space but they didn’t really mind; they liked being close, cuddling most of the time. A few days earlier Davey had hung some of Jack’s drawing on the wall, Davey brought some of his books and they were spread across the table along with lots of pencils and colors that Jack collected to draw. They had made a little cozy home in that tiny, dark and usually cold dressing room.

Davey lied down besides his boyfriend and they stared at the ceiling in silence for a while. They could hear the end of Medda’s show in the background, after months the sound was familiar. The cheers of the audience turned and the tangled legs became part of their routines.

“Does anyone know?” Davey asked after one of the louder cheers silenced.

“Crutchie.” Jack leaned in closer. “Everyone thinks I’m on the roof with him, he makes sure no one realizes I’m not.” He started drawing little stars on Davey’s arm. “You?”

Davey sighed “I think Sarah has seen me get out of the window, but she hasn’t said anything about it”

“That’s good, she probably thinks you go to see some lady” Jack let out a soft laugh.

Davey grumbled and sat down. “Maybe I should tell her. She won’t care”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s safer like this.” Jack pulled his boyfriend’s arm and rested his head on his chest. He could feel his heart beating fast, but preferred not to mention it. “Go to sleep.”

And so they did.

It was only week later when Davey had to spend the night alone in the dressing room. They had come to a deal a long time before: They met up every night, except on Fridays and Saturdays (because there is a lot of people out at night those days), there’s no specific time, just whenever they can sneak out without anyone noticing and if, for any reason, they couldn’t go, they had to tell the other before so they don’t get scared to death.

The next morning, Jack walked late to get his paper as if nothing had happened. Davey walked to him as soon as he saw him.

“Where were you?” he whispered

Jack patted his shoulder, a cocky smile on his face. “Hey, Dave. How’s the headline today?”

“Jack” his voice sounded like a warning.

“We can talk later,” Jack’s tone softened “I promise.”

A few hours later, Jack was dragged into an alley to finally get that talk.

“I waited all night, are you okay?” Davey’s voice was filled with fear, he kept his hands on the pockets of his pants to stop the urge to hold the other boy’s hand.

Jack looked around before talking, with every word he went lower. “Race and Finch saw me leave two nights in a row. Crutch told them that I was with him but they don’t believe him anymore and yesterday they started teasing, I had to stay.”

“I thought you said that Race and Albert kissed once. I… I think they won’t mind.” Davey spoke slowly, walking closer to Jack.

“It was a dare.” He spoke quickly “They can’t know, I don’t want them to.” His voice was sharp and his accent thicker than ever.

Davey felt tears coming from his throat, he sighed and looked away.

“So you’re not coming anymore?”

Jack checked for people again and finally reached out to his boyfriend’s face, making him look into his eyes.

“Give me five days, they will forget about it and I’ll be back.”

Davey smiled. “Fine.”

“You look so beautiful when you smile.”

His finger stroked the boy’s jaw for a moment before they heard a laugh from somewhere in the streets.

Jack jumped back and put his hands back on his pockets. They walked away, together, but separated by a few feet.

The five days passed and Davey saw Jack get into their little dressing room. It was a hot night and the air felt thick and warm. Jack started taking off his shirt.

“Hey, I missed you.” Said Davey from the floor, watching his boyfriend’s shirt fall.

“We just talked like an hour ago.” Jack giggled as he sat down and gave Davey a little kiss on the cheek. Davey didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

“I told Sarah.” Jack froze in place, Davey talked faster. “She didn’t mind. She said it was okay and that she likes you. I think I want to tell my-“

“What the fuck, Dave?” Jack interrupted, making Davey jump. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone.”

Davey sat straighter, trying to feel bigger than his boyfriend. “She’s my sister and she’s okay with it, fuck off”

Jack brushed him off, not really bothered by the response “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want them to know?”

“Did you ever stop to think that I do? Do you even care?” Davey was screaming.

For the first time in months the room felt too small to hold both of them. He was sweating. When he tried to reach for Jack’s arm, he took his shirt from the floor and stood up.

“Where are you going now?” Davey stood up too as Jack opened the door. “Why are you so embarrassed of this? You said that if you could, you would scream you’re with me!”

“Shut up.” Jack whispered, aware of the show happening in the same building. “Miss Medda is doing us a favor and you’re ruining the whole thing.”

They walked out, Davey following Jack with tears in his eyes. Somehow, the anger was taking over his sadness and frustration. Jack wasn’t even listening to him. He didn’t care what he wanted, all he needed was the comfort of having him around in that tiny, hidden, lonely and dark room every night. Having a guy deeply in love with him waiting across the city.

“Am I really that bad? Why do you keep coming if you don’t want it?” He kept asking questions without thinking, his mouth spitting all the thoughts he had flying around for weeks. Jack thanked the people for going to sleep so early that specific day and turned around, knowing exactly where he had to go.

“Answer me! We could tell some people but you probably don’t even like me that much. What did I do wrong? I’ve been trying so hard and I’m so fucking scared when I’m with you! I’m trying to make this better for both of us!”

“Davey” Jack stopped in front of a building. The sudden silence made Davey realize how loud he had been and all of the nonsense he had said.

“I’m sorry” He whispered.

He finally looked up to see the lodging house in front of them, all the lights were out and the windows were open. The air felt heavier. Jack walked towards one of the windows and climbed in.

“What are you doing? Let’s get back. I’m sorry” Davey whispered.

Jack shushed him, “No, come in.”

Once in, they both paralyzed. Too scared to even move.

“We should go” Davey’s voice sounded like a whistle.

Jack looked in front of him, to all of his friends; kids that he trusted more than anything and loved with his whole life. At his side he had a guy that he had known for months but that he loved in a different way. He took his hand, he was cold and clammy. He didn’t think that he could feel love like that. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t a girl, as he had hoped at some point. He couldn’t be embarrassed of it.

“Jack, I’m serious-“Jack cut him off with a kiss, making Davey let out a soft squeak.

Jack saw his boyfriend’s eyes close and put his hands on his waist, holding him closer and closing his eyes too.

Then one light turned on, and a series of gasps followed. Davey closed his eyes tighter and broke the kiss to hide his face on jack’s chest. He could feel the stares. The air was unbreathable.

“This is not what I meant.” He whispered, trembling.

Jack cleared his throat and hugged him tighter, looking around to his friends. “Does anyone have a problem with this?” He asked, his voice betraying him and breaking at the end.

The boys stared in silence. Davey pulled away from the hug in time to see Elmer slowly rise his hand. Jack and Davey held their breath.

“I thought Jack was with Crutchie.”

Everybody in the room laughed and the kids started to stand up to hug their friends.

“We don’t care, guys. We’re happy for you.” Said Albert, patting Davey’s back. “How long have you been together?”

“Seven months” he answered, grinning.

“And four days” Jack interrupted, all of the boys beside him started yawning. “I want to say something before everyone goes back to sleep”

All of the kids sat on the beds, including Davey. Jack danced in his place as he spoke.

“First of all, I’m sorry that it’s so late, but I was being an idiot.”

“Well that’s not news” said Race, laughing. Jack ignored him.

“I was too scared and Davey wasn’t. And he was right all the time but I wanted to play it safe. I wanted to protect us but ended up hurting him and it was a mess, you don’t really care about the drama.” The kids giggled. “We can’t go around screaming what we have, it’s not safe right now. But I’m happy that you know and it’s very comforting to see you couldn’t care less.” He ended on a laugh. “Buttons and Smalls are already asleep. That’s all.”

The kids gave a short applause and went back to sleep. Davey walked to Jack and held his hand, smiling.

“You’re really an idiot” he whispered.

“We’re about to tell your parents, I have to be a huge idiot to agree on that” Jack snorted.

Davey squeezed his hand. “Yeah, I think we can wait on that. I’m tired.”

The last light turned off and they sneaked back out of the window. In no time they were back at the theatre, and in their little safe place.

It was still warm and a little suffocating, but it felt good again. Now the dressing room wasn’t the only place where everyone in the room knew about them, but it was theirs. And they were happy.

Davey called Jack’s name.

“Yes, babe?” Jack said, his voice raspy and sleepy.

“I love you.”

Jack smiled. “I love you too.”

After a kiss, they finally fell asleep.

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winters-lust · 6 years

Text

A Dangerous Stunt | Jason, Winter & Layla

@professor-shaw

Winter was hard at work. Every surface of her basement was covered in books and ingredients. Tomes many thousands of years older than she lie open with notes and pages strewn about. Bottles sat open, powders of various substances exploded from her mortar and pestle and some ingredients even lay as bookmarks within grimoire. She's had enough of being guilted with her existence it was time for the only compromise she could find. Above all the library pieces that lay about sat two pages more important than the rest. The sacred pages that held an unfinished spell could be the key to living as she wanted. She moved about a table, referring to those pages as she set two beds, one of thorns and evergreens and the other of roses and lavender. The door to her basement creaked open and she called up to who she imagined was there.

"Jeffrey, have you finally brought down that rose oil I asked for hours ago," she didn't speak with her usually command or sass, too deep in her work.

All two weeks long, Jason had been forcing himself to stay away from the whole situation..which was a first, in itself. And hell, maybe it was heartache, or whatever kids called it these days, but he had definitely lost all of himself. Truth is, that he wasn't better of..that he needed to get involved again, no matter what the cost was. So, naturally, when he had heard about what had gone down in the chat room...he had worried..a lot. He just couldn't hold himself back..and in a matter of hours, Jason had taken off to the wicked witch of the west's house. He had rolled over to a small parking space..hopped off and went straight for the entrance, bold as that was, surprised to get Jeffrey at the door out of all people.

But something was clearly off with him. The look on his face..the light shaking of his hands..every little sign of tension led the human to think about the worst. They exchanged a few words and he had given him..a strange oil bottle, pointing him in a direction. /Fuck, what the hell was he getting into? What was Winter doing?/ Jace shook his head, accepting the proposition regardless of any invading thoughts and met face to face with the mess that was her basement, his eyes going wide at every single detail in it..a scoff passing through his lips. "Sorry. Not Jeffrey."

Winter froze for a moment, then her shoulders relaxed. Fine, if Jason wanted to weasel his way into her home she could use him. She refused to look at him as she continued her work. Setting the beds correctly. "I told my staff not to let anyone disturb my work." It wasn't really a question, just a curiosity as to how Jason ended up down here.

"I'm guessing this isn't a social visit," she continued. She cast a glance towards him without really looking and noted the jar in her peripherals. She reached out and took it without a glance and motioned her hand to call over an important ingredient.

A clay recreation of Layla floated into the room and Winter directed it to lay on the bed of Rose and Lavender. She knew there would be questions but she was too busy to stop and shoo the boy away. With the jar in hand she added fresh Rose oil to the clay, adding to the shine of the statue. Where it in colour, one might assume it was a sleeping Layla for all it's meticulous detail.

"What do you want, Jacie?"

"The man was pretty scared," Jason added as an end to his previous thought, not sure why his grip had decided to tighten around the object all of a sudden. It might have been the anger bubbling up under the surface or the built up anticipation brought on by this moment, but the male was sure none of this would be easy. And he was going to answer further..try to step forward somehow, when she made an unmistakable replica of herself float into the room..making him loose track of everything else, even his thoughts. "It was..until you made it /not/ social. What the hell is goin' on in here Winter?" he groaned in complain as his eyebrows furrowed annoyedly, "Why am I hearin' you're letting Layla out in potentially dangerous situations? Have you finally lost it?"

She grit her teeth with anger. She'd forgotten how brass and bold he could be.

"I don't exactly have a choice when it happens," she spoke and murmured the rest, "Being knocked unconscious can do that." Stupid Magnus. She'd have to sort that out at some point.

She turned very suddenly, meetin Jason's eyes and getting right in his personal space with a commanding tone that doubled as a threat. "And I don't owe you an explanation for anything I do." She stayed there for a moment, glaring at the man before she turned back to her work. She grabbed a bowl and knife and sliced open a deep cut from wrist to inner elbow. The blood poured out of her, filling the bowl before she grabbed her wound and wrapped a bandage around it. She'd heal it later.

She began mixing other ingredients into it, checking with her books and notes. A concentrated frown set on her face as she concentrated on her work.

Jace had been right about to blurt out an answer, say anything in his mind, when she got right up in his space, causing him to go a bit still..if not bothered. She always did have that effect on him whenever they would be together in the same place but it had gotten most uncomfortable ever since she had forced herself onto him in front of his friends by using that goddamn spell. The human just breathed soundly, eyes narrowing further at her earlier comment about being knocked out unconscious before going impossibly wide as she cut herself..."Fuck! What the hell are you doin'?" he gasped..but his words came out hushed, like he just lost control of himself.

Was she trying to give him a heart attack or something? Jace felt his jaw tighten and felt weak..stupid for being here, but he had not forgotten why he'd come. "I want to see her." he spoke up, "And I'll do anythin' I have to..if you'd just let me do that."

She rolled her eyes at his desperate pleas to see Layla but stopped at his last words.

"... Anything?" she asked. Her mind turned with ideas. She waited a moment, contemplating the risks and rewards before she began speaking.

"I'm working a rather difficult spell today, one that you'll actually enjoy." She continued to mix ingredients into her bowl of blood as she continued. "I'll be trying to separate Layla and I. She would find purchase in the clay form which would become real and I would remain in this body. No more whiney innocents worrying about the precious life she was never suppose to have."

She finished and moved to grab the sacred pages, holding them for Jace to see without letting him tough them. "There's a spell at the end of these pages that can do it but I'm missing the end. I've done my research but I can't be sure I'm doing anything right until it's over, so I'm stacking the deck as it were."

She put the page down and moved to the two beds of plants. "The more ritual and strength I put into this spell the better chance it will work." She began drawing sigils between the two beds with her fingers in the thick blood from her bowl. "As a man who so annoyingly cares for Layla, perhaps you could be used in the spell. Namely your blood." She finished and turned to Jason. "I won't lie. It will hurt." If she used his power in the way she hopped he would feel it all through his body.

She waited to see if he'd bite the bait for his precious Layla.

"Anything." Jace blurted out once with enough determination in his voice to prove he was a hundred percent honest. It was a bold, crazy idea to put his life practically in such hands, he knew. But what else could he hold up against her? All he had was a copy of that damned spell and no means. So imagine his surprise when she confessed to being in the works of doing that very same spell herself, his eyes now narrowing down on the tiny actions of her hands..every flick of the wrist, every single ingredient..but above all..the body she'd prepared on the other side of the room as soon as she mentioned it. "..so what, you're just winging that part?" He laughed almost humourlessly.

No, he couldn't believe she was actually giving in to his initial request. That she was doing this and that this...would give Layla the chance they'd both been after. It was only too perfect to be real..which naturally made him hesitate a bit before rolling up his sleeve. "..Blood. Sure.."

She waved his comment off. Yes she was winging it and anyone else might have thought she was crazy too but what other choice did she have? The island population wouldn't leave her alone.

"Delilah Rose is in hiding ever since she helped me against Peter, so I can't ask for the rest of the spell. A secret like that will only exist in Les Chroniques du Sang Vide so I can't find the spell somewhere else, so 'winging it' is the only way." She explained as she went for a knife. She returned to Jason's side, seeing him roll up his sleeves and smiling a bit.

She was sure to meet his eyes, "In a manner of speaking," then she thrust the blade into his gut, stabbing him deep all the way to the hilt. She pulled it back out with a swift motion and even went so far as to lick her finger of his blood as she turned to put the blade away.

"I need you on the verge of death." She looked over her shoulder at him. "Don't worry, you'll be fine," her tone was as though she hadn't just stabbed a man. She turned back to her pages, flipping through a few with her clean hand. "As you lose life, the clay form will gain it. Aha!" She smiled and moved to grab a small pouch from the shelf. She brought the hex bag back and unwound enough of the leather cord tying it shit to wrap it around Jason's upper arm and tie it in place. "If you do die, that will revive you at the last moment." She winked at him.

"Now get your hand nice and bloody and place a hand over Layla's heart," she pointed at the clay figure that would soon be Layla.

But Peter was gone, right? That had to mean that she had no reason to hide anymore...Jace shook his head at the thought, having way too many questions about this and knowing she would not have them answered to the extent that he wanted them to anyway. So frown. Frown he did. Almost missing out on the knife. He had honestly thought she would cut him like last time..but that whole thing changed at a scarily dangerous pace.

Before he could register any of it a pain, similar to what he had experienced with Naomi only a couple of weeks back, became to intense to ignore. It nearly blinded him..a breathy gasp leaving his lips in one go as his hand curled around the object plunged into his stomach.. "..fine?" he scoffed,..but focusing on her wouldn't work when he was loosing so much blood..the thought of Quinten just crossing his mind..he could call him. He should..but he was to think of Layla and Layla only right now.

So as she placed the hex back around his arm, the human put all his strength on throwing himself towards the bed she laid on, managing to jut about do what he was told before all his gravity sunk him down to his knees.

She began stripping her clothing, changing into a greek style chiffon robe, the same that the sculpture had been carved to wear. "I am certain this spell originates from Greece and so robes blessed by Hera might...." she stopped as she turned to see Jason so weak beside the beds.

Winter scoffed and moved to his aid. She placed a hand on his aid. She dragged over a chair and lifted him with magic to sit. Then she took his hand and placed it where it needed to be. "There, now stay," she commanded as though he was weak by his own choice.

"Best get this show on the road." Winter moved to lay on the bed of thorns and ever greens. It was a little painful but that could be ignored. She closed her eyes and began chanting.

"Diachoríste tis psychés. Apeleftheróste tin ypodochí tis. Anapnéfste ti zoí se piló. Afíste ti na meínei. Layla Genníthike kai páli."

The wind began to pick up as she did, not storm like as before but a breeze that flipped the pages of the books around and played in the candle flames around. There was an odd echo to her voice that didn't match the room.

Still, she never stopped, going into a trance as she cast her spell.

Jason had begun to breathe way more erratically by the time she joined his side back, his blood cascading down his lower half, a sign he was going to lose his consciousness eventually if he kept forcing it. Soon, however, he was sat on a hair, his form bending forward mechanically as his hand laid onto the right spot again. Stay..right..he could do that.

He did not see her move onto the other bed, despite his best efforts, but the words...the spell did not go amiss, noting the strange echo she'd adopted..then the breeze.

All he could think about was some silly hope about this whole thing working and perhaps a selfish wish that he might survive it long enough to be with her.

She continued the words, feeling a lifting that she knew meant it was working. Were she to break concentration she might see a distortion in the air above her, catching the light in a strange way that seemed crystalline. Perhaps she's almost see rainbow colours in that distortion, which was Layla's soul. Though she could still feel the tether inside with her, her body felt roomie as the slight distortion moved towards the clay.

Layla felt something was off. She was numb to senses as was expected in the dark but she was feeling.... cold? Empty? Void? There wasn't a word to describe it but she was afraid. "What's going on?" Her voice floated into the nothingness.

"What's going on?" It was Winter's new voice but so different. It seemed to have no origin point, only echoing in the room. It dawned on her that she'd never heard Layla's voice before. It was... pretty and light. Winter continued to chant and move the girl but... something was not right. She was feeling, pulled, strained perhaps. She ignored it and pressed on. Her echoing chant began to stutter just a bit, sounding forced out rather than trance like.

Jason was slowly drifting into a state of unconsciousness, the breeze having worked so far as to help him stay there just a little bit longer..as did the events occurring to the clay body. He felt cold...so cold his hands almost felt like separate limbs..until a voice cracked through the darkness.

It was soft, alien...and yet so familiar to the point where it gave him the last push to force his eyes open again, his head lifting from the table.../wait./ he thought /could this be...?/ "L-layla?" he rasped, barely audible, "Layla..is that you?" Jace gripped at the body's hand, throwing a look over his shoulder over to Winter, seemingly lifted in the air.

He couldn't detect anything going wrong..and in fact, little did he know..he just cared to speak up one last time. "It's me. Jace..just keep goin'.."

Layla heard the voice which was odd as she shouldn't be able to hear anything. Behind his voice was a low chanting. What was going on? "Jace... I don't know what's happening. What-" her words cut off.

Winter flinched, jerking hard as she felt it, like a rope that had reached it's end. The tension continued and she felt a ripping sensation. Winter called out a bit but forced the chant to continue. This was working This was the moment to pull her...

A high pitched scream emitted but it wasn't from Winter. It was from Layla. It was pain but Winter pressed on.... which was a mistake. She fell hard onto the bed beneath her and screamed.

"Stop! Please Stop!" Layla screamed. The pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt. It seemed to hurt everywhere in a way that was more than physical pain. She screamed again. "Jace! JACE!" she just wanted him to hold her, comfort her and save her.

This wasn't right! This wasn't how the spell should work, how it should feel. Winter forced out her words but it was agonizing. The thorns and ever greens beneath her lit on fire, though the flames didn't burn her skin. She felt.... like she was tearing herself in two rather than just removing Layla. "No!" She exclaimed! "I can do this!" With force of will she pushed on, ignoring Layla's unending screams.

"Stop it! Stop it Please!" She could feel it, tears and gashes. Her soul wasn't being torn from Winter's... it was being torn apart. "Stop it! You're ripping me apart!! STOP!"

Winter didn't listen! She pressed on, even as the clay mold beside her began to melt, dripping through the floral bed to the floor.

"I know, sweetheart..." The human pressed his one hand to the wound on his stomach, hopefully stopping some of the bleeding, if not giving him something to hold onto, even if that was pain..and for one, that worked. He was able to sit up again, feeling a sudden boost of consciousness, enough to hear Layla's panicked screams..along with Winter's one.

Fuck. What the hell was happening? He frowned, widening his eyes as he threw a couple of glances back and forth, seeing the fire and then...hearing what Layla said. "She told you to stop!" he shouted back...

But no, that wouldn't do. He needed to reach her..whether he would be able to or not was questionable, but he had to try. Damn straight he had. Pushing himself up with a pained yelp..the human managed a couple of steps before throwing himself over the bed again, his hands curling, tight as he could, around Winter's. "Stop! You....you're hurtin' her..!"

Jace tried throwing all the objects away...holding back onto her and shake her..but he couldn't do much more..his own heart picking up it's delicate rate as shock kicked in.

She was pushing through, trying to force the spell. Why wasn't it working? She'd done the research. She'd stacked the deck. She was a powerful witch with decades of wisdom. Why wasn't it working? Why did it hurt so much?

She continued the chat until.... a cold hand that felt like death grabbed hers. Her eyes flew open and she looked at Jace. Her eyes were wide and lost, filled with panic and doubt. It tool a moment for her to register Jason's words but soon Winter understood, she felt it herself.

She... she had to stop. As Jason tossed away her spell work she knew she had to stop. "I'm... I'm killing us both..." she spoke in a breathy voice and suddenly everything just stopped. The fire, the wind, Layla's disembodied voice, it all stopped for a moment of silence and then.... then Winter began to scream.

All that magic, all that intent and it all reverberated back on Winter. Strange green lines began to spread across her body like the claw marks of a giant tiger. The marks criss crossed her skin as her voice began to break glass and toss books. Magic moved from her body like a ripples of force that tossed everything that wasn't nailed down away from her and into the book shelves and walls around them.

Finally it all came to a slow end, the ripples becoming soft force that only gently touched the room. Winter hyperventilated where she was and suddenly... stopped breathing as the ripples ended.

There was silence. Winter's eyes remained unblinking and wide open, her mouth hung open but she remained unmoving. The silence continued for much too long and then...

Layla gasped and sat straight up in her bed of thorns, evergreens and soot. She looked at the mess that ringed the room like everything had been blasted towards the walls, including.... "JASON!" She yelled and moved towards him. She fell out of the bed and had to crawl for all the pain she was in but she made it to him, eyes filled with tears as she checked him over for injury.

Jason never thought that he might be able to feel any sort of empathy towards the witch..not like he had in the past, but the look that she had gave him right there gave him pause. Could it be because he had not seen her this vulnerable yet..? In either case, the human gripped around the medical bed, feeling another rush of intense pain in his gut. "...you are.." he whispered. Then, it all stopped..if only for a second, before her screaming irrupted the room.

And it's fair to say it scared the crap out of him..his mind barely being able to comprehend a thing that was happening...the lines, the sudden wind that gathered around the place and the blow, tossing him across the room like he was some random object, his back colliding painfully against one of the ingredient shelves down there, glass falling and clashing everywhere.

Jace almost felt like he couldn't breathe the way his body hurt, sending him back into a state of unconsciousness..It was then, when the hex back ignited in his arm, showing purple lights around it as the wound in his stomach slowly healed...helping him to open his eyes just as he felt the hands on him. "...L-layla..? Is that you..?" he rasped, unable to resist the smile that edged along his lips... "..I..are you okay..?"

Her hands touched Jace, wet with so much blood, ice cold and pale. Oh no. Oh god no what had winter done?! Tears steamed down her face at his unmoving body. He was dead. Jace was dead and that pain was worse than anything she'd endured yet. He was gone from her forever. The silence was agonizing and unending but then... purple lights. It drew her eyes to the hex bag. She didnt known its purpose until his eyes fluttered open. Her name had never sounded so sweet on his lips. When that smile broke she couldn't stop herself. She launched her aching body towards Jace, hugging him tightly and crying.

"I thought you were gone! I thought she'd killed you!" She wailed.

Jace huffed out a breath as she crashed against him, barely getting adjusted to a normal breathing pace as his arms both embraced her. It was the weirdest feeling, how limp he felt, and yet, he knew he was slowly getting better..."..I'm right here," he whispered in a sad voice, pressing his lips to the side of her temple. Jason hadn't really come to terms with his reality..having her here, after so long --he'd sooner believe this was a dream, his lip quivering softly. "We tried, baby.." he huffed, "I'm so sorry.."

She held on with all the force she possessed but even that was weak. She was still hurt and in a lot of pain but Jason was alive and getting stronger by the sound of it.

She shook her head at his apology but she couldn't speak past her sobs. Everything hurt in a way that was beyond physical and now that Jace was alive and well and in her arms, she let herself cry for all the fear and pain she felt.

She'd almost died. She knew that deep inside but Layla still didn't really know why. "W-what... what w-was she t-trying to d-do?"

"Hey..shhh," He managed in the same raspy voice, pressing another kiss to her skin and using his fingers to sift through her long, silky brown hair, his brow hardening. He had almost lost her too..had he not been here, Winter would have gone through with it. The thoughts just seemed to hit him right there and then, making his own eyes well up with tears as he focused on her everything..breathing, heart-rate..and that intoxicating scent of hers that he'd dreamt about so many times. Fuck, he had missed her. "..she was tryin' to split you into two, so that you would have your own body.." the male offered, "S-she didn't even have the whole spell..."

'She didn't have the whole spell?' Layla thought. That seemed odd considering the collection of books she had.

"Where did she-" her words stopped short as the obvious answer presented itself. No. She wouldnt dare... "a spell from the pages she has?!"

She suddenly pulled back enough to see Jason's face. "Is she insane?! Those spells are ancient and powerful and lethal if done wrong! There are spells that Peter wouldn't be crazy enough to try in that book! Why did she think she could do this?! No one could?!" She yelled with an emotion she hadn't felt since before Winter, anger. Not just anger, rage. "What was she thinking? Does..." her fire died down. "Does she not care about me?"

Jason took a moment to hold her back a little bit, staring at her features and trying to memorize them again..breathing out softly before answering. "..no, the page was ripped apart..she mentioned the Croniques du somethin'.." Her tone made him flinch and he squeezed at her arms as though that may have brought her some sense of calmness, which he knew was probably stupid..but she did confirm what he'd thought about Winter attempting this. "Well, apparently yes..she, she said she was tired of everyone harassin' her.." he sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know.."

"But she hasn't been thinkin' straight lately, Layla..." Jason bit his lip, trying to sit up despite how weak and tired he felt, "This can't go on like this.."

Thank goodness Jace has been holding her arms and keeping her steady. It did help to keep her grounded.

It hurt to hear it confirmed, that Winter no longer cared about her vessel, but Jace was right. Winter was far more dangerous than Layla Could ever hope to be.

"She has to go," her voice was final and she lifted her eyes to his. "Jason, we have to get ride of her. It doesnt matter what I could do, shes already so much worse."

"Will you help me?" She hoped she hadn't pushed him away forever when she decided to call off the plan. She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

Jason didn't believe it at first, thought he might have heard it wrong or..who knows, but there was no mistaking it. Especially when she kept on going. "..are you serious?" he managed in a whisper, his heart picking up speed..Jace knew this was enough reason to change one's mind, but a part of him didn't know how to feel yet. He was upset..angry..and he didn't want to get too excited...but how couldn't he? Cupping her face, he pulled her in for a slow kiss. "..you know I will."

She nodded, guilt hitting her square in the gut at his reaction. She could see she'd hurt him. Relief added to that guilt when he kissed her and agreed.

She didnt move very far from those lips that she'd missed so very much.

"...I was only trying to protect you..." she whispered. She was dangerous and only wanted to keep Jace safe but he was never safe on this island. She kissed him in another slow lingering kiss. "... I'm sorry..."

Jason sighed softly against her lips, finding some relief in how calm their surroundings seemed to get..meaning they were all they needed to focus on. You could almost only hear their collective heartbeat and their breaths, softly colliding against one another. "You shouldn't have.." he said, "I thought she was never goin' to let me see ya again.." He knew, this was not the best place to talk..but fuck, when were they ever going to get a chance again? The male pushed himself up straighter, looking apologetically into her eyes, "..does anythin' hurt?"

"That was suppose to be the plan," she honestly admitted. "I don't want to hurt you..." it was a recurring nightmare of hers ever since that huge storm. "And I can J. I really can..." she hated having all this power with no training. It made her so unpredictable.

Still, she shook her head. It didnt matter what she could do. What mattered was what winter did and.... and Jace. Being separated had been hell on her. She'd stayed away for a reason because seeing him now, she knew she couldn't say goodbye again.

She let out a little laugh. "Everything!" She looked down at her arms marked with thick green stripes. She knew her whole body contained them. "Its called magic poisoning," she explained. "It'll fade but in the mean time magic is going to be painful." She then lifted the sheer toga up to see the spot between her breasts. There was an ugly black mark like stained ink. It was large and horrible. She looked at her palms to see the same black mark in each and knowing the bottom of her feet would hold the same as well as the base of her skull. She wasn't too surprised to find it. The pain she felt made it obvious.

"These marks mean my soul is damaged." Thats where the real pain came from. It was like an itch of a phantom limb you couldn't scratch. A pain you couldn't find to try and give it relief.

Jason took a moment to answer, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. "Well, I would have liked a say in that.." he mused, "I get you're scared..and that whatever happened durin' the storm messed you right up --but we can fix this..find you help. I don't ever want to feel like I didn't try.."

The male let his eyes trace her body, still not over the fact that she was here...and those stripes, running across her body, which he wasted no time in stroking with the tips of his fingers. "..so you won't be able to do magic, then.." he furrowed his eyebrows, following her moves gently to the big, black spot in her chest..and hands, "..is..is that part of it too? Jesus, L..."

This was scary and he wondered if there was a way they could heal these..or really, if it would have an effect on their plan. "We need to get you someone to look at these.." he sighed, searching her eyes, "We need to give you time to heal."

She bowed her head, guilty that she didnt let Jace in on her choice.

She flinched a bit at his hands. It only felt like pressing a light bruise but she was always startled by her senses, especially by touch. "I can, and so can winter. It'll just hurt a lot to do so.... which means it might keep her at bay for a bit."

She shook her head against his words. "No, we have to do this now, before it heals." She met his eyes and explained delicately so as not to worry him. "If my soul is damaged like this than so is hers. There will be a better chance of pulling her soul out without pulling mine out too if we do it now." She took his hands in hers to comfort him a bit, knowing the idea of leaving her hurt would worry him. "Besides, it's only deadly if the black shows up in my eyes." She kept her wide eyes open for him to inspect for any black but knowing her brown eyes would be clear. She'd be in a lot worse shape it those were black.

The professor stopped the motion of his hands at the first signs of discomfort, venturing a look into her eyes.."Sorry.." he mumbled, lifting her hand up to press a soft kiss to it, frowning at her words a bit.. "..well, if it does keep her at bay, I say good for us." he nodded, "I'm just not sure how she's goin' to take all this.." And by that he meant failing. Jace couldn't imagine her being a big fan of that.

Her reasons for wanting to do this brought a bit of uneasiness on him but he ended up nodding hesitantly in the end, "It makes sense..we'll just, need to be extra careful, I guess.." And find a damn witch to help collect the ingredients, that's right. Jace gazed into her eyes, inspecting them just like she said, and pushed himself up a bit, "Alright, so what do you say..should we get out of here?"

Anywhere other than a messed up basement should be a much better option..

"I dont know either," she answered. Winter wasn't likely to take it well. "Frankly I'm terrified but.... but if we dont do this she might kill me. I mean, I never use to care about that stuff. I was taught not to fear death but.... I just cant imagine losing everything I've gained. My opinions, my wants... you..." she shook her head, laughing a bit. "If my parents could hear me now they'd be so disappointed." They'd shun her for what she was doing, maybe worse.

She was happy he agreed to her terms and nodded to his own. "We'll be careful," and with that in order she smiled, filled with excitement. "Yes," she tried to reach for a shelf and groaned loudly from pain, knowing she'd be feeling that ache for a while. Still, her growing joy didn't falter. She was going to be free soon.

#Jason #Layla #paras

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naruthings · 7 years

Text

surprise special

FFN // for the sexual tension prompt

100 NejiTen Oneshots Collection

a/n: prompt for le nejiten month: sexual tension. gotta fucking love kibaaaa

SURPRESA DE ESPESYAL

by Alex

"Neji just really hates his friends sometimes."

"Hck..."

Tenten sucked in a breath.

They're gonna do it. No — they ARE fucking doing it. How the FUCK did she get HERE from TRAINING?

Neji's mouth moves to her neck.

She tries not to shudder.

Because really. She's really damn tough. She can take Neji. She can.

"Tenten..."

Nah. She's just lying to herself.

I mean, who can resist the fucking guy?

"You're mine."

Especially when he says her name like that.

Finally, Neji takes his lips off her neck and smashes it to hers again. Tenten's trying really, really hard not to collapse.

She can't though.

Because her butt is propped on Hyuga Neji's fucking arms.

Her back is presses up against the tree, her weapons from their earlier training session scattered around them.

"Neji..." she gasps. He hears her and feels that he likes the sound of his name on her lips, and when he smirks, Tenten can't take her eyes off him.

"Yes?"

Omg he is so extra.

"Fuck you..." she wheezes, maybe because she's out of breath, and mostly since his hands had roamed there.

"Do you want to?" he chuckles. Damn it.

Tenten hates it when Neji dirty talks. Plainly because she can't resist him — he's so handsome, and Tenten's eyes travel down to where his chest is and can faintly make out the lines that contour his chest and she can feel.

She can feel him on her and time ticked on such a blissfully momentous pace she feels like she can't keep up anything anymore.

Especially since he kisses her again.

The fireworks burst out and her heart flutters so romantically it feels almost silly, because come on, this is basically sex and sex with Neji is more hot than not.

"Stop that."

He grins, though it's such a boyish smile Tenten needs to surpress her giggle.

"Stop what?"

"That!"

"Oh, this?"

And he claims her lips again — and this time it's too much, perhaps too much for her to handle, she deduces. Mainly because she fears she'll never be able to get out of the situation on her own, because she knows Neji affects her in a way most guys can't (and probably won't, ever).

On her own.

"Neji," she pants, for the second time that day. "Take me."

He grins, reminding her of something fierce. Something feral, something capable of ravaging, and it arouses Tenten in the strangest of ways (though she fails to see how any other girl can't relate).

"Gladly."

Kiba likes today.

He doesn't know why. He just likes today.

Or decides that he does. Yeah, that's it.

And also, it's empanada day, and he LOVES empanadas!

Contrary to popular belief, Tsume Inuzuka is actually a very good cook. But she adds msg to her meat! They say. She never cooks anything leaner than medium rare! So what. He was more affiliated with the sadistic side of him, anyway.

At any rate, all he needs everyone to know is that he's proud of his mom and he loves her very much. He will always support her no matter what!

Because that's what good Inuzuka boys do!

And he was, in fact, a good Inuzuka boy, no matter what the fuck Naruto has to say. He loves respecting women, anyway.

Dayum is his mother good at making them empanadas.

He is such a great women-respector that he, himself, had learned to appreciate the female body in the best of ways. Like with Ino, earlier.

Mmmm, Ino.

That's right. Kiba Inuzuka is doing a tremendously great job at appreciating the female anatomy. It also just so happened that he walked his way into the girl's bath a while ago.

B-but it isn't his fault! He just didn't get to read the sign! Because, baths, you know?

And it also just so happened that Ino, oh, the beautiful and not to mention very, very hot comrade of his, decided that it was a good day to enjoy the women's bath as well.

Kiba doesn't want to label himself anywhere near hedonistic, but he is simply basking in the pleasures of self-indulgence. No, not a sensualist, just extraordinarily self-indulgent.

Mmmm, Ino.

Kiba Inuzuka is not a pervert. Like he said, him walking into the girl's bath was purely by accident, and he actually only read until the fifteenth chapter of Icha Icha Violence, which Jiraya-sensei who he greatly respects and adores (though his student may be not he) gladly lent to him.

And confidence is indeed a very good attribute, especially for young boys like Kiba. Kiba, who until now still believes (in a good way, dammit!) that appreciating the female anatomy automatically equals to respecting women.

And though Kiba Inuzuka does love enjoying the pleasures of self-indulgence, he does the right decision and looks away when Ino steps out of the bath, like the good Inuzuka boy that he is.

Kiba may be a pervert but he does have his principes.

Though shortly after he did get spotted and later walked out of the bath with a black eye and a sling hanging from his shoulder, but enthusiasm is the key and Kiba instead decides to appreciate how charming and gentlemanly his recent actions were.

Oh, life.

And now, grinning luminously and with a spring in his step, Kiba strides on, whistling one of his favorite tunes with a basket full of empanada swinging as he walks. His friends are gonna love his empanada.

Kiba misses his mom.

Looking ahead, Kiba finds the familiar path where he cuts through the woods. He's going to go to Sakura's house first, not only because she's super pretty, and definitely not since he overheard a certain upgrade in bra size from Ino earlier that week, but because...

She is his friend.

That is his reason.

His friend.

His girlfriend- no, he isn't there yet.

But in the meantime, he decides to appreciate nature instead by looking up at the trees and noticing how warm golden rays of light shines down on him through the leaves and kisses his skin.

He loves nature.

The path kind of disappears a little bit, but that's ok since he knows his way around here. The old log is there, and that tree, and-

Oh look, it's Neji and Tenten's training grounds.

Hmm...

Well, Kiba ain't no saint, but he knows that sharing is a good thing and that's definitely what his mother expects of him. And since he loves his mom, though sharing may not be the same for him he decides too anyway, because damn these empanadas are good!

He heard a growl and some moan and he grinned.

Perfect!

They're here!

"Neji, please."

"Please what?"

"Please..." Too lost in the friction that Tenten was making, Neji barely noticed the excited pitter-pat of feet that ran to them quickly.

Where were they again?

Oh, right.

Please.

Neji felt around and found exactly where her butt was. Squeezed. Tenten moaned this was too perfect.

And just when he was about to dip his hand into her pants, an empanada hit his head.

Wait.

An empanada hit his head?

What? W-what the fuck?

"Empanada! It's fucking empanada day! Be happy!" Another one fell off his sleeve. "Empanadas for free! 'Cos it's fucking empanada day!"

Fucking. Inuzuka.

"Empanada! For free! Fucking empanadas for f-"

Neji's head snapped to where Kiba was currently standing.

He was not impressed.

"Wait a minute..." Kiba said, surveying the scene. Tenten quickly jumped off from his arms and buttoned up her blouse. Fuck. "You two are fucking!" he heard.

"No, we're not-"

"Yeah!" Tenten replied. Neji shook his head in the inside. Leave it to Ten to damage his record of completing his own sentences. But in reality, she did it every time. He just had to keep it lowkey.

"Heh! You guys were fucking! In public!" Neji was fuming. "God, if Hiashi finds out about this-"

"Inuzuka, if you say one more word I swear I will fucking take this empanada off your basket and slap it to your pathetic face." But to his disappointment, Kiba burst out laughing (though really, he saw it coming).

Empanadas are now number one on his shit list, followed only shortly after by a certain Uzumaki.

"Wait a minute..." No. This was just too good. This was too good. "You two are fucking!"

He saw Tenten blush and distinctly wondered how the blush would look like under his body- erhm, litter can.

A moment after he found himself at the mercy of Neji Hyuga's tight grip. He could already feel the cloth being pulled off his skin... mmmm, Hyugas.

Wait no... so does that mean... Neji is gay?

Ewww! Well, he does appreciate Neji as a shinobi, but he wasn't... gay, though. He plainly enjoyed the beauty of the female anatomy slightly more.

But no homo, dude.

He came back to life for a little bit and heard Neji bark some words at him. How did he get here again? Oh right. The empanadas. And Neji and Tenten were fucking!

"Hahahahaha!" he laughed. Neji didn't look impressed at all, but really, Kiba couldn't keep a straight face. Fucking! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

"Hahahahaha!" he laughed. He couldn't constrain himself, but he at least made sure that his laughing was even. Charming, but not trying too hard. Playful, but not at the point of stupidity. He also needed to make sure that Tenten could hear the low growl that came with his laugh. Rawr.

Oh yeah, and Tenten's booty was damn fine.

Suddenly his thoughts snapped out of Tenten's scrumptious behind and zapped back to life again. Because something splat.

On his face.

No wait...

"Noooooo!" He wailed. The empanada! His mother's hard work! Moooom!

He notices Neji stare a little guiltily at the mess he made on his face, which was such a shame because what a beautiful and ruggedly handsome his face was!

"My mom made that!" he wailed, surveying the wasted empanadas on the ground in panic. "You guys suck!"

He gave himself a chance to consider his words.

"No, only you, Neji."

He respected them women, and Tenten was a woman, after all.

"Hmph." He turned his back away from the two. Usually, he wouldn't display this behavior to other people besides his mom, but this was all THEY'REimeanHIS FAULT!

Stupid! Goddamn Hyuga!

"We're sorry, Kiba," Tenten says, patting him on the back. See, this is what he liked so much about women. They were leagues more sympathetic than men like Hyidiot right here. What an idiot.

"Tenten, I'm-" he mentally cheered on Tenten when she kicked Neji's shin. "We're... sorry."

"Yes. Sorry, Kiba, and I'll eat your empanadas." He might be in love.

He smiled his beamiest smile at her and made sure to stick out his tounge at Neji after she looked away. The guy huffed and looked away instead before pointing two fingers at him.

"I'm watching you." Kiba can only laugh in return.

After all, Ino did give him his number. And that cute Tamaki next door?

Mmmmmm. Girls.

a/n: inspired by a pewdiepie marathon in which you need to 'stop disrespecting wahmen'. kiba pops into head first.

But really though, I'm quite unsure of this fic as it doesn't fit into the category of the prompt well, but I really, really love kiba and I couldn't resist.

Until Then!

-twinkies

#nejitenmonth #nejitenmonth2017 #OMG i am too late for this prompt lmaooooooo #nejiten #my stuff

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dont-sneeze · 7 years

Text

~Unlovable Chapter 4~

Chapter 4/5 Find Chapter 1 here Find Chapter 2 here Find Chapter 3 here Sophomore year came and went while the two boys danced around their feelings. Neither of them liked dancing. Jack's grades still were low, and he was quieter than he usually was. His smiles were often fake, and he didn't every really hold a conversation with anyone but Crutchie, Davey, and sometimes Les. "Jack, you ready for the exam in PE today?" Crutchie asked, lacing up his shoes. Jack groaned, still lying in bed. "No. Trade me places would ya?" Standing up, Crutchie chuckled lightly. "I guess getting out of that class most days is one good thing about needing a Crutch, yeah?" Jack agreed half heartedly. "Come on Jack, wake up or I'm gonna steal your blankets." Jack squeaked and held his blankets tighter. "You wouldn't dare." "Oh, I dare." Crutchie grinned and before Jack knew what was happening, he was engulfed by cold, freezing air. "Ahhh!" Jack shook, and then pouted. "Crutchie...." "Get up, Jack." "I'm too sick." Crutchie limped over and out a hand on Jack's forehead, ignoring the tingily feeling in his hand that happened whenever he touched Jack. "You're fine, now get up-" Crutchie gasped as Jack had reached out and somehow managed to pull Crutchie down on the bed beside him. "Your warm." He whispered, and Crutchie got the tingly feeling throughout his whole body. Suddenly, Crutchie didn't want Jack to get up for school anymore. He wanted to stay like that forever. The two lied like that for a while, before finally Crutchie made himself get up. "Well, you should get going, the bus will be here soon." "You ain't coming?" Jack groaned, sitting up, annoyed that his other warmth left him too. He would never say it, but he preferred Crutchie to blankets any day. "Actually, I was gonna go to school with Davey today. Since I don't need to take the physical, the teacher said I don't have to show up today." Davey had high enough good grades and enough credits that he didn't have a first hour for school since he's a senior. Which made everyone jealous of him. Jack rolled his eyes. "You, are lucky that I don't punch you." He said jokingly. "Hey, I can walk you to the buss stop if you want me to." "That'd make my day, kid." Jack finally stood up, and quickly got dressed, brushed his teeth, and threw on a sweater. Both deep in thought, they walked out of the house and started down the steps. Unknown to them, Crutchie's shoelace became untied and the next thing he knew, he was falling face down onto the steps below him. Impact never came though, as Jack somehow acted fast enough to catch him, might have even saved him from a terrible hospital trip. "Crutch, are you okay?" Jack was holding him up completely, Crutchie wasn't supporting his own weight at all. Tears began to fall out of Crutchie's eyes. That was terrifying, and he had no idea what would have happened to him if Jack wasn't there to help him. "It's okay, you're okay. I got you." Jack took him in his arms and sat down on the steps, the bus to school completely forgotten. "Just breathe, alright?" Jack bent down, tying Crutchie's shoe with a secure double not, doing the same with the other shoe. "There. It's all better." Jack reassured, but Crutchie could only close his eyes and remember how many countless times he had tripped on the steep, uneven stairs in Snyder's place. So many times his whole life he would fall and no one was there to catch him. Even if someone was there they would never move quick enough. They really didn't care enough. Crutchie carefully reached up, removed the beanie from his head, and pushed up his bangs showing a scar hidden under there. Carefully, Jack brought up his hand and fingered it, slowly, concerned. "What's it from?" He asked gently. "I fell down the stairs when I was nine. But no one was there to catch me that time." He whispered though his little sniffles. Suddenly, Crutchie found himself wrapped up in a hug so tight he could hardly breathe. "I will always be there to catch you. I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier in your life and I wish I was but we can't change that. We only have now." Jack reassured, rubbing comforting circles in Crutchie's back. Slowly Crutchie nodded, sniffling. "Jack, why are you so nice to me?" He whispered. "Because..." Jack sighed lovingly. "You're my brother, Crutch... it's my job to be nice to you." Before Crutchie could stop himself, he pulled away from Jack slightly. "What... what if I don't want to be just a brother anymore..." Jack's brows furrowed in concern and confusion, until Crutchie leaned in quickly, and put their lips together. It was quick and much too short and before Jack could even realize what was happening, Crutchie had pulled away, out of Jack's grip, stood up, and began limping up the steps once more. "Crutch, wait!" Jack called, both confused and ecstatic. "You're gonna miss the bus and Miss. Medda won't be happy if you do." Crutchie replied, not turning around. Sure enough, the bus came and Jack needed to be on it. It was better this way. Jack could properly think of a way to tell Crutchie that his feelings were returned. Crutchie sighed, glad that he wouldn't have to see Jack until after school. They had first hour together which he was skipping, forth and fifth hour together, but Jack had a doctors appointment after lunch so he would be skipping fourth and fifth. All Crutchie had to do was avoid him at lunch, and all would be well. ————— Crutchie received a text after second hour from Jack. 'Meet me by the art room at lunch?' Crutchie deleted the message, and didn't meet Jack. He wanted to wait a few hours before getting his heart ripped out. Jack was leaning against the wall of the school, a single yellow tulip in his hand. He bought it from the cheerleaders who were conveniently doing a fundraiser at the time. They, being females, and Jack being a very handsome male, were flirting with him non stop, hoping they were the one who would be receiving the flower. This wasn't the case though, obviously. Jack waited, and waited, but as the minutes ticked on, he got more worried. Where was he? Soon the lunch bell rang. Jack looked for Crutchie by their lockers, but didn't run into him. And he had to go to his doctors appointment. He sighed, and left the flower in Crutchie's locker, hoping he would get it, and get the message. Crutchie went to his locker after forth hour was over, glad he escaped Jack for the morning. He opened it, and blinked, wondering if it was his locker he just opened, seeing the flower inside. Maybe it was a mistake? He picked it up and read the little card that was attached. It was addressed to him, and... he read the words fifteen hundred times over. "To: Crutchie, Love, Jack." "Love, Jack." "Love," "Love," Crutchie's whole world lit up suddenly. Was it possible...? The tarty bell pulled him out of his thoughts, and he gently put the flower back, and went to class once more, smiling wider than he has for a long time. ~~~ "Hey, Jack. How was the doctors?" Davey asked setting down his book when he and Medda walked in from the car and jack went into the living room the living room. "I... is Crutchie here? I have to talk to him." "No, he's at the library with Les and Specs right now. Are you alright?" "I... I thought I was..." Jack shook his head. "Can I talk to you? I just... need to talk things out." Davey nodded and they went into his room and shut the door. "What's wrong Jack? You looked like someone threw a brick at you." "They did." Jack replied and put his head in his hands. "Today... the doctor diagnosed me with depression, Dave." Quietly, Davey put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "And now I'm freaking broken, Davey!" "Jack, you aren't broken." "Instead of just having to take Angsty pills, I have to take pills that keep me from feeling anything." He continued, ignoring Davey. "I have to now meet with my councilor and a therapist and..." Unknown to them at that moment, Crutchie came home, deciding he couldn't wait any longer to see Jack. They had to work some things out, but hopefully by the end of the night, Crutchie would get his wish, and they would be more than brothers. He was about to call Jack's name, but heard Davey talk in his room. Jack must have been in there. "Jack. Listen to me. It's going to be fine. You're going to be fine. Everything will be fine." "What about Crutchie, though?" Crutchie's heart tightened at how sad Jack sounded. "What about him?" "I, I don't know if I can-if I can tell him, Davey. It'll break him." Crutchie's heart began to sink. Did he get the wrong message? Was that just an apology flower? "Jack, Crutchie's strong. He'll be fine-" "No, you don't understand-!" Jack burst out, making Crutchie jump. "You know what he did today, Davey? He told me, told me that he wants to be more than just brothers, and he kissed me. He kissed me and then ran off like nothing ever happened..." "Jack, that's great!" "No, it's not!" Crutchie's heart began to beat. Jack sounded angry and upset. Was he really that mad about it? "Jack, I don't see why that's not a good thing?" "I-" Jack put his head in his hands. "It was, I... I thought it was a good thing but now... now I realize I'm not being fair to Crutchie... if I told him the truth of how I feel?." "How you feel? Jack, you're not making any sense." Davey said. "Please, talk it out." He was being calm, but also getting a bit frustrated. "Crutchie and I can't... be together Davey." Crutchie flinched. So that was that. "Who could love someone with a... with a disability that's so... such a big part of daily life that they can barely take care of themselves?" "Jack, it wouldn't be like that at all!" "Yes it would, Davey- you weren't there... you didn't hear what the doctor said about it..." Crutchie felt like a thousand pound weight was put on his chest. He couldn't breathe, he felt dizzy and his vision began to get cloudy. "Jack, you know Crutchie better than I do, and I know for a fact he won't mind." "That's just it Davey. He fake smiles, makes you think everything is okay, when it's not okay. When he's being destroyed on the inside... I can't do this to him... It would break him." So that was it then. Jack didn't love Crutchie. He couldn't. Not with his gimp, useless leg of his. Crutchie remembered what the doctor said when they were there last time. That they couldn't do anything to fix it. He suggested amputation and a prosthetic, but the state wouldn't pay for that, and Crutchie didn't want a prosthetic anyway, since he was just fine as he was. Apparently he wasn't just fine in Jack's eyes. He stopped listening to the two, and slowly, he made his way into his own room sitting down against the wall before bursting in tears silently. In one hand he held his crutch, which he angrily threw across to the opposite side of the room, and in the other hand he held the flower. The flower that meant so much to him only minutes before, but now he realized was just an "I'm sorry" flower. He broke it in half, smashed it with his foot, and left it at his feet. If only Crutchie would have listened for ten more seconds. "Jack, listen to me. If Crutchie did what he did, that means he likes you for you. Just because you're diagnosed with depression, that's not gonna change your personality, alright? I can tell you've been struggling with this since you were a sophomore. And that is plenty of time for Crutchie to decide he doesn't like you anymore. But obviously, he does, and probably has for years. The only thing that might change is that he'll want to help you now." "I don't need help." Jack mumbled, but he was listening to every word Davey was saying. It made sense. "Which is why you and Crutchie could be so compatible." Davey smirked, causing Jack to roll his eyes. "When he gets home, talk to him. Tell him what happened today, tell him how you've been basically drooling over him since the beginning of last year. "I do not drool!" Jack defended himself. "Fine. Maybe not drool... I knew you liked him before you told me you did though." "Yeah yeah." Jack waved him away. "But hey, thanks for knockin some sense in me, Davey." Jack said after a moment of silence. "I guess with all the crazy that's happened today, I wasn't really thinking straight." "Jack, you never think straight." Davey pointed out nudging his shoulder. Jack chuckled. "Can't argue with that." Specs and Les came through the door then, Les being very loud and happy, like he always was. "They're home. Guess I better go talk to Crutchie, yeah?" Jack asked, standing up when Les opened the door, talking a mile a minute. Jack ruffled the kids hair and listened to Les talk about his adventures at the library. Then, he walked across the hall into the room he and Crutchie shared. Crutchie was still leaning against the wall, and had pulled his legs close to him, with his hands covering his face. Really, he didn't ever want to move again. Crutchie didn't want to, but it was now confirmed just how unlovable he was. If someone as amazing and accepting as Jack couldn't even see past his gimp leg to truly love him, then who ever could?

#unlovable #my writing #jackcrutchie #newsies fic #newsies

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pen-of-dunwall · 7 years

Text

Tales of the Heart, Ch. 15 - Now I Got My A’s and Z’s

by essie-essex

for citywatchoverseer

City Watch Guard

“He taught himself how to read.”

There oh... uh... once was a cat named Ollie who lived in a co-cozy ho-hose... hoss... a house, a cozy house, with his Mama, Papa, Bro-Bruh-Brother, and... Sister. But Ollie was no oh-or-di-na-ry cat. He was very c-curious and... oh-often got into tr... tr... trou-ble.

Un... One cold w-win-ter eh... ehven... even... e-ven-ing, it beg-an to s-snow...

...and s-snow, and snow, and SNOW. Haha.

“Oh, boy!” said Ollie. “My f-first w-win-ter!”

Ollie le-leapt on-to the... the, uh... the w-win-dow-sill, his eye-eyes fo-fol-low-ing the stra-strange white dots as they flo-a... flo-floated to the ground. He put his paws up to the cold gla-glass, rai... rais... rais-ing himself up on his two hi-hind legs to get a bet-better look. Brother and Sister played ou-out-side, thro-throwing hand... fuls of white po-po-pow-powder at each other, their ch... cheeek... cheeks and noses red and ro-round. Ollie's tail swis... swis-sh... swished with, oh boy, ex... exit... exit-me-excitement as he watched them.

“How I would love to play in the snow,” Ollie said, his eyes filled with de-des-desire. “I would buh... buh... bur... burr-ow under it oo... uh-until I found the per-fect spot, warm and dark.”

The cat til-tilt-tilted his head back, pee-king at the door. Papa sat in his big chair reading a book, and Ollie could hear Mama in the kit-kitchen.

Surely, they would not not-notice...

Ollie ju-jumped to the gro-ground and cro... croch... croached... no, crouched, he crouched low, ti-tip-tip-toe-ing his way to the front door where the ch-child-ren would be re... ret-returning at any mo-ment, and when they open-opened the door, he would spr... sprin... sprint out into the snow and bur-bury himself in it before they could catch him.

He heard fa-faint la... lau... log... log-ha... lag... la... laugh-laughter as the ch-children ne-nea-neared the door and his ears per... perk... perked as he heard moo... muh... muffleh... muffle... muffled sto-stomp-ing.

“Ready... Ready...” he said to himself. He dar-dared not move. It was almost time.

The door click-clicked as one of the children turned the dork-door-doorknob, the door crack-ing open a mom-moment later. Ollie star-star-ted to change-charge but stopped sud-den-ly as the cold breeze cau... caused his skin to shiv-shiver. The children enter-ed the house, brus-brushing white powder from their coats.

“The door will close soon,” Ollie said. “This is my last chance!”

He took a deep breath, cr-crouched low, and chan-charged outside.

I let my arm drop, still holdin' the open book between my fingers, and sigh.

When I got this book from the library, the lady told me that this was for kids, but Ollie the Cat's First Winter by T.J. Brownstone ain't no easy reader. I can feel myself gettin' tired, and my head kinda hurts.

I probably shouldn't be readin' durin' my shift, but it can get real borin' just standin' here waitin' for somethin' to happen. It's kinda rainy today, so the market ain't too crowded, so that means no fights over the last fresh fish to break up, no youngsters stealin' sweets to chase after, and no pretty ladies to holler at. Nope, nothin' to do but just stare at the sky... or read if you know how.

I hear laughter from in front of me and spot two boys in worn clothes whisperin' to each other. I guess the rain didn't keep everyone away. They stop, the larger one takin' a few steps towards me.

“Hey, aren't you reading Ollie the Cat?” The boy looks up at me with tight lips and somethin' that ain't just innocent curiosity hidden behind his eyes.

“Yeah, what about it?” I say, pullin' my shoulders back. “Shouldn't you kids be at home anyways?”

“It's a free city,” the boy says. “We're just walking home from school.”

“Yeah, well, keep walkin'. I gotta job to do,” I tell him.

“You didn't look like you were doing your job. You looked like you were reading an Ollie the Cat book.” The little brat smirks.

“Well, you kids just don't know any better. Now, scram.”

The boy snorts, his mouth tight and his face red. He looks back at the other, who has the same expression on his face, like he thinks somethin's funny.

“That's a kids' book,” the boy says. “Like for babies. I read all the Ollie the Cat books when I was nine.” He turns to look at his friend behind him, who giggles.

“Yeah,” says the smaller boy. “Me too. Isn't that the one where Ollie goes outside in the winter and freezes--”

“Hey!” I scream. “Don't give it away! I ain't read the whole thing yet!”

The boys jump at the sound of my voice, but pretty soon they ain't scared no more and start laughin'.

“Wow, City Watch Guards really are dumb!” The taller boy says. His little friend giggles along with him, but I'm about done with their shit.

I draw my sword and lunge towards 'em, like I'm about to attack.

“Yeah, keep laughin' when you're in damn pieces on the ground!”

The boys scream, scurryin' away like rats, and I watch until they're out of sight, takin' a deep breath to calm myself.

“It's okay, Murray,” I say. “They're just a bunch of spoiled kids.”

That's right. They're a bunch of spoiled schoolboys. Not everyone had the money to go to school when they was kids.

I grew up during the Morley Insurrection, when spyin' on your neighbor, makin' sure they wasn't helpin' the Morlish (or the “Morleyans” as we was s'posed to call 'em, just to piss 'em off), or that, stars forbid, they was Minnows themselves, was much more important than goin' to school or doin' any kinda work that wasn't helpin' the Empire win against the rebels.

There was plenty of jobs with the war on, and the factory fatcats was glad to get their hands on any children, so they could work 'em hard. An eighteen-hour workday, each and every day, is what I remember from my childhood. But there was bread to eat and bunks to sleep in. Sure, they was dirty, but they was indoors. I sent my pay home to my parents so they could take care of my sisters and brothers who was too young to work.

So, no, I didn't have no time to read like the little brats these days, but that don't make 'em better than me. Hell, I'm better than them, since I learned how to read all on my own. That's right, all by myself. No one helped me learn my letters.

Now that I know how to read, though, there's plenty around to practice with. It's crazy how many signs they got posted 'round the city, and there's even more than usual in the marketplace with words like “FRESH FISH” “HOMEMADE SOAP” “GARDEN VEGETABLES” “RARE FRUITS” and “BAKERY”. I tried to read them all when I first started learnin' my letters, but now those signs are so easy to read, I can understand 'em all in just a second or two.

I've learned a lot from readin' posters on the walls and such, too. Like the recruitment ads for the City Watch say guards are s'posed to make a whole four coins a day, and Officers make six coins. I ain't never seen more than three coins in a day, and lately they've been givin' me just two. I told this to the others so maybe we could get together and ask for our real pay, but they just told me to quit bein' so smart.

“You read it on a poster?” Jackson was the first one to speak when I told the boys about our pay.

“Yeah, we're s'posed to be gettin' four whole coins a day,” I 'member foldin' my arms and leanin' against my bunk, thinkin' I was somethin'. Like I was gonna start some kinda movement, leadin' all the guards in the Watch through the streets holdin' up signs. But that attitude didn't last for long.

“I think he's just makin' that up,” another one of the guards said from across the room. “You can't even read anyways.”

“I learned,” I said. “Well, I'm learnin', but the poster really does say that. There's one right next door. Just come with me, and--”

“You tryin' to get us fired, Murray? Quit bein' so smart.” Jackson turned toward the door. “Now, I'm gonna go steal me some food, and then I know a certain lady who's waitin' for these two coins in my pouch. You all comin'?”

The others followed Jackson, leavin' me alone. Just a year ago, I never would'a passed up a night with a girl, but sometimes a man just wants somethin' more.

I'd thought that by learnin' to read that maybe I'd feel better about myself or the world or somethin' like that, but I don't know. Now instead of others makin' fun of me for bein' dumb, my own fellow guards make fun of me for bein' too smart.

But now that I can read faster, I'm startin' to get why there's people that actually like to read. Some books are really interestin'.

My shift ends, and I head back to the bunks while the others go for a drink.

I wish that boy from earlier today hadn't told me what would happen to Ollie the Cat. So, he freezes to death? I take the book out of my bag, flippin' through it and lookin' at the pictures. On one page, I can see Ollie racin' out the front door into the snow. I turn the page and see a picture of a sad little cat, all curled up in a ball, with icicles hangin' from its fur.

Poor Ollie.

But the book's not over. There's more. I turn the page and gasp. Papa carries Ollie into the house. He's alive!

I turn the page again. Now he's in front of the fireplace, and on the next page, he's smilin' and warm, and on the next—wait.

I slam the book shut.

No, I gotta read it. I can't just look at the pictures.

Cold and wet, Ollie had no energ-energy to run from Papa and, in-stead, curl-ed... curled up in his arms, shiv-shivering v-vio-vio-lent-ly. He cried when Papa tried to put him down, hanging on tight to his clothes with his sharp claws. Fin-finally, Papa man-aged... managed to set Ollie on the floor, where Sister and Brother waited for him with two flu-ffy to-wels. They dried him off as well as they could, and handed him to Mama, who w-wrap-ped... wrapped him in a soft blan... blanket.

“Let's put you some-place nice and warm,” she said, cudd-ling him in her arms. Papa picked up a box and took a woo... wood-en stick from it. Ollie watched the stick, which nor-normally, would have looked very fun to play with, but he was far too cold to play. With a quick g-g-gues... gest... gesture, Papa stuck it against the box, making o-rang... o-range light come from it.

“How strange,” Ollie said, tilt-ing his head to the side. Thog...though Papa had now cau-caught his at-ten-ti-on, he was still much too cold to do anything but watch laz-lazily from Mama's arms.

Papa put the stick into a hole be-hind a grat-grating. Ollie had never not-not-noticed that hole before. It looked like a great place to hide. But Ollie was too cold to think of hid-ing there now.

Wips-wisps of smoke and then orange waves grew from the bo-ttom of the hole, con-sum-ing the large chunks of wood in its in-ter-i-or. Ollie watched the flames. They were like nothing he had ever seen before. Mama took him closer and set him down, and Papa replac-ed... replaced the grat-ing, ob-scur-ing the dan-king... dancing fig-ur-es... figures. Ollie was dis-a-ppoin-ted. He wanted to watch them dance, but he was too cold to arg-argue. He lay in front of the fireplace, feeling the warm-th flow from it. Oh, how good that warmth would feel ag-ainst his skin. How good it would be to bury himself in warm orange waves.

Ollie stood, get-ting closer to the fireplace, but Mama st-stopped him.

“No, no, Ollie. That is fire. It is hot. You cannot get too close, or you will get burn-ed... burned.”

But Ollie did not un-der-stand. What was hot? Like a hot sum-mer's day? He could almost puh-purr, think-ing of the past summer when he lay out under the sun, while Mama stood near-by fan-fanning herself with her hand.

“W-hew, it's so hot today,” Ollie re-mem-ber-ed... remembered her saying. “It feels like I'm burn-ing up out here.”

So, hot was not bad at all! Mama mig-might not like it, but Ollie lov-loved when it was hot.

Hearin' voices outside, I look up from the text and close the book. The boys are back, drunk and loud as usual. I have a bad feelin' about this story, but I'll have to finish it later.

But I'm so worried about Ollie that I can't even sleep.

That mornin', the boys and I reach the marketplace and then go our separate ways, heading to our posts. Up ahead is Lee, who does the shift before me. He's singin' a song. I can't make it out at first, but as I get closer I hear the familiar tune of the A's and Z's song.

“A, B, C, D, E, N, G/ haych, I, J, K, elementally,” he sings.

I can't help but laugh.

“It's not 'elementally'. It's 'L, M, N, O, P,'” I almost say, but I don't wanna come off as a smart-ass.

It's funny how easy it is for me to sing that song now. When I first tried to learn it, I couldn't understand it. It was just a bunch'a sounds. How could anyone memorize it?

I 'member first hearin' it bein' sung by a bunch'a little kids goin' to school. They walked behind their teacher in a straight line, and she sang right along with them. It was the weirdest song I'd ever heard. It didn't have no words in it – at least not until, “Now I know my A's and Z's/Tell me what you think of me.”

Now, I was at least smart enough to know that A's and Z's meant letters. So that's what all that gibberish was. The kids was learnin' their letters!

Every mornin', I tried to listen to the whole song, but I never caught the whole thing, and I still didn't know what any of it meant. Finally, one day I just went up and asked.

I 'member the teacher saw me comin' and slowed down before she put her arm out to shield the children.

“Hello, Ma'am,” I said, rememberin' to be polite, of course.

“Good day,” the teacher said. She eyed me real cautious, like she was scared I was gonna attack her or somethin'. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, I mean, yeah. I was, uh--” I took a deep breath. “I just wanna know what that song is you're singin'.”

“What song are we singing?” The teacher's eyes got wide, and she looked at me like there was somethin' funny. “It's the A's and Z's song. We're reciting the alphabet.”

“So, that's letters, right?” I asked.

“That's, uh, that's correct, yes.” The teacher nodded. “Um, is there anything else?” she asked, after I didn't say nothin' for a moment.

“Could I learn it, too?”

The teacher opened her mouth and closed it again.

“I – sure. I mean, I could.” She stopped to think for a moment. “We could use an escort on our way to the school. I much prefer walking my students there to letting them go by themselves, but I would feel much safer with an actual guard to protect us.”

I knew I wasn't supposed to just leave my post, but I only had to walk them to school and then I'd be right back. Plus, there was other guards nearby.

“Sure,” I agreed. “And you'll teach me the song?”

“You can learn right along with us,” she said. She took a piece of paper from a bag hanging on her shoulder.

“Oh, I can't read,” I said, lookin' at all the funny symbols on the paper.

“Well, each one of those is a letter. So, here's A, B, C...” she pointed to each as she said it. “Let's get going. Children? A's and Z's, but let's sing it very slowly so... Sorry, I didn't get your name.”

“Murray,” I told her.

“And I'm Helena Delaney,” she said, smilin' kinda quick and then turnin' to the kids. “Okay, let's sing slowly so that Murray can read along with us.”

The moment I heard her say those words, I couldn't help but think how strange it sounded. “...so that Murray can read along with us.” Me. Readin'. How crazy was that? But I guess it was also kind of excitin'.

The school kids' voices interrupt my thoughts, and I wave Lee off and take his place.

“Murray! Hi, Murray! Good morning, Murray!” the kids all say as the line approaches with their teacher, Miss Delaney, at the front.

“Good morning, Murray,” she says, smiling.

“Mornin' Miss Delaney. Mornin' kids,” I say, givin' them all a big wave.

“Shall we carry on?” says Miss Delaney, and they head off, the A's and Z's song startin' automatically as I line up behind them.

“So, Murray, how is the reading going?” Miss Delaney asks.

We've arrived at the school, and all the kids are gettin' ready for the day and sittin' at their desks. I notice the familiar A's and Z's chart at the front of the classroom. I can recognize all the letters real easy now, and to think I used to not know what any of it meant.

“It's goin' pretty fine,” I answer. “I'm readin' a book about this cat. His name's Ollie.”

“Oh, Ollie the Cat. A bit too advanced for my children, but I'm still very familiar with those books. Which one are you reading?”

I lift up my helmet to rub the back of my head.

“It's the one where it's snowin' and Ollie goes outside.”

“Oh, that one.” Miss Delaney frowns and shakes her head. “Those books are always so tragic for an animal lover like me, but that one was especially sad.”

“Don't tell me!” I nearly yell, holding my hands up. “I haven't finished it yet.”

“Okay, okay!” Miss Delaney chuckles, putting her hands out. “Calm down, I won't spoil it for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, relaxing my arms. “Well, I gotta go back to my post. I'll see you tomorrow.” I turn to the kids. “Bye, kids!”

“Bye, Murray!” They all say, and I turn to leave while Miss Delaney starts class.

Time to get back to Ollie.

The flames wigg-led wiggle-wiggled and pop-popped, dancing in a way that made them almost ir-re-sis-ti-ble... irre-sistible to a cat like Ollie. He watched the emb-ers float into the air and disappear as he w-hipp-ed... w-hipped his tail back and for-th, his eyes con-cen-tra-ting in-ten-se-ly on the tan-ta-li-zing fire.

But how would he get past the grating? He would have to move it, but sure-ly Mama or Papa would stop him before he could get past.

He sc-scanned the room, noticing-noting that the children had gone to bed and Mama and Papa sat do-doz-dozing off on the nearby sofa. So, he stood, war-i-ly stepping forward, his eyes locked on the nearly-sleeping couple. Creep-ing toward the bar-bar-ri-er s-se-pa-ra-ting him and the fire, he put his claws through the grating and yank-yanked it right down. It fell to the floor with a loud cla-clank that nearly made him dart in the other di-rec-tion, but he clamed-calmed himself and jumped on the grating, ready to make the final po-pounce.

“Ollie! No!”

The sound had wo-ken Mama and Papa, and they stoo-d, making their way to him. Ollie pa-nic-ked... panicked. He didn't have much time. The warmth from the fire toa-toast-toasted his skin like a hot summer's day, but he wanted those fla-mes flames for himself. He pounced, ready to trap the w-rig-gling w-riggling fire under his paws, as Mama sc-rea-m-ed... sc-reamed from behind him.

But soon he was the one sc-rea-ming.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” he scree-ched... screeched. The fire was too hot. He bat-ted at the flames co-ver-ing his body, trying to keep them away, but it was no use as the fire cha-char-red... charred his bea-u-tiful fur, turn-ing it to the color of ash. Ollie screamed and screamed and screamed until his black-en-ed... blackened body went still, his life having fl-fled his us-use-useless co-corpse.

The End.

I can't believe it.

“Hey, Murray, you comin'?”

What in the Void just happened?

It's the end of my shift, and my buddies are all ready to go, but I clutch the book in my hand, my heart banged up and all but broken.

“No, you all go on. I'm gonna take a walk,” I say and push past 'em without sayin' another word.

You know, I figured things wouldn't turn out good for Ollie, but still the endin's left me kinda down. I got just as much into that book as someone would get into a story bein' told 'round the fire--

The fire.

Emotion hits me and leaves me with a bad feelin' in my stomach. Why'd that cat have to be so damn stupid?

I curse Ollie and T. J. Brownstone and the damn librarian that gave me the book and the goddamn library that kept the book on its shelves like it wasn't nothin' but another kid's story, just like the rest.

“Murray, what are you doing here?”

I walk into the classroom, and seein' the look on Miss Delaney's face, I let the tears fall.

“Is something wrong?” Miss Delaney asks. Her eyes get real wide, and she looks from side to side, but I'm too busy blubberin' to notice.

“Ollie died,” I sob, sniffling between words. “He... just jumped into the fireplace... and burned up.”

I look up at Miss Delaney, who, for just a moment, smirks before putting on a sympathetic face.

“It ain't funny,” I cry. “Why are you laughin'? Don't laugh!”

“Oh, Murray,” Miss Delaney approaches, putting her hand on my arm. “You didn't know?”

“Didn't know what?” I swallow, trying to keep my sobs at bay.

“Murray... Ollie dies in every book.”

The tears stop, and I stare at her through blurry eyes.

“W-What?”

“The cat dies in every book.” Miss Delaney replies. “That's the theme of the series. It's supposed to teach you not to be so curious that you get yourself into trouble.”

“I... wait a—What?”

Miss Delaney smiles a bit and then giggles, taking a handkerchief from her pocket.

“You poor thing!” she says, dryin' my eyes. I take the cloth from her, rubbin' it all over my face, wet with wasted tears.

“It's the same cat in every book? But how does he come back to life?” I hold up my finger. “Wait, wait, I know this. Cats got nine lives, right? So, as long as he doesn't die a whole nine times, he's okay.”

“Not quite,” Miss Delaney chuckles. “I think the trick here is that Ollie isn't a real cat. He's just a book character.”

“Well, that ain't realistic.” I sigh. “I could write a better story than that.”

“Maybe,” says Miss Delaney. She raises an eyebrow. “Are you looking to be a writer now?”

I laugh, feelin' my eyes dry up. Look at me, cryin' over a book.

“Oh no, nothin' like that. I just wanna read a better story. Somethin' happier.”

“Well, the library's still open. Maybe I can help you find some books you'd like to read.”

I nod, thinkin' of the possibilities—plus maybe Miss Delaney has a better taste in books than the librarian.

“Yeah, that'd be nice. Just no sad endin's,” I say. “And no cats.”

#dishonored #TotH #tales of the heart #for city watch overseer

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