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quickspinner · 3 years

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Month of Miracles - Dressing Up Part 2

Find the prompt list here!

Marinette tapped her pencil on the small stack of sketches and sighed. She felt dissatisfied with them, but that was nothing new. She was dissatisfied with almost everything she made these days, so why should this be any different?

Her thoughts drifted back to Luka for the hundredth time. She was going to have to face him again. He was expecting her and she really did need to source some materials from the wardrobe he was offering.

She might be able to put it off a day, though, she mused. Maybe it would be better to give him some space, anyway. She had just rejected him, after all. That had to sting, no matter how chill he acted about it. Marinette would be doing him a favor, staying away for a day. She could go shopping and see what she could get in the way of basic materials first. That was a perfectly plausible excuse.

Coward, she thought sourly at herself, and sighed, dropping her head into her arms.

It would be easier if she didn’t like him so much. Marinette turned her head and looked at her phone where it lay on the table in its cheerful pink case. She could text him, but...would that be weird? People here didn’t seem to do that, they just...popped up. He’d told her just to show up whenever, but…

I don’t have his number, she realized suddenly. How funny was that? All the times they’d talked, and they’d never even traded numbers.

She wouldn’t even be able to text him when she went back to the city. The thought made her ache, but she pushed it aside. That was the kind of problem you could push off for later, she thought as she packed up her things. Not like making out with a guy you were probably never going to see again once the week was out. Which was a real, actual problem that should be avoided.

Right?

Marinette groaned, and grabbed Gina’s car keys, marching out of the door. She had a job to do, and surely she was still professional enough to manage that much.

She had herself mostly together by the time she pulled into the Couffaine farm. The yard wasn’t empty when she pulled in, to her mild surprise.

“Ahoy, Marinette!” Anarka called, waving at her, and Marinette, feeling she should be polite, got her kit out of the car and walked over to where Anarka was working. Ankara was unloading some small saplings from the back of a pickup truck that looked a lot like Luka’s, only about twenty years older. “For a moment there, I fergot it was you and not yer grandma pulling up,” Anarka chuckled as Marinette approached. “Here t’see Luka, I expect? He said ye were comin’ by.”

“Yes,” Marinette tried to smile, and hoped she didn’t blush too hard at Luka’s name. Yes, hi, I kissed your son this morning and broke his heart, so this isn’t awkward at all. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?

“He’s been working like a demon all day,” Anarka commented, lifting another tree down with a grunt. “He was drivin’ me crazy, bein’ so efficient, and I about bit his head off.” She glanced at Marinette, who tried hard not to look guilty. “Told him to make himself scarce for a bit. I think he went t’ take a shower, but he should be done by now.”

“Oh,” Marinette said lamely, trying very hard not to think of accidentally walking in on a freshly showered and not entirely dressed Luka. Maybe awkward small talk was for the best. “He, um. He said you were done for the year?”

“Aye, closed to the public fer the year,” Anarka smiled. “Though o’ course if there was anyone in town that needed anythin’ we’d open right back up. Nah, the public part of business is done for the year. Now it’s just all the work nobody sees.” She turned away from Marinette for a moment, walking over to the rail fence that separated the rows of trees. Marinette followed, unsure what else to do, her kit bumping against her knees as she carefully skirted the saplings.

“Never really thought I’d end up in a place like this,” Anarka said, leaning her elbows against the fence rails. “There’s a kinda poetry t’ it, though. Renewal. Rebirth. The old makin’ way for the young.” She winked at Marinette, and then went on. “I might not even be here by the time these trees are big enough t’ cut. Got a wandering foot, y’know, and it’ll take seven or eight years minimum for these to get the size where anyone would even consider cutting ‘em. Who’s to say I won’t be off to some new adventure by then? But they’ll still be here, growing, because I planted them. Endings, beginnings. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one apart from the other, aye?”

Marinette made a noise in reply automatically, but Anarka’s musings had put her thoughts on another track, and she barely heard the last bit.

Anarka eyed her sidelong for a moment, and then sighed and shoved herself off the fence, turning to smile at Marinette with her hand on her hips. “Out with it, lass, what’s on yer mind?”

Marinette blushed, snapping back to the present. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.”

“Maybe not,” Anarka shrugged. “Ye can still ask, though. If I don’t want to tell ye, I just won’t.”

Marinette shifted her weight and adjusted her grip on the handle of her kit, still uncomfortable, but...“Were you...disappointed?” she asked in a low voice. “When Luka gave up his career?”

Anarka laughed loud enough that it echoed back to them. “Nah, lass, I was proud . Luka was miserable, livin’ that life. It takes guts to admit that and come home, ‘specially when everyone around you is telling you how lucky ye are, having a talent and a chance like that. Like somehow you owe some cosmic debt and if ye don’t stick it out, yer wastin’ somethin’. Like success is a cookie cutter and ye have to slice away bits of yerself to make it fit.” She shook her head. “It’s not how I raised my kids. I taught them to take chances, and I taught them not to let fear make their decisions—and I also taught them that there’s no shame in what the world likes to call failure. There’s no shame in trying out the different shapes of success until you find one that fits, instead o’ tryin’ t’ force yerself into the one kind.”

Marinette blinked at her, surprised at the way her expression softened as she spoke.

Anarka was silent a moment and then sighed. “Still. You do your best to teach them, but you never know whether the lesson’s gonna stick. So when I think of the courage it took for Luka to walk away, to look so-called failure in the face and turn it into just another lesson learned, to find a way to believe that he’s still his father’s son even if he doesn’t follow in the old man’s footsteps—I’m so proud I could burst.” Marinette started slightly as Anarka suddenly stepped forward and put a surprisingly gentle hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Luka’s never needed to prove his talent to me, lass. He’s still finding his feet again, and that’s okay. When he’s ready, he’ll make success fit him instead of the other way around, I’ve no doubt of that.” She squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, and looked at Marinette for a long moment. Marinette swallowed nervously, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Ankara let her hand drop and jerked her head towards the house. “Go on now, we’ve both got things to be doing. Go straight on in, he’ll be expecting you.” She turned back to her young trees, and Marinette, clearly dismissed, turned towards the house, butterflies surging back to life in her stomach. She was being stupid, she told herself. Luka had accepted her rejection gracefully, and tried so hard to make her comfortable. Marinette was sure she’d hurt his feelings if she suddenly got awkward about being around him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Marinette sneaked a glance back towards Anarka, and then despite what she had been told, she knocked as loudly as she could. She lingered on the doorstep as long as she dared (which wasn’t very long, knowing that Anarka could see her not going on in), and let herself into the house. She could hear guitar music even before she got the creaky old door open, and once inside, she followed it to the great room. Luka was perched on the same fragile-looking chair as before, with an acoustic in his hands this time. He looked up as she entered, and smiled, laying his hand flat against the strings. His hair was damp, and his t-shirt sticking to him a little bit. He couldn’t have been out of the shower long and Marinette was kind of glad she’d stopped to talk to Anarka.

Luka stood up and put the guitar in a stand, and Marinette realized she hadn’t even said hi, but it seemed too late now. “I was starting to think Mom was going to talk your ear off before you made it up here,” Luka teased gently as he straightened.

“Oh, we were just, um—” Marinette winced. “Talking.” She was so lame, ugh.

“I saw through the window,” Luka grinned. “Figured you’d get here when you were ready. The stuff’s all in the attic, so…” He gestured towards the stairs, and then reached for her kit. “Can I get that for you?”

Too flustered to object politely, Marinette let him take it, and then followed him. She should say something, she thought, but she couldn’t think of anything.

She sighed mournfully as they climbed the stairs. Part of her ached for what he was offering—but she was pretty sure that same part wouldn’t want to let him go, and that was just...and really, she was such a disaster, and he was amazing, and he deserved so much better than someone who was so mixed up and wishy-washy. Why did they have to meet like this? Would it have been different if they met before?

Except before, she was with Adrien, too dazzled and in love to even see anyone else, and Luka had been a rock star, surrounded by all the glamorous women he could possibly want, and she had never really stood out, as Audrey loved to remind her. She just didn’t have Adrien’s celebrity magnetism, nor Audrey’s force of personality, so she was always overlooked. It was no wonder that nobody ever really saw her until she came here.

“Well, here we are,” Luka’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was reaching up to grab a hanging cord.

Marinette shook her head and slapped her cheeks as Luka pulled the attic ladder down and ascended it. None of this was actually solving the problem at hand. She needed to keep her mind on the costumes. Marinette had sketched out some ideas at home, thinking she could probably get some sheets to use as a base, and then maybe she could source some of the less expensive things from Luka’s old wardrobe for embellishments on the fancier things like the angels, or for the snaps and things. There was a single big box store in town, actually; the selection would be limited but surely she could find some things there too. This project was ridiculously easy, when it came down to it. She had a plan that would work, and it was all simple sewing, stuff she could do in her sleep. No sweat.

So why were her hands shaking?

She lifted her hands and watched them tremble before her eyes. She felt her breath getting short.

She started when a large hand closed over both of hers. “Marinette.” She looked up, and Luka was there, framed against the light coming down from the attic. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly, with a smile that was a little too wide. “Just, hoping there will be some stuff I can use.”

Luka smiled. “It’ll be fine. Come on up.” He shifted his hold to just one of her hands and drew her up the narrow stairs after him.

He let go of her hand once she was up, and Marinette looked around in mild surprise. The attic was cleaner than she expected. Cluttered, like the rest of the house, and full of things in piles and stacked, sometimes draped in sheets, but she didn’t encounter the dust she had expected, and the small, high windows were clean and let in plenty of light. She wondered if they were just carting things in and out of here so often that they kept it clean, or if they used the space for more than storage. There was a clear path to where they needed to be, and she followed Luka across the creaking floor.

Marinette waited nervously as he whisked the protective sheets off two racks of clothes. Marinette had to blink as the light hit the clothes; there were metal accents and rhinestones and metallic fabrics everywhere, and she was unprepared for the amount of light they threw back in her eyes.

“There it is,” Luka sighed, folding his arms as he sat on a trunk a short distance away. “Every bedazzled scrap of it.”

She had to giggle a little at that. Luke Stone had certainly favored ostentation, though that was almost unavoidable when you played with Jagged Stone.

Still, they didn’t have to, she thought, as she walked up and began mechanically sliding looks along the rack to have a look. They could have played up his simplicity. They could have made him stand out by contrast, rather than by imitation. She wondered if they were deliberately setting up an implied rivalry between father and son with their choices, or if they just hadn’t thought a rock star could be simple. Costume design wasn’t exactly the same thing as fashion design, but there was enough overlap that—

Marinette brought her thoughts back to the present, and swallowed as she stepped back again, suddenly overwhelmed. She turned away and opened her kit slowly, taking out the stack of drawings she’d left on top, suddenly profoundly dissatisfied with them. Rose and the kids expected her to work magic with this stuff, and all she had was a pile of generic toga-style costumes.

Simple. Uninspired. Pedestrian.

Her gut began to churn.

Marinette glanced at Luka nervously, and then jerked her gaze quickly away, but of course he caught it.

“I don’t have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “I can go back downstairs and you can just call me if you need help with anything.”

That was so far from her thoughts that it gave her pause. “You...don’t make me uncomfortable,” she said, and looked back at him with a sad smile. “You never have. You’ve been...really wonderful, Luka, now matter how weird things got. I am uncomfortable, but it’s not about you.” Taking a breath, Marinette stepped back to the rack and ran her fingers down the fabric in front of her in a practiced motion, taking in the composition and the drape almost without conscious thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luka asked quietly.

Marinette thought about that for a moment, and then turned back to the garments on the rack. “Not tonight.” She couldn’t afford to get worked up now, she had to figure something out. She...she had to do something, she couldn’t just…

“Okay.” Luka said simply, and Marinette swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. He was so understanding, but—what was she going to do? She couldn’t just drape the kids in sheets and call it a day, they deserved so much better than that. She had to figure something out, she had to—She put both hands in her hair and pulled it, trying to focus on the clothes in front of her, but her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut tight and held her breath, trying to keep it together.

Luka’s hands closed on her shoulders from behind, squeezing lightly, and Marinette turned to him in a rush, burying her face in his chest.

“Marinette, look at me,” he said, pushing her shoulders back gently and taking her face in his hands. “Just breathe, and look at me.”

Marinette stared up into his blue eyes, reflecting calm and assurance while all that fluttered in her chest was panic and self-doubt.

“Slow down,” he said emphatically. “It’s okay.”

“But I—” she began, and he shook his head.

“Marinette. There’s no failure here. Anything you put together will be better than moldy, moth-eaten rags. Without your help we’d all be frantically cutting armholes in pillowcases or something. No matter what you do, Rose will be ecstatic.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “These are the lowest possible stakes. You can’t screw up, so just have fun with it.”

Marinette turned her head out of his hands, looking at the designer, rock star wardrobe laid out for her to use. “But—”

Luka reached over and grabbed her fabric scissors out of her kit. He grabbed a shirt at random off the rack, and cut it in half in a ragged line. Marinette stared as he offered her the scissors back. “That’s how little I care about this stuff,” he grinned.

Marinette’s mouth closed abruptly and she glared at him, and would have snatched the scissors from them if they hadn’t been—well, scissors. Well-sharpened fabric scissors at that. Instead she took them with the appropriate amount of care even as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have needed that,” she told him, kicking his foot lightly.

“I have faith,” Luka grinned wider. “You’ll manage.”

She huffed and turned back to the garments, and looked at the second rack next to her. Luka backed away, leaning his elbows on an old dresser as he watched her.

Marinette studied the racks, and suddenly she pulled out her phone, swiping to the group photo she’d taken at the library today. She looked over the children there, at their dyed hair and punk haircuts and all-black outfits interspersed with riots of color, and began to smile a bit. “Okay,” she muttered, picking up a leather garment studded with rhinestones. “I guess this Christmas is about to get a little bit rock ‘n roll.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly.

Marinette barely noticed him, eyes lighting up as her mind began racing. She picked up the stack of designs she had done earlier and crumpled them absently in her hands. “I need my sketchbook,” she muttered.

“I’ll get it,” Luka said, shoving off the dresser and crossing the room. “Where?”

“I left it in my car. On the passenger seat, I think.”

Luka clattered down the stairs and out of the front door to grab Marinette’s sketchbook. Halfway back up the stairs he hesitated, and ducked into his room to grab his own notebook. Marinette practically snatched the book out of his hand, digging in her kit for her pencils, and Luka grinned, sitting back on the trunk again and resting his notebook on his knee.

He watched her, fascinated, as her focus narrowed to her task, and she began sketching, making notes and separating out items from the stacks of clothing he never thought he’d look at again. Luka began scribbling notes to himself as well, just...idle thoughts, the web of concepts and ideas that eventually came together to make a song, but he kept looking up to watch her, intrigued by her creative process. She muttered something to herself or tossed something aside with more vehemence than usual and he grinned.

Slowly, the attic transformed, suddenly strewn with gaudy clothes. Several distinct heaps were forming. Every once in a while Marinette would stop, and go back to her sketchbook, scratching in new details or ideas, or crossing something out with a sigh.

He jumped slightly, though, when she tossed the book aside with a little scream, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s never going to hold up with that kind of weight, I’m so stupid —”

“Whoa,” Luka said, a little sharply than he’d meant to, putting his notebook aside and getting up quickly to go to her. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I just—I should have accounted for this, and I didn’t, and now I have to change it—”

“Okay, so change it,” Luka said, putting his hands on her shoulders again to make her look at him. Marinette looked at him like he had two heads, and he almost laughed at her. “Marinette, you’re an artist, not a machine. It’s okay to backtrack and change your mind.” He smiled at her, hoping he looked reassuring and not enchanted. “I know every artist is different and music isn’t the same as fashion, but for me…” he shrugged. “Success comes from a series of small failures. You try something, and it mostly works, but something isn’t quite right, so you make a change and try again. That’s not something to be ashamed of or upset about. If you’re that frustrated, we could take a break. Or if you want to rework it some and come back tomorrow, that’s fine too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute, her mouth working soundlessly. She looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, and then back up at him.

“Do you want to take a break?” Luka asked her.

“I...no,” she said. “It’s...it’s not that big of a deal, I’m pretty sure I can fix it if I...um—”

“Okay,” he said simply, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. He really wanted to hug her, to hold her tight and tell her how amazing he found her, how entranced he was watching her work, how alive she looked when she was creating, but—he couldn’t, so he squeezed her shoulders and then let his hands fall. “No need to explain it, I trust you.” He glanced down at the book, and then looked away. “Sorry, I’m not trying to peek, but that—that looks really badass.” He couldn’t help looking again, and, blushing, Marinette turned the book so he could see. His smile grew as he looked at it. “That’s amazing, Marinette, what are you worrying about? If it looks half this cool in real life we’re going to have to have someone standing by to give Rose oxygen.”

Marinette giggled, and looked back down at it herself. “You really think so?” she murmured, with a small smile that made his heart skip. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any sweeter.

“I definitely think so,” Luka told her, backing away. He sat down on the floor this time, leaning back against the trunk. He groped behind him blindly for his notebook and nearly knocked it off the far side of the trunk.

Marinette gave a pleased hum, and then took a deep breath before her brows furrowed into her concentration face. Luka drew his knees up and leaned one elbow on them, smiling like the fool he was.

There were a few more frustrated groans, but no more spirals, and Luka kept quietly in his place even as piles of fabric grew around him. Finally she sat back and sighed. “I think that’s everything I’m going to need.”

“Cool.” Luka looked up from his notebook and smiled.

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Marinette gasped, looking around as if she had only just now realized the chaos she had created. “I can help you clean it up—”

Luka cut her off with a laugh. “You’re welcome to,” he chuckled, “but there’s really no need. Clutter is a way of life around here. Trust me, the only reason they were so organized to begin with is because they were delivered that way.” His eyes fell to her sketchbook. “Can I see what you have in mind?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any more.

Marinette tensed up immediately, biting her lip. She looked at the book and then at Luka, and then she offered it to him.

Luka took it, though his eyes stayed on her, concerned and a little baffled by her hesitation when the one sketch he’d seen had been so cool. Marinette turned back to the pile of garments she had chosen, though, and so he let his eyes fall and began looking through the few pages of sketches she had made, careful not to go beyond even though he was aching to see more. A slow smile grew on his face as he looked, and he shook his head slightly. “The angels are still my favorite, but these are amazing, Marinette. You might want to get some earplugs because Rose is going to shatter glass when she sees these.” He grinned up at her. “I knew you could do it.”

She smiled faintly, but looked away. “They’re just pictures, though. I still have to actually execute the designs.”

“Hey,” Luka said, reaching a hand up towards her. Marinette blinked in surprise, but she slowly stepped forward and put her hand in his. He tugged gently, and she sank to her knees in front of him. “ Yeah, you might have to make some changes when you go to actually put it together, but that’s part of the process for everybody. Sometimes a song I thought was finished doesn’t work out right the first time I play it with the band, and I have to make some changes.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I don’t know what’s going on in there,” he poked her forehead gently. “And I’m not exactly up on fashion, but—” he gestured at the racks of clothes. “I have some experience too, and I gotta say…” he shook his head, and turned the sketchbook towards her. “You outclass anybody else I’ve worked with by far.”

Marinette blushed deeply. “They’re just costumes,” she murmured, tucking her hair back as she looked away.

“They could have been, but they’re not.” Luka offered her the book back. “Marinette.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do you like them?”

Marinette looked back at the drawings, and bit her lip. Her face was growing red again. “Yes,” she finally admitted quietly.

Luka put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face back up. “Stop thinking so hard,” he said gently. “I know it’s easy to lose faith in yourself, but...you’re creating something, you have to find a way to tune all of that stuff out and just be in that moment. You can deal with the aftermath afterwards.” He grinned. “That’s what editing is for, right? Or so I’m told. I was never any good at it.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s why your music was so good. It was...raw, instinctive. Still polished, but deeply emotional. It’s why I always loved it.”

It was Luka’s turn to flame up red, and Marinette giggled.

“That wasn’t fair,” he huffed, pulling his knees up to hide his face in his arms for a moment.

Marinette laughed harder. “How many thousands of records sold and you blush at a little old compliment from a fan?” she teased.

Luka turned his face on his arms so that he was looking at her. “You’re not just any fan,” he said, and smiled at the pink returning to her cheeks. He sighed, raising his head, and letting his legs fall and cross beneath him again. “Don’t ever let anyone let you feel like you’re not special, Marinette.”

“It’s definitely not a problem when I’m with you,” she said, and then bit her lip, like it had slipped out without her intending it to.

“Good,” he grinned, and then decided he’d better move before he did something stupid. “So, show me what you need me to take down to the car for you, and we’ll just leave the rest of it like this until you’re done in case you need to come back for something.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and she scrambled to her feet. “Right.”

She told him which piles of clothes she wanted to take, and Luka got some bags and gathered them up. Marinette made a token effort at tidying up, despite Luka having told her to leave it. She hung a few things back on the rack, and paused suddenly, hand hovering over a jacket still on the rack.

Marinette picked it up slowly, looking at it. The scent of leather and something like electronics hit her nose, and her eyes widened slightly. She felt around the bottom hem and found something hard and rectangular there. Another minute of searching, and the jacket lit up in her hands, the fiber optic lights sewn into the seam pulsing faintly.

Marinette laughed a little, and crossed over to the trunk Luka had been using as a chair all afternoon. She sat down and spread the jacket across her lap. She remembered this. He’d been wearing it at the show she’d gone to. They’d started with all the lights off and just Luka on stage, wearing this jacket and the pants that went with it, making him just an electric outline on the stage when the curtain went up.

Hard to reconcile that image with the guy from the tree farm, she thought affectionately. But then, he’d always had a reputation for being a sweetheart, good to his fans and generous with his time, so...maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe.

At least this contraption is well made, she thought, running a finger along one of the light tubes. It was still secure after all this time, and clearly in working order.

The lights began to flash and jump around, and Marinette giggled. It had started that right before Luke had swept his hand up and down in a dramatic power chord that had rattled her teeth. Once again it was hard to reconcile them in her mind. It was almost funny, now that she knew Luka, remembering those dramatics.

The light reflected back off something in the corner of her eye, and when she looked, she saw it was the metal coil of Luka’s notebook, half buried under a pile of clothes he had shoved out of the way. She picked the notebook up and smiled a little bit as she did so; the page was a mess, full of scratched out lines, and the writing went every which way in a complicated web. Was this how his mind worked? It was so different from her own process—

Jewels Diamonds in the sands of time Those are my memories with you And even if it’s only a precious few They’re the ones I’ll keep when everything else flows away

It made Marinette think of her first fashion show, when she’d been new and excited about the garments she was putting out there, excited and happy. That moment shone jewel-bright in her memory, despite all the drudgery that had followed it. That was she was working for, after all, another chance at that feeling. All of this frustration would be worth it if she could have another moment like that.

Marinette blinked back to reality and suddenly realized what she was doing. She slammed her eyes shut and turned the notebook over in her lap. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked at that, she thought frantically, her heart suddenly beating triple time. This—this was private, just like her designs were, and she shouldn’t have—but she hadn’t meant to—

Luka’s heavy boots thunked on the stairs and Marinette jumped, dropping the notebook so that it landed on the floor splayed open with an inelegant smack . Marinette scrambled up and hurriedly grabbed it again. She hastily smoothed it out as Luka came the rest of the way up into the attic. “Oh, I think this one is yours,” she said, holding it out to him.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Luka said, curling it in half and sticking it in his back pocket. Marinette tried not to wince. “Anything else?” His eyes landed on the jacket in her hands. “Oh, I see you found the switch,” he chuckled.

“Will you put it on?” Marinette blurted, and Luka raised his eyebrows at her. “Please?” she smiled, hunching her shoulders slightly as she held it up.

Eyebrows still raised, Luka took it, and slipped it on. He grimaced slightly as he zipped it up. “Definitely doesn’t fit as comfortably as it used to,” he commented, tugging down on the hem. “Not too bad, though.”

“You probably build muscles in different places, hauling trees,” Marinette said absently, stepping forward to adjust the way it sat across his shoulders for a moment. “Not as uniform a workout as using a personal trainer. It gives you a more natural build.” She smiled a little as she smoothed the arms and stepped back.

“It still looks good on you,” she observed. “You were wearing this at the concert I went to. The first time I saw you live.”

Luka smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t exactly have the same effect in my attic, does it?”

“No,” Marinette smiled back. “It was a wonderful performance, though, and I guess I wasn’t expecting to be reminded of it just now.” She bit her lip and asked in a rush, “Were you...were you writing a song? Just now?” She gestured vaguely toward his pocket.

Luka looked a little taken aback, but not offended. “I was starting to,” he admitted. “I...really enjoy the time we spend together, and it was really nice, seeing a new side of you today. I guess I felt a little inspired, yeah.”

Marinette’s breath caught. “It was...about me?”

“About you and me, yeah,” he admitted. “Does that bother you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “No!” How could he think she’d be offended by such a thing? It was...it was amazing, that she’d inspired anything in him, when she was so—and—how she had felt, in that first fashion show, was he...was he saying he felt that way with her ? She shied away from the idea even as she thought it, it was so...so much, and she was so—she was—

Oh no. Luka was looking at her intently, a slight crease in his forehead. She tried to think of something to say, but her internal meltdown was too complete, and she just stared at him.

“You’re extraordinary, Marinette,” Luka said softly, and his expression was completely serious and not at all flirtatious. “Getting to see you work today was a privilege. I’m better for meeting you, even if my heart breaks when you’re gone. It’s...it’s a long way from being a song, but I meant it.”

“But I’m…”

Luka shook his head slightly, a smile softening his expression. “You’re what, Marinette? Tell me everything, I want to hear all of it.”

Marinette gaped. “You—you—how do you do that?” she cried, throwing her hands up. “You’re sweet and kind and you have an amazing talent but you’re so laid back and grounded and—”

“And you are all of those things too,” Luka laughed. “Except maybe the laid back part.” He grinned, and Marinette made a face at him. “You kinda maybe worry too—”

Marinette had taken two large steps toward him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled. Luka staggered, grabbing on to her shoulders as she dragged him down and kissed him.

He made a very undignified noise even as his arms were coming down to wrap around her. Marinette couldn’t hold the kiss very long; she hadn’t taken a good breath and her nose was smashed against his cheek, so she was forced to break it before Luka really even had a chance to respond.

Luka sucked in a breath, blinking at her. “Are you sure?” he blurted, and then looked like he wanted to kick himself. Marinette had to giggle, giddy with elation and adrenaline, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest.

“No,” she told him when she was able, and a little shiver of fear went up her spine before she stomped it down again. “But I’ve never met anybody like you and...anyway, you’re right. It’s stupid to be tearing myself up over it when I could just be kissing you instead.”

“Very logical,” he laughed, and Marinette kicked his shin lightly.

“Take off this ridiculous jacket,” she told him, tugging. “I can’t take you seriously in this thing.”

“I don’t know, I’m suddenly a lot fonder of it than I was a moment ago,” Luka grinned, putting his hands over hers on the lapels. His tone was teasing, but his thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and there was a light in his eyes that had her heart galloping all over again.

She slipped her hands away, and Luka fumbled at the hem until he found the switch, turned the lights off, and shrugged the jacket off, dropping it carelessly on the trunk beside them before reaching for her again.

They were still wrapped up in each other when Rose popped her head in the attic looking for them, and rattled the windows with her scream.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #hallmark au #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #promptfic

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boyyyhowdy-blog · 5 years

Text

It’s All Pretty Hopeless but We Keep on Trying

pairing: javier escuella x female!reader

summary: Plagued by nightmares, you find yourself alone on the docks at Clemens Point until Javier joins you. While sharing your troubled thoughts, Javier feels something he never thought he’d experience again.

warnings: mega sad reader, angst, mentions of violence, emotional distress, one (1) sweet cowboy in a poncho

word count: 1,724

=-=-=

You were sitting on the dock again, feet in the water, neck craned to watch the summer night sky speckled with stars. Your loose hair swayed gently as a breeze swept over the lake, surprisingly cold considering the absolutely horrid heat in the day, yet you were unmoved. Not even a shiver.

Javier felt a rush of pity as your hand swiped under your eye, no doubt wiping away a tear or two. Out of decency and sympathy, no one ever asked what happened before Dutch agreed to let you stay, yet everyone knew anyway. Living in a camp full of eavesdroppers did not grant much privacy.

It was a marvel, really, how well you kept your pain under wraps— a pretty façade of smiles and silly jokes throughout the day to keep everyone fooled. It worked for the most part. Javier had to admit, if he didn't know mental exhaustion like the back of his hand, you would've had him fooled too.

For a moment his thinks he should turn around, go back to bed and leave you to figure out your own demons. Yet something in the way you draw in a shaky breath has his heart aching.

With a sigh, he stepped onto the dock, the wood creaking under his weight. You turned at the sound, your lips curling into a fragile smile. He didn't like the way his heart jumped against his ribcage.

"Hello, Javier."

"Hey," he responded, taking a seat beside you. "It's late, aren't you tired?"

You shrugged and pulled up the collar of your shirt that slipped over your shoulder. "I just needed to clear my head for a bit."

"I can get my guitar if you want," Javier offered up. He still stood by the theory that a good song could cure any broken heart. "Could sing you somethin'."

To his disappointment you turned down his offer with a shy smile. "It ain't worth wastin' your talents on me tonight. 'Sides, it's nice to listen to the crickets and the wind blowin' through the trees."

Pulling your feet out of the lake, you rested your chin on your knee, your eyes sliding shut. He took the moment to study your face, the freckles, the smile lines, and even the shadowed patches underneath your eyes. Familiar yet so much more unique than he once thought. Sure, he'd had plenty of conversations with you before tonight, but he never took the time to truly appreciate how beautiful you were.

As if in a trance, he reached out and trailed a finger along your cheek. Startled, your eyes flicked open, your skin heating with a flush as he dared to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Your lopsided grin grew to match his.

"You should get some rest, hermosa," Javier murmured, forcing his hand back to his lap instead of tracing your soft skin even if they itched to return.

That lovely little smile, like his own personal ray of sunshine, faltered and melted away. With a sigh, your eyes trailed out back to the water. "I—I can't."

Javier bit the inside of his cheek. "Do you...want to talk?"

You shrugged and rubbed at your arm. "It's silly. Just some bad dreams, y'know?"

"Querida, nightmares aren't silly," Javier said, brows furrowing. "Especially if they keep you up all night."

Chewing your lip, you shrugged again, refusing to look at him.

Javier said your name, enjoying the way the syllables rolled off his tongue like a prayer. You spared him a glance. "Keepin' that pain bottled up isn't doing you any favors. You can tell me, if you want."

"Do you have a family, Mr. Escuella?" You asked with a gentle sigh.

Surprised by the sudden question, he shook his head. "Er, no. I mean, yes, but not anymore."

"Oh," you said. With that you swallowed and sucked in a shaky breath, your hand delving into your pocket to fish out a lovely golden locket. Flicking it open, your eyes traced over your family's faces before handing it to Javier who promptly studied your family of six standing in front of a farmhouse.

"I was seventeen when we got that picture taken," you smiled. "I remember 'cause my older sister, Harriet, was allowed to leave her room for the afternoon. I was so happy."

You pointed out the tall girl beside your younger self, her features similar but with higher cheekbones and thinner visage. Her expression reminded Javier of those fancy monarchy paintings he saw in a museum once. "Wait. What do you mean she was allowed to leave her room? Was she, like, a vampire or something?"

"No," you snorted. "She had Tuberculosis. It was partially why we bought the farm. She, uh, died a year later."

"I'm sorry," he said, wishing he could offer more.

"S'alright," you shrugged, masking the old wound with another smile. "Y'know, she used to play the piano and I'd sit an' listen outside her door—sometimes sing along. When she...when she couldn't play no more I realized she were better off dyin' than bein' in pain. Listenin' to that cough was pure torture."

You paused for a moment then pointed at the young man on your right. He wore a stern expression, out of place on his youthful face. "My brother Warren. He and the ranch hand, Collin Cassidy, would get into all sorts of trouble and somehow I'd always get roped in. Warren ended up workin' for a railroad company after Harriet died. Got in a real big fight with my Momma and Pa and I haven't seen him since."

This time, you frowned, brief anger flickering in your eyes before tracing over the little girl in the front, your arms slung over her shoulders. She looked sweet if not a bit impish. Your gaze softened. "That's Adelia, she was such a pain. I nearly strangled her every other day."

Javier chuckled, reminded of his own little sister. "Was she anything like you?"

"God no," you laughed, shaking your head. "She wouldn't so much as glance at a pile of mud while I'd come home covered from head to toe in it. Adelia much more liked braidin' the horses' hair and makin' flower crowns near the creek."

You finally moved up to your parents. "Momma and Pa. They loved us even if we were worse than Hell itself."

"You look like your mother," Javier commented, bringing the photo closer to his face. "And, you've got your father's eyes."

"Yeah," you murmured. "People always said that."

A comfortable silence filled the space, Javier content with whatever you wanted to tell him. He decided he liked the way you spoke, enjoyed the sound and cadence of your voice. Something he now looked forward to hearing.

"I—" You started, voice wavering suddenly. "I should have been there."

"How do you mean?" Javier asked, tentative despite the curiosity.

"I should have been there when those brutes burned down our farm," you spat, a sudden rush of angry tears spilling down your cheeks. "If I weren't so angry at my momma, then I would have been there. I could've helped."

He stayed silent, unfazed by your sudden fury.

Your jaw clenched as your nails tug into your arm so hard that the skin broke, your face drawn into a deep frown. "Did you know that, before they set the house on fire, they took my family out back near the pigpens and shot them from behind? I got there just as they pulled the trigger and killed my little sister."

More tears sprung from your eyes, your bottom lip quivering. "I'm afraid to close my eyes because I know that all I'll see are their face's, their last moments stuck on wonderin' why I never showed up to save them."

He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. The least he could do really. "It's not your fault."

"It isn't?" You snarled, venom lacing your words. "If it isn't then-then why do I feel this way? Why do I feel so guilty about being alive?"

You looked up at him, eyes wet with tears, your face a cocktail of grief. Guilt, pain, fury, all the familiar emotions Javier felt in a previous life, yet he had no answer for you. He didn't have to say anything as you searched his face for a solution, lips pinching in realization.

"It doesn't end, does it?" You whispered, shoulders visibly slumping. "The pain, the guilt, the weight of it all."

Javier chewed his bottom lip and sighed. "No. But it gets easier over time. You learn how to deal with it, you know?"

He glanced down at your locket, thumbed the delicate metalwork and offered it back. "I've found that it's better to think about the good memories rather than the bad ones."

You swallowed and glanced at the locket in his palm. Instead of taking it, your hand enclosed around his hand, forcing his fingers around the trinket. "Do me a favor and hold on to it for me, would you?"

Before Javier could sputter out a protest, you flashed him a sad smile, keeping your warm hand on his own clammy one. "Please. Keep it. Seein' their faces makes my heart ache worse than a pulled tooth. And..."

"And what?" He urged, enjoying the way your fingers felt over his.

"And you said you didn't have family, so you can borrow mine."

"Querida," he scoffed, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation. "I can't take this. It's all you have left of them."

"Please," you all but begged, a stray tear rolling down your cheek. It trailed to your chin where it hung for a moment then dripped onto your lap. "I want you to have it."

"But—"

With a dry laugh you cut him off once more. "In twenty years, when we're old and you've got your own family with your own pictures, come find me. When you do, you can give it back. Okay?"

He hadn't the heart to argue. "Okay."

"Thank you."

Suddenly, your soft lips brushed against his cheek, planting a gentle kiss over his scar. Before he could process, let alone tug you back to give you a proper kiss, you were already halfway down the dock.

Javier pressed his fingers to his cheek, a giddy smile tugging at his lips. He’d be talking to you a lot more from now on.

=-=-=

an: yeehaw hope y'all enjoy

#javier escuella x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #red dead redemption x reader #angst #my writing #El writes #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #big sad feels #first fic

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fifteenskies15 · 4 years

Text

Flamboyantly Worked it Out

(Tengen Uzui)

Summary: Your son is sick right in Kodomo no Hi festival, he wanted to spend it so badly with his family and friends, not wanting to make him unhappy you, Tengen, and the rest of his wives decided to make an "indoor festival" for him

Admin's Note: My first fic about Tengen and reader, this is all for you my dearest fellow Tengen stans, But I'm fully aware that you mostly spend time with his wives too

"I have renewed my clear and flamboyant priority..."

"First the four of you..."

"Then respectable humans"

"Then myself"

"Even if we're no longer in the corps, we're still going to protect the plain and carefree people, of course since we're still demon hunters till the end of the day"

"Hehehe! Papa!!"

...

"Ah.. How could I forget?"

"I mean the five of you..."

"and frankly speaking, you guys are all so precious to me, so remember..."

"... Don't die"

"ACCHOO!!!" a high pitched sneeze enacted out from your son's bedroom, lately he's been sneezing a lot "Mom/Dad...what happened? My nose feel stuffy" you compared your body temperature with his "Oh my, Ginjiro, you catch a cold"

"Is it bad? Can I still participate in children's day?" He say as he break into another sneeze, you had a sinking feeling inside your stomach, your son, Ginjiro had been looking forward to spend children's day with his moms and dad/dads, you gulped, trying to be as gentle as possible to say that he can't participate in the festival he's been looking forward to.

"Ginjiro, I'm sorry, but you had to rest... Can you please do that for us?"

Ginjiro's (E/C) eyes start to tear up, you feel guilty to see your seven year old son can't do much for now "B-but...I have been looking forward to this day... I even made my own Kabuto helmet..." You sighed and gently stroke his white hair "I'm so sorry, but chin up... there's always next year..."

Little Ginjiro just sighed and lay back down to his futon, dejectedly, "... It's okay mom/dad... You're just looking out for me...If that's the case, I'll just take a rest..., Love you Mom/dad..." You sighed and pat his head "We love you too, son..." Ginjiro smiled and close his eyes as you came out of his bedroom, sighing.

"I know that sigh quite well, (Name), is everything alright?" Hinatsuru asked you, visibly concerned "It's Ginjiro... he's got a fever and..." You sighed for the second time "...Do you remember that he wanted to go to children's day festival together with all of us this year? Well I'm afraid he can't..."

Hinatsuru then pouted sadly as she heard that her son is sick, with a sigh, she put a comforting hand on you "Oh, I'm so sorry, dear (name), I can't imagine how sad our son is" you sighed softly but smiled at her "It's okay, Hina... It's not even your fault" Hinatsuru hugged you and stroked your (H/C) hair to console you, you lean in to her motherly touch.

"Oh! But I just have a good idea!" Hinatsuru say beaming up, you looked up to her, slightly tilting your head "What is it, Hina?"

"What if we just "bring the festival in"?" She smiled at you, as you tilt your head again "How can we do that, Hina? She just smiled at you until you get what she meant by that.

"Oh, I see how it is" you say smiling at her "Well all and all, we're going to make a koinobori, each carp represent us as his parents, the biggest and black carp, Magoi, symbolize Tengen-sama/and me as his father(s), the red and smaller carp banner, higoi, represent us/all of you as his mothers, Ginjiro is our only son, and frankly speaking he's also our first son, so he's going to have blue carp banner"

Hinatsuru listened closely and nodded as she did, "I see, very well then, what about the food?"

"Hmm, if I recall correctly, we make sweets for him is chimaki (bamboo dumpling) along with Mochi and various array of rice cakes, I don't remember much, but we could always ask Suma, she and Ginjiro had a lot of fun on last year's festival, so she might knew"

"Ah, okay then! Suma and I will handle the sweets, you and Makio can make the carp banners, and that leave Tengen-sama to watch over Ginjiro, and... Maybe stall him for a bit so he won't know what surprise we store for him" you smiled at her and nodded "Great idea! Well then, chop chop! We can't waste the sunlight!"

Hinatsuru smiled as she see how hyped you are, she chuckled and kissed your cheek "Well let's get to work, dear wife/husband" you giggled and do the same gesture to her as you scurry off to find Makio.

----

"You need me to help make a carp banner? Well, no problem, (name)! I have plenty of free time to make those!" Makio said, grinning at you "That's good to hear, Makio, well let's gather up the items we need!"

"Alright, what do we need?"

You recall what items are required to make the carp banner "Let's see, we need a ryudama, yaguruma, and fukiganashi, I'm sure the general store had those for us and we could make the carp banner ourselves" Makio nodded as she memorized the items you said "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get them now!" She said as she headed out and you follow her.

You and her then bumped into Tengen "Whoa there, what brings my wives/my wife and husband today? You both look agitated"

"Ah, Tengen-sama! Well...we..."

"No, let me guess, you both are going to get item for the carp banners, right?"

"Actually, yes, has Hinatsuru told you what to do?"

He nodded with (unusually) gentle smile on his face "Yeah, she did, don't you worry, my girls/and boy, I will get him busy with my flamboyant tales" he said, slightly flipping his hair as you and Makio giggled at him "But on one condition"

"What is it, Tengen-sama?" You and Makio said in unison "You should let me help you both so this impromptu festival will goes flamboyantly" you and Makio share a look and then nods "Only when Ginjiro is asleep"

"Deal, well now godspeed, you two, time's a wastin'!" He said as he gave you both a "flamboyant" hug as you and Makio headed out from Uzui estate.

----

"Well! Isn't it just nice! It's been quite a while since I came to the town aside from taking Ginjiro to children festival all those years ago" Makio said taking in the bustling town, people are passing by, vendors selling so many stuff and even food and array of unique shop, "Well since we're both are kunoichi/we're a shinobi we don't have much time to act like normal people"

Makio grinned and elbow your side, slightly chuckling "Hey, I take an offense, I can be normal too, you know?!" You giggled at her "I dunno, you looked angry and hungry 24/7 so basically you're hangry, get it?"

"Oh, I show you hangry!" She said laughing as she chases you as you run while giggling like a kid.

You and Makio had cat and dog chasing game around the town, you were at your advantage at least until Makio use her ninja trick and got you.

"Gotcha, you cute girl/guy!"

"Aaahh!! Noo!! Spare me mercy, Divine Makio!!"

You and Makio burst out laughing before you remember why you're in the town now "Oh dear, we better get those items now!"

"You're right, I'm having fun chasing you around though" she said giggling as you both headed to the general store, a kind old lady greet you both with a smile

"Well, hello, hello! What a pair of beauties/cute couples you are, is there anything I can help with?"

"Well, old lady, do you have...umm...what was it again, (name)?"

"A Ryudama, yaguruma and fukiganashi"

"Yeah, those things"

"Ahh, I see you're going to celebrate the children day, give me a moment, dearies, I'll be right back" the old lady said as she got the item you both required.

"You know, it's a good idea to have the festival in the estate so little Ginjiro can have a good time with all of us, last year we take him to the festival separately, you on his first year, then Hinatsuru, me, Tengen-sama then lastly with Suma"

"Hehe, well it's Hinatsuru's idea, I'm just doing what I need to do" Makio smiled warmly at you and put her hand on your shoulder "Still, it's good to know that you both find a way so we can cheer our son and let him enjoy the festival even though he's under the weather"

"Well, anything for our only kid, and maybe...if Tengen-sama agrees, our future kids too" you say wiggling your eyebrows as Makio laughed and playfully smacked your shoulder "(name)! You naughty girl/boy!" You both burst out laughing again as the old lady bring the required items "Here we go, dearies"

"Thank you, ma'am!" You took out a pouch of money, but the old lady stopped you "Oh, it's free for you, dearie, I may be old but I can't help hearing your conversation with this lady, I take it you made a koinobori for your sick son?"

"Yeah, we are, he's been looking forward to this and there's no way we make him sad just because he can't enjoy it with other kids" Makio said, huffing a bit "Well, you both are certainly are good parents for him! I wish that he'll get well soon so he can enjoy the festival"

You and Makio smiled at her and bowed your head a bit "Thank you very much, old lady! Sorry for the trouble!"

"Think nothing of it, dearies"

You thanked her once again before you and Makio headed home.

-----

"Hina, Suma, how's the food?" You said as you checked the other wives at the kitchen "Oh, (name)! We're doing great! We're just going to make the kashiwa mochi and the Kabuto namagashi, how's the carp banner doing?" Suma asked you as she made the pickled oak leaf for the mochi "Oh we're going to make it now, if you're finished why don't you join us on drawing the carp banner?"

"Oh! I don't know...I mean! I would love to but what if the carp banner turned out to be a mess because of me??"

Hinatsuru shakes her head at Suma "Oh, Suma, it's okay, you're going to do well, and (name) we will join you later, alright?"

"Alright! We're at the genkan if you looked for us!" You said as you headed to the entrance area to join Makio making the carp banner, and to see Tengen already sit next to her

"Oh, Tengen! You're here, I take it that Ginjiro is asleep?" You said as you sit down, joining them "Yup, I figured out I'm going to help you and Makio making this carp banner, we're going to make it, flamboyantly!"

You chuckled at him as you took the fabric "Well in that case, we better get going before our son is awake"

The three of you worked on the banners in peaceful silence, sometimes though, you're being cheeky by smearing the fabric paint on your wife and husband's face "Whoops, my hand slipped" you said nonchalantly while drawing the higoi, trying your best to hide your smirk, unfortunately, Tengen saw that and smeared some on your cheek "Oh, the God of Festivies didn't mean to smear a paint on his wife/husband's face" he said jokingly, as you retaliate him "You were saying?"

You and Tengen keep smearing each other faces with the paint, Makio who made the banner for Ginjiro just laughed and shake her head at her wife and husband/husbands antics, "Now, you guys are going to wake Ginjiro and the banner won't be finished!"

You and Tengen share looks before you both smirk at her and smeared a red paint on her face "Ohh, so this is how we're going to finish the banners huh! It's on!"

The three of you basically chasing around trying to "paint each other faces" while laughing

"Ha! In your face, Makio!"

"You're not getting away with that, (name)!"

"Eat my Flamboyant Surprise attack!!"

Tengen manage to get the paint on your and Makio's nose, you gasped with her "The audacity!" You both then tackled Tengen and smear paint all over his face "Aahh!! Betrayed by my wives/my wife and husband!! I have fallen!!"

The three of you burst out laughing, you hear a giggle and to see Hinatsuru and Suma on the doorway smiling at both of you "Well it looks like you both have fun with making the banners"

You, Tengen and Makio sheepishly get up "Hehe, umm...sorry, we got carried away" Hinatsuru just smiled and sit down "Well let's not waste our time"

Suma joined her with a napkin on her hand, wiping the paint off your face "Hehe, you're actually cute with paint on your face, (name)" you smiled at her and kissed her cheek as a thank you gesture "Thank you, Suma-chan" she smiled and clean Tengen's face then Makio as you all continue making the banners and it pole.

"How's the Magoi banner, Tengen-sama?" Hinatsuru said as she helped you paint the higoi banner "I have made the most flamboyant banner the people ever seen!" Tengen said as he flaunt the black carp banner with jewels that similar to his eye patch he had, you and the other wives smiled at him.

"That is a flamboyant banner, alright" you chuckled "Now then, Tengen, if you don't mind can you attach it on the pole along with the fukiganashi?"

He nodded and start to attach the banner and wind bag on the pole,

"Suma!! You got the color mixed up!!"

You and Hinatsuru look over Makio and Suma's banner, the white paint smeared on the blue paint

"Ahhh!! I'm so sorry, Makio-san!! I knew I would mess it up"

"Quit talking like a coward, Suma!"

You, Tengen and Hinatsuru can only sigh as you approach them "It's okay Suma-chan, I will salvage this, you help Hinatsuru on attaching the ring in the carp's mouth"

"O-okay..." She then went to help Hinatsuru as you help Makio salvage the banner, she sighed "We don't have much time to salvage this" you shook your head and smiled at her "We still can, just leave it to me"

You dip the brush in the bowl of water to clean it and cover the white smudges on the carp's body with blue paint and carefully draw it's scales "See, we're almost finished so don't worry about it, Makio"

Makio sighed and smiled at you "Well, I shouldn't doubt you then" you all continue make the banner together and only few hours later, it's finished.

"Well, looks like we flamboyantly worked it out!" Tengen said as all of you all see how the wind fluttered the carp banners "Not really, Tengen-sama, Ginjiro haven't seen this yet so it's not finished yet, besides I have another thing I got for him" Hinatsuru say smiling at him.

"Hmm, yeah you're right, I wonder if he's awake now"

"I'll go check on him then"

His wives smiled at both of you "We'll get the tea and sweets ready then"

----

"Thanks for doing this, (name), it was a flamboyant idea to celebrate children's day like this" Tengen said as you both head to Ginjiro's bedroom, you smiled and shook your head "It was all Hinatsuru's idea, so you'll have to thank her instead"

Tengen smiled at you and ruffled your (H/C) hair "Hey don't sweat it, you both did amazingly and flamboyantly, Suma and Makio too, you don't know how lucky I am that I married to four amazing women/three amazing women and a flamboyant man and I have even more flamboyant son, too"

You chuckled and playfully punched his chest "save your sappy words for later, Tengen" he just smirked and slid open the shoji door and to see your son, huddled in blanket hugging his self made Kabuto helmet.

"Hey there kiddo" Tengen smiled and sit next to him "Hey Dad, sniff, and hey Mom/father" he say smiling weakly "what's up?"

"We know you're feeling under the weather, but do you want to get some fresh air for a bit? Spring wind is never that cold so don't worry" he thought of it for a while then smiled "Yeah, okay"

Tengen smiled and carried him on his shoulders as you both lead him outside "We're sorry that you couldn't celebrated the festival at the town, we knew how much you want to"

Ginjiro only smiled and shook his head "It's okay Mom/dad, I know you're worried about me..."

"Damn right we are so we decided to have a little festivies here and now" Tengen said as you both stepped out of the estate "Huh? What do you mean, da...-" he then looked up at the carp banner and his (E/C) eyes sparkled in happiness "Waahh!! A koinobori!! It looks so cool!! Did you guys made this??"

You and Tengen nodded as he pointed out at the banners "That black one is me/and your dad, the red ones are your moms, and the blue one on the bottom? It's you kid, you look awesomely flamboyant"

"Cool" the little boy marveled the carp banner and bounce up excitedly "This is the first time I saw this up close!! It's so cool!"

You and Tengen share a smile before back to Ginjiro "Hey kid, I know you're supposed to eat something warm like soup, but for today, it's an exception"

If it's possible, Ginjiro's eyes sparkled even more "Really?? What is it??"

"You'll see, your moms prepared something for you"

----

"Ah! You're awake, Ginjiro! Come, come! Sit down and enjoy the food!" Suma said as she excitedly usher Ginjiro to sit, his eyes widen in surprise when he saw array of sweets in front of him

"Wow!! A Kashiwa Mochi!! I got this with Suma kaa-chan last year! Can I eat it? Can I eat it pleeaasee??"

Makio laughed and ruffled his white hair "help yourself! It's all yours!"

"Yay!!" He happily gobbled up the mochi as you, Tengen and the other wives watch him as you all are the rice cakes Hinatsuru made and sipping green tea, you notice once your sullen and sad son became happier as he gobbled up the mochi happily.

"Oh and I have one more thing" Hinatsuru then walked away get something and come back with Kabuto helmet "Here! This is an actual Kabuto helmet to commemorate this day" she said as she displayed it in the middle of the room, Ginjiro excitedly approach it and look at it in awe "Would that mean it's mine too now?" He said looking up at Hinatsuru with his wide and sparkling eyes, she smiled and gently stroked his hair "Yes Ginjiro, We had hope that you will grow into a strong and healthy man just like...-"

"Just like dad/and father!! I will grow up into a strong shinobi and save people..."

The boy strike a dramatic pose

"... Flamboyantly!"

You all laughed at him as if he forget that he's sick, apple really did not fall far from its tree...

"Well, how about it? What's your thoughts on this "in home festival"?" Suma asked him with a smile, Ginjiro smiled brightly that it melt all of everyone's heart.

"This is the best children's day festival EVER!!" he said jumping up and down and hugged all of you "You guys are the best!! I love you all!!"

You share smile with your husband and wives as you both huddled up in a warm hug

"We love you too, Uzui Ginjiro"

----

Admin 15: Oh whoa, that's the longest story I have ever made, I'm actually quite proud of the outcome, I'm terribly sorry if this story made no sense

#kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba scenario #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #tengen uzui #tengen uzui x reader

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kmomof4 · 5 years

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Ch7 Time and Again

We’re back y’all!!! Thank you so much for your love and support of me and this fic! I hope you enjoy the new chapter!!

Ao3 link

All the love and thanks to my besties and beta/encouraged team of @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89!!! Love you ladies to the moon and back again!!! *mwah*

Also big shoutout to the CSSNS discord ladies for all their encouragement and help over the last few months!!!

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

A/N I am aware that in some places it is illegal to swim with dolphins in the wild. But this is fan fiction y'all. Just go with it.

Killian cracked the door open to Emma’s bedroom to see the blonde siren still in dreamland. She was on her tummy facing the door with her sunlit hair spread over the pillow and her face. The little whistle she released on her exhale caused the corner of his mouth to lift in an affectionate smile. He crept into the room and made his way to the windows and opened the blinds so the morning light flooded the room. “Rise and shine, sleepy head!” His exuberance obviously didn’t even register with her as all she did was snuggle her head deeper into the pillow and pull the comforter more firmly around her.

He laid down on the bed facing her, tenderly brushing her hair away from her face. “Oh Swan,” he singsonged. She finally cracked an eye open.

“Who’re you?” she slurred, still mostly asleep.

He broke into a full grin. “I’m a new day,” he exclaimed. “New opportunities. New experiences.”

“You’re insane,” she grumbled, turning away from him.

“No, I’m not,” he insisted, getting up from the bed. “Come on Swan, daylight’s a wastin’. Breakfast is ready and we need to get moving.”

“Why?” she questioned, turning back to him. She sent him a side eye as she pushed her hair out of her face and sat up. “Am I making you late for an appointment?”

“Ahh, not an appointment, per se,” he admitted, scratching behind his ear. “More of a rendezvous. Between us. With a specific activity in mind.” His eyes widened along with hers as her mouth fell open when he realized exactly what he just said. Holding his hand out and shaking his head vigorously he nearly shouted, “No, no, no, Swan! That’s not what I meant,” he justified himself, feeling his face flush. “I mean,” he stammered, looking down again, “I had an idea of how we could spend the day.” He looked up and met her skeptical gaze head on. “Deep sea fishing.”

“Deep sea fishing?” she parroted, the incredulous look on her face making him break into a grin.

“Deep sea fishing,” he reiterated. “Have you ever been? Oh, never mind,” he murmured, scratching behind his ear again. “I forgot. You’ve never been to the gulf. And I assume, no other beach as well?”

She sent him another side eye and a smirk. “You assumed correctly.” She climbed off the bed and stood before him. “What is it? A charter? What time is our reservation?”

“Nope, not a charter,” he informed her. “Right behind the pool, on the other side of all that green, is the dock.” He smiled down at her. “The Jolly Roger will be at that dock in,” he checked his watch, “less than an hour.”

Her eyes were nearly comically wide now. “The Jolly Roger?” she choked out, “Are you kidding me? What is it with you and pirates?” She shook her head.

He laughed at her dubious expression. “No, I’m not kidding you, Swan,” he said, shaking his head and waggling his eyebrows at her with a delighted twinkle in his eye. “And, I mean, you were the one who watched Black Sails. I think the name of the ship in the dream, must have been from me.” His gaze turned sheepish. “I’m sorry again for last night, Swan. I…”

“Nope,” she said. “We’re not talking about that. You have a wonderful day planned. Let’s focus on that.”

"You’re right, Swan.” He turned away and retreated to the door of her room. “Like I said, breakfast is ready, so get a move on. I’ll see you up there.” He shut the door gently behind him.

~*~*~

Killian was sitting at the table finishing his coffee when Emma finally made an appearance about thirty minutes later looking much more awake than when he had left her. She wore a red crocheted top with three-quarter sleeves over patterned shorts. Her hair was pulled into a messy braid that lay over her shoulder. The sheepish look she sent him was all kinds of adorable and caused his lips to pull into a smile as he brought his coffee cup up to his lips.

“Uhh,” she worried, “I wasn’t sure what appropriate attire was for deep sea fishing,” she finished, waving her hand vaguely over her body.

“Honestly, Swan,” he began, “your bathing suit and a t-shirt cover-up will be fine. Sunscreen and a sunhat are actually more important. Keep you from getting burned. Do you have rubber soled shoes?”

She nodded as she made her way to the coffee pot. “I brought my tennis shoes.”

“They’ll be fine,” he assured her. “There’s homemade French toast and bacon in the oven. I’ve already eaten. What do you like on it? Powdered sugar? Syrup?” he asked getting up from his chair and coming into the kitchen area.

“Syrup please,” she murmured. He got the syrup out for her and sat it down on the table. She dug in to breakfast with a gusto that surprised him.

“It’s not going anywhere, Swan,” he chuckled. “There’s plenty, and I promise to feed you again at lunch. Speaking of, what would you like me to make for us?”

She grinned around her full mouth. The unintelligible, but entirely adorable mumble that came from her pulled a full laugh out of him. After swallowing, she tried again. “French toast is my favorite. I can’t help digging into it like there’s no tomorrow. What kind of jam is there?”

He made his way to the fridge to search for jam. “We have grape, strawberry, and apple butter.” He straightened back up again. “What did you have in mind?”

“Can we make peanut butter and jelly? With the strawberry jam?” she asked. The almost guilty look on her face made his gut tighten in indignation and made him wonder what or who in her past would make her so hesitant to ask for something as simple as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He couldn’t let her know that though, so he smiled at her instead. “Of course we can. Do you like crunchy or smooth peanut butter?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh smooth, please,” she enthused. Her eagerness waned slightly as she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to people really caring what I think when it comes to things like that. I mean, Ingrid, my mom, does, but…” she trailed off.

“Wounds made when we’re young tend to linger,” he conceded, nodding. “And I’d imagine that in the foster system, there wasn’t much catering to simple desires and wants. I understand,” he murmured, coming over to her, sitting down next to her, and taking her hand. His eyes met hers and he forced all the sincerity he was feeling into his eyes for her to see. “When it comes to me, Swan,” he continued, “get used to it.”

She nodded slowly, their gaze never breaking. He saw a hesitancy in her eyes that made him want to gather her in his arms and promise that nothing would ever hurt her again. But he knew that love and trust were earned and making rash and ultimately impossible to keep promises would do nothing to move him closer to that goal. So he settled for pouring everything he was thinking and feeling into his eyes and hoping that she would read it. He stood up and went back to the kitchen to prepare their lunch while his Swan finished her breakfast.

~*~*~

“I didn’t even notice this yesterday when we were touring the house,” she enthused, nearly skipping down the dock. Her obvious delight at their excursion thrilled him as well, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to smother his grin and a small chuckle.

She stopped in front of the luxury boat at the end of the dock. The grin she sent him made his heart soar. “Behold! The Jolly Roger! She’s a World Cat Glacier Bay Edition Catamaran. We could run from here to the Bahamas if we wanted to.” He passed her and climbed on holding his hand out to her to help her aboard. “And this is her Captain, Nemo Dakkar.” He indicated the tall, bald man to the side.

He bowed low as he took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Welcome to the Jolly Roger, milady. We will be heading south from the island about forty miles before we weigh anchor and spend a few hours fishing the depths. We also have snorkeling equipment aboard if you’d like to get in the water.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Captain Dakkar,” she replied, with a slight blush.

“Oh please,” he waved away her formality, “call me Nemo. Have to take advantage of a name like that,” he continued, with a twinkle in his eye.

She let out a laugh that completely relaxed the tension that he could see in her shoulders when she met Nemo. He was so good at putting people at ease, Killian was pleased to see him work his charms on his Swan.

Nemo took the small cooler that held their lunch and turned from the couple to head to the cabin. After settling himself and Emma comfortably on the bench seats behind where Nemo was seated, Killian nodded to him to start the engines.

As they pulled away from the dock, Killian watched Emma closely. She had changed clothes as he suggested into her bathing suit with a sleeveless button up top and shorts over it and tennis shoes. The straw hat on her head and sunglasses on her face did nothing to hide the joy in her wide smile. “You didn’t notice the boat yesterday because it wasn’t here, Swan,” he informed her, shouting above the roar of the twin Yamaha engines. “She’s docked on South Padre Island. I called Nemo last night and asked him to be here at ten this morning.”

“I see,” she shouted back laughing, as the wind tried to whip her hat off her head. Watching her smile and laugh as their temporary home got smaller and smaller behind them, Killian hoped that everything they experienced today would make for a day to remember.

~*~*~

“Tell me a favorite memory of you and Liam,” she asked, smiling.

“Oh, are we playing twenty questions again, Swan?” he joked, with a smirk and raised eyebrow. They had finally reached their destination in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico and had set their rods. Now they just had to wait. Emma had taken off her outer clothes and was sunning herself on the seats at the stern of the boat. The bright blue bikini left little to the imagination and Killian was having a lot of trouble keeping his thoughts from straying into uncomfortable territory. Uncomfortable territory with their audience nearby anyway. So he was thankful when Emma asked him the question.

“Hmmmm,” he pondered. “My favorite memory with Liam.” A grin broke out on his face. “You’re gonna think I’m awful for saying this, but you remember asking if I was competitive?” Emma nodded. “So, March 2004, Liam and I were skiing in Aspen. I was on spring break before I graduated.” Emma’s eyes lit up. “A pretty lass had caught Liam’s eye and he was trying to impress her, so he was being entirely too foolhardy in challenging me to a race. He should have known that I wasn’t going to take it easy on him just so he could impress his lovely lady.” He chuckled, looking down. “Once again, I handed his ass to him. And not only did I beat him, but he took a tumble as well breaking his ankle. I mean, he was fine, eventually. No lasting effects, but it certainly makes for a funny memory for a younger brother.” He looked back up with a wide grin on his face.

“March 2004?” she asked, her eyes dancing, “Do you remember exactly when? I was supposed to be on a senior trip during our spring break in Aspen.”

“Really?” he exclaimed, surprised. “I don’t remember exactly when we were there, but there was a big jazz festival going on that week.”

“Yes!” she laughed, “That’s when we were going. For the jazz festival! I didn’t get to go because I sprained my ankle the week before at a softball game.” Her face fell then. “I cried the entire week they were gone. I don’t know why. I wasn’t even that excited for the trip. I mean,” she amended, holding her hand out to him, “I was looking forward to it, don’t get me wrong,” she shrugged, “but not enough to warrant all the crying I did that week. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. Something important.”

Killian could feel the blood draining from his face. He suddenly remembered that week, with perfect clarity, hovering in that in between state between waking and sleeping, hearing a girl cry as if her heart would break. When he would wake up fully, the crying was gone. He had forgotten about it until this very moment.

“Wait a minute,” he speculated, with a frown on his face, “I remember a group of kids there that week with these obnoxious tie dye lime green and turquoise t-shirts and yellow baseball caps. I remember them because they kept singing this NSYNC song, Bye Bye Bye, but with different words.”

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed, “Those were my friends! And I wrote those lyrics! Oh that is hysterical! That you were there the same week I would have been.” She looked over at him as realization dawned. “I should have been there when you were there.”

Before he married Milah. Before losing who, at the time, he thought, was the love of his life. Would he have met her back then? If so, would that have stopped him from marrying Milah? Sparing him that heartache that was to come? He’d never know. But he couldn’t help but think that if he had met her back then, his life would have been different. He sent her a despondent smile before shaking off his melancholy. “Ok, my turn,” he said, determined to take their conversation into a happier direction. “What was the first movie you saw in a theater?”

She laughed. “You may not believe this, but I remember seeing Aladdin in the theater. My first grade class took a field trip to see it before Christmas break. What about you?”

“My first movie was Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. Favorite movie of all time?”

“The Princess Bride.” She looked down with a slight blush to her cheeks.

“What?” he inquired, as she lifted her face towards him again. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed about loving The Princess Bride. It’s one of my favorites, too.”

“Really?” The amazed hope in her eyes made him catch his breath.

“Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles… how could it not be?”

She sent him a bemused smirk. “Saw what you did there,” she murmured. Now it was his turn to blush and look down. “What about your favorite movie?”

“Star Wars, the original trilogy,” he answered definitively, with no hesitation whatsoever. “Uhhh… favorite book.”

“My book of fairy tales.” The enhanced blush on her cheeks made his heart stutter in his chest. While the blush may have given away her nervousness at revealing something so personal, she held her head high, refusing to back down from the intimacy engendered by such a revelation. “One of the few good families I had growing up gave it to me for Christmas. I was seven.” She looked down then. “All the stories in the book started with hope. Reading them over the years, helped me keep my hope alive that there was a family out there for me. Someone to love me.” She looked up again with a tremulous smile before nodding toward him for his answer. But he couldn’t. Not until he held her in his arms and assured her of his love for her. Without words of course. He rose to cross over to her when a jingle to his left caught his attention.

“I think you may have caught something, Swan,” he informed her, looking towards her rod and reel.

Emma scrambled up from where she was lounging on the padded seat to where her rod was secured on the edge of the boat.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?” Her excitement and trepidation were hilarious and Killian couldn’t hold back his laugh.

“Reel it in, Swan,” he encouraged. She took the rod in her hands and was nearly pulled overboard, unprepared as she was for the weight of her catch, before Killian grabbed her around her middle and pulled her in to him, securing her back to his front so she’d have the leverage to reel it in. He murmured encouragement in her ear as she leaned against him and did battle with whatever was on the other end of her line.

About ten yards from the gunwale of the boat, the fish made a mighty leap into the air, trying to free itself from Emma’s line. “Swan,” he shouted, “That’s a king mackerel! And a good size too!” Nemo had been standing by waiting for the fish to make an appearance. As Emma finished reeling it in, he pulled the fish over into the boat and unhooked it from the line.

Emma turned around and threw herself into Killian’s arms. “I did it, I did it, I did it!” she shouted. The smile that split her face made his heart soar.

He spun with her in his arms, laughing with her. “That you did, Swan. Well done!” He placed her on her feet, but continued to hug her in celebration of her success.

“Oh this is gross, Killian. We’re sticking together,” she mock complained, pulling out of his arms. She looked up into his face as he went very still. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Killian,” he murmured.

“Is it?” she asked, with a furrowed brow.

“Yes, Emma, it is.” His azure gaze penetrated the confusion that swirled in her jade depths. The only time he had ever called her Emma, was when she’d called him after the last dream. It was always Swan or Miss Swan in their interactions before and since. Just as it had always been Mr. Jones, Jones, or sir. With her use of his first name, he felt the need to use her first name as well. He pulled her closer again, wanting to impress upon her the importance of the moment when he was interrupted by a series of trills, clicks, and whistles off the port side.

Emma turned wide eyes toward the pod of dolphins that were frolicking and chirping in the water only a couple of feet from the boat. “Dolphins,” she exclaimed, delighted. She turned back to him and Nemo, eyes the size of saucers. “Can we get in the water with them?” she asked, a hesitant hope in her eyes.

“Of course you can, my dear,” the captain laughed. “Leave your hat and sunglasses here. I’ll get out the camera and take pictures.” Emma needed no other encouragement. As she took off her shoes and accessories, Killian got out the snorkel equipment for them both. When they were both properly outfitted, they jumped into the water.

There were ten dolphins in the water including a couple of much smaller ones. The mamas were protective of the little ones, not letting the humans get too close, but the others were eager to play. Killian was in awe of the creatures and watching Emma interact with them brought tears to his eyes and laughter to his heart. He thought his heart would burst when Emma placed a kiss to the nose of one of them. They were both taken for a ride, holding on to the dorsal fin of one of the more adventurous creatures. The animals would often look at the boat and seem to pose for Nemo with the camera. Killian was delighted that Nemo not only took pictures of him and Emma swimming and playing with them, but got pictures of just the dolphins when they were jumping out of the water. After about forty-five minutes of frolicking with the animals, the pod moved away from the boat and Killian and Emma made their way back to it.

~*~*~

Nemo helped Emma back into the boat as Killian came up right behind her. The stunned disbelief on her face melted into pure joy as she laughed at the marvelous adventure they’d had that afternoon. “I still can’t believe it,” she sighed, “I’ve never,” she shook her head, “even been that close to a wild animal before, outside the zoo. And to actually touch one…” she trailed away with a sense of wonder that she knew was all over her face.

She looked at Killian as he came up behind her. “Aye, Swan,” he agreed. “It’s something we’ll never forget.” The moment was too poignant and emotional. She stepped into his open arms and let him hold her. She held the tears she could feel gathering at the corners of her eyes back only by sheer force of will. The emotions on a rampage inside of her demanded an outlet and finally found that release in a barking sob.

“It was so beautiful,” she cried into his shoulder, “and perfect. And I’m so happy. And I’m so sad it’s over. And I’ll never forget it. As long as I live.”

“That’s right, Swan,” he murmured, “let it out. Let it all out. I’ve got you.” He continued to hold her, whispering assurances and what comfort he could in their shared experience. When her sobs finally started to taper off, he reluctantly released her and turned to Nemo. “So let’s see those pics, shall we?”

Emma wiped her eyes and hiccuped as the captain strode forward with the camera. “We also have to get a picture of Emma with her mackerel.”

“Yes, we do,” Killian agreed, smiling down at her and taking the camera. “Ready lass?” he asked. Nemo approached again with her catch and a bright smile broke through the tears at last.

“I weighed it, and this bad boy weighs 47lbs,” the captain exclaimed, his eyes lit up in approval. “Well done!”

Emma let out a watery laugh. “Thank you,” she marveled, taking her fish from Nemo. He took the camera back from Killian and took pictures of the fish, Emma holding it up, and then Emma holding it between her and Killian.

“Now, before we head for home,” he informed them, “I’ll clean it and put it in the fridge. And y’all can have king mackerel for dinner tonight.”

While they waited for Nemo to finish the arduous undertaking of cleaning the huge fish, Emma and Killian sat side by side and scrolled through the pictures of their dolphin adventure. There were also pictures of Emma reeling in her catch. She was near tears again as she looked at the images. There was one that Nemo had caught of one of the dolphins fully jumping out of the water.

“Oh, now I’m getting that one made into a canvas and putting it on the wall,” Killian promised. “Now whether it’s in my office or here or at home will remain to be seen.” He smiled widely at her.

Smiling back, she asked him, “Why not all three? I know I wouldn’t mind seeing that picture wherever I was.”

“You know, you’re right,” he agreed. “Why can’t I have that picture at all three places. Thank you Emma,” he breathed, awareness sparking in his gaze. Slowly he lowered his lips to hers. She smiled into the kiss and opened for him when his tongue requested entrance. She struggled to maintain some semblance of awareness of where they were and who was nearby as he deepened the kiss. She moaned as he lit a fire in her blood when one of his hands reached her breast. She clutched his shoulders as he pulled her closer until she was nearly sitting in his lap. Their tongues continued to duel and their hands continued to roam until they heard a loud clearing of a throat just before the engines roared to life. Breaking apart with a guilty glance back at the captain, who only smirked at them in return, they tried to bring their breathing and heart rates back under control. Killian stood up, rather awkwardly in her opinion, and began to reel in his rod. In all the excitement, they had completely forgotten about it. Once he had it stored, he gave the signal to Nemo and they were off.

Once Killian sat back down, Emma settled herself in between his spread legs and leaned back onto his chest with her head resting on his shoulder. Content just to be there and be held by him, she felt herself start to drift off, safe in the arms of the man she loved after one of the best days of her life.

#Time and Again #ch7 #krystal writes #art by krystal

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lyricalt · 6 years

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[ovw] House Rules (1/??)

Rating: T Characters: Jesse McCree, Gabriel Reyes. (More cast to come.) Summary: An AU where McCree joins Blackwatch after Genji. Everything is mostly the same, just a little bit worse.

Thank you, Eddi, for suggesting the AU and then when I said “I don’t think much would change”, responded with a single DM that kind of destroyed me? Anyway, to quote her, she wanted something like “[…] seasoned blackwatch agent genji under orders to whip an older but no less bratty deadlock mccree into shape”. She also asked me if it was hot or not. Maybe..? Maybe.

Happy (early) birthday, Eddi. Fiend.

Notes:

Ages are the same, only Genji has seniority over McCree as an agent.

Genji was recruited to Blackwatch at 20. He is now 25. (edit: with Retribution canon released, I’m throwing up my hands and following Blizzard’s example with being super vague about dates. Genji is still 25. McCree is 27.)

I’ll try to update once a week, or more. I have written… a lot of it. I’ll move it over to AO3 once I’ve got… hopefully… more chapters.

[part 1 | [part 2] | [part 3]

It was McCree’s own fault that he ended up in Blackwatch. Twenty-seven years old and thinking he was all subtle cleverness when he demanded to see whoever was in charge, and in came Commander Gabriel Reyes without a smile.

“You wanted to see me?” asked the Blackwatch Commander. He sat across from McCree, the little room bright with white walls and a soft light that wasn’t too harsh on the eyes. It felt more like an office than a cell for prisoners.

McCree shifted his hands, chained to the table where he rested them. Of course, most offices didn’t have furniture with metal fixtures and bolts, and a door made from both steel and hardlight. He took stock of Reyes, making a judgement call to keep his face as serious as possible. It wasn’t going to be like bargaining with the other lowlife gangs where McCree could get away with a cocky grin and a hand to his gun. Reyes didn’t look the type to respond well to humor.

“I’d like to make a deal,” said McCree, confident but not desperate. Like he knew what was what, and that his offer wasn’t just some panicked grab for freedom.

Reyes snorted, expression still unsmiling but there was a spark of amusement in the way his eyes crinkled. “You’re in no position to do that.”

“Whoops. ‘Scuse me, guess I worded it wrong. Believe me, I know I’m in no position to make any demands, but I figured I throw out an offer anyway,” McCree said, ducking his head a little. Made him look contrite and embarrassed for the most part, and in a way, he partially was—though he kept other tics to show for it.

“I see. Well, since I’ve got so much time on my hands,” Reyes said, voice a slight drawl to indicate that he did not, in fact, have a whole lot of time on his hands. “Let’s hear it.”

McCree inwardly winced, knowing somehow there were going to be repercussions for him if he ended up wasting Reyes’ time. But repercussions didn’t mean shit when he was already cornered and bookended. He had been too high up on the Deadlock chain of command to get off scot free, and too old to go anywhere but prison. He thought of Joel, who was seventeen when the raid caught them, and after asking around found out the boy was going to be tried as a minor. McCree felt a little relieved at that; Joel hadn’t killed anyone, was only a runner boy when it came down to it.

It was a shame now that McCree hadn’t been in the same boat; he had killed at least a dozen of Overwatch’s agents during the raid before a stray bullet had caught him in the chest and he’d blacked out with a sudden sharp pain between his eyes. As for the rest of Deadlock, McCree assumed most of them were dead or half a step away to rotting in prison like him.

He leaned forward, ignoring the way the tacky bandages shifted across the wound over his chest.

“I’ll be honest, if this doesn’t work out, you can count that I’ll go to court, guilty as charged. I ain’t stupid enough to think I’ll get away with anything,” McCree said. He threw Reyes a considering look, calm settling in his bones. He wasn’t as good with his words as he was with his gun, but the leveled feeling was the same. “And I’ll serve my time for that good long while, for everything I’m convicted of. Quiet and meek as a mouse.”

Commander Reyes’ eyes narrowed. “You have information.”

“Sure I do. I’ll tell you everything related to my trial, of course. I know what I’m guilty of. I’ll cooperate.”

“You have no choice but to cooperate with us, but I appreciate the willingness.”

McCree figured Reyes for a smart man. The commander knew how to negotiate between the lines and it showed in the way he was conscious of allowing McCree to speak obliquely. He trusted the white room to be monitored, though he wasn’t sure what kind of hold Reyes had over the bureaucratic end of Overwatch—and McCree did believe Overwatch had a hand in with Blackwatch. And Blackwatch, he knew, was just as legal as Deadlock, only with a bit more funding and friends in the right places.

“I do love to be useful,” McCree demurred.

No legal organization would fight the way Blackwatch did during the raid. His heart ticked upwards, remembering how they painted the Deadlock walls red with blood.

Reyes didn’t answer him right away, but neither did it look like he was contemplating it very much.

Unable to help himself, McCree raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re just wastin’ your own time here.”

Reyes didn’t seem pleased by his comment but he wasn’t baited. “I’m just wondering how useful you’d be.”

McCree let out a short breath. He’d been holding it, and Reyes’ gaze flickered, ever observant. Damn.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you an example right here, right now,” he said, pushing forward. No use holding back now. “I happen to know that Deadlock had a planned shipment with Los Muertos sometime later this week. ‘Course, they’ll know that Deadlock’s outta the business by now, but play your cards right and you might be able to catch some of ‘em hanging ‘round their safehouses nearby.”

Reyes’ started to look a little more attentive, which McCree thought was already excessive. The man had eyes like a hawk.

“Locations,” Reyes said, with all the ease of a commander used to giving orders. It certainly hadn’t been a question.

So McCree gave them.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said, once Reyes got up from his seat.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Reyes said, and left McCree to wait in his cell once more.

It was two weeks before McCree saw Reyes again. By then McCree was bored out of his mind and halfway to being stir crazy. Prison was going to be a downright bastard of a time if he couldn’t bargain his way into Blackwatch.

“So? How’d it go?” McCree asked, bored enough to have the suicidal impulse of acting cheeky. He was back in the white room. Same table but no cuffs. He took it as a good sign.

“You are useful,” Reyes said, sounding so surprised that McCree could only assume he was being condescending. He dropped a tablet in front of McCree, reports and images projecting into the air between them.

There were pictures of bodies, lists of inventory, and a roster that seemed to imply casualties on the Los Muertos’ side—plus a few names that rang familiar in McCree’s mind, though he could’ve sworn they had belonged to other gangs. This was more than a few safehouses, more than what McCree had told Reyes two weeks ago.

“No bullshit this time. I’m gonna speak plainly,” Reyes said. “Your information was very good. We were able to extrapolate a few more locations from other sources, using your information as a guide.”

McCree shrugged. “Figured you guys might. And?”

“Ruthless, aren’t you?”

“Useful,” McCree corrected with emphasis.

For some reason, Reyes didn’t look too satisfied by the answer, only more wary. “You think you can keep being useful?”

“Even more so, if you good folks are recruiting.”

“We might be,” Reyes replied blandly. “You got any terms? I want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

“Wouldn’t dream of making demands,” McCree murmured politely. “I’d be happy to just not rot in prison.”

To his surprise, Reyes stood up from his chair.

“I thought so,” Reyes said. He motioned to someone outside the cell, and the hardlight door flickered for a second, allowing a duffle bag to be tossed into the room. Reyes picked it up and let the whole thing drop into McCree’s lap. “Get up. Put on the jacket.”

McCree clutched at the bag, unable to move. “What?”

“The jacket’s in the bag,” Reyes said patiently.

McCree unzipped the duffle bag and pulled out the jacket, the Blackwatch symbol pressed to one sleeve. He stared.

“I thought… maybe this would’ve taken another week,” he tried, glancing back up.

Reyes scoffed. “I was planning to recruit you two weeks ago when we first met, but you started talking all on your own. Didn’t think you’d be an informant at the time.”

McCree could feel his blood run cold, hands gripping over the Blackwatch uniform. His new uniform.

“I like your initiative though,” Reyes added, though it was like pouring salt on the wound. “And you are very good with a gun.”

The shock was wearing off. McCree knew he ought to be grateful, but instead he was angry. He glared at Reyes. “So I’m in? Just like that?”

“Well, you didn’t have any terms, and I did ask. Lack of negotiations tends to speed things up,” Reyes said. To his credit, he didn’t laugh or look too smug about it.

McCree opened his mouth, wordless, and then snapped it shut. It wouldn’t do any good to state his terms now. He’d been so focused on trying to not go to prison, he hadn’t thought beyond getting into Blackwatch. And it had been that easy, at the high cost of his pride.

Reyes must have noticed his furious silence. With something that sounded suspiciously like sympathy, he added, “Word of advice; next time, don’t try to mess around so much with Overwatch. You’re a gambling man, yeah? So go ahead and play your cards right, but you should know by now the house always wins.”

More silence. Reyes waited.

McCree pulled the jacket over his shoulders.

[part 1 | [part 2] | [part 3]

#jesse mccree #gabriel reyes #blackwatch #overwatch #fic: house rules

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hello-clarisse-blog1 · 6 years

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Blood, Murder and Paris.

Dublin. 31st October/1st November 1791

It is always asked of me, do I remember my first taste of human blood? I cannot help but shudder, but I do remember it. It isn't fondly simply because I nearly revealed my true nature to the world. I was clumsy in my first days, I hadn't the faintest idea of what on earth to do. How could I? I had stormed off like a pigheaded fool and left Colin to burn in the flames of our burning cottage. He was my only source of answers and as far as I knew he was dead. His screams had become a chorus to me that night and I had jumped up and down like an excited child, thinking my troubles were finally over. How I loathed him! But as townspeople began to take note of the smoldering house, I ran off, running into town and hiding myself in the basement of the church. It was dark there and I knew other homeless individuals took refuge there. I was fortunate that there was no one there when I crawled in. Hiding in a corner, I covered myself with my shawl, considering what all had just occurred.

I shuddered as his screams entered my mind once more and I raised my hands to rub at my temples. I now took no pleasure in what I'd done and I swore, as long as I lived, that his screams would forever live on in my mind along with his horrified expression when he realised I had finally found my nerve. I couldn't help but feel guilty, but if he'd not been so bitter and callous to me, I wouldn't have done as I had. I had endured every sort of insult--about my looks, about my lack of education, about my illiteracy, about my terrible cooking, beatings, rape, torture. But to make me into a monster and deny me any pleasure I may have ever known in the afterlife with my dead child, he had it coming for sure. I fell asleep shortly thereafter. I wasn't sure of the time but I awoke with a start some hours later. I remained where I was until I heard Father McGinty lock the doors above. I knew it was dark then. I also was horrified by the strongest hunger I had ever known.

Hunger, for a vampire, is different from when you're a human. It isn't your stomach growling; it is your entire body aching; your mind screaming, your taste buds longing. The scent of food is repulsive; I could smell the stew someone in the village had made and I vomited, repulsed. However, the scent of blood. I could hear the heartbeats. I could hear the blood running in their veins and my body screamed for it. I was no longer myself as I allowed my feet to carry me up the steps and out into the cool night air. The sun was well set and the people of the night began to come creeping out. The drunks, the whores. I wrapped my shawl around myself, keeping my face hidden. As far as I could tell, people thought I had perished in the fire along with Colin. It wasn't something I was going to discourage them from thinking. But first, dinner.

Looking at humans...the very thing I had been the night before...all I saw was a meal. I felt disgusting that was I saw. But the prick of my new fangs against my full bottom lip told me that I was no longer amongst their numbers. I headed towards the tavern, hiding in the alley between it and the haberdashers. Laughter and the usual rubbish talk. Colin had never allowed me to come with him to the tavern, so I wasn't entirely certain of what went on in there. They were currently toasting to his memory. I scowled. Of course they would miss him.

"Nay, t'is to 'is wife!" A woman's voice. I raised a brow. "I drink ta 'is wife. Wee lass 'ad ta put up with that small pricked arse hole! But now maybe she's at peace. Cause puttin' up wit' him, she had ta be goin' straight ta 'eaven. We all 'ated him. Why are we wastin' a good toast on 'im? Nay, what's the young lasses name?" The woman continued and for a moment, there was silence. Not surprising that no one knew my name. I shrugged my shoulders about to head off when I heard a familiar voice.

"'er name was Clarisse. Clarisse Elisabeth du Volde. She was a good lass. She ne'er complained. Only once did I e'er see 'er cry an' tha's because Colin 'ad drank away the money from the barley."

Father McGinty! I bit on my lip, staying a moment longer though the pain of hunger was damn near bringing me to my knees.

"Jaysus, Mary an' Bridgit! Tha's a mouthful!" Someone called and there was more laughter. I could no longer bear the pain and when one of the patrons came out for a piss, I made my move, letting my shawl down and revealing my face. "Dear God, please let me not fail...," I prayed quietly, holding to the hope that God would hear me, one of his pitiful creations, and grant me the strength I needed. I had not asked for this life. I hadn't asked to be damned. How could he condemn me and forget about me? My emerald eyes darkened to a crimson hue and I felt my fangs elongate and prick my bottom lip. I shuddered as I knew the monster was coming out in me. In an instant, I found him in my arms screaming as I made my first attempt to bite him. I had never moved so fast in my life; I have never felt so...powerful...as I held this writhing drunken figure in my arms. There was something about playing God that was intoxicating, truth be told.

Ah, but the young man was strong and he fought me but I refused to give in. He had no idea that I needed his blood; I needed to satiate this crippling sensation through my body. I tightened my grasp and finally sank my fangs in, tearing through his tender flesh and feeling them sink directly down into the vein. Sweet Jesu, there was a peace in this. My body melded to his and warmth filled me; life entered me once again and finally, all of my senses calmed down. Everything seemed a little less magical than it had a few moments before. I no longer felt so much like a beast.

His blood flowed into my mouth and I finally felt peace flow through me. Its bitter, yet sweet, coppery taste filled my mouth and I wanted more. I squeezed him tighter, unaware of the fact that I was crushing him as I drained him further. His heartbeat was still strong despite all his blood loss and I, being full now and tired of his incessant whinging, grabbed his head, twisting it and sighing at the disgusting sound of his neck bones breaking. I couldn't let him live, even though, who would believe him? No, I let him go, looking at his body as it landed with a thud. I leaned back against the wall, my eyes closed. I had just killed an innocent man. Thou shall not kill. This was my second murder. The first being Colin. I silently wept as I ran to my aunt and uncle's house, aiming to steal a horse and carriage--well, the carriage was mine; a gift when I married.

I paused when I stepped into the barn, my uncle sitting there. "I t'ought ye'd show up." He spoke quietly, looking at me. There was such kindness there and I wanted to run into his arms and cry. But I didn't and he didn't move towards me. "You...you knew?" "I know what he was. I only learned last month but I dinna get to see ye; the crops. I feared he did it ta ye too. Come girl. Yer aunt packed ye a trunk of things ye may need. I'll get ye 'ome."

I was going home. Home to Paris. I didn't know what I'd do once I got there, but I would manage, I swore to myself, even as I licked the blood off of my lips. And I would never again kill an innocent. If I had to be...this...I would only kill those who were as evil as myself. Climbing into the carriage, my uncle closed the curtains of the windows; which I noticed were made of the thickest, darkest fabric I'd ever seen in my life. I later learned it was my aunt's mourning gown. It served its purpose well; keeping the sun out. Each day, I slept. Each night, he stopped to rest and I hunted. I found a groove; becoming better at it.

By the time I reached Paris in the middle of December, I had learned the King was dead, the Queen had been arrested with her children, and chaos reigned supreme. It worked in a newborn vampire's favour. Whoever would have thought that The Reign of Terror would be a perfect time to come of age?

#my work #my writing #mine

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