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kristallioness · 4 years

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The guardian lemur

Summary: When Momo starts acting strange around Katara, she turns to Aang for advice.

Word count: 2,544

Author's note: I don't remember whether it was a blog post I saw here, or an online news article I stumbled across.. But, I think it's adorable when sometimes cats can sense if their owners are pregnant, so they become protective of them and start acting motherly towards them (like their natural instincts are kicking in). This cute concept inspired the following story. By the way, my mom has told me stories about how her grandmother (my great-grandmother) used to have a cat who'd catch mice and bring them back into the house and then release them, which infuriated her to no end. So, I guess this tidbit with Momo is inspired by that kitty, who didn't exactly understand how to be a cat. *lol* Anyways, I hope you like it since 'keeping warm' was one of my prompts, which I submitted this year (and it got chosen, yay!). Oh, and a happy beginning to all of you for Kataang Week 2020! *throws glitter and confetti*

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The kitchen was filled with a mixed aroma of seaweed, herbs and noodles, all boiling in hot water. Katara added a pinch of salt into the broth and stirred the liquid with a big wooden spoon before taking a sip. From the corner of her eye, she could see the winged lemur, who'd quietly been sitting next to her feet for the past ten minutes.

"No, Momo. You can't have any until I'm done cooking."

Momo merely scratched the back of his ear with his hind leg, but otherwise didn't budge. Katara did feel bad for not giving him a taste before lunchtime. She wasn't even sure whether lemurs eat noodles, not to mention ones made out of seaweed..

And there it was again, the gentle rubbing against her shins. Momo began circling her legs in an attempt to persuade her to give him something to nibble on. Poor thing must be starving, she thought. If he was trying to make her feel guilty for not feeding him, it worked.

Katara released a heavy sigh and stepped away from the stove for a second, her small buddy padding right after her on the floor. She opened a cupboard door and grabbed the last moon peach from their dwindling fruit supply.

The constant following around nor the tiny gestures of affection weren't the things that had been driving the waterbender crazy. It was their pet's new habit of bringing live prey into the household. Last week, he'd caught dozens of bugs, five mice, three hamsters, two frogs and one unconscious bird.

Aang had nurtured the bird back to health and released it into the wild. The frogs weren't a problem either, so Katara had simply shooed them out of the house and they'd found a cosy habitat in the pond in front of their home. Luckily the bugs were also typical inhabitants on their little island, and the ones Momo brought inside eventually became dinner for the domesticated frogs.

However, it was the rodents who'd soon found their way into the pantry. Within a day, almost half of their pastry supplies were gone. Katara was furious. She had to ask her husband to buy more food from the market, and her brother to come up with ingenious traps to catch the annoying critters without killing them, like Aang had pleaded, before they could destroy their entire food supply, not to mention the vegetables in the greenhouse.

What really got on her nerves were the times the winged lemur would approach her with that proud smile on his face, something apparently dead caught between his small fangs or in between his paws, and release his catch right in front of her feet. Only for her to watch it scurry away before she could even blink, let alone catch it.

"This is the last one. Here you go," Katara said as she squatted down and extended her hand. She felt confused when the lemur pushed it back.

"Don't you want it? C'mon, it's your favourite treee-eat.."

She threw the peach into the hallway like a ball, in hopes that Momo would leave her alone to go fetch it. He did fly out of the kitchen for long enough to let her return to her cooking, but came back with the fruit fully intact between his fangs.

"Well, go on. Eat up!" Katara urged him with a wave of her hand, but Momo let out a disappointed moan and drooped his ears at that. He dropped the peach in his paws and with the utmost care, he pulled off a small piece and offered it to her instead.

"Thanks, Momo, but I'm not craving for a moon peach right now. You can have it."

The lemur hesitated at first, but under her watchful eye, he finally bit into the juicy fruit, allowing her to finish preparing lunch for herself and her husband in peace.

Speaking of peace, Katara couldn't recall the last time she and Aang had been given a moment of privacy in bed for the past couple of weeks. Often times when waking up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, Katara would discover that she'd inched further away from her partner, due to a scrawny furball who always managed to squeeze himself in between their tummies, no matter the positions they were in. Or if their intimacy wasn't being disturbed, she'd wake up due to the curled up, personalized heater sleeping on her belly whenever she was lying on her back.

Since when had she become a magnet for winged lemurs? Did she smell of something that attracted them to her? Had Momo grown fond of her and simply wished to spend more time by her side instead of hanging out with Aang all the time? Katara had no idea, but all of this was becoming a bit much.

As she poured the steaming seaweed noodles into two bowls, Momo leaped up and landed on her shoulders. He curled his tail around her neck for support, then held a leftover piece of the moon peach in front of her face.

"Oh, alright.." she chuckled, snagging the small piece from his paw and putting it in her mouth.

"Thanks, Momo!"

She scratched him from below the chin with her finger, earning a series of content purrs from the lemur. Once the bowls were full, she was ready to join her husband in the living room.

Aang was leaning on the windowsill, admiring the view of Republic City straight across the bay, when he heard footsteps coming closer.

"Lunch is served!" Katara announced as she joined him. The airbender grinned at the sight of two steaming bowls filled with delicious food, watching how she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. The smell that accompanied her was mouth-watering.

"Finally! I could eat a whole barrel of noodles by now."

His wife giggled at that comment.

"Well, I hope we didn't keep you waiting for too long."

He walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her a loving smile.

"Sweetie, I waited for you for a hundred years. I don't think you could ever top that record again."

Katara laughed wholeheartedly this time, letting him give her a quick kiss on the lips afterwards.

Aang tenderly ran a hand over her slight belly bump before beckoning her to have a seat on the couch with him so they could have lunch together. They both grabbed a bowl, along with a pair of chopsticks, and clinked them together like those snobbish citizens in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se would do.

"Dig in!"

While the couple indulged themselves, Momo hopped off Katara's shoulders and disappeared to a different room. She noticed the lemur fly off into the corridor, but didn't pay too much attention to it. At this point, she was grateful for any given moment she could get, just to be alone with her beloved.

"What do you think? Is it too spicy?"

Hailing from the Water Tribe, Katara had grown up with a blander range of foods available in the frozen landscape, with the exception of meat that was either cooked or fried, and seasoned prior to the devouring.

Hence she tried to spice up their plain meals, such as these noodles, by experimenting with adding various spices or herbs. Aang shook his head.

"Nah, I think it's really good. You might wanna go easy on the garlic next time. Otherwise, I'm afraid you won't wanna kiss me anymore if my breath stinks."

She laughed when he planted a greasy kiss on her cheek, after which she continued to slurp her own seaweed noodles.

Her attention turned to her feet when she spotted Momo, who'd returned from another one of his adventures. For a second, her heart dropped at the sight of a mouse caught between his teeth. Fortunately, it was just a toy he'd brought along.

"Momo, why are you bringing your stuff here? Do you wanna play?"

The winged lemur jumped up on the couch and supported his front paws on the waterbender's thigh, dropping the toy right into her lap. Katara stared at the fake mouse for a mere second before Momo flew away again.

"Wait! Where are you going? I was gonna play.. with you.."

She sighed, picking the toy up from its string of a tail. Aang could sense her frustration.

"What's wrong?"

Katara put her half-empty bowl on the table and continued to stare at the toy mouse hanging from her fingertips. She twirled the tail around, making the rest of its body spin.

"I don't know. Momo's been acting really strange lately."

"Strange how exactly?"

"He's always following me around and rubbing himself against me. Not to mention he's practically invaded our personal space in bed. I don't need to remind you that he's bringing all kinds of small creatures inside the temple every day.."

Aang's focus shifted from her complaining to the culprit himself. Momo had returned to the living room and he gleefully hopped beside the waterbender, this time dropping his favourite ball in her lap.

"..He brings me food even when I'm not hungry. And now, when I find a place to sit still for a little while longer, he keeps piling some of his toys around me."

Momo tilted his head and stared back at the airbender, almost as if he was trying to communicate with him. Tell him the motives behind his actions and all the mischief he'd caused within the last month. Katara picked up the ball he'd dropped.

"See?.. Aang, are you even listening to me!?"

"Sh-shh!" he hushed her, raising a finger to her lips so she'd quit yammering.

"What?"

He pointed down to her stomach. Both their eyes were fixed on the winged lemur, who lay down in the waterbender's lap and nestled the side of his face against her round belly, one ear covering it like a blanket. Momo looked up at the married couple, then shut his lime green eyes and began purring ever so silently. Aang started laughing, but Katara became even more annoyed.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Oh, Katara.. He can tell when you're in the family way. He's trying to take care of you and the baby in the only way he knows how - by acting as a daddy lemur."

Her face twisted through several expressions of anger, confusion and eventually, realization.

"So, that's what he's been doing this whole time? Tending to me as if I'm an expecting mommy lemur? Which I technically am, except for the lemur part.."

Aang reached his hand out to pet his caring companion. The winged lemur arched his back a bit and nuzzled his face against the fuzzy material of Katara's coat. His purrs become louder with each stroke.

"Momo can sense that there's life growing inside of you, so he's been acting like a proper papa lemur and looking after the unborn child and its mother. That includes bringing you food and stuff to play with to keep you well-fed and entertained."

Katara felt as if he'd opened her eyes to a whole different reality. She never thought that Momo's odd behaviour could be related to the fact that she's pregnant now. The timing fit, and Aang's reasoning explained the weird new habits.

"But, what about the snuggling? Why's he so keen on sleeping on my stomach?"

"He's trying to keep you and the baby warm. Also, since there are a lot of hormonal changes going on with you right now, your body's radiating more warmth in this area," Aang explained by running his hand over her bump, careful not to move the lemur's ear off of it.

"Which means your stomach is the perfect hotspot, literally. You're keeping him warm, too."

"Where did you learn all of that?" Katara wondered, her tone playful and curious at the same time. The cheeks on her husband's face turned crimson and he looked away for a moment, rubbing the back of his bald head awkwardly.

"I might've found some books about pregnancy on the top shelf of the bookcase in your office the last time I was waiting for you to finish work..."

She giggled and rewarded him with a soft peck on the cheek for being so caring and putting in more effort to understand this new "condition" of hers better.

"Thanks, sweetie. I appreciate you looking out for me."

Aang accepted her gratitude with a wide grin, and by snaking an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer. After that, she joined him in stroking the winged lemur, who seemed to be happily napping in her lap.

"Oh, Momo.. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He looked up at Katara and let out a short disgruntled screech that could've been translated into an 'I told you so'. She laughed at that.

"Oh, okay.. I guess you did tell me. I was just too oblivious to pick up on the signs."

Momo rested his head in her lap again and raised one of his ears above her belly bump.

"Why do you think he does that thing with his ear?" the waterbender wondered out loud, tenderly running her hand over the soft fur on the lemur's head.

"Maybe he's listening to what the little tyke is doing in there. Animals can hear sounds with a much higher frequency. Take my bison whistle, for example. We can't hear anything, but Appa always comes to me when I blow it."

"I doubt that Momo can hear anything else besides my stomach growling. I mean, the baby hasn't even developed a heart yet. Believe me, I've checked.. If anything, he might be able to sense its movements in my womb."

Katara was right. She was barely into the last weeks of her first trimester. As hard as she'd tried, she couldn't detect the baby's heartbeat through her healing abilities yet. And it was too early for it to start kicking her, too.

The only changes she could sense in her body were the slight weight gain, which led to her developing a subtle belly bump. Her breasts had become a bit tender, which meant that making love with Aang at night would be less fun for a while. Not that he wasn't being more gentle with her because of this.. And finally, some unusual cravings, which was probably why she preferred to cook spicier foods recently.

Either way, these slight changes were enough for Momo's paternal instincts to kick in. He rolled over onto his back and let the couple scratch his soft belly instead. The corners of his mouth curled into a content smile as he purred against Katara's tummy.

"Aww! I guess this is kind of endearing. Plus, this way the baby can get acquainted with one of its future furry friends, too. That's right! Yes, you can!" she cooed to the winged lemur, who rubbed himself against her thighs as he twitched with delight at her scratches.

"But no more mice in the house, okay? I'm capable of finding my own food," Katara said with a wave of her finger, to which Momo replied with another chirp. Translation - 'yes, madam'.

#Kataang Week #keeping warm #Kataangtag #Kataang #Aang #Katara #Momo #ATLA and TLOK #my fanfiction #mine #shards of Kristal

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jade4813 · 4 years

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Like Moths to a Flame, Chapter 10

Fandom: North and South

Title: Like Moths to a Flame

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: John/Margaret

Synopsis: “I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over.“ Margaret decides to confront John about his unjust judgment of her character, but the two have always been drawn to each other, and things quickly get out of hand. In the aftermath, she agrees to marry him to satisfy propriety, but she cannot forget how ready he was to believe the worst of her. Can love survive without trust, or will the two find a way to work through the misunderstandings that have plagued their relationship from the start?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Though John would never consider time spent with Margaret wasted – nor would he ever regret a single second of it – it did make the subsequent days longer as he strove to find a solution to his financial problem. The debt owed to the bank was a few hundred pounds – a paltry amount compared to what was owed him for orders that his workers had rushed through. He hoped each day for a miracle, that he would receive sufficient outstanding payments to satisfy the bank loan and secure his workers’ payroll, but he waited in vain. The bank’s deadline drew ever nearer, his coffers dwindled, and no miracle loomed on the horizon.

Had he been foolish to refuse Watson’s proposed speculation? If it succeeded, the profit from the venture would clear his debt and secure payroll for months to come. If it failed, however, what little funds he had to pay his people would be lost, with no hope of recovery. He would have left his workers destitute, and he felt he owed them more than to gamble with their livelihoods.

But if it succeeded…

He’d never before understood the siren’s song of speculation, which had led his own father to his death. In the aftermath of the elder Thornton’s self-inflicted demise, John had been forced into a life of poverty and self-deprivation, leaving school to care for his mother and sister and sparing as much money as he could each week to pay his father’s creditors, long after they’d given up any hope of satisfaction.

He’d worked hard, and in the secret recesses of his heart, he’d judged his father harshly for throwing away their fortunes on what amounted to little more than a game of chance. He’d never spoken of his recrimination or his shame aloud, out of consideration for his remaining family’s feelings – though his mother had never been one to mince words when it came to her own judgment, and Fanny had been too young and lacked the sentimental disposition required to be overly protective of either her affection for or her memory of the father she’d lost.

Now, however, he understood the temptation that had lured his father to his ruin, though his own sense of honor and the duty he owed those in his charge had caused him to shy away from the risky venture, no matter how high the potential reward. His refusal had angered Fanny, who had sworn that reward was certain and promised to be considerable, but John knew better than most that speculation was merely that, and not even the wisest of men could guarantee a positive result.

And yet, if it succeeded…

If he’d gambled his mill’s future on the speculation and it turned a profit, his business would be clear of debt. His workers would be paid. He could continue to care for his mother in the manner he had for most of his adult life. He could provide Margaret with the life she deserved, if not the life she’d wanted. And nobody would ever have to know how bad things had been.

John shook his head, running his hands through his hair in a gesture of frustration and despair. No, there was no use in thinking about what might have been. He’d rejected Watson’s offer. He’d refused to engage in speculation, not when the cost of one ill-judged gamble could ruin so many lives. If he’d thrown his hat into the ring and the speculation failed, he’d lose the mill. The house. His workers would be out of jobs and left to starve, if they were unable to find work elsewhere. His mother’s situation would fall to what it had once been, after many years spent in comfort and security. And his wife…

If he’d speculated with his workers’ livelihoods and lost, recklessly subjecting them possible starvation, to the poverty from which he’d once uplifted himself, he wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror without feeling shame. A man who could be so inattentive to his responsibility to others could never hope to deserve Margaret or the love he still wished in his heart might one day be his.

So he applied himself to work, each day seeming longer than the last. His beloved Margaret never chided him for his absence or his neglect, though she always seemed to anticipate the point at which reason was driven to the edge by exhaustion, as she would come to him on those evenings and silently draw him home with her, to sleep by her side. He could not fully confess his fears to her, but neither could he resist her, and his love for her sustained him every bit as much as her tender consideration brought him comfort.

But as the days passed, a nagging sense of doubt grew in his mind, a quiet whisper that warned that Margaret might not be as content as he would wish. Even as his financial apprehensions eclipsed other concerns vying for his attention, he noticed her increasingly troubled expression when she thought him unaware, though the worry lines smoothed from her countenance each time he turned her way. But she never spoke of her concerns, and he – weak, lovesick fool that he was – couldn’t summon the courage to ask, for fear that her preoccupation lay elsewhere. If her distress stemmed from regret, perhaps exacerbated by increasing concerns that he would fail to live up to his promise to provide her comfort and security, his heart would break anew.

Desiring to reassure her of the fidelity of his promise, John was determined to redouble the attention he paid his wife. To that end, he returned home one evening earlier than he typically had of late – the lure of Margaret’s company being far greater than that of the paperwork on his desk – to find her father in their drawing room, the other man having stopped by for a visit. Although slightly disappointed that his more amorous intentions would by necessity be delayed, John always enjoyed Richard Hale’s company and was pleased his calendar was free enough to appreciate it.

His pleasure was only heightened when he saw Margaret’s cheerfulness at the visit. “Mr Bell has invited Father to visit him in Oxford, and I’m encouraging him to go. Don’t you think it’s an excellent idea?” she explained, before turning her attention back to their guest. “It’s been so long since you’ve been to visit, and the weather’s turning warmer, so the roads will be a little easier.”

Mr Hale seemed encouraged by her enthusiasm. “I might go,” he acknowledged. Nodding, as much to himself as to her, he murmured, “Yes, yes. I think I might.”

With that decision seemingly fixed, their conversation turned to other matters for a while, until Richard stood to leave. “I think I will go to Oxford,” he declared, the idea clearly breaking him much joy. John and Margaret wished him well – the latter admonishing him to dress warmly, as there was still a chill in the air – and then he was on his way with their blessings.

Had John known it would be the last time Margaret would share his company, he would have begged the man to stay a while longer. Sadly, prescience was not among his accomplishments.

Although Margaret tried to find contentment in her present circumstances, the things left unsaid between husband and wife preyed upon her thoughts, seemingly increasing her anxiety by the hour. She loved John – more ardently than she ever would have ever supposed – and her silence on that score felt suffocating. She wanted to tell him of her feelings, but questions plagued her mind, sapping away both her contentment and her courage.

She had no illusions that John had come to trust her before taking her hand in marriage. Did he still doubt her integrity? Did he question her faithfulness? Would his opinion of her, once tarnished in his mind, forever carry a shadow of his distrust, even once the truth was known?

Even if she were to put her fears behind her, she couldn’t find the words to share her confession. It seemed impossible to do so without broaching the subject of the scene he had witnessed on the train platform, which had caused him such disgust and brought her so much pain. With so much weighing on his heart already, was it fair of her to upset whatever peace he’d managed to find thus far in their marital harmony?

What if he didn’t believe her? What if he was hurt she hadn’t spoken up before? His anger gave her no cause for alarm, but she couldn’t bear the thought of inflicting additional pain upon him. She would never wish to exact injury upon anyone, him least of all. Not her husband. Not the man she loved. And certainly not now, when his troubles were otherwise so great.

As the weeks passed immediately following her self-revelation, Margaret often found herself on the brink of confessing all to her husband. On each occasion, fear and inconvenient timing silenced her tongue. When the time was right, she promised herself that she would broach the topic of his suspicion and determine whether the trust she so needed to find true happiness in marriage had been regained. If so, she would tell him the truth. And confess to him her love.

In the meantime, she strove to provide him with such contentment, peace, and comfort as was within her power to give. She gave such assistance at the mill as she was able during the day and let her love wash over him at night, her body betraying the secrets of her heart, even if her lips could not. She felt his overwhelming weariness when they made love, pressing her mouth against the deep lines in his brow and offered him her strength when he sagged against her, his cheek pressed against her shoulder. In the aftermath of their coupling, he would fall asleep in her arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest and rhythmic beat of his heart soothing her own cares.

They had been married long enough for Margaret to grow accustomed to the idea but not long enough to overcome the full measure of her shyness – engrained in her from the time she was a child – at her husband viewing her nakedness when she awoke early one morning to see John standing before the fire, preparing his ablutions for the day ahead. He was stripped to the waist, his skin gleaming in the faint light. The fire in the grate was newly lit, its illumination weak and almost begrudging, but it was bright enough for her to see the ripple of muscles beneath his skin as he bent to splash cold water upon his face. She found herself entranced by the solid cord of muscle in his stomach and arms, the play of light and shadow against his upon his bare skin.

Though she doubted he would consider it a compliment, looking at him like this, she could only think how beautiful he was to her. How cherished. He stole her heart and took her breath away.

The sight of him drew her out of bed, the floor cold beneath her bare feet as she crossed the room, resting her hand gently upon his lower back as he straightened. He turned to face her, beads of moisture trailing down his face, and she placed her hand over his, gently tugging the towel from his grasp. He watched in silence as she tossed it aside and didn’t protest when she pressed her free hand against his chest and gave it a firm push, leading him into a nearby chair.

John didn’t say a word as he lowered himself into the seat, but his gaze missed nothing as she cast a critical eye upon the implements he’d laid out beside his washbowl. The shaving razor was open, its blade gleaming, already sharpened upon the strop in preparation for the task at hand. His soap had also already been prepared, the applicator brush resting nearby.

Margaret picking up the brush and mug of shaving soap, working up a lather as she turned back to her husband. His gaze had fallen to her hips, and she realized with a start that, standing before the fire as she was, the outline of her body would be visible through the thin fabric of her nightgown. The thought made her flush, but she feigned ignorance of the view she presented, even as she showed her body off to its best advantage, bending over him to lather his cheeks and chin.

John reached for her, bracing her hips in his palms. His hands were still damp from his morning wash, moistening the fabric of her dress. She shivered, biting back a soft moan of longing, when he pulled her forward until she straddled his chair, her thighs brushing the coarse fabric of his trousers. Unwilling to allow him to distract her from her purpose, she forced her attention to the task at hand, casting a critical eye upon his face to ensure the lather was sufficiently distributed. Then she reached for the razor, her hand trembling slightly as she lifted it to his cheek.

What had seemed like a good idea when she’d started was much more daunting now, when she held the sharpened razor in her hand and prepared to apply it to his bare skin. What if she made a mistake? What if she slipped and injured him? She hesitated, preparing to draw away, but he reached up and wrapped his hand around her own. His eyes were trusting, his gaze warm, as he drew the razor toward his cheek, adjusting the exact angle of the blade before pressing it gently against his skin. Then he dropped his hand, putting his fate entirely in her hands.

Margaret sucked in a sharp breath and narrowed her eyes, focusing the entirety of her attention upon the blade as she scraped it gently against his skin, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief when she managed her first pass without causing injury. Feeling more confident, she applied the blade again, her motions slow and cautious. As she worked, the back of her neck grew damp from the warmth of her fire, and the caress of John’s breath fanned her face as she leaned forward, intent upon her task. She could feel his gaze upon her, but it wasn’t distrust in his eyes. It was desire. Her answering need nearly overwhelmed her, and she required a moment to recollect her composure before she could continue.

With one side completed, John adjusted the angle of his head so that she could complete the job. Her heart pounded when she felt his hands slide under the hem of her nightdress, teasing the soft, sensitive skin of her thighs, and she sucked in an unsteady breath.

As she pulled the razor away, he slipped his fingers inside her, stroking her gently. Her head fell back with a moan, but she strove to gather her wits and regain control. Bracing her free hand on his shoulder, she cast an accusatory glance at his face, only to receive an unrepentant smile in return. However, the consciousness of his own well-being was such that he returned his hands to her hip when she wiped the lather off the blade, lifting it to continue her task.

Margaret’s heart pounded as she slid the razor along the curve of his jaw, and he tilted his head back to allow her greater access to his neck. Her efforts were perhaps not as clean as his would have been, but he didn’t seem to mind. When she finished her last pass, she grabbed a damp towel to wipe away the rest of the lather, but John gently tugged the blade from her hand, letting it fall to the floor. Then his mouth was upon her, teasing the bare flesh above the neck of her nightgown.

She opened her mouth to sigh his name, but the sound was captured by his lips as he pulled her firmly against him, pressing her against his hardness. Grabbing the bottom of her nightgown, he lifted it over her head and tossed it aside, and even in the increasing warmth of the room, she shuddered as she was bared before him. John didn’t seem to find anything amiss, however, as his attention was captivated by her smooth perfection.

Lifting his hand to cup her breast, Margaret found herself enthralled as she always was by his caress. The calluses on his palms were rough against her sensitive skin, but his touch was far from unpleasant. Her head fell back, exposing the curve of her neck, as he brushed a thumb against her aureole until her nipple beaded under his palm.

Her hands had fallen on his shoulders, and she gave in to the temptation to trail her fingertips down his chest, tracing the curve of muscle and bone. She felt first the rapid beat of his heart, then the muscles of his stomach shudder as he sucked in a sharp breath, and knew he wasn’t unaffected by her touch. In the light cast by the fire and the soft sunrise, his eyes were dark and filled with need. She wove her fingers into his hair, pressing him to her, as he bowed his head and sucked her breast into his mouth, teasing her with his tongue. She could feel the strength in his hands when he grasped her hips, guiding her motions as she rocked against him.

Only one layer of fabric separated their bodies, causing Margaret no end of frustration. Pressing her hands against his chest, she lifted off him far enough to reach for the buttons of his trousers. In her haste and her desire, her fingers were clumsy and awkward. Their hands tangled together when he attempted to assist her, causing her to laugh, the sound soft and strained.

She had only just managed to pull him free when he grabbed her thighs and pulled her into his lap once more, pausing only long enough to carefully guide himself inside of her. Margaret gasped as she sank onto him, her response inspired as much by the ominous creaking of the chair beneath them as the sudden fullness of his thrust. Anxious about the unsteadiness of their perch, she tightened her thighs around him and wrapped her arms around his neck, slowly rolling her hips against his.

John tucked his head against the curve of her neck, tickling her with the faint traces of stubble she’d overlooked in her earlier ministrations. His mouth scraped against her skin, eliciting a soft moan, while his hands explored her body, lingering in every spot which had previously brought her pleasure. He kissed the curve of her ear, her cheek, her chin, and Margaret rewarded his efforts with another slow roll of her hips.

Once again, she wrestled with the temptation to speak of her feelings, but this was hardly the time to do so. Her confession – or, rather, confessions, as she believed she had identified a multitude that must be made by now – deserved more consideration than a rashly uttered declaration in the midst of lovemaking. They also required more deliberation than to be hastily blurted over breakfast, or on the way out the door to attend to more pressing concerns and outstanding appointments.

Still, her secret feelings nearly overwhelmed her, swelling within her breast until she couldn't speak for love of him. Leaning back slightly, she wrapped one hand behind his neck to hold him in place as her gaze swept over the face that had engraved itself upon her heart. Their eyes met, and she found she couldn’t tear her gaze away, entranced as she was by the play of emotions upon his face and in his eyes…

Once again, she marveled that she ever could have thought him to be cold and cruel, that she ever could have mistaken his hardness for lack of feeling. Though his features were under his command, frequently schooled into either an impassive mask or a glower of disdain, his eyes betrayed him. Even when he had accused her of impropriety, when he’d told her his passion for her had ended, the chill of his words hadn’t wounded her half so much as that which lay behind those blue eyes, which revealed much, but also saw more than she wished.

Margaret was overwhelmed by a sudden wave of fear at what he might comprehend of her own feelings. In an act of self-preservation, she tore her gaze away, pressing her cheek against the curve of his shoulder as he lifted his hips, plunging inside her.

As she met each powerful thrust with a roll of her hips, Margaret clung to her husband, wishing for nothing more than to prolong this interlude. She felt the muscles beneath her tense and knew he was nearing completion, so she increased the rhythm of her hips, pressing her mouth against his neck to taste the saltiness of his skin as his muscles grew taut and he poured himself inside her. The momentarily respite didn’t last long, however, as he cupped one hand behind her head, holding her against him as he slid the other between her legs, stroking her deftly until wave upon wave of pleasure crashed over her and she found her own release.

She collapsed against him, spent and unwilling to let him go, although she knew she couldn’t hold him in this moment forever. The harsh rasp of their breathing filled her ears, but as their hearts slowed and breathing steadied, the room grew quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the grate. When she could put off the inevitable no longer, she lifted her head off John’s shoulder, though she wasn’t yet able to meet his eyes, still uncertain of what her own would reveal.

“Margaret?” His voice was soft and uncertain, and her heart wrenched at the aching vulnerability it betrayed. She was unequal to the task of giving voice to her inner turmoil, so she stared at his lips as she stroked her fingers along the side of his face. Cupped his cheeks in her palms, pressed her mouth against his, drawing his tongue inside her parted lips. In unspoken reassurance, she deepened the embrace until she felt his lingering tension ebb away. When the kiss ended, she drew back to meet his eyes, confident that her own would no longer divulge her secrets.

Climbing off his lap, Margaret rushed to retrieve her nightgown from the floor, quickly pulling it on before turning her attention back to her husband. In the early morning light, Margaret was forced to acknowledge that she made for an imperfect barber, more than one small patch of stubble having escaped her blade, but John issued no complaint. Instead, he used a towel to wipe away what remnants of shaving soap remained, though Margaret noticed that a fair amount had transferred to her person.

Once he had dried his face with a towel, he began to toss it beside the bowl when Margaret grabbed his hand, staying his motion. There, on the bright white fabric, was a small red stain, a sign she had not been as careful with the razor as she had wished. Stretching onto her toes, she examined his skin and noticed the tiniest nick just below his right ear.

“I’m sorry,” she said, speaking as much for her continued silence as the injury she had inflicted upon him.

Touching a finger to the wound, he shook his head. “It’s not deep. It’ll heal soon enough.” He cast a glance at the window, and Margaret knew his mind was turning toward the mill, to the work left undone and the hours that lay ahead of him. Longing to steal just a few more precious moments with him, she helped him to dress, asserting the privilege of such intimacy that only a wife could claim.

The hour was growing late, and Margaret knew her husband was eager to begin his day, but still he hesitated, brushing a lock of hair off her cheek once she had finished straightening his cravat. “Margaret—” he began, a line of worry creasing the skin between his brows, “Forgive me for pressing, but you seem troubled. If something is bothering you, you can confide in me.”

Her heart twisted at the understanding that he had seen more than she’d wished, recognizing the fact of her preoccupation, although he did not yet understand the cause. Pulling him to her, she pressed a kiss against that telltale evidence of his concern. “It’s nothing,” she attempted, though she didn’t need to see his face to anticipate his answering skepticism. Taking his hands in hers, she remarked, “It’s getting late, and work is more important. I don’t want to keep you any longer than I already have.”

John wasn’t willing to be so easily deterred, tightening his hold on her hands. “My work may be necessary, but there is nothing in the world more important to me than you.”

His words gave her hope, and she smiled at him with all the sweetness she felt in her heart. “Very well, but it’s not – I’m not troubled, precisely, but – do you think we could steal some time alone together this evening? There are some matters we should discuss.”

With obvious reluctance at the delay, he agreed, capturing her lips in one more kiss before heading out the door. Little did either of them know that a visit from Mr Bell later that same day would bring news that would drive all other concerns from her mind. For a while, at least.

#like moths to a flame #margaret hale #john thornton #north and south #john x margaret #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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inactiive-shit · 5 years

Text

In Perpetuum

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Title: In Perpetuum

Prompt: ghost story

Warnings: Deceit, mentioning murder/death/ptsd, I swear this is actually sweet

Pairings: romantic DLAMP

Words: 2,192

@sanderssidescelebrations yeehaw

They say that you can still hear his voice.

They say shades of purple and black move along walls when the sun goes down. They say stomping footsteps still go up and down the steps. They say shadows dance in windows when there is no light to cast them. They say the warnings are true. They say murder happened there, violently, and his spirit wants revenge. They say he waits for someone he once loved and mourns forever.

They say a lot of things. But the only way to parse the truth from decades of misinformation and rumors is to have been there.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx 1950s xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The man is wearing a skirt. Maybe that doesn’t strike you as odd, but it is. (Later, this would come to be a dress and make-up and heels, but he doesn’t know that yet.) The man is also wearing boots from a war zone he prefers not to remember. The man is, in fact, a soldier returned home from the Second World War just years prior. He is anxious, and he struggles, but he is lucky and mostly happy. (Later, this too would be distorted to extreme PTSD and anger and insanity, but that’s as far from the truth as you could feasibly be.) The man is sitting in the bright yellow kitchen watching another man cook breakfast. Also a strange occurrence given the time, but neither man has much of a mind for propriety.

The man cooking breakfast has never gone to war. His eyesight is too bad and he has epilepsy to boot. The government hadn’t wanted him, and he is more than fine with that. (Later, he would be distraught he couldn’t serve his country, torn apart by guilt at his in-action, but he hasn’t been told that yet.) He is making omelets because they are his favorite and the man sitting on the kitchen stool needs more healthy food. They can’t survive off chocolate, coffee, and cigarettes no matter how much they both may want to. (Later, this would translate to the dissention that plagued their house, the reason so many terrible things happened, but it’s not bothering anyone now.)

Upstairs, another man is sleeping in the master bedroom. He’s exhausted after a full night of working, but he will get up in a while to come to breakfast so he can see everyone else, and then he will go back to bed for tonight’s shift. (Later, he is the man the husband was cheating on his wife with. He is the reason the house is haunted. But he doesn’t know about all of that, and he’s pretty content where he is.) There is another man sitting at the desk in the master bedroom, writing quickly with minimal light glinting off his glasses so as not to wake his companion before he must. This man doesn’t really feel like a man, and while transgender was a word whispered only in gay bars and around campfires, that doesn’t really fit either. In fact, he doesn’t have the language to describe what he is, so for now he’s decided to stick with man. It is not unbearable. (Later, this gender dissonance will be the reason he was thrown out, the reason he was so alone. He’s never once felt alone, though.)

The last man in the house is smoking on the back porch, scratching absently at the eczema on his face. The flaky skin and heterochromia don’t really bother him anymore because he’s had years to come to terms with it. And in the army, it didn’t matter to anybody. They respected him once he proved himself, and nothing terrible ever came from it after that. (Later, the man’s face will be the reason people claim an inhuman creature descended on the house to bestow their untimely fates. Depending on who’s telling the story, though, he is the man the wife is cheating on her husband with.) He can smell the food cooking inside and he knows it will be done soon. He can’t wait to taste whatever his favorite cook has made this time.

“L?” the one is the skirt asks, eyes focused anywhere but the newspaper laying callously on the table. He hasn’t looked at one since he got sent home because the after-effects of the war and other forms of violence usually encompass the first page. He doesn’t like to be reminded of what he went through for a country that won’t let him exist. (Later, this is resentment and mental illness, rolled into one incurable ball of rage. It is not entirely wrong, though it is less rage than despair.)

“Yes?” the cooking one asks. (Later, the cook is the wife who cheats on her faithless husband. They will debate: can it be cheating if he did it first? There is no satisfactory answer.) In public, he would never accept being called anything but Mr. Abbott. He has the glasses and tie, the indisputable look of self-assured confidence on his face that keep anyone from questioning his decisions. It is a must in their society. (Later, he is called ‘stone-hearted bastard’ and ‘ice queen’, though many then thought the same of him. It is decidedly not true.) Here, he smiles at the other and sweeps the paper off the counter as he realizes his slip. He doesn’t want to hurt this man he loves so dearly with something so mindless.

“Should I go get the others…?” His question trails off like more words should follow. None are forthcoming, and the cook knows that his mind probably just stepped out for a moment. It’s unsettlingly common, but they haven’t found a way to help it yet.

“Yes, dear,” he says. “I think that would be best. The omelettes are almost done.” The once-soldier nods and heads up the stairs. He still walks with a kind of sharp precision he wishes he didn’t have; it is so different from the undisciplined kid he was when he left. He often wishes things hadn’t changed. More often he wouldn’t trade all his bad experiences that lead to this perfect present for the world. (Later, somehow, this is twisted into an unrecognizable shape, some malformed loathing for the people he lives with, the people who do not have those same awful memories. This has never been true. When he hears it, years down the line, he wants to score the walls with his anger at being so misremembered. He would not ask them to take these memories from him for anything.)

He knocks on the door to the master bedroom and sticks his head in. “Hello, sweetheart,” the one at the writing desk whispers.

“Hey, Patty,” he says back, watching the sliver of morning sun sparkle in his eyes. “L’s just about done with breakfast. You want to wake The Prince or should I?”

“I can get him,” Patty says, and he giggles quietly as a snore sounds across the room. “I’m sure Lo will need your help to fend off Dee, the fiend.” He slips out of the room and goes back to the kitchen. Sure enough, Dee is doing his best to steal food whenever their beloved cook has his back turned.

“If you must insist on nicking my food before it is all done,” L says, the hint of a smile playing around his lips, “the least you could do is have some manners and wash your hands first.” He thwaps the back of the man’s hands with his spatula, so the ex-soldier who served with the food thief crosses the room and wraps his arms around his waist. He’s about six inches taller than Dee, so it’s no challenge to pick him up and carry him across the room like a particularly rowdy sack of flour. (Later, this is aggressive, domineering behavior that strikes fear into anyone who witnesses it.)

“I thought L told you to stop grabbing food,” he mutters, nuzzling the other’s hair.

“He did,” agrees Dee. “But I am so incredibly starved, Virgil. I feel like we’re trying to live off rations again. I haven’t eaten a morsel in hours.” Virgil blows a heavy breath onto the other’s head and he shrieks out a laugh, trying to get away.

“You’ll live, snake. You ought to let that last meal digest before you begin trying to inhale something new.” He sets Dee down on one stool and then climbs onto the other himself. They always eat at the table, their perfect little family, but Virgil likes when his feet can’t touch the ground. He likes scuffing the plain wooden bar with his shoes to leave something behind in this house that can’t be easily wiped away. (Later, those marks are said to be friends and family being thrown into the furniture in a blind rage. Nobody knows that yet. They won’t know it for a long, long time.)

“Morning, love,” says the newly-awoken man, wrapping warm arms around Dee. He smiles as the warmth settles into his cold skin and work away the chill.

“Hello, darling,” Dee responds. He wonders how many times you have to refer to someone with love until it becomes a part of their name. He knows he’ll do it as many times as he needs to find out, and he’ll do it many more after that. (Later, this is possession, this is greed, this is ownership. It is made to be something sharp and hard, not all like it is.) “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough.” He kisses Dee’s head and leans against him.

“To the table, all of you,” Lo says, hands loaded with plates. “It is time for breakfast.”

“At precisely seven fifteen,” agrees Patty. “You’re always so punctual, Lolo.” He twines his fingers with Virgil’s and pulls him to the table. Logan sends around the plates and takes his own seat. Their table is simple, pretty wood, circular so that no one can sit at ‘the head of the table’. It seems an outdated ordeal, and there are five of them besides; none of them want to sit alone.

“Roman, you can’t have my coffee,” Patty says, pushing Roman’s hands back. “You’re going to sleep in an hour, the last thing you need is to be kept awake.” Roman grumbles in protest and collapses onto Patty’s shoulder. Virgil hooks his left ankle with Roman’s under the table, and he links his right arm with Logan’s. Dee holds Patty’s hand with the one that’s not holding his fork, and he kicks one leg up into Logan’s lap as he laughs at the defeated look on Roman’s face.

“Darling,” Dee says, “could you pass me the chocolate syrup?”

“Are you going to put it on your omelette?” Logan asks.

“Of course not,” Dee says, affronted. Logan raises an eyebrow. “Fine, fine. Only a little bit. But I feel like deserve chocolate.”

“I second that,” Virgil says and slides the bottle across the table to him. It is only then that Logan realizes Virgil has already smothered his own food in chocolate. He takes a sip of coffee and smiles. Logan sighs through his nose.

“Thank you, lovely,” Dee says. He blows a kiss to Virgil and then drowns the egg and vegetables in a chocolate tsunami. Patty confiscates the bottle a few seconds in. Dee pouts, but Patty is and always has been the master of puppy eyes; he’s been granted immunity.

They eat the best they can, all linked together like a human chain, and it’s peaceful. It is peaceful and nice and loving and wonderful. The omelettes are delicious, the coffee is strong, and the contact is comforting. They are warm and happy and so, so safe.

Roman presses a kiss to Patty’s coffee-stained lips, then extracts himself from their gentle tangle and heads into the other room for a moment. The remaining four look at each other curiously, but they stay relaxed around the table, content to wait.

The first strains of Sam Cooke’s You Send Me float through the kitchen. Roman comes back in and takes Virgil’s hand, pulling him up. They begin to sway slowly back and forth as Sam Cooke croons softly in the background.

“Darling, you send me

I know you send me

Darling, you send me

Honest you do, honest you do

Honest you do, whoa,” Roman sings in Virgil’s ear. Logan reaches across their table and takes Patton’s hand, and their spouses are bathed in soft, golden sunlight. Dee rests his head against Logan’s shoulder, and it is a moment in perpetuum.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx 2019 xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Like most ghost stories, it is twisted and corrupted and tainted. There are many versions of events that never transpired, breathing life into something unreal. The real story is one of love, of happiness, of unashamed living. The world may never know what truths it has lost, but the ghosts of the past will never forget what they have.

And if you look closely enough, watch the curtains just as the sun lights the sky, you may see the silhouette of two men swaying slowly to unheard music and three more sitting at the table, happy and in love.

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peggysousfan · 5 years

Text

The Torment of the Future

Here is an Au series I have started where Peggy and Daniel are brought back from the dead and mix in with the Marvel movies on Infinity War and Endgame. This is just the 1st chapter, so this is just the intro. Enjoy the twist and surprises in store😉

There in the hidden bunker below, down and down you go far from civilization, they sleep. Two figure locked in cages, beaten and bruised like wild animals. They hold each others hands through the bar; a small comfort to hold their beloved in this time of torment.

All at once it seamed reality and their lives were flipped upside down. What started as a long over due reunion for the lovers, it was all ripped apart by an endless void. They clung to the other with all their might, but they were torn away. For what seemed like hours they opened their eyes again, and meet each other's gaze. Their hands reach out to the other, only to be stopped by the rusted, cold, metal bars. The woman's face began to stain in tears and her love wiped them away. They tried to get free, tried to hold each other again, but it was no use; and they noise they made only caught the attention of their keepers. For days, weeks, months, they didn't know, they were beaten and tortured; everyday for hours on end.

"Stop! Please- Just s- stop!"

The guard grinned, yanking the man's matted hair, caked in grime and blood.

"Plea- please..." She begged, her hands just out of reach from her beloved. "Ple- please don- don't... don't hurt h- him..."

Her face is drenched in the saltiness of her tears, and there's nothing she can do. She thought this part of her life was over. No more running, no more fighting. It was simply the darkness that took hold of her in her sleep that transported her to live anew, back into her husband's arms. He died several years before she did, and she longed to see him again; yearning for nothing more than a kiss and an embrace. Just one more time. And it seemed as if God had heard her prayer before death, too, took her away; and she was met with the loving face she missed do dearly. Now it seemed, they were alive and young again; only to be trapped and tortured.

"W-what do you want from us!?" She yells with a crack in her voice. And a crack in her will to continue living. She and her husband both agree its time to give up, to stop fighting; they won the fight of life a long time ago. They would die and hold each other as close as possible; returning to the light they once knew.

As she continues to listen to his cries of agony, she grabs the bars and shakes on the door, anything to get him to stop. And to her surprise it works, but it doesn't work out as she expects it too.

"No. No please no-" The guard hits him in the head and tosses him back into his cell as he enters the woman's, She backs away into the corner and tries to make a run for it, but he grabs her from her hair and drags her out. "Take me! Let her go and take me!!" He shouts, but to no avail."No.." He sits down and slides against the bars, as she cries out from the electric bar whipping her spine.

He recounts they day they met at the SSR, and he was so nervous. She was his first friend there, and the only person he liked. He fell too hard too fast, and was distraught when she declined his offer to go out for drinks. Little did he know, she was meeting with a friend to move into an new arrangement, and he took it the wrong way; so wrong he moves across the country to get away from her. He was afraid to be around the woman he loved and think she never thought the same; but he was entirely wrong.

She called him everyday, but he never answered. She flew across the country, saved his life, and asked him out; but he declined. She found out about his new girlfriend, and encouraged his happiness; so much that he actually proposed. And yet it didn't work out. All it took was watching her nearly die to know he can never fall out of love, to know he can never out run his feelings no matter how far he moves away. It wasn't until he was teasing her after she saved him when she actually made the first move. She kissed him so hard he lost his balance and they fell into his office chair; and they've never been apart since then.

There first date was out to get ice cream once the files were written up from the Isodine case. Then the were thrown into another problem; the attempted murder of a dear friend. Chief Jack Thompson got in over his head with the people he associate with, and it nearly got him killed stealing a redacted file on her. The woman now being tortured. Come to find out the man that shot Thompson was her long lost, dead brother; Micheal. He was kidnapped during the war and brain washed using an early Hydra program. They were able to help him get better and take down the SSR to get rid of the hydra operatives that slithered in.

Once the SSR was shut down, something new emerged; SHIELD. It was created to help the world from threats beyond the normal problems, and to get rid of Hydra once and for all; even if that meant some got int only to get dummy cases and be sent into death traps. But none of that matter now, because it didn't work. And now they are at the will and whim of Hydra; being tortured and starved for no reason at all. Not even an explanation of how they were brought back to life.

Lost in his distracting thoughts, he finally notices the screams have stopped, and turns around to find her unconscious in HIS cell. The guard watches as he rushes over to her, keeping her in his lap. He checks for a pulse and finds it, but its very faint.

"She need medical attention. Now!" But the guard does nothing but stare fro several more moments, then walks away. The man cries out and groans in frustration as he holds his wife closer. "P-Peggy." He stutters. "Peg you gotta listen to me, okay? You're gonna be fine, amada. I just need you to be strong and hold on." He looks down at her and she doesn't even stir; and his heart begins to shatter. his own face begins to stain as she moves slightly in his arms. "Peg?" She takes a gasp of air and sits up slightly. "Peggy!" He hold her against his chest, as she cries.

"D-Daniel? Daniel!" She exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck. Although it hurts, they refuse to let go. He only leans back to pepper her face in sweet, tender kisses. She leans forward and hold him close, giggling at his affection.

"I'm never letting you go again." He whispers. "Never!" He squeezes her tight nearly to the brink of pain, but she doesn't mind.

"I heartly concur." She releases his neck and attacks his lips with hers. At first he's in shock, then melts in the feeling. They kiss and kiss and kiss until their lips are bruised and their lungs are out of breath. Peggy snuggles against him, her body between his legs huddled close, as he leans against the wall, embracing her. They're hearts beat as one as they begin to relax and forget their troubles; content to only hold and love one another. The fall asleep holding each other, everything is quiet, that is until they hear a large bang. "What was that?" She asks untangling herself from him; but he doesn't let go of her.

"I'm not sure." They watch the door intensely, waiting for an explanation.

"Daniel..." She tries to walk to the door, but he doesn't let her.

"Not yet. Lets just...wait." She looks over her shoulder at him; giving him the look. "Peg we don't know anything. Not only can we barely stand up, let alone fight our way out of here, I'm not gonna lose you again. I just got you back." She looks into his eyes and sees the unspoken words and the fear in his eyes; so she stays. After several minutes of loud banging and yelling, the door bursts open by people in uniform, head to toe in government gear.

"Since when does Hydra keep prisoners locked in cages like this in a basement?" One of them says.

"Since when did Hydra resurface after Talbot and that whole charade with Thanos?" Another one says; this one is a woman.

"Oh. My. God." Another woman enters the room, in no tactical gear, and freezes at the sight of them.

"What? Do you know these people, Simmons?" The tall man asks.

"Know them?! How could you not. Especially her!" She says with an enormous smile on her face as she runs to the door and shoots the lock. "Are you both ok- oh no." She stops as she sees the extensive wounds on both of them. She turns to her peers and ushers them inside. "Quickly, we need to get them to med bay. Now!"

"We're aren't going anywhere before we know WHAT THE HELL is going on!"Peggy yells. "Who are you people!?" Simmons backs away out of shock. She didn't expect her outburst.

"Oh my God, is she-"The woman in gear starts to speak.

"I think so, May. She certainly looks like her." Simmons says and she grabs medical supplies from her bag.

"Am I missing something here?"The man asks

"You're always missing something Mack." May says sarcastically, but everyone can see the small smirk on her face; that's as close as she gets to a smile or any expression of enjoyment. Simmons reaches out to Peggy and Peggy balls up her fist ready to punch.

"Touch me and you'll regret it." She spews.

"Who are you people? And what do you want with us?" Daniel finally speaks as Peggy leans further back into him; not giving a damn who sees.

"Right now all we want to do is help you." Simmons speaks, gesturing towards the supplies. "We aren't with Hydra, quite the opposite actually. But given you're the founder of our organization, I would think you would understand where it is we work." "What?"

"We're working with S.H.I.E.L.D." Agent May speaks.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.? But-" Peggy looks at Daniel and sees his confusion. "That can't be right. S.H.I.E.L.D. fell in 2015 after Hydra destroyed it."

"You remember that?" Simmons asks

"Vaguely. Its not all clear but...It is hard to forget that my entire life's work went down because bloody Captain America couldn't help but put his nose in business that didn't concern him."

"Y-you remember that too?" May asks, shocked.

"Obviously. That wanker wouldn't stop visiting me while I was in the nursing home. He kept obsessing over the war and how he wished he could go back."

"He loves you. How is that obsession?"

"If he loved me," she looks at Mack. "Then he would accept that fact that I moved on with my life and was happy without him there. Its been what? at least 4 years the last I checked before I died. He needs to let me go and get over himself." Her blood starts to boil and Daniel holds her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. The bracelet on her wrist starts to glow and gives her a small shock, and she groans from pain, and Daniel whispers in her ear to calm her down.

"What is that for?" "Don't touch me." Peggy snaps at Jemma's fascination.

"Please, Directer, let us help. We won't do you any harm." At first she's hesitant, but lets Simmons look at their wounds.

"Don't touch that!" Peggy shouts as she touches the bracelet. "Leave it be."

"What does it do?" She asks gently. Peggy doesn't answer, instead she looks over at Daniel and he takes her hand in his.

"It's for her safety. And all of ours." He explains. Everyone turns to him and May asks who he is. She's never seen his file.

"He's my husband." And as Peggy says this, they;'re all stunned. "You've never read his file because I destroyed it. No one could know his identity or about his connection and relationship with me." She explains.

"I guess that makes sense." Mack says. "Can you both stand? We should get you both back to head quarters to get you properly treated." The lovers share a glance and have a silent agreement. They both nod and are taken one the quinjet to the Lighthouse. When they get to the med bay they are all patched up and take care of.

"Your wounds are extensive, especially the ones on your back, Director. As for your husband..."

"Daniel. Daniel Sousa." They shake hands and she continues speaking.

"And as for your wounds, Agent Sousa, you have a broken rib and a a minor concussion." The married pair nod along as they listen. "I know you said you don't want me to take off your...wrist band, Director, but it has causes burns on your skin that need to be treated." Peggy looks down at her lap, and takes a deep breath. "May I ask why it is you want to keep a device that torture you on your wrist?"

"Because I need it. It...helps me." Simmons looks perplexed as she tries to figure out what Director Carter means.

"Peg..." She looks up at Daniel. "I think we can trust them. It's okay." He smiles at her, trying to bring a small comfort to her in this moment of fear.

"I need this because it helps keep it under control." She chokes up.

"Keep what under control?" Jemma asks, her brows furrowed. Peggy sighs and wipes away a loose tear.

"M-My...abilities."

"Abilities?! What abilities? How long have you had them?!" She fires up in excitement, quickly examining the bracelet.

"I'm not sure. We only found out about them while we were in the bunker,"Peggy says. "I'm not sure how long we were down there, but I do know that some days they would take me away from Daniel and..." She breaks away from speaking and and tries to gather her composure, but the memories continue to play in her mind. The torment an torture. Being tied down and cut into like a sack of meet. Being pocked with needles and having blood drawn, as well as odd colored injections.All of this was swirling through her mind and she had to ground herself and remember it wasn't real.

"Director...?" She looks up and notices Simmons patiently waiting.

"They did experiments I believe. My blood was drawn and I was constantly injected with an odd liquid that burned throughout my entire body. I wasn't sure what it was suppose to do until..." She stops again and looks at Daniel, who's hand is outstretched to her, and she takes it.

"Until she got so desperate and angry at the guard that beat me half to death," Daniel chimes in. "She screame at the top of her lungs from the pain in her veins. And that's when it happened."

"What happened?" Jemma asks, leaning in her seat like an excited child.

"She blew the bars off the hinges in a light show of an explosion from her hands." Peggy looks away but squeezes his hand. "Scared the hell outta the guard, and me. I think it scared her most of all..." He tips his head and peaks into her face, and she nods. "But she ran with it and blew a damn whole in the guards body like laser or something. It felt like all the energy in the room was vacuumed into her and she started to...glow." He says in amazement. "But more came in and tackled her down, forcing that band on her wrist. She never learned to control whatever it is she does. And she's afraid of it."

"That's...incredible. I-I mean awful that you went through that but, your abilities sound incredible. Now I can run some tests on your DNA to see just what we're dealing with. And I can take the band off and replace it with one that doesn't hurt. It will dampen your powers, but it will make sure not to burn you and cause you any sort of pain." Peggy agrees and then is taken to a different room for those tests.

"So...what does it say?"

"I-I've never seen anything like this before. Its like pure energy is coursing through your veins. I can also see molecule structure similar to what we find in space."

"Space? As in the stars and planets sort of space?"

"Yes. Those particles and structures discovered in astral phenomenons and super novas, that is. See here, how you cells are estranged from this set here and then this one?" Peggy nods. "These cells are inhuman, the other human; but yours...its as if its a hybrid mixture of human, inhuman, and something else. Something that Captain Marvel herself may very well posses."

"Who?"

"Oh shes an Avenger that has similar abilities to yours. She glows and fly's and has abilities that have to do with energy; but its not exactly the same as yours." Simmons continues to explain. "You see, your power has to do with everything around you, that and your emotions. It doesn't come from a source inside of you, not like it does with her. Yours is also very new and unpracticed. I think once you train and get comfortable with them, then you'll be just fine."

"What happens if I suppress them for too long or don't practice?" Jemma looks at Peggy and presses her lips together sheepishly.

"Well that's another matter we will have to test. But from what I can read from your incredible results...nothing good." She slouches in the chair in the lab as she lets this sink in. "If you don't want to suppress them and would like them to just be controlled so you can train, I can modify a device to do that instead."

"If you think that's best...then I'll do it."

"Only if that's what you want, Directer Carter."

"Peggy, please, or Agent Carter if you prefer." She corrects Simmons. "I'm not the director anymore."

"Alright, Peggy." Jemma smiles like a fan-girl. "If you would like to practice with your abilities and get them under control, then I can design something up for you and get your opinion."

"That would be great, thank you Agent Simmons."

"Jemma." She reaches out her hand and they shake on it. Peggy gets up and leaves the lab to find Daniel, and Jemma walks into the Director's office.

"Simmons. You're back. So what do you have to report on...them." He gestures towards the outside.

Jemma confirms they are the real Margaret 'Peggy' Carter and Daniel Sousa. They were brought back to life with the same alien DNA Coulson had, but their formula was different; so they won't go insane like he did. She informs him of the injuries that they have, but they will make a full recovery; and she also tells him about Peggy's DNA and abilities.

"Note to self, don't piss off Peggy Carter. Not unless you want to die in an actual nuclear explosion." Mack mumbles. "And I though May and Daisy were terrifying when they were mad...damn."

#peggysous #peggy carter #daniel sousa #Peggy x Daniel #peggysous fic #agent carter #agents of shield #au fanfic

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mama-m1na · 4 years

Text

Apocalypse: Chapter 10

~~~X~~~

When Cloud opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of a pink and orange sky with the call of gulls somewhere in the distance.

With a sigh the blond sat up and noticed that he was in a patch of grass next to a cobblestone walkway.

Luckily, he saw that his buster sword was laying in the grass next to him so he placed it knot his back before he heard a female voice.

"Hey, Mister, are you alright?" the female called as the twenty-one-year-old turned around to see a young woman rushing down the road.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered as the woman stopped in front of him.

She wore a white sundress that ended at her knees with a matching pair of sandals and sunhat that was probably meant to protect her pale skin from the sun that had yet to rise.

Her jet black hair was silky and straight, falling to the middle of her back, but what he noticed most here her eyes.

They were a dark brown color, that looked up at him with a familiar curiosity as they inspected him.

"Really?" she mused, raising a brow as she tilted her head to the side, "I would hardly think laying right next to the road by yourself in the early hours of morning to be normal, but to all their own I guess."

"What do you want?" the male scoffed, earning a shrug from the woman who just looked past him and at the sun rising over the ocean.

"I was going down to the cove to get some writing done when I found you here and became slightly concerned," she spoke before turning to him, "You can come with me if you like!"

"Are you serious?" the blond asked as he looked at the female like she had grown a second head.

"Yes, it's beautiful in the morning!" the female gushed as she lifted up to stand as the balls of her feet, "No other people and just the ocean to keep you company!"

"Unless, you have other plans of course," she continued, calming down a bit, "I just thought someone else should experience its beauty."

The male sighed as he remembered his situation; standing before him was one of the past incarnations of Rhamina and he was supposed to somehow learn something that he could use to help Mandallyth.

With how the mysterious woman acted, he honestly did not want to help her with anything, but knew he had no choice if he wanted to return to his world.

"Fine, where is it?" the male sighed as the female immediately perked up once again, a bright smile being displayed on her face.

"It's just a little ways from here, but I do have to warn you that it has been a little more dangerous lately with the appearance of monsters," the ravenette hummed as she started down the road again.

Much to the male's surprise, the route down to the female's destination was riddled with many obstacles which included multiple colonies of slimes and very slippery, jagged rocks that she traversed with ease.

"What exactly were you thinking, wanting to come out here on your own?" Cloud hissed as he reached the female who was waiting for him on a stable trail that led down to a small, isolated, cove.

"What do you mean?" she chirped, barely able to contain her excitement as they got closer and closer to the sand.

"You have no weapons and that entire 'path' of yours wasn't even a path and just filled with monsters," the male explained with a frown.

"Oh please, it's much worse at night," the ravenette huffed with a smirk as they finally made it down, "That's when everything else wakes up."

He was about to call her out for avoiding the question, but before he could even get one word out the woman had already rushed over to the water.

She immediately tossed her sandals to the side and let out a content sigh as the waves rolled over her feet, relishing in the ocean's presence like she had been starved of it.

"Hey, what's your name?" Cloud called, standing away from the female, but close enough to pull her back if something as she took her sunhat off.

"What?" she asked, turning back with a wide, closed eye smile before she processed his question, her eyes snapping open in panic.

"I don't think that's a very good-" "Lady Tsukiyo!" a voice called from above them, causing the male to look up at the beginning of the trail as the woman in the water paled.

"I was so close," the ravenette whispered sadly as she placed the hat back on her head and walked onto the sand to put her sandals back on.

The one who had called out was an elderly woman with grey hair and a dress that covered almost all of her skin, Cloud noticed as she ran over to the female clad in white.

"Lady Tsukiyo, thank goodness you're safe!" the woman cried as she inspected the younger, but taller female for any injuries, "We must return you to the manor at once!"

The female was quickly ushered back to the trail until the older woman noticed the swordsman and her eyes widened.

"Were you the one who was protecting Lady Tsukiyo?!" she asked as she approached the male only to let out a cry and begin bowing before he could even reply.

"Oh, thank you! I thank you! Who knows what could have happened to My Lady in her current state!" the woman exclaimed as she took the man's hands, the female in white only sighing.

"What do you mean?" he asked before another figure appeared at the top of the trail, a male wearing a butler's uniform with two flintlock pistols in hand.

"It doesn't matter," the ravenette spat, venom lacing her words as she smacked the man's hand away from her, keeping her longing gaze on the ocean.

"Lady Tsukiyo!" the woman gasped as the ravenette started back up the trail by herself, "Castro, go with her!"

"Please, Sir, come with us and we can at least offer you a meal for the trouble this might have caused you," the grey-haired woman offered, but Cloud was still confused.

"What's happening?" the blond asked as he walked with the woman who was following behind the other two.

"Well, Lady Tsukiyo, had unfortunately been charmed by a siren who frequently draws her down to that cove," the woman sighed, "Just recently it almost took her into the sea, but luckily Lady Mitsuki had followed her and pulled her back that night."

"However," the woman continued as they reached the main road, "the siren refused to let her go and until the thing is killed, she will not be released."

The blond barely listened to the woman's extremely long explanation as she guided him through a small seaside village until a large manor came into view.

"Master Aaron, has been trying to hire mercenaries and bounty hunters who could slay it, but so far none of them have been successful," the woman wearing a navy blue dress sighed while shaking her head.

As soon as the two entered the lavish building, they were greeted by the sight of a well dressed woman and two maids at either side of her.

"Ah, good morning, Mistress Elena, this is the man who-" the older female was cut off by the pale woman holding her hand up.

She held a strong resemblance to the female Cloud had met when he first woke up; but instead of being warm and curious, her light brown eyes were cold and calculating as she inspected him.

"Thank you, Serena, but upon returning to her senses, Tsukiyo informed me of this young man's deeds," the woman spoke in a slow, smooth tone as she stepped closer to the pair, "And I must say, I am very grateful for what you did in accompanying my daughter this morning, as is my husband."

"In fact, he has even invited you up to his office to thank you personally," she continued with a small smirk before turning to the servants at her sides and dismissing them along with the woman who had brought them there.

"Now then," the mistress of the manor chirped with an eerie, closed eye smile, "Follow me, please."

As the twenty-one-year-old followed the female through the halls of the large home, he couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong.

He couldn't place what exactly it was, but just following through the quiet, empty halls put him on edge even if it didn't show on his face.

"So, how did you happen across Tsukiyo?" the woman asked as they turned another corner, "At the time she snuck out, I would assume that only the baker would have been awake."

"I just- uh..."

How exactly does one explain this?

He was pretty certain that he wasn't even supposed to explain it to the people he met in these dreams.

"Hard to explain?" the woman chuckled as she smoothed out a wrinkle in her scarlet colored dress, "That's fine... What's your name then?"

"Cloud Strife," the male answered simply, earning a hum from the woman as they approached a large wooden door.

"Well, Cloud, I am Elena Dorada, the mistress of this manor and it is a pleasure to meet you," the woman mused, earning a nod of acknowledgement in response.

It was barely visible, but the woman's lip twitched before she opened the door and announced their presence to the man at the desk.

"Hello, Dear!" she greeted as they walked in, closing the door behind them, "This is Cloud Strife, the one who protected our daughter this morning!"

"So it is!" the male mused with a bright smile as he stood up from his papers and moved around the desk to hold his hand out to the younger man.

"It's nice to meet you!" he continued as the blond shook his hand, "My name is Aaron don Dorada, the head of this manor and father of the woman you saved."

"I would like to personally thank you for that and apologize for her tricking you," the older male sighed as he pulled back, "She isn't exactly in the right state of mind all the time anymore."

"It's because of the siren, right?" Cloud clarified, causing the temperature in the room to drop drastically.

"Yes," spat Elena with narrowed eyes and pure hate in her words, "That creature tainted our beloved daughter's mind and despite how much it pains us to see her unhappy, we must keep her inside until it's killed."

"Or we've been trying to keep her inside, but she's always been a clever girl," Aaron added, "She always manages to find ways to sneak out and we're worried she might actually be taken before we can find her again."

"We've been hiring the best of the best to try and get rid of it, but none of them could handle it," the woman huffed in distaste before her eyes flicked up to the male.

"But with all the praise my daughter's given you, might you be willing to face the creature?" she continued with a raised brow from her spot, sitting at the edge of the desk as her husband placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Dear, he's already done so much just by keeping her safe," the man spoke, "We brought him here to thank him, not ask for more."

"It's worth a shot, Aaron," she snapped in response before clicking her tongue and turning to the blond with her arms crossed over her chest.

"So what do you say, Cloud?" the noirette asked as she stepped closer to the younger male, "Up for a challenge?"

"Depends," the male sighed as he shifted his weight, "How much are you willing to give me in exchange?"

It was quick, but Cloud caught a malicious glint in the nobleman's eyes before he said, "Fifty platinum, it's a little more than what we offered the others, so it should be enough for you, right?"

"Alright," the blond said after a few moments to think, "I'll do it."

"Perfect!" the woman chirped with a bright smile, "I must tell you though, the creature only appears at night, but you're welcome to stay here until then."

When lunchtime rolled around, the male was led to the large dining room by one of the maids where he saw the master and mistress of the manor as well as a set of what looked to be twins, one of them being the woman he encountered that morning.

One of the females wore an off white dress with vertical black stripes, a black collar and cuffs, as well as black and purple ruffles at the edge of the skirt. She also wore white stockings, black heels, and wore a small hat that matched her dress.

The second wore an all black dress with an off white petticoat and a lavender colored corset tied around her waist. She also wore black stockings, brown heels, and a black bonnet decorated with purple roses and black feathers.

"There he is!" Aaron spoke cheerily as he stood up to stand in between the twins and place a hand on either one of their shoulders, "Girls, this is Cloud Strife, which I'm sure one of you already knows."

The female in black merely sighed as she tilted her head down, not looking at anything in particular, while the woman in white shot the blond a bright smile and said, "I'm Mitsuki von Dorada, it's nice to meet you!"

Cloud only gave a silent nod before taking a seat across the two as Mitsuki nudged her mirror image in the side.

"Introduce yourself, Tsuki," she murmured so only the other would hear.

The ravenette sighed before turning to Cloud, bowing her head, and saying, "I am Tsukiyo von Dorada, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Both Mitsuki and Aaron cringed at her dry, robotic tone before Elena sighed and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"I apologize for Tsukiyo, she wasn't always like this," the woman in red spoke after her husband took his seat at the head of the table.

"Yeah," the twin clad in white sighed with a pout as the other narrowed her eyes, "Tsuki, used to be really lively and happy, but ever since I found her with that thing, she's been like this."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't speak for me and talk about me as if I weren't here," Tsukiyo hissed as she picked up her fork.

"I'm sorry, Tsuki, but you know I'm right," Mitsuki spoke as she placed a hand on the other's shoulder, "None of this would have happened if that thing didn't come here."

"None of this would have happened if all of you hadn't lied to everyone by saying I'm a child of the Dorada family," the ravenette replied without missing a beat, causing the nobles to gasp in shock and horror, "but I've become too much of an important pawn to you now, so I'll just be waiting for you and your whole game to burn."

The room went dead silent as the woman stood from her seat and started to the exit, saying that she had lost her appetite.

The remaining Dorada child looked over to her parents in panic as Cloud raised a brow in suspicion.

"Do you see how much that creature has twisted her mind? The poor thing," Elena spoke in a sympathetic tone, but the blond could see the seething rage in her eyes.

The rest of the meal was filled with a tense silence as none of them even tried to keep up their cheery facades.

After everyone was finished with their meals, the blond was basically left to himself so he decided to explore the manor.

It was filled with many things and many rooms he couldn't seem to find a use for other than to flaunt their riches.

Eventually, the male came upon a door that was cracked open, allowing him to look inside to see the woman clan in black hunched over something at her desk.

"You can come in, you know," she spoke, pausing her writing to look over at the door, "I was actually hoping you'd find your way here."

The male did as told and closed the door behind him before approaching the teen who's desk faced a window which overlooked the ocean.

"I'm assuming you have some questions," the ravenette said as she capped her pen and closed the journal she was writing in.

"Yeah, what the hell is happening here?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as his blue eyes narrowed.

"Didn't my family tell you already?" she replied with a sneer at one of her words, her eyes seeming to search through his entire benign for something.

"I don't believe them," he huffed, "Not with the way they acted when you left and with how they act in general."

The ravenette let out a sigh of relief as she slumped back into her chair, saying, "Finally, the gods bless me someone intelligent!"

She then snapped her fingers, causing a small burst of energy to come from her form and engulf the entire room.

"You don't need to worry," Tsukiyo spoke as she noticed the male's sudden tension, "That was just to make sure that they couldn't listen in."

"Now, back to your question. In order for me to answer that correctly, you have to know that I am not the child of Aaron and Elena Dorada," she started as she looked straight up into the male's eyes, "only Mitsuki is their legitimate child. My real name is Tsukiyo no Hanna, I was originally a slave from the Southern Isle."

The young woman chuckled at the male's confused expression as she said, "It was pure coincidence that I looked exactly like their child, but when they saw me at the auction they made a plan; pose me as another one of their children so they had more pawns to marry off for power when I grew older."

"And where does the siren fit into this?" Cloud asked as he shifted his weight to his other leg.

"He isn't fake if that's what you were thinking," the woman mused as she turned back to the window, "Mitsuki did see me with a siren, but he didn't charm me."

"If you're born in the Southern Isle and grow up there for a few years, you become immune to siren song," she explained, "he was a friend I had before I was taken as a slave, followed the slave ship all the way here."

"We would meet up in the cove every night for years before Mitsuki decided to follow me," the ravenette continued with a sad sigh, "she told her parents and now they want him dead because they see him as an obstacle."

It was silent for a minute as the blond made sense of her story before she turned back to him and said, "I'm sorry to say that you will not be getting the platinum that man promised you... I can't let you kill him."

"I thought as much," the blond sighed as she thought of what to do next and as if she read his mind, the woman spoke once more.

"I still suggest that you go to the cove tonight," Tsukiyo spoke with a soft smile, "You came here to learn the truth after all, so go. You'll find everything you need there."

Once the sun went down, Cloud exited the manor and started down the road to the cove the ravenette had shown him that morning.

He was expecting multiple monsters along the way; however, he wasn't expecting to see the young woman waiting for him under a tree at the side of the road.

"Hiya, Cloud!" she chirped, starling the male before he realized that she was only wearing a white nightgown and wasn't even wearing any shoes.

"What are you doing out here?" the blond asked as she began to lead the way again, "Did you sneak out?"

"I had to if I wanted to make sure you got to the cove okay," the ravenette reasoned, not caring about the cold cobblestone beneath her feet, "None of the others Aaron and Elena hired even made it down because of the monsters that come out at night."

"Then why did you-" "Cloud, how do you think I went down to the cove if I had to worry about monsters?" she questioned as they walked, "My magic repels most of the nocturnal monsters and slimes are diurnal, so we don't have to worry about them."

Cloud could only gape at the young woman before shaking off his shock and catching up to her.

True to the ravenette's word, no monsters approached them as they traveled the difficult route, although they could feel the gaze of some creatures.

"I really have to thank you, Cloud," Tsukiyo said as they reached the trail that would lead straight to the sand, "Without you showing up, I don't think I would have been given this chance, so I'll take it while I can."

"I'm leaving tonight," she spoke, voice full of determination as they made it to the bottom, "I'll reclaim my real name and live with the ocean!"

The male was about to comment, but decided against it as the woman made her way across the sand with a haunting melody leaving her mouth.

The water seemed to respond to the female's call as soft blue lights could be seen in the distance, just below the water's surface.

Soon enough, a male voice began singing as the ravenette let out a relieved gasp upon seeing a familiar face pop out from the water.

Suddenly, the wind picked up as the female sang once again, her hair flying back with the amount of magic that she put out.

The waves crashed hard against the rocks as the siren gave his reply, coming closer as the female stepped out to the water.

Their magic then clashed as their voices melded together into a symphony of pure power, leaving Cloud as the only true witness as he stood at the edge of the water.

Everything calmed down only when the two reached each other; webbed hands wrapping around the female's waist as human hands cupped her cheeks of the creature before her, ending their song in a soft lullaby.

"You're here," the male gasped, bright orange eyes looking up at the woman's face in pure adoration, "You're actually here."

"Yes, Love, I'm here and I'm not leaving you again," the ravenette whispered through her tears of joy as she pressed her forehead to his, "I'm sorry that I kept you waiting for so long."

"I don't care," the male muttered as he nuzzled closer to her in the waist deep water, "You're here now and that's all that matters."

Tsukiyo only nodded with a true smile before turning back to the man back at the sand with a wave.

"Thank you again, Cloud, for everything you've done!" she called while looking straight into his eyes, her own brown irises seeming to glow in the moonlight.

"I hope you've learned all that you needed by coming here, but you have to go home now. Don't you?"

The sound of the default alarm on his phone caused Cloud to open his eyes and realize that he was back in his room, in his own bed.

When he sat up to turn off the alarm, the blond realized that it was Saturday morning and that he was supposed to be going to a party with Rhamina.

While he didn't like the idea of going to a party full of people he had never met before, the teen had mentioned that one of her cousins who worked in one of the plants would be there and might have some ideas on how to get him back to his world safely.

"So, you're going to a party full of Asians?" Tijarah asked the male once he arrived for breakfast, for once up at a reasonable time on a weekend, "Good luck, man."

"What do you mean?" Rhamina huffed as she took her seat after grabbing a glass of apple juice, "My aunts and uncles are nice!"

"I'm talking about your cousins," the dark-skinned female spoke before taking a bite of a sweet potato fry, "You know what they're going to say as soon as you walk in the door with Cloud."

It was silent for a good minute as the ravenette processed Tijarah's notion and realized that she was indeed correct before saying, "You know, I actually didn't think about that, but I already said we were coming so too late."

"What time are we leaving?" the blond asked before the youngest female could give another reply.

"Around twelve-ish, and we're going to have to take my car since I'm bringing some food over," Rhamina said before biting her lip, "but I don't know if your sword will fit, I drive a pretty small car."

The male merely sighed in response and stayed in the females' suite until it was time to leave and helped her bring some of her things out to the lot.

When they finally reached the small black car she drove, Cloud honestly wasn't surprised, it seemed to suit her pretty well.

Unlike the rest of the vehicles in the lot, the eighteen-year-old's car had no physical armor plating or combat modifications, just a simple everyday car that would blend in anywhere.

"I don't know how I did it, but I did it," the female chuckled after fitting the male's buster sword into the back seats, keeping the blade wrapped in an old blanket that was in her trunk.

"Alright, let's get going then!" she chirped from the driver's seat as she set her GPS and music, with Cloud in the passenger's seat.

It was silent between the two, with the only noise being the rock music that was playing from the speakers until they reached the first stoplight.

"Just a heads up, I have a lot of different kinds of music on this playlist, so I apologize in advance if anything weird pops up," the teen warned as they waited for the light.

"It doesn't matter," the male huffed; but as soon as the light turned green, a familiar song intro started playing that caused the teen's eyes to widen in panic.

'Fuck,' she though as the moaning part came over the speakers, causing the blond to look at her with wide eyes, 'and it's the English version too!'

The ravenette let out an embarrassed squeal, her hands tightening on the wheel as she could feel her companion's eyes boring into her.

"I'm sorry!" she whined while keeping her eyes on the road, a visible red beginning to tint her cheeks, "It's a good song though!"

"What other music is on this playlist?" the male asked as he tried to ignore the very explicit lyrics being played.

"Um, it falls into one of three categories," the eighteen-year-old started as she got on the freeway, "Uh... sex, depresso espresso, and uh... whatever the fuck else I have on here."

"I'm sorry," she muttered once again, quietly, not looking at the male as her blush burned brightly.

They made it to her relative's home in about an hour and a half with little to no traffic and a few more questionable songs coming up.

"I'm just letting you know right now that most of my family is more... extroverted than I am, so I'm sorry if it gets to be a bit much for you," Rhamina said as they approached the door of the home, "But they're really nice, I swear."

After saying that, the ravenette knocked on the door and a few moments later it opened to reveal a slightly taller male with glasses and short black hair.

"Hi, Zach, it's been awhile!" the female chirped as she looked up to her older cousin who just looked down at her normal outfit.

"Yeah, it really has been a while hasn't it?" the male asked in a strange tone before Rhamina noticed a certain glint in his eye.

Clang!

"Fuck!"

Cloud's eyes widened at the sudden action and was about to pull his buster sword out of habit, but was stopped by the ravenette who gently squeezed his wrist and just looked down at the male who was hunched over, cradling his hand.

"Zach, I've told you once already that this corset is just recolored Valkyrie armor and it will always be just that," she deadpanned, keeping her hold on Cloud, "This is Cloud."

"Cloud, the idiot who just tried to punch me in the gut is Zach, the hose of this party," the ravenette introduced as a girl with pale skin and strawberry blonde hair walked over.

"Was Zach being a dumbass again?" the female asked as she helped her boyfriend up and moved to the side so the two could come in.

"Very much yes," Rhamina replied as she walked further into the house with the food she brought, leaving Cloud on his own with the couple.

"Well, Cloud, it's nice to meet you," the noiret groaned as he held out his non-throbbing hand, "Rhamina's said a lot of good things about you."

The blond nodded wordlessly and shook his hand before being led into the kitchen and dining area that gave way to a living area where the ravenette was helping an older woman set up the food.

"Rhamina, is that him?" the woman asked as she looked up from the sink, the teen taking the food she prepped and placing it on the table.

"Yeah," she chirped with a smile as she looked over to the older male, "That's Cloud."

"Hi, I'm Lirio!" the woman greeted as she walked over to the taller man and held out her hand for him to shake, "I'm Rhamina's aunt!"

"So you're the swordsman she's been talking about?" she continued after they shook hands, "She never said anything about how handsome you were!"

"No, she kept calling him cute in the group-chat, look," Zach spoke as he pulled out his phone, causing the ravenette to smack it out of his hand and onto the plush cushion of one of the dining chairs.

"What happened to 'what happens on the group chat, stays on the group-chat'?" the eighteen-year-old hissed, not looking at the blond who raised a brown at her.

"That's kind of blown out of the window when it gives us teasing opportunities," the older male replied, "We never get to see you, this chance isn't given to us a lot."

Rhamina blinked at him a few times before taking a deep breath and walking to stand next to Cloud.

"Can you blame me though? Look at this!" she spoke while gesturing to the twenty-one-year-old, "He's adorable!"

Blue eyes looked down to the female in shock despite having heard the comment from her once before on one of their previous excursions.

"I mean, I can see it," the strawberry blonde shrugged, earning a horrified gasp from the noiret, "but I already have Zach and Mookie."

"Thank you, Anna," Rhamina huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, "Someone that understands that just because someone is cute, doesn't mean they're automatically attractive."

"So you don't find this guy attractive?" a new, male voice asked as he came down the stairs, earning the attention of everyone in the room.

The ravenette couldn't even get her mouth to form a single word before she walked straight to the backyard, muttering something about lizards on her way out.

"Damn, Andrew over here with the finishing move," Zach chuckled as he walked over to give his older brother a high five.

"I honestly think that's enough teasing for tonight," Anna spoke, "She's literally just outside looking for lizards right now."

"Alright, I'm done, but I can't promise the same for the others when they get here," Zach chuckled as he kissed the female on the cheek.

"Yeah, Jay is going to get a kick out of it," the older sibling chuckled before turning to the blond with a sigh.

"Sorry about that," he said while holding his hand out to shake, "I'm Andrew, Zach's older brother and Rhamina's cousin."

"Cloud Strife," the blond spoke as he shook the older male's hand.

The four converse for a bit about his experiences in Apocalypse as the female remained in the backyard and as more guests began to arrive.

Cloud was introduced to many more of the female's cousins who all seemed to be around his age and slightly older.

Apparently, she had explained the whole other world situation to them and made it extremely obvious that it wasn't his fault, borderline threatening them to make sure that they would be nice to the blond.

"Hey, bad news, Zyrus got held up at work, so he won't be getting here for a few more hours,"' a male known as Ariel said after checking his text messages.

"I'm sure Rhamina won't care much," a fifteen-year-old known as Vince said as he looked up from his own device, "she actually showed up for once."

"Yeah, but all she's doing right now is-" Andrew was cut off by a female scream coming from the backyard, and just like that, Cloud was on his feet and out the door.

"Rhamina, what happened?" the blond asked as he saw the eighteen-year-old holding half of her hair with her back to him.

"Nothing happened, I'm fine," the female sang in a higher pitched voice than what was normal for her, "Please ignore me and go back inside!"

The older male only shook his head and walked over to the ravenette who reluctantly turned to him, biting her lower lip and not meeting his gaze.

"I may or may not have gotten a lizard stuck in my hair again," she explained with an embarrassed chuckle as blue eyes focused on the squirming figure in the part of the raven locks that she had in her hand.

Letting out a sigh, the twenty-one-year-old reached forward and with, unexpectedly, gentle gentle fingers began untangling the scaled creature from the female's hair.

"You know, I would have expected this kind of thing from Kerstin," he commented as he worked, eyes flicking up to the teen's embarrassed expression for a moment, "Not from you."

"Well, I would," she chuckled, watching as the last claw of the lizard was freed and as Cloud placed it back on the stone wall next to them, "because it's happened two times before this."

The corner of the male's lips twitched upwards as he let out a huff and the teen narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's not my fault that animals like my hair, okay?!" she cried while crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aw, that's cute," one of the aunt's cooed as everyone watched the interactions from behind the sliding glass doors.

"Mike, who is that?" the woman's husband called from next to her.

"That's one of her new friends from Apocalypse," the man holding a video camera spoke as he zoomed in on the pair.

"What? That's not her boyfriend?" the man asked with his heavy Filipino accent, his f's sounding more like p's.

"Not yet, from what it looks like," a cousin known as Kayla mused, earning a round of snickers and chuckled from the younger group.

After a few more minutes, the pair came inside and the ravenette skipped up to the couches where her cousins were as Cloud followed close behind.

"Are we ready to play Salem?"

~~~Fin. Chapter 10~~~

Masterlist

#Apocalypse #Chapter 10 #Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy VII #Final Fantasy VII Remake #Final Fantasy 7 #Final Fantasy 7 Remake #FFVII #ffvii remake #fanfiction #Fanfic #Cloud Strife #Cloud Strife x OC

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johnny-writes · 6 years

Text

When Kazuma Returned to Japan

So, this is what happens when I removed a bit of Konosuba’s comedy and replaced it with drama, to try to understand why Kazuma is scum. This is an especulative work and it takes some things that are implied in canon at face value and there is a reason why that I’ll explain in the postface.

Marya is an OC of mine, for those who aren’t aware, she’s a plot device in this fic. I’m putting this here because, although the source of this fic is a RP blog, I want to reach a greater audience.

Content warning for child abuse mention.

"Here we are," Marya proclaimed, extending her arms to the new world upon leaving the portal, "Your old home!"

Of all ways possible that Kazuma considered to leave that cursed land, he never imagined that bribing a travelling fairy, a type of fairy that had the capacity of trespassing worlds and dimensions, with sugar would be the one that would work.

He had a smirk on his face and walked proud, with erect posture and eyes firm at his old house, which he could see from a distance. It was dusk and nobody had seen them exiting the portal, an advantage of living in the rural part.

“Thank you, Marya." He said, smiling to her. While she looked crazy, she wasn't a bad person for helping him.

"I'm going to take a while until recharge, so I guess I'll wait here."

"It's up to you, just don't let my parents see you." He said, putting his hand on his pockets and walking to his house.

"Well, I don't want to lose this, so I think I'll follow you."

His parents would have an epic surprise: he could imagine them thinking he's a doppelgänger or even a ghost. He chuckled, it would be an awkward situation, but they'd get over and he'd have a home and people caring for him.

He placed a hand over the door's handle...and it didn't open.

"Hm, I think I should take a look first, to see if they're home." He muttered and went to check the kitchen's window. The fairy, having nothing better to do, followed him.

The lights were on and the door was half-open. His parents never let the door open, and that meant...

What if there was a robber?

"Lurk." He muttered and the shade covered his tracks while he entered the house. Marya stayed there and decided to hide behind a bush, remembering of Kazuma's request.

Although his home world had no mana, he still could use his abilities before the remaining mana in his body faded away. Lurk, just as any other initial spell, consumed little mana, so he used to search through his house.

He went through it quickly and detected nobody inside it. He let his room as the last place to go.

Entering there, he felt shocked and his heart felt so many things he didn't know what to think.

All of his stuff was gone! His figurines, his DVDs, his videogames (no, he remembered he saw his latest generation one in the living room), his posters all replaced by...beauty products? With labels written in English?

"Huh?" He grunted while checking the boxes in there. Apparently, it was from a multi-level marketing scheme that his parents got roped into.

"Kazuma," Marya whispered, while motioning to him.

"Yes, I'm Kazuma," he said, and then frowned, "What are you doing here?"

"Your parents almost saw me, so I had to hide inside." Marya said. This didn’t answer why his parents left the door open, but there were more important questions to address.

He didn't have time to scold the fairy, upon noticing his parents arrived. He gulped and took a deep breath, preparing to reveal himself, their only son returning home.

But, he started to realize the situation was too convenient. He was genre savvy enough to understand that something was about to happen and decided to eavesdrop.

"Hear." He muttered and the spell worked, giving him enhanced hearing.

"We sold lots of these soaps today. Can’t believe people buy this crap." The man said. Kazuma recognized the deep and harsh voice coming from his father.

"If we continue like that, we'll have a nice retirement." The woman said. Kazuma could tell the shrill and hoarse voice belonged to his mother.

"Retirement? Who needs retirement? I want to have some nice vacations, Greece, Italy, Spain, all of them look closer as the time goes by, now that we don't have a useless mouth to feed."

Kazuma's eyes widened. He couldn't be serious, referring to his beloved deceased son by those words, right?

"Poor Kazuma," she said, while Kazuma could recognize the sound of glass being filled with water, "I hope he's watching us from Heaven...granted given what we found in his computer, he's probably in Hell at this moment." She laughed, while pouring a glass of water to his husband.

Now, he felt freezing. He never cleaned up his drive or hid his hentai well, thinking his parents would never care.

“I can't believe," his father said, "I spend 15 years of my life to raise a useless waste of air like him. Ya’ know, I knew I had failed when he asked us to get divorces so that he could get step-sisters. I should've hit him harder that day."

"Are you feeling well?" Marya whispered, putting herself besides him. He didn't reply to her - he just stared at the floor, with an empty look into his eyes.

"Well, the stuff we found in his computer was really messed up. Why couldn't Kazuma have real life porn like any other normal person? I guess he must've had some sort of mental retardation." His mother said, taking a gulp from the glass, "AAHHH!"

"He had the degenerate death he deserved," the father said, gulping the liquid, "Wow, this is really some good saké."

"Well, I decided to buy a better one after this week's profits."

"Not bad, not bad. It feels weird talking about him now. Do you think that if I had hit him more, he'd turn up straight?"

"Well, we tried. And I don't think I want another kid."

"You're right, now it's our time now."

Realizing he had enough, Kazuma ran to his old room, where he sat down among the boxes of products, hugging his knees. He remained in that position for a while, until Marya entered the room.

"Kazuma..."

"Tell me Marya," he said, not uttering his catchphrase, neither looking to her; he tried to keep his voice low, "Tell me that I missed an important part of their conversation and they said that, in spite of everything, they loved me."

Marya remained silent.

He waited enough until asking again. "Do you think anyone remembers me?"

"Uhm..." Marya said, "I didn't tell you, but I have a cellphone. I got from my travels, sometimes I use to browse memes. And I..."

Kazuma glanced at the screen. In Marya's cellphone he could see that, during the time of his death, he became a meme in the town's social networks. Someone took a picture of him having a heart attack and, instead of being compassionate, many of them made their own variations of memes.

He grabbed the cellphone from Marya's hands and saw the archive. His eyes teared up when he saw the girl whom he onced promised to marry when they were kids: she had left him for a member of a biker gang.

Not surprising from Scumzuma, he had a step-sister fetish, I still remember the way she looked to my cousin's step sister

Her avatar was a photo of her wearing a leather, spiked jacket, hugging a different gangster.

"I guess you became the bike, isn't it?" He grunted, tossing the cellphone at Marya.

He wanted to cry, but for what purpose? He didn’t want to spill tears from his miserable life on Earth.

"Marya, how long until you recharge?"

"A few hours."

"Please, take me back to Axel." His voice sounded like he was about to burst in tears, but he held them back.

"Yes. I can't deny such request." Even a being that didn't understand human morality like her felt a bit of compassion for him.

Kazuma was so angry that he wanted to burn their house down, but the thought of them following him to the other world stopped any other thought.

"Poison." Kazuma said, extending his hand to the pile of products. It was the beginner poisonous spell, so it couldn't kill anyone, but it would cause discomfort. It was a parting gift to his parents.

At least he had some people whom he had to watch over, even if it meant to babysit those three useless girls.

So, I wrote this because I wanted to ask the question: why is Kazuma scum? At first it was to get a better grasp at his character, but then I realized that the breadcrumbs of backstory in canon led to a sad path.

Again, this assumes Aqua wasn’t lying when narrating his death and that other canon events aren’t lies (Kazuma said that his father hit him when he suggested the divorce, but the wikia seems to doubt that - I’m assuming it happened and build a logic of why his father would hit him not just because of his suggestion).

I didn’t try to sugarcoat Kazuma as well, he’s still a pervert and generally unpleasant person, practically an incel. But then I realized that he didn’t exist in a vacuum and we know that parents are important in molding their kids, so I imagine that his parents were scum as well.

Just look the way he reacts when people treat him nicely enough, with Eris and Wiz, it’s like he’s starved for affection. I failed to keep the comedic tone of the original because, well, this deals with the consequences of everyone laughing at your death.

In the end, for Kazuma, this was just an unpleasant experience he’ll try to mentally block it. But, at least, he won’t whine about returning to Earth anymore.

#konosuba #kazuma satou #fanfic

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onkey-bedtime-stories · 7 years

Text

EUNOIA - chapter 3

Chapter 2

—————-

Though it is summer, the sky’s drawn saturated this morning. Away from coast-crowded situation and glowing skin under sunny day, someone’s already occupied in the kitchen. It’s not even seven in the morning more to surprise.

And what makes the whole scene is more surreal for Junghee when she got on the wooden floor of the living room is her eyes caught Kibum messing around between the stove and her favorite kitchen island. To reassure herself she’s one hundred percent awake and everything before her is not merely random mirage in her life, she checked the clock once again and the urge of pinching herself is undeniable.

Six fifty. Who woke up at six fifty?

Walking to the kitchen silently, she can’t help but gasp when colorful plates full of waffle chicken strips, and bacon lay on a checkered table cloth she just bought last week. Kibum is struggling squeezing some oranges near the sink when she darted her eyes in disbelief.

“Let me do that.”

She doesn’t need to observe too much when Kibum lifted his head. Definitely not even a minute he got to sleep the night before, those bloody eyes and dried skin tell everything. Without saying anything, Kibuk stepped aside, wiped his hand while Junghee easily got all the juice out with single hand.

Before the things became more awkward in the stillness of the air, he moved to the coffee maker to prepare some shot.

“I’m sorry.”

Kibum pretends he didn’t hear anything and chose to follow every single drip of the dark liquid in front of him.

“I just.. you know, very worried and overwhelmed with everything.”

He turned to his side after a deep breath. She looks even tinier with such level of anxiety all over her skin. At the end, his heart’s softened, simple arch formed on his tired face.

“I apologize for yelling to you, too.”

“She’s been through a lot and the fact I wasn’t there at the very second she needed me.. It broke my heart. Now she’s here, suddenly I just wanted to protect her with all my might. It scared me to death when I couldn’t reach her yesterday. All of the thoughts.. Her brother concerns.. for the sui—suicidal.. possibility.. I—I went cr—crazy right away.. I—“

Kibum’s unable to catch the rest since Junghee grabbed the edge of the counter, knuckles almost white, mewling as if someone kill her parents.

“Ssshh..” Kibum embraced her and let her leaned on him for consolation, “I know.. I told you I understand, right? And I’m sorry I’m supposed to text you anyway that Eunsook’s with me. Guess I’ve been selfish..”

“I’m the selfish one. I never asked her what she need because I’m afraid I’d hurt her more by mentioning something close to that topic and just doing whatever I thought the best for her without even care if she’s comfortable with that,” she peeled herself from Kibum, wiping her slightly swollen eyes with the back of her fore arms, “So, are we cool now?”

“We never not cool, Kim Junghee, you know that,” he messed with his friend hair which she replied with hugging Kibum torso in return, “But, you’d kill me if you’re like this.”

He acts like having difficulty in breathing but instead released him, she tighten her grip more as if she really wanted to choke him, “I will really kill you if you dare hurting my best friend, Kim Kibum.”

“I promise you I won’t.”

“Don’t ever think this is your pass! If this is an intersection, the red light is still on.”

He chuckles and gives her pats on the head, “Alright, Shorty! I told you before you’re kind of scary when you’re mad.”

“I told you not to flirt more than one girl under the same roof, Kim Kibum! This is second warning..”

Minho teased both of them while running down stairs, he feels contented with the view of make-up-friends greets him in the morning after last night he spent almost three hours listening slash consoling Junghee because half of the time she’s not only pissed off and ranted but also sobbed liked she was in her own funeral.

“Wait. What did you just said?”

The tall guy realized he slipped something he shouldn’t so he stretched awkwardly, “Good morning, baby.”

Minho kisses his wife passionately, what a view for sore eyes, Kibum mumbles something inaudibly, completely not pleased with them.

“Let’s have breakfast, people. I don’t like cold food. Choi Minho, enough snogging and bring the coffee,” Kibum tried to escape the crime scene as soon as possible before Junghee exploded again.

“Uh-oh! Not that quick, Choi Minho. Stop right there!”

Junghee entailed right behind Minho who just kept walking to join Kibum because at this moment some waffles would be super helpful.

“What exactly do you mean by flirt only at one? You’re kidding, right?”

“Eat, honey, you need it after the whole rounds we had last night,” he ended the morning drama with a wink.

Kibum rolled his eyes again then massaged his temple to ease his rage. But Junghee just cannot let it go after she smelled the big fish jumped out the can. She chewed the chicken strips furiously and gulped it down with tall glass of orange juice.

“Baby, I love you very much so let’s be honest. You knew this after all?”

“Knew what?”

It’s actually hard for Minho to act clueless with Junghee’s eyes caught drilling a hole through him from the corner of his own.

“That this idiot has a crush with Eunsook? With my best friend?”

Junghee put more strength on each syllables.

“Hmmm.. Kind of?”

Kibum quickly removed the knife from Junghee’s plate sensing his life is in a big threat.

“Kind of?! What the hell is kind of?!”

“Wow.. wow.. slow down, Junghee! It’s seven in the morning!”

“Shut up, you’re next!” she pointed her fork to Kibum which the latter instantly raised both his hands to the air then returned back to her husband, “Okay, tell me, what kind of ‘kind of’ is that? Since when?”

Minho purposely takes time to finish a bite of waffle, “Since the first time they met?”

“Excuse me?!”

Kibum slapped his forehead and glanced to the door of Eunsook’s room hoping Junghee’s loud voices not waking her up even if he’s pretty sure her voice can be heard up until the next two houses.

“You know that and you didn’t tell me? At all? Not even hint?!”

“Well, in my defense, honey, I’m still not sure back then but you know.. you got this hunch you cannot sleep on..”

She put down her fork when her consciousness told her to calm a little bit, “And you’re sure right now?”

“I was pretty sure when you rant last night about how Kibum took her here and there and didn’t text you or call you. By that, my dear wife, I will say, yes, he has a crush on our Lady Eunsook. Now can I get a peaceful breakfast I haven’t got since last week?”

“Lower your voice, will you?!”

Suddenly Kibum feels his seat is burning, it’s so hard to stay composed while he’s anxious as hell, because he knew his friends really well and they’re not that good at being quiet.

“I can’t believe it! You all team up behind my back so this jock over here can make his dirty move to my Eunsook?!”

“For the love of God, there’s nothing so called dirty with having a good talk in a café and shopping for some camera’s stuffs. Do you know that you sound like Mother Gothel now?” Kibum ignores Junghee’s unforgiving glare and took another round of piles of bacon, “Speaking of your beloved Rapunzel.. where is Eunsook? You should wake her up to have some breakfast, you evil host!”

“She’s not home.”

“Nonsense! She was there last night talking to me.”

Feeling annoyed Junghee grabbed her phone and shook it on the air, “She texted me she went for a run.”

“Run? When?”

“I don’t know.. around five?”

She went out at five while I’ve been awake the whole night in my room? Stupid headphones!!!

“Why? Why she went for a run?”

“What do you care? She can go running whenever she wants! Especially after she felt suffocated and almost had a heart attack when she woke up in the dark! Who’s the Mother Gothel now?!”

“What?!”

“Stop shouting at me!”

“No, argh, I’m sorry,” he gulped some coffee to tone him down, “Kim Junghee, what did you just say about this suffocated and dark?”

“Gosh, I cannot believe I said this to you.. Eunsook is a bit claustrophobic, that’s why she..”

“..kept the light on at night.”

Her ears suddenly perked up with what he said even though Kibum sounded like he murmured for himself, “How did you know?!”

“Shit shit shit!!! You’re an idiot, Kim Kibum!”

“Kim Kibum, look at me. How did you know?”

Kibum bites his lower lip, looking at Minho for any moral support but his best friend just put a cool expression also waiting for him to spill the bean. He’s contemplating whether he should tell her he turned off her light or just keep it in secret until he faced his death. Because once again, angry Kim Junghee is scarier than any slaughter house and no one under this roof want to deal with that.

“Good morning!”

Kibum about to open his mouth when a beautiful voice‘s chirping from the front door followed by glowing face popped out the front door. Both Junghee and Kibum immediately turned pale.

“Good morning! Right on time, Eunsook-ah! Come join breakfast!”

Minho who senses something is wrong took the lead to greet Eunsook. She smiled so wide, almost blinding in Kibum’s opinion, walked to the other three while still wiping the sweat dripping on her forehead.

“Wow! What a feast!” she received the orange juice from Minho and naturally took the empty chair next to Kibum, “Thank you!”

“Do you like waffles? Kibum made this!”

“Really?! That’s why the chicken strips look so beautiful! Tell me what you cannot do, Kibum!”

She rested her hand on his shoulder unexpectedly. Frenzy pink, Kibum jolted from his chair snatching the coffee pitcher, “We need more coffee!”

“Gosh, I don’t know it’s because I’m starving or he put something here, but this waffle is bomb! Let alone the chicken strips!”

Eunsook looks like someone just had been saved from an apocalyptic bunker and saw real food for the first time, she cannot stop picking the pieces from the plates.

“Well, just so you know, my friend over there had a great cooking skill since middle school.”

“Ah, no wonder. You should make me dinner sometimes!”

“Ugh, yeah, I will..,” then he saw the look at Junghee eyes, “If I have time. I will!”

“That would be so amazing!” she scoops more chicken strips and moved it to her plate, “What’s the point of working out if I ate like a monster? I think this is what I need, Junghee-ah! A man who can cook! What a perfect life, no? Choi Minho! You should start learning to cook! I told you, women love you more if you know how to move in the kitchen!”

Minho just laughs out loud knowing what she said might kill two birds at a time. On the other hand, Kibum wants to grab the nearest knife and stab himself on the chest.

***

“What?! Did you steal some weeds when I’m not around?” when the scent of Eunsook’s perfume brushed his respiratory system lightly, Kibum realized he’s too closed with the woman and quickly stepped back, elbow painfully bumped into the door knob, “The infinity room is the best!”

Eunsook put her shoes quickly and grabbed the slippers in a blink of an eye started feeling suffocated in the limited space of the foyer, plus Kibum is kind of trapped with her making it harder for her to control her breathe.

“I know. But don’t you think the part when we’re laying around on the net, almost twenty feet above the ground is amazing?”

He shook his head so hard when he pushed the next door, “Excuse me, Miss, no one messing around with Kusama.”

“Just saying, you know.. She is amazing, no doubt, but still..”

“Still the best charm in the museum. Period.”

“Is Kibum being stubborn again?”

They forgot they reached the living room already. The sight in front of them is Kibum’s usual view on the other night, Minho’s chilling on the couch after work, beer on the table, and some football on the huge screen on the wall.

“I just found out today,” Eunsook shrugged and dropped herself on the couch next to Minho while Kibum went straight to the kitchen.

“Welcome to the family, Lee Eunsook. He has a huge tendency to be a bit pushy sometimes.”

“Well, at least I’m not handsy like that guy who tried to grope Eunsook’s tight when we’re waiting on the line on the food truck festival.”

He handed the beer to Eunsook while the latter turned pink while she put the pouty mouth, instantly sending goosebumps along Kibum’s spine.

“Really? Did he mana—“

“Nope,” Kibum lifted his legs to the table proudly, “I kicked his shin before those filthy hands landed on her.”

“What a news. Wait until Junghee heard about this. I think she would definitely make up some curfew for the rest of your life.”

“Speaking of the devil, where’s my favorite witch?”

“That witch you’re talking about is my best friend, you know!”

“And my wife!”

“Well, doesn’t change the fact that she might do a spell of unbreakable curse on us or turn us into an ugly frog if we didn’t please her.”

“Good point.”

Minho and Eunsook said and unison, they laughed right away the next second then followed with a beautiful clink when their bottles met for a celebratory buddy-toast.

“I haven’t thanked you enough for that.”

“What are you saying? Anyone should do that whenever they saw some shit about to happen. It’s called common sense.”

“Got a good reflex. He almost joined the baseball team if he’s not collapsed on the field after only two rounds of running track.”

“Shut the front door, Choi Minho!”

“Oh, that attitude! Is this supposed to make my heart flutter?”

Eunsook teased him and Minho almost spurt the beer inside his mouth for laughing hard before he covered it. On the other side, Kibum regret whatever he had said earlier.

“But come on, really. Is that what’s supposed to? Because, let me tell you gentlemen, it wo—“

Her words hanging on the air when she felt her phone vibrates furiously on her purse. She bites her lip after quick glance to its screen.

“Sorry, I need to take this.”

Kibum can’t take his eyes off of her until her silhouette disappeared behind her room door. He tried to ignore Minho who’s clearly waiting for him to say something. After downed his beer, he casually turned his head to his right, unfortunately only to find his best friend immersed back to the game already.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Could be his brother.”

“She didn’t need to hide inside her room if it said so,” now it’s Minho’s turn to cock his head, “Taemin called during lunch and she talked to him comfortably in front of me.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I don’t know.. maybe trying to convince myself not to dive deeper than I’m allowed? Or waiting for you to lecture me about stuff?”

“You know that I’m not my wife, right?”

“Hmmm.”

Sound of the commentator indicates the game is getting interesting but Minho is not amused anymore. Ten years of friendship shows him that when Kibum started to peel the bottle label it means he’s in big trouble. Like now.

However, he doesn’t feel to say more for he’s afraid of interfering his personal space.

“Looks like we don’t need to wait for her to be back right?” Kibum grabbed his bag and unzipped the front pocket, “I forgot to give this to her. Can you do that for me? I better hit the bed now or I’ll miss the first train tomorrow morning.”

Minho looked at the Polaroid pictures landed on the cushion near his knee and sighed.

“It’s really happening, isn’t it?”

The latter kept his mouth shut until he safely slides under the blanket.

***

“I don’t know.. I haven’t bought my return ticket yet..,” she opened the window as the room’s temperature seemed raised since they began talking.

“But you’re going back to Paris right?”

“Of course.. who will take care my stuffs then?”

“Wow.. wow, easy there, tiger!”

“Hahaha! You know I’m sensitive when it came for my belonging.”

“I know. I know it too well. I still remember when Taemin broke your bag. It’s not that visible, though I found it necessary to take you eating ice cream for two hours to calm down your nerves.”

“Who will teach him a lesson if it’s not his own sister? It’s a rule, you have to return things you borrowed in the same condition.”

“Anyone barely can see it. Would it make different when only one thread a bit loose on the strap?”

Eunsook just chuckled when she remember how outrageous she was when Taemin gave her rucksack back after two weeks road trip. It was quite silly actually but that bag was first month anniversary gift from Jungsoo after she mentioned she likes it when they saw it on the window display they passed.

It’s not about the anniversary gift she cared about. It’s the fact that Park Jungsoo, the most ignorance human being she knew, remembered her unconscious random comment about the design of the bag.

“You haven’t thrown it out, have you?”

“Are you being serious right now? How can I throw away something important? I keep it safe and sound in my wardrobe in Paris.”

“Glad to know that I’m still considered important.”

An invisible fist stuck in Eunsook’s throat, blocking the airway she became speechless in no time.

“Are you okay, Sookie?”

“Ugh, yeah.. why not? For your information, it’s the bag that’s important.”

Jungsoo bursts into huge laughter in the other line, sending comforting breeze to Eunsook who naturally close her eyes.

Ah, those sound.

Eunsook kept her sentiment sealed, not any single soul out there knows how much she missed all of those, the giggles, the suppressed laughter when he’s not supposed to laugh, the rhythm of his breath. Anything she can hear clearly through the phone that convinced her he is real, not only an imaginary figure she created to fix her hectic life.

“Go get some rest. You must be exhausted.”

No. I don’t care. I’ll trade all the time I have in the world to sleep for ten more minutes talking to you if it’s even make sense.

But deep in her heart she knows she is quite crazy to even think about that.

“Not really, but if you’re tired listen to me rambling about how colder here compare to the weather in Paris or Italy, it’s okay. You can hang up.”

“That’s the thing I’m billion percent sure it’s not going to happen in my existence.”

“Park Jungsoo, my favorite sweet talker, everyone.”

“Your favorite?”

Her heart skipped a bit by the simple question, “Yeah. Haven’t you heard about that?”

“Lee Eunsook, my favorite tease, everyone.”

“Don’t copy me.”

“I didn’t.”

“And what did you just do?”

“Telling you some fact?”

“Ugh, how lame.”

“You know I would be lame just for you?”

The words ‘I miss you’ are hanging dangerously on the tip of Eunsook’s tongue. She clutched the nearest piece of sheet she can reach to control herself.

“How thoughtful of you.”

“I’m always, ain’t I?” he’s pretty sure he can see her tiny smile right now, “Look what you’ve done. You should have gone to bed five minutes ago.”

“I told you I don’t mind.”

“And that’s how thoughtful of you. Go shower, get some rest. Let me know when you’re back to Paris, okay?”

“Stop telling me what to do, I’m not a baby, Park Jungsoo.”

“You’re always my baby, Lee Eunsook.”

At this rate, she wants to scream her lungs out and cry at the same time because she can tell it would be nothing but memories by the second their conversation ended.

“We’re only four years apart.”

“Doesn’t change the fact of the first clause.”

“This is why I hate you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, you right.”

She tossed her phone aside after Jungsoo bid his farewell. Something weighed her down inside her chest.

It feels alright. It feels like the other day. But why I don’t feel good?

She turned to the left, looking forlornly to her phone, hoping it would ring once again. Nevertheless, Taemin’s voice is banging uncontrollably on her ear drums, instead.

‘You know yourself better than anyone. I really wanted say I know you better, but there’s a chance you’d slap me hard on the back of my head so, no. If you know your heart is not that ready to forget him, then don’t. People sometimes had mistaken letting go for forgetting. It’s forgiving, honey. And forgiving is way more liberating than trying so hard to bury all those you’ve been called memories.’

Her lips went dried when bunch of memory explosion appear like a long wild commercial before the movie started. She’s almost grateful for the conversation between her and Jungsoo not that changed so much. It did seem like nothing happened, like they never call it quits. But what’s so great figuring you grew sort of false hope in your yard of feeling? Like all the efforts would be in vain at the end once the flower is withered day by day as a replacement for blooming?

“Oh. Where’s Kibum?”

Minho already changed the channel into some old movie while the present of Kibum is changed with Junghee cuddled close to her husband.

“He went to his room already,” Minho bends to the table a little bit making annoyed face appeared on Junghee who already half in dreamland, “He wanted to give this to you.”

Am I that sad?

It’s a candid Kibum took of her while she’s daydreaming again for the hundred times. Her eyes are somewhere else, searching for something she can hold for dear life. The next one captured her silly face when he out of the blue said to her to look pretty behind his camera. Subtle warmth enveloped her heart when she saw herself on the last one, laughing like there’s no tomorrow for the first time since her breakup.

“I think he’s already in slumber. Got an early train tomorrow, he said.”

Minho calm words stopped her in the middle of her way to his doorstep. She looked Junghee’s eyes closed already. When she moved her sight to Minho, he just smiled. Smiled like he understands her whole circumstance. Smiled like he pleading her not to involve his best friend in her heart situation.

Bucket of guilty poured down from her head to toe. She sent Minho bitter smile and quietly left to her sanctuary.

Suddenly she doesn’t feel thirsty anymore.

***

No one can help it if we engrossed too much in our pool of regrets. On the other hand, we ourselves also cannot help but to fall into those pits while busy recalling the good times and refused to be saved? But one thing we should keep in mind even though we are too exhausted to try, some moments, some things, they’re meant to be forgotten. To keep us sane. To keep us living our life. To keep us reminded how precious we are :)

#onkey #jinkibum #eunsook #onew #key #kibum #jinki #shinee scenario #shinee fiction #shinee fanfic #onkey fanfic #onkey fiction #onkey scenario #shinee #eunsook fiction #eunsook fanfic #bumsook #bumsook fanfic

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peggysousfan · 5 years

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The Torment of the Future

Hey guys! So this was meant to be a small one-shot...but turned into a long AU instead lol. Peggy and Daniel are brought back from the dead and live in the future working at SHIELD and get to meet the Avengers after the snap. So because this turned into a big thing, I’ll make this into a series of oneshots that follow the same story. I hope y’all enjoy! :)