#alarm bells blaring like CHAPTER APPROACHING CHAPTER APPROACHING

[orcelito]

Wrowwwww

I actually managed to finish writing scene 2. It's not a massively long scene, but captures what I wanted to with it + sets up for scene 5 perfectly well

12k written for chapter 41. I'm nearing completion.

[cryptidsofwakemoor]

Chapter 1 - First Sighting

Story starts here! Freshly escaped from Aria Labs, an experimental bioweapon seeks shelter in a quiet seaside town...

~*~

Spooky

Project Matchstick’s heart drummed rapidly against his ribcage as his feet pounded against the grass and dirt below. The uneven ground was completely alien to him, a far cry from more familiar smooth, sterile tile flooring. No, there were obstacles here- rocks, twigs, branches that whipped past and scratched him, bushes that threatened to trip him up... The uneven ground was only one obstacle of many. But he had to get through them, because what he left behind him was far more terrifying than the unknown he was running blindly into.

He had no idea how long he'd been running, but it somehow felt simultaneously like five minutes and an eternity. He was no longer on fire, but he had to have been leaving some kind of trail of smoke and soot regardless, his frenzied breaths puffing out of his mouth in the form of dark clouds.

Everything hurt.

He may have been built for strength and endurance, but he still had limits... and he'd probably hit his a while ago, running purely on adrenaline ever since. The trees and grass were blurring together, and his head was starting to feel like it was floating... A sudden pain of his foot catching on something startled him back to alertness, but by that point it was too late for him to do anything as he was sent tumbling down a hill.

Any bearings he had were completely lost as a moment of weightlessness ended abruptly, the world turning over and over as the ground battered him from all directions. It mercifully stopped as he finally landed with a loud WHUMP in a ditch below. He just... laid there for a bit, stunned and desperately trying to catch his breath. Having been forced to stop, any attempt to get himself to move again was a LOT more difficult... Alarm bells were still blaring in the back of his mind, but his body was absolutely fed up with cooperating by this point.

He was in that ditch for a while... There were times where approaching bright lights would shine across the leaves in front of him and a loud vehicle would pass by on the nearby road, each time making him go completely still and hold his breath in hopes he wouldn't be spotted... Maybe because it was dark by this point, he mercifully wasn't.

It was hard to tell how much time passed, or if he was even conscious for some of it... but eventually, his exhaustion eased enough for him to move again. Instead, it was replaced by a new uncomfortable- yet vaguely familiar?- sensation in his stomach. He wasn't... sure why, but the rest of him wasn't feeling much better either, so he shrugged it off for now as he climbed out of the ditch and hurried across the road. The sky was still dark, but slowly getting lighter... And it wasn't much longer at all before the trees were mostly gone, replaced with what he could only recognize as more buildings.

Surprised, he hid behind the closest tree he could and peeked around it, trying to get as good of a look as he could without being spotted... The building he'd escaped from had been a large one, and it looked nothing like the ones he could see from here. These were way smaller, and had more bright colors around them, and windows... He couldn't see in through them, though, because they were too dark. There were a few parked vehicles around... but most notably, there were no people to be seen.

He cautiously waited for another minute or two, before the lack of people gave him enough courage to venture closer, beyond the treeline and into the town. He looked with curiosity at the various colorful signs that adorned the buildings and streets, and the hanging lights that blinked yellow in places where the roads intersected. He approached one of the parked cars, silently reading out whatever letters and numbers he recognized on the front plate before pulling the windshield wipers up to see what would happen. He pulled at a handle on the side of the thing too, but then it started honking- angrily, he assumed- and he scrambled to get away.

He ran behind one of the nearby buildings- a large one, with a big glowing sign out front- and spotting some huge boxes, he wrenched open the lid of one of them- padlock breaking and clattering to the ground as he did- and climbed inside to hide. The smell in there... was not very good, and he was surrounded by plastic bags. Those guys who cleaned the lab kinda carried around something like these things... Never had any idea what was in 'em.

Without much else to do, he tore one open to see what was inside, and to his surprise, little bags of bread came tumbling out! Food! Holy shit, these things had food in them?! That feeling in his stomach came back with a vengeance, an ache so deep that he almost felt nauseous. Regardless of the fact that some of the bread was a bit spotty in places, his brain seemed to shut off for a few moments and the next thing he knew, he had ravenously torn into the packaging and devoured two whole loaves and was halfway through shoving a third into his mouth when the lid above him suddenly opened.

Mystic

When the lid is removed and light shines down around the box, he could see a figure behind it, silhouetted with impossible to discern features. The blazing light made it impossible to see much more than the outline of a head and set of shoulders.

There's a clatter of junk and plastic as the stranger gasps.

"Hey!" They yell, the voice one that he'd never heard in his life- and with a level of outrage he'd never heard in his life, "-is someone in there? You get outta there! You broke the padlock?? Get! Get out!"

The light- which appears to be coming from a metal rod grasped in one hand- moves aside, letting the feral kid in the dumpster see a bit more of their face. They're a scruffy-looking human of some kind, with a scraggly startup to a beard and tousled hair. They're glaring down into the dumpster, dropping something else they were holding- another bag of foodstuff? It makes a clinking sound when it hits the ground out of sight.

The hand that wasn't visible before comes back with a broom, shining the flashlight directly on the teenager in the trash this time.

"I said get out! You're going to attract- raccoons-"

Their anger dissipates into shock and surprise at the sight of the strange kid, stumbling back from the dumpster.

"What the hell-?!"

Spooky

For a moment it probably looked like two flashlights were shining right back up at him. The strange kid in question had gone completely still in fright the moment the lid had lifted, but while his body could blend in with the shadows easily enough, his glowing eyes were another story entirely. He flinched when the angry-sounding human pointed the light directly at him, and the moment the man reacted, he did so as well. The shadowy figure lunged upwards, scrambling out of the box and tearing off across the small, empty employee lot, before clearing the fence on the other side of it like it was nothing.

Preoccupied with escaping the human, he didn't pay attention to where he was going until he was confronted by a rapidly approaching pair of other bright lights, followed by a loud honk that got him to leap out of the way just in time to avoid being run over. Nerves thoroughly frazzled by this point, he kept running, desperately searching for a place to hide. Apparently this place wasn't as empty as he'd thought, and with the rise of the sun it was only going to get more active as the town woke up...

Mystic

"Whoa- what-?! AHH-"

The stranger's yelling fades quickly as the kid absolutely tears ass away from the building.

He ran and ran into the darkness of the night, dodging the glaring spotlights of streetlamps and vehicles soaring past him on the roads. Startling, to say the least!

The men in lab coats would come looking for him- he knew they would. They were furious when he managed to break out of containment, the intimidating one with the ponytail the angriest of all. He knew they had flying drones with cameras- he'd seen them taking video footage of his 'training' sessions, the few times he didn't blast them out of the sky himself. He couldn't let himself be seen. Not by anyone, not by any cameras.

Solace is found only at the very edge of town, where the lights are few and the people fewer. It was late at night, now. Everybody must be asleep. The only experience he had with 'night' was whenever the ponytail man in the lab coat said it was time for him to sleep. Shortly afterwards, he would fall unconscious whether he wanted to or not. It was way past that time, now, and he didn't feel the slightest bit sleepy, all hiked up on adrenaline as he was. Nonetheless, his bones felt like they were quaking under his skin from exhaustion. Guess being tired wasn't the same thing-

-and the ground suddenly dips under his feet as he jogs along the tree line. He's sliding down a dirt hollow, into a divot in the earth. The soil was softer under his hands and butt than he expected- and as a result, he kept sliding deeper, until he slid to a stop.

...It was pitch black in here, but he could still see the entrance. He could see the back, too. Shallow, but wide. A vacant den of some kind?

Spooky

He propped himself up on his elbows, trying to take in as much of his surroundings as he could, but it was too dark in here for even the glow of his eyes to fully penetrate, and in the mostly enclosed space his anxious breathing sounded too impossibly loud for him to hear anything else over it. When nothing immediately popped out of the dark to attack, though, he carefully rolled over onto all fours and crawled around the perimeter to make sure he was alone before he finally allowed himself to relax a bit.

At the very least, he was fairly certain no drones would be able to spot him down here. They'd probably see a hole in the ground, but any random creature coulda made that, right? And humans didn't seem the type to crawl into a dirt hole in the ground. They wouldn't see him here...

There was a worried thought of 'what if whatever dug this place out came back', but everything else pointed to this being the safest place he'd found all day. There was only one way in, so no one could sneak up on him at least... Too exhausted to think of any better options, he moved over and situated himself against the back wall of the den, where he could keep an eye on the entrance. He sat there for a little while- legs curled up, his arms crossed over his knees with his chin rested in them- and did his best to keep watch, though his eyes refused to stay open for long. Exhaustion could only be fought off for so long, and there was only so much adrenaline one could burn through in a day. Within minutes, he was out like a light.

~*~

Chapter Index | Next

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns 2023--Day 3: Black Friday (1/3)

It is crazy to me that it’s already time for this, but the holidays have officially arrived!  I would like to wish all my followers who celebrate it a very happy Thanksgiving.  As a thank you to you (as well as my followers who DON’T celebrate), I present you with 3 Thanksgiving related stories I’ve written in the past.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 1 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 1442

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Other Chapters: 1 2 4 5

Black Friday—Chapter 1

One week before Thanksgiving

“Do you really think it’ll work?” she asked, leaning forward, eyes bright and delighted.

“It’s perfect!” he answered. “Trust me!  Our plan will work like a charm.  Just make sure you give him Miss French’s flier and make him see how much you want it.  I’ll do the same with her.  By Christmas, we’ll be celebrating our success.”

She grinned.  “Oh, I hope you’re right!  Can you imagine?  If we pull this off, everything will change forever!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning after Thanksgiving

The alarm clock roared to life as a way, way too enthusiastic version of Jingle Bell Rock blared from the speakers of her clock radio. Emma groaned, reaching blindly over to slam the button on the top of the alarm and make the noise stop.

3 am.  It was entirely too early for any sane person to be awake.  Even the early birds were still peacefully snoozing in their nests.  It was only the crazy humans, intent on getting the best deals on the best Christmas gifts who would submit themselves to this kind of torture.

She hoped the payout was worth it.

Her bed was so warm, so comfortable, that for a split second, Emma considered just forgetting about the whole thing and going back to sleep, but then she thought about Henry.

It had been a difficult year for him, for both of them really.  They’d had a great life in New York.  Her bail bonds gig had paid well enough that they could afford a wonderful apartment. Henry had lots of friends at school.  She’d had a guy she loved, a guy she really thought was the one.  He’d seemed great with Henry, and Henry had really liked him.  

Walsh had proposed a week before Halloween, and Emma had really considered saying yes.  Granted, she didn’t feel the epic, sweeping, melt-into-a-pile-of-goo passion you see in movies, but she did love Walsh, and he could be a wonderful addition to the little family circle she and Henry had put together.

At least that’s what she thought.

Emma had made up her mind to accept the proposal when it all went south.  Turns out Walsh wasn’t at all who he said he was.  He’d been playing a long con on her, doing his level best to steal her money and assets right from under her nose, and she felt like a fool for buying into it his b.s.  She was smarter than this!  She ran the honey trap on bail jumpers; she knew the playbook.  How did she fall for it?

She’d just so badly wanted that perfect, white-picket-fence life for herself, and especially for her ten-year-old son, that’s how.

After everything had so epically crashed and burned with Walsh, Emma had just wanted to get away.  She’d wanted--needed--a new start, and so when her brother David had mentioned the opening for a deputy in the tiny town of Storybrooke, Maine, where he lived with his wife Mary Margaret, Emma had jumped at the opportunity.

Within a week, she’d uprooted her whole life--and her son’s whole life--and moved to Storybrooke.  For the moment, she and Henry were crashing with David and Mary Margaret in their tiny loft apartment until Emma could find them their own place.

The move had been the most difficult on Henry.  All he’d ever known was back in New York--friends, school, entire lifestyle.  Small town Storybrooke was like a totally different world than the booming metropolis he was used to.  Her normally happy, vivacious kid had been quiet, almost withdrawn since they’d arrived in Storybrooke.

Emma knew kids were resilient, that Henry would bounce back, but she felt so damn guilty for causing him stress.

And so, naturally when Henry had come home a week ago, excitement bumped up to a level ten, talking a mile a minute and waving a flier in her face, Emma had taken notice.  Turns out the school librarian Belle French--who was also the owner and proprietor of “A Tale as Old as Time”, Storybrooke’s best (and only) bookstore--was holding a special Black Friday sale on a very special storybook, entitled Once Upon a Time.  She had one copy, and one copy only, and the rare book would normally sell for an exorbitant price--somewhere between an arm and a leg.  On Black Friday, however, she was offering the book for dirt cheap, but there was a catch.  The price was only good during the special, Black Friday early bird sale.  Doors opened at 4 am.   First person to touch the book had the opportunity to purchase it.

Henry had always loved stories, and he’d been particularly fascinated with fairy tales.  Naturally, a book chalk full of them would be right up Henry’s alley.  Faced with the prospect of getting Henry the perfect gift, the gift that would finally bring him some joy after the difficult last few weeks, it was a no brainer.

Waking up a few hours before the crack of dawn was a small price to pay for her kid’s happiness.

Emma pushed aside the covers and got up, throwing on the first pair of clean clothes she could find, twisting her hair into a messy bun, and then downing the strong coffee her sister-in-law had set to brew for her.  By the end of her second cup, she was feeling almost human, and she was ready to brave the hordes of Black Friday shoppers to attain her prize.

It was a quick, five minute walk to the center of town where “A Tale as Old as Time” was located, and Emma made it just as the cheerful brunette proprietor was unlocking the doors and letting her first customers in.  Emma knew just where her target was.  She’d scoped out the bookstore over the weekend, getting the lay of the land and mapping out her plan of attack.  She knew just where to go, and within sixty seconds of the store opening, she’d reached her target.  It was right there, in sight.

Emma reached for the book, her hand made contact--just as another hand did as well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian Jones had lived a difficult life.  He’d seen more heartache and tragedy in his thirty-five years of existence than most people did in a lifetime.  Aye, it had been an incredibly difficult life, but it did have one bright, shining spot.

His daughter Alice.

His one-night-stand with Alice’s mom, Eloise, had been a mistake of epic proportions, but Killian would never regret it, because it gave him the greatest blessing of his life, his precious little starfish.

Nine months after their dalliance, Eloise had suddenly showed up on his doorstep, placed their newborn daughter in his arms, and then walked out of their lives forever.  For himself, Killian couldn’t have cared less.  He felt nothing but revulsion for the woman who’d gotten him blind drunk and then taken advantage of him that night nine months ago.  In the bright morning light, he’d been disgusted with her, with himself, and with the entire sordid affair.  He’d have been more than happy if he never saw her noisome face again.

No, he didn’t care if she walked away from him, but his heart had broken at the fact that his tiny, perfect daughter had been abandoned by her mother.  Killian knew from first hand the agony of being abandoned by a parent, and it tore him up inside that his beloved daughter had to deal with it as well.

Though having a child was the farthest thing from his mind at the time, there’d never been any doubt what he would do.  Alice was his daughter, his precious child, and he would do right by her no matter what.

Ten years later, he thanked his lucky stars every single day that he’d made the choice to raise her.  Alice was the most important person in the world to him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

So naturally, when she came home from school all excited about the book Miss French was selling, Killian knew exactly how he would be spending his very early Black Friday morning.

He’d arrived at “Tale as Old as Time” just as Miss French opened the doors.  He rushed to the back of the store, his prize in sight.

He grabbed the book just as a gorgeous blonde made contact.  

“Um excuse me,” she said with a frown.  “This book is mine.”

It appeared this shopping expedition was going to be more difficult--although possibly more intriguing--the blonde truly was breathtaking--than he’d expected.

Killian grinned.  He’d never backed down from a challenge, and he didn’t intend to begin now.

Next Chapter-->

[biaswreckingfics]

Liminal: Part 2

Pairing: EXO x Female Reader

Genre: Witch!AU, Mystery AU

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Some strong language

Summary: Magic. Murder. Mystery. You don’t know when this became your life, but your choice in the matter is long gone. Someone is after you, someone is killing witches, and when a coven approaches you and tells you you’re one of them? You’re sure they’re crazy. What’s so magical about a girl stuck working at a greenhouse?

Previous Chapter

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The words that just left Kyungsoo’s mouth have you sitting in stunned disbelief. You? You’re in danger? A part of you has to stop yourself from laughing at how dumb that sounds. Why would anyone want you dead? You aren’t important, and you certainly haven’t done anything to piss anyone off, so why would someone want to hurt you?

There’s only one logical explanation. Kyungsoo and his friends are crazy. That’s it.

“Right…” you slowly say before you gesture towards Kyungsoo. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get out of the car now.”

“I’m serious,” he says, refusing to move.

“Seriously messed up,” you can’t help but mutter, causing the man on the other side of you to laugh. You side-eye him for a minute - wondering who these people even are - before looking back at Kyungsoo. “Look, I’m sure you believe what you’re saying is true, for some reason, but it’s not. I mean, why would I be in danger?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m sorry. Do you have selective memory? Have you managed to forget the last ten minutes?”

You meet Kyungsoo’s stare for a moment and then tear your gaze away from him. Have you forgotten the people that were just following you? No, but you would certainly like to. You’d love to move on and pretend that everything that has just happened is a wild dream, but you know that isn’t possible. Deep down, you know a part of what Kyungsoo is saying has merit, but you’d rather continue to live in denial.

“Just tell her the truth.”

The man in the passenger seat looks at your unknown seatmate with furrowed brows and asks, “In the car?”

Following his gaze, you look at the man next to you. His response is to shrug his shoulders like he couldn’t care less if they tell you whatever it is they want to in the car. Taking in his aloof expression for a few seconds, you then turn to look at the two men in the front of the car - who seem to be having their own silent conversation - if the head tilts and eyebrow raises tell you anything.

With a sigh, you turn to face Kyungsoo and try to process everything. Should you stay and hear them out or demand he move and let you out of the vehicle? If those people really are after you… you need to know why, but then again, this could all be a giant lie. A prank even, who knows.

Kyungsoo must notice the lost look on your face because his expression softens. “Just hear us out. Then, you can run away and think we’re crazy.”

You take a moment to answer before quietly asking, “Us?”

Kyungsoo nods to the two men up front. “These are my friends Junmyeon and Jongdae, and behind you is Sehun.”

Your eyes follow his hand as he points out each man. Junmyeon offers you a kind smile from the driver’s seat while Jongdae sends you a wave. Sehun nods his head at you before looking back out the window. You’re not entirely sure if he’s watching for those people to come back or avoiding looking at you.

“Will you go somewhere with us?”

Your head snaps back toward Kyungsoo as alarm bells start blaring in your brain. They already have you trapped in the middle seat of their car. Now, they want to take you someplace else? Why? So, they can dispose of your body when they’re done with it?

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at you, probably seeing the exact path your mind is taking.

“We’re not kidnapping you, Y/N. You’re free to leave whenever you want to, but it’d be pretty stupid if you left before hearing what we have to say.”

You give him a hard stare as you debate what you should do. Kyungsoo has never given you creepy vibes before, but that doesn’t mean you know him well enough to say he’s not a weirdo. Then again, if they’re so sure you’re in danger, then you want to know what they know and why they think that.

“Okay. I’ll go with you,” you tell them, already thinking of ways to attack if necessary. If they have ulterior motives, there’s no way in hell you’re going down without a fight.

Kyungsoo looks relieved as he nods at Junmyeon to go ahead. Junmyeon looks at you, making sure that you’re positive about your decision, before turning around in the driver’s seat and putting the vehicle in drive.

The ride is silent as they drive you out of the city. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest the further you go, and you wonder if you’re doing the right thing. Those people from earlier were definitely following you, and it’s not the first time you’ve felt like someone was. Maybe there’s value to what Kyungsoo is saying.

Then again, what does he have to do with anything? Why was he even there tonight, and how does he know someone is after you? The questions are continuing to pile up. You just hope that you’re finally going to get answers when you arrive wherever it is they’re taking you.

Another twenty minutes pass, and you notice you’re now officially in the middle of nowhere. Fields surround each side of the vehicle, only to be broken up by sporadic bunches of trees. The full moon is high in the sky, offering the only source of illumination outside of the headlights of the car.

A dark shape begins to grow as you travel further down the road. You squint your eyes like it’ll make your eyesight better, but quickly give up when it does nothing besides give you a headache. Junmyeon begins to slow down when you get closer to the structure, and you can finally see that it’s a giant, wooden pole barn. Horror movies you’ve seen in the past quickly poke at your mind, but you try to shut them out. You’re already freaked out. You don’t need help to make it any worse.

Junmyeon pulls onto the gravel drive and heads straight up to the barn. When he parks the car, all four men throw open their doors and get out, but you remain seated, or more accurately, you remain glued to the seat because you’re too afraid to get out.

You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot, and you never should’ve come with strangers to a barn in the middle of freaking nowhere, at night no less!

Kyungsoo leans back down to look at you in the backseat. “You’re not coming out of there, are you?”

“I am most certainly not going into that barn,” you indicate towards the giant, ominous building with your head.

Kyungsoo looks at the barn for a moment, then looks back at you and shrugs his shoulders. “Alright. Then, let’s talk out here.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to see if he’s playing any games. His companions stay off to the side – wisely giving you your space – and you think about your next move.

You’re already out here, and it’s not like refusing to get out of the vehicle is going to stop them if they really plan on hurting you. There are four of them, and they could easily subdue you if need be. If you’re out of the car, you at least have a small chance of running away.

“For fuck sakes, Y/N. We’re not going to kidnap you. We’re not going to hurt you. We literally just want to talk to you without prying eyes,” Kyungsoo raises his voice in frustration as he moves away from the door.

“Fine! Fine.” You take a deep breath and scooch to the end of the seat. “I’ll get out of the car.”

A relieved look crosses Kyungsoo’s face once you tell him you’ll get out, and it makes your curiosity grow that much more. Why is this so important to him? Why do any of them care if you listen to what they say or not?

Placing your hand on the armrest of the door, you push yourself off the seat and stand up. You carefully eye each man until you’re satisfied they’re not going to ambush you or something. Then, you glance at the land around you.

Empty fields stretch out for as far as you can see, only to be broken up by lines of trees every so often. Your eyes adjust to the moonlight, and when you look up at the giant barn, it appears just the tiniest bit less terrifying. You still have zero plans of going in there, though.

“So, what’s so secretive and important that you had to drive me all the way out here to tell me?”

A look of hesitancy crosses Kyungsoo’s face like he didn’t think he’d actually get this far, and now he doesn’t know what to say. He looks back toward his friends for assistance, but all they do is stare at him and offer zero help. You see Kyungsoo roll his eyes, and the moment slightly softens your fear. They barely even know what the heck is going on.

“We brought you here because…” he pauses to carefully think over his next words. “We’re the ones who made that storm.”

You meet his stare for a long, quiet moment as you take in what he’s saying. They made the storm. They made the storm… The storm back in town with the weird-ass lightning, freak wind, and painful rain? Do they expect you to believe that they’re the ones who did that?

A laugh starts to bubble from your lips, and it soon turns into you loudly laughing and slapping your hand over your mouth when you see the looks on their faces. You can see the irritation and embarrassment clearly as they watch you attempt to not laugh at their claim. They’re crazy. They must be – or else you were right in one of your earlier guesses, and this is a prank.

“Right… You made a storm. Okay,” you sarcastically say as you try to wipe the smile off your face in case they actually are crazy. “Great joke, guys. Although, I don’t know why you had to drive all the way out here to tell it.”

Kyungsoo’s expression falls flat. “I’m not joking.”

You keep your face blank as you go along with whatever this is. “Then, prove it.”

From Kyungsoo’s side, you see the man named Sehun raise his right arm. All he does is twirl his fingers in the air, and a soft wind picks up. You’re unimpressed, assuming that he knew there would be wind, or maybe there’s been wind all along, and you just haven’t been paying attention.

The wind grows stronger with each passing second, and soon your hair is whipping into your face, but you don’t get long to think about it. A streak of lightning flashes across the sky, and you look up to see lightning arcs brightening up the sky and everything around you. You look down at the men to see which one is claiming to do it, but when you see Jongdae staring carefully up at the sky with his fist balled up at his side, trepidation starts within you.

When Junmyeon steps forward and begins moving his hands in a weird motion, you watch him carefully. He meets your stare as little raindrops begin to splash around you. You assume it’s a fluke, but then you see Junmyeon twist his hand harshly, and a sudden downpour starts. Miraculously though, you’re completely dry. It’s like the rain is avoiding you, and you notice avoiding the other men as well, but slamming against everything else.

Suddenly, it all stops almost as soon as it started, and you look at each man, noticing their odd hand movements have stopped. They each look at you as they wait for you to say something, but you don’t know what the heck to say. You can barely understand what’s even happening.

You clear your throat, trying to find your voice. “Freak storm. That’s what that was.”

Sehun scoffs at you while the other two either shake their head or look elsewhere. Kyungsoo carefully meets your stare, like he can’t believe you don’t believe they’re the ones who just did that before sighing.

You watch as he puts his hands out in front of himself, and then you feel something moving under your feet. You look down at the ground to see what you’re stepping on, but all you see is the earth shaking below you. Grabbing onto the vehicle behind you for balance, your eyes flash up to Kyungsoo, but his are still focused on the ground.

The tremors grow nearly violent before they suddenly stop, and he looks up at you, waiting for you to deny it now. How could you, though? Did you even get earthquakes here? You’ve never felt one, so it couldn’t be a normal occurrence. Also, how would it start and stop in perfect tune with Kyungsoo? Could they be telling the truth? Were they capable of doing such things?

Finally, logic clicks into place, chasing away the absurd claims. Of course, they couldn’t. This had to be the result of a streak of lightning hitting the ground close by or something, or maybe you did have an earthquake, and you have just been ignorant to them in the past. Yeah, one of those explains it.

Movement by the barn catches your attention, and you see a man that you hadn’t noticed leaning against the barn door begin to walk toward you. Before you can say anything or even ask who he is, he throws his arm out towards you, and a giant wall of fire erupts off to your side.

You shriek as you move away from the massive inferno and watch it with wide eyes. Over the roar of the fire, you hear one of the men – Junmyeon, you think – say the name Chanyeol in exasperation, but your eyes stay glued to the orange and yellow flames licking the air next to you. Ignoring their voices, you try to make sense of the ten-foot wall of fire staying perfectly in place, but absolutely no explanation comes to mind. This broke the laws of physics. It isn’t possible, yet you’re witnessing it with your own eyes.

Fear begins to prickle at your skin as you try to figure out what this means. How are they able to have control over the elements like this? Your brain scrambles to find a logical explanation, but it fails miserably. All you can do is stare at the wall of flames next to you until it dies down and eventually disappears.

It’s silent as they wait for you to say something, but your eyes are still glued to the spot where the fire was. The ground is charred in a perfect line following the path of the fire, and any chance you had at denying it happened is gone as well.

Slowly, you look at the group of men who patiently wait for your response. Each face holds a different expression: cockiness, indifference, anxiousness, worry, and acceptance. You blink a couple of times before your eyes seek out Kyungsoo. The only one you knew before all of this, and the only one you had even an inkling of trust in.

He looks at you with pity as he lets you process everything that’s happening and waits to speak until he feels like it’s the right time.

“We can do things like this because we’re witches.”

Feeling shellshocked from the myriad of weather you just experienced, you feel the weight of his words, but your brain is struggling to keep up.

Witches. They’re claiming to be witches. You’d laugh, but you didn’t have the energy. Instead, you meekly ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re one too.”

It’s silent for a moment as they wait for your response, but his words finally break through the spell that was weaved on you, and you scoff. “Yeah, right. I’m not a witch.”

All you want to do is laugh in disbelief at the ridiculousness of it all. You didn’t believe in things like that. Sure, you just witnessed something odd and unexplainable, and if they want to be witches that’s fine, but you’re not a witch. You’re a normal human being without an ounce of magical powers.

“If you would just – “

“No,” you loudly interrupt Kyungsoo. “You’re wrong or delusional, I don’t know which, but I’m not what you’re claiming I am. I don’t have magic. I can’t do the things you guys are claiming you can do, and it was clearly a mistake for me to come out here with you.”

As Kyungsoo opens his mouth to argue with you, all you want to do is escape. Unfortunately, your only ride was thanks to them, and you have no other vehicle here, so you do the next best thing.

You turn away from them and run down the gravel driveway toward the road. You hear a couple of them shouting after you, but that only pushes you harder to escape. You don’t want to be near them. You don’t want to hear any other crazy shit they have to say.

The only thing you need is to get away from these weirdos. You don’t care in the slightest if you’re in the middle of nowhere or if you have to run through some empty fields at night. If it gets you away from them and closer to safety, then you’re all about it.

Putting a little more power in your step, you try not to slip on any stones as you run, and you feel relief when the gravel drive finally meets the paved blacktop of the road. It becomes easier to run, and your worry of slipping and busting your ass on the ground slims.

You can’t tell how long you run for. It feels like hours, but it’s probably only minutes. Running never was your strong suit, so you’re impressed you’ve gone this far without slowing down. Although, that may have more to do with the fear of being caught than anything else.

The sound of a motor catches your attention, and you look around to see headlights coming up behind you, back from where the barn is. You don’t slow down as the vehicle approaches. You even go as far as to avoid looking at the driver as they slow down to your pace and drive alongside you. You assume it’s one of those crazy “witches”. However, the voice that greets you doesn’t sound familiar at all.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you glance over to see a strange male. He looks to be around your age, and he watches you with kind and worried eyes as you run along the side of the road.

“It’s not safe to run on the road at night!”

“Yeah, well, it’s not safe to talk to strangers, either. Yet here we are!” You breathlessly shout back to him before glancing over to see a dimpled grin grace the man’s face as he lets out a “touché”.

You’re not stupid. You know that this man is one of them. He came from that direction, and as far as you can tell, there isn’t much else out here. A part of you is surprised that it’s not Kyungsoo, but they must’ve thought this guy would have a better chance than the rest of them.

“Would you like a ride home?” He asks once you don’t bother to try and speak again.

“Didn’t we just say something about not talking to strangers? I certainly think that applies to getting into cars with them as well.”

Most of your words are a joke because you know there’s no real way for you to get back to town on your own. You couldn’t walk back. You’d be out here until tomorrow morning if you did. While, normally, you’d be a lot more cautious about strangers, you feel like you’ve been hit with sensory overload to the point that you just don’t care. Maybe it was the people following you. Maybe it was the guy who made an entire wall of fire. Who knows?

With a sigh, you come to a stop, and he quickly follows suit. You wander around the front of the black car and find the passenger side door already unlocked for you. Dropping in the seat, you don’t even bother to put on your seatbelt. It’s the least of your worries right now.

“I’m Yixing, by the way,” he casually states as he throws the vehicle back in drive and continues down the road.

You introduce yourself almost immediately like his calming voice coaxes a response out of you. Your lack of fear or worry causes you to side-eye him and wonder what his power is. All you feel is peace and a sense of safety, which partially freaks you out. Does he have the ability to affect your emotions or something?

“Can I ask?” You look at him after you feel like you can no longer hold it in.

He only smiles at your question. “Ask what?”

“What your power is?”

Nodding his head, he says, “I’m, basically, a healer.”

When he doesn’t clarify further, you ask, “You mean you don’t have control over an element like the others?”

“There’s more types of magic out there than just elemental. You just happened to only stay long enough to meet those four.”

His words aren’t harsh or accusing by any means, but you feel like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “It’s a lot to spring on someone who doesn’t believe it even exists.”

He hums in acknowledgment, and the car falls silent for the rest of the trip, besides you giving him directions. He doesn’t push you to talk about it, and you don’t make any moves to ask about it. If anything, you’re grateful for his silence.

When you finally get back to your apartment, you attempt to process the day as you finally pull on your pajamas. You don’t believe in magic, but what you saw today made it hard to deny. You didn’t imagine a sudden earthquake or a nearly ten-foot wall of fire. There is no way they could’ve slipped you a hallucinogenic either, so you couldn’t blame it on them drugging you.

Nope. What you saw today had to be magic, right? There was no other explanation – no matter how hard you grasped at straws.

Accepting magic existed would just open an entire other can of worms that you aren’t ready for. You can hear your grandparents rolling in their graves at you even entertaining the idea of magic. While your parents didn’t really care and told you magic didn’t exist, your grandparents were a different story.

You can still hear their voices now saying how “evil” it was and how only “devil worshippers” messed with that sort of thing. You recall how against it they were as you grew up. The one time your grandma caught you watching a supernatural show, and she turned off the tv and took the remote with her, or the time your grandpa caught you reading a fantasy book. He ripped it out of your hands and threw it into the fireplace in the living room – library be damned.

It was always weird to you how against it they were, and after tonight, you wonder if it’s because they knew something you don’t. Curiosity getting the better of you, you move into the middle of the living room and put your hands out in front of you like you saw the others do. When nothing happens, you attempt to think of the powers the others have and focus on them specifically, but you still get nothing.

Dropping your arms to your side, you confirm your original thoughts. You’re not magical, and nobody is out to get you.

Kyungsoo’s POV

When they discovered it was you that was being targeted, Kyungsoo wasn’t too sure about it. You didn’t seem magical, or like you had any idea that this world even existed.

The only thing that changed his mind was the group of people following you and hanging outside of the greenhouse. They had been there when he left earlier and were still there when he came back at closing. With you being the only one still there, that made his other options disappear.

Clearly, he’s correct in his assumption about you being ignorant of this world. When they showed you their magic, you looked confused, terrified, and had disbelief written all over your features. When they told you that you are a witch, it was obvious you thought they were all bat-shit insane.

You took off running into the night like a fucking idiot after – frustrating some of the coven. The others said you just needed some time to come to terms with it, which he could understand if they had any of it.

Yixing went after you to keep you safe. The added benefit of his healing aura would calm you and hopefully help you accept the truth soon – because you’re in this for life now, and another war will be coming.

Tagging: @haveanotherkpopblog @iibonniee @making-me-blush @monbabyzshoebill @jay-scenarios @kpop---scenarios @baekhyunsdangerouswoman @sanaxking @junzstar @namecannotbblank @reekyungsoo @vickylamore

Unable to tag: @svmmi-viv @quaaacky @lunsaselenamoon98 @moonlightcandy00 @bellapinkrose @eunjilee-channieswife

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues

oh, deer

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none for this chapter, vague foreshadowing

ship: dousy (daisy johnson x daniel sousa), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

heyyyyy…. yes i posted it early on Ao3

howeverrr you guys are gonna like this chapter. i just feel it in my bones (bc its fluffy and the angst starts kicking in in the next one)

“You look like Rudolph, Daisy,” Elena greeted.

Daisy took a large swig of coffee, rolling her eyes but smirking. The pair were walking together to Elena’s first class after a tough early-morning spar.

“You’re the one who punched me where I already had a bruise,” Daisy shot back.

“Hey, I already told you I was aiming for the jaw. It’s not my fault you didn’t duck quick enough.”

They laughed as Elena swiped her key card to the comms building. Daisy held the door for Elena, shoving her lightly in the back as she passed.

“Hey!”

“Not my fault you can’t see backwards,” Daisy teased.

It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes and laugh, slowing to a stop outside May’s lecture room.

“Right. Wish me luck, I heard May was giving a pop quiz today,” Elena grimaced.

“You don’t need any luck. I’ll see ya, Elena,” Daisy replied.

“Yeah, you will!” Elena said, backing into May’s large lecture room.

Daisy watched her wave and sit down with a group of third-years, her perfect french braids swishing behind her, before turning around. Daisy didn’t have a moment to think about where she was going before she ran into a solid wall.

Daisy looked up into a pair of dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the edges with a small smile. The wall’s hair was ruffled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He wore black SHIELD sweats and a white t-shirt. The wall was very attractive. She vaguely registered the smattering of books on the ground, her mind more focused on his hands on her shoulders.

“Daisy, are you okay?”

She must have been staring for too long. “Yeah, I’m good! Great! Sorry, Sousa,” she apologized, quickly bending over to pick up his books. She almost dropped them again when his hand brushed hers while she handed the thick textbooks back. She gave him a quick smile, taking a deep breath to compose herself, reciting her affirmations. I am Daisy Johnson. I am an Agent of SHIELD. I can move the Earth. I am powerful. I am in control of myself.

Daniel’s smile grew a bit when he heard Daisy laughing quietly to herself.

“I guess you could say I really swept you off your feet.”

Daniel chuckled at the quip, his hands still on her shoulders. “Yeah. Foot,” Daniel corrected. Daisy furrowed her brows, but ignored the strange comment.

“Right. Well, the bell—” Daisy was cut off by a long, high-pitched bell. She closed her eyes tight, the blaring alarm causing tiny vibrations to travel through her skull. When she opened them, Daniel was still standing in front of her, white tee and black sweats and messy morning hair encouraging just a bit more flirting before he had to leave.

“Wow, look at you. Late! I’m a bad influence on you, Danny.”

Daniel shrugged, glancing at his watch. “S’not the first time,” he murmured lowly, stepping away and giving her a last look before he disappeared into the classroom.

Daisy pretended not to notice her heart rate had risen from it’s usual sixty beats-per-minute to seventy-six beats-per-minute.

Daisy spent the rest of the day absentmindedly completing work in her classes. For some reason, flirting with Daniel felt… different than it had with her exes. Even her exes in SHIELD. Daniel was grounded. He had a calm presence. Being late didn’t phase him in the slightest; Daisy would have internally berated herself for the rest of the day.

She was finishing a short answer assignment from International Law and SHIELD Policy while stretching on the outdoor training grounds when she saw him again: still in sweats despite the heat. He was still walking with same, familiar limp. Then it clicked—’Foot’; the throwaway comment from earlier made much more sense now. He had a prosthetic. Before she could think anymore about that revelation, May called the Ops trainees to gather around her under a giant maple tree. Daisy was the last to get up, hanging towards the back as usual.

“Ops training, eh?”

Sousa turned to Daisy standing beside him, breaking his focus on May to turn to her. “Yeah. I used to be military, remember? 28th Infantry Recon Scout. I figure I’ve got to get at least near the level I used to be before I can go in the field.”

Daisy nodded, her hair caught in a slight breeze. “As long as you don’t steal my crown as the Queen of Spar, Master of Field Ops Physical Training.”

Daniel chuckled quietly, turning his attention back to May, who was explaining today’s exercises.

“Partners,” Daisy breathed. Daisy hated partners, unless it was May. She’d rather condition. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other trainees, they were great people! But her nerves got the better of her and she ended up holding back, not helping herself or her partner. She knew how to control her powers, how to keep herself from using them while sparring. Whispers of doubt and guilt still invaded, fogging her mind like deadly mist.

You could kill them. It’s happened before…

She was taken back to the moment by Daniel tapping her shoulder. “Partners?”

Daisy reluctantly nodded and motioned to him to follow her over to a thick pad of grass next to a small willow tree.

“So, what exactly are we supposed to be doing? It’s Tuesday, which is usually a mix of breathing and nerve control and focusing on technique, rather than strength.”

Daniel glanced over at the other partners, who were all going through defensive and offensive stances slowly, like tai chi, he thought.

Daisy walked closer to where he had stopped beside the willow, pointing out a pair of partners moving almost in sync.

“They’re focusing on how their breathing can help their fighting. Mentally and physically. If you’re nervous, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and then your body gets sloppy. If you aren’t breathing, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and your body gets sloppy. Breath can make a punch more powerful and a kick more accurate, if you know how to use it. I’ll show you the moves.”

Defensive, offensive, block, strike, block, kick. Daisy continued in a cycle until Sousa could mirror her movements with little effort.

Daisy stopped him then. “Great! You’re a quick learner,” She winked, smiling wide.

Daniel smiled back, “So how do I do the breathing thing?”

Daisy pondered how to explain it for a second. “You have to flow, like water. You control your breathing, you have the power. But at the same time, you have to let the air flow naturally. The moves will align with your breath, don’t force it.”

Daniel nodded, and they were off. It took a minute to get into the groove, but once he did, it felt effortless. Every kick, block, inhale and turn, exhale and strike came naturally. It gave him the opportunity to study Daisy.

Usually, especially in the early mornings in the computer lab, Daisy looked tired. Her brows were drawn slightly, fingers fidgeting, knee bouncing. In the halls she walked briskly and adjusted her bag or checked her watch often, a small tic she didn’t seem to notice. Right now, though, breeze across her olive skin, Daisy looked cool as water.

She felt the earth beneath her. The trees and grass and flowers in the wind. She tuned in to the radio of her surroundings, letting her muscle memory guide her. The forest was really loud. The concrete buildings had a sort of buzz, too. They mixed in her bones like the sounds of a great symphony, low rumbles and high-pitched chittering and long, constant notes that provided a harmony to the undulating melody. The frequencies of each living and non-living thing in the area seemed to be flowing around her, steady.

Daniel softly stared at her as she moved through the flow with him. She was very good at this. He was having a bit of trouble, though he doubted he would be having this much trouble if it wasn't Daisy right in front of him. For an exercise designed to relax them, wasn’t it counterintuitive to partner with the girl that made his heart skip a beat when she smiled?

When May clapped her hands and signaled the end of the session, the tired, sweaty kids gathered around May’s oak tree. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, bringing a glow to each of their faces. Daisy looked radiant.

“Class is dismissed. Tomorrow, we’re conditioning,” May warned. In a quieter voice, May called, “Daisy, can you hang for a second?”

Daisy stepped away from her bag and towards May. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I have a question for you. Would you mind giving up your free period three times a week?”

Daisy’s eyebrows raised, no classes that she knew of only took place three times a week. “I want to say yes, but I’d also like to know why?”

“Fair. Top brass called. If you want to be a field agent with powers, you’ve got to practice fighting with them, get comfortable with them. I know everything that happened with Lincoln…” May paused, gauging Daisy’s reaction. When there wasn’t any, May continued. “Your powers didn’t make you an agent, I did.”

May paused, giving Daisy a chance to settle her thoughts before adding, “But I think this is important.”

Daisy slowly nodded. If this was important to May, then Daisy had no problems giving up her free period.

“Who will I train with?” she asked.

May smiled. “Meet Yo-Yo and I behind the garage at seven sharp tomorrow morning.΅

Daisy saluted playfully, wandering to her bag and walking in the direction the other students had gone. She could see them filtering into the cafeteria. A smoothie sounded nice…

The canteen was full of students grabbing plates of chicken and veggie tacos. Daisy was always happy during dinner on taco Tuesday. She grabbed her plate and a small green juice and searched for a familiar pair of heads, warm brown eyes and freckles sitting next to dirty blonde curls.

As she approached, two hands went up, waving. Weaving her way through students, she saw Fitz pat the seat beside him.

“Oi, Dais! I've got something to show you!”

Daisy sat down, her attention drawn to the tiny device on the table in front of her. It was small enough to fit in her hand, but surprisingly heavy for its size. Multiple coloured wires stuck out from various surfaces. Fitz was grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He pressed a button on a small remote that sat on the table. Daisy looked over at Jemma, puzzled. Was something supposed to be happening?

Daisy glanced down at her hand. There was nothing there but a constant weight.

“Fitz! You replicated cloaking!”

Jemma and Fitz immediately shushed her, looking around. “He wasn’t supposed to! It’s above his ‘level’. Professor Weaver practically forbid him.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. This was very Fitz. Tell him he can’t, and he will, just to prove it to himself. Holding it up to eye level and moving it around, Daisy marveled at the seamless invisibility. “What are you gonna do with it?”

Fitz shrugged. He began to explain a number of uses for the device, along with the technical modifications he’d have to make for them to work. She tuned out after Jemma exasperatedly told him they couldn’t train monkeys to be invisible recon scouts.

Her plan to learn something from Fitzsimmons banter was derailed when Daisy noticed a shadow at the corner of her eye. It slipped away as quickly as it came, around the corner of the cafeteria and out of sight.

Why was she getting déjà vu?

“Dais, you alright there?” Fitz asked quietly.

Daisy turned back to him, smiling. “Yeah, I thought I saw something. Probably just tired.”

The sandy blonde boy laughed, “S’only Tuesday, Dais. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got six tests this week!” Simmons countered.

Daisy’s mouth opened in surprise, quickly shut when Fitz made a comment about catching flies. “Wait, so you aren’t excited for the tests?”

Jemma shook her head miserably, her amber eyes rolling. “No. Usually I would be, it’s so odd! But I was studying the other night and reviewing old tests, and my chest felt so heavy and my head started spinning—”

Fitz stopped her by putting his hand over hers, gently reassuring her. Watching the two, Daisy thought her heart might burst, a bubbly feeling rising in her chest.

Jemma turned back to her, considerably less distressed.

“Do you want some help studying?” Daisy offered.

Jemma nodded. “Tonight, 8, the rooftop?”

The group nodded.

At eight o’clock, Daisy carefully climbed out her window and around the corner to the fire escape. The stairs whispered and creaked with the wind, but you would never know anyone was climbing the iron to the roof unless you ran directly into her.

She arrived at the last landing, one floor above her own, and crouched down. She jumped, using small quakes as a make-shift propulsor. Jemma turned her head towards the soft thump of Daisy landing on the roof.

The space was decorated with a jungle of potted plants and fairy lights strung around the ledge, mix-matched multicoloured and shades of white. They cast a warm glow across the spread of notes and textbooks neatly placed in front of Jemma. Daisy approached, pulling out her laptop and a pouch of pens, pencils, highlighters, and white-out.

“Ready for our study date?”

Jemma smiled. “Yes. Fitz should be here any minute.”

The two girls got comfortable, beginning to go over notes and chat idly. Daisy wrote down vocab and key ideas on note cards and organised them by subject. Jemma laughed loudly when Daisy expressed her confusion at the difference between the three biochemistries that she was taking. Suddenly, loud clanging was heard from the side of the building.

“Daisy! Jems!”

The two girls shared a glance at the panicked voice. Fitz.

They rushed over to where he would be coming onto the iron landing, grabbing his hand and helping him over the concrete barrier onto the roof.

Fitz supported himself on his knees, panting. “There's a guy down there. Creepy bastard.”

Jemma and Daisy shared another glance, this one full of concern and trepidation.

Fitz pointed to Daisy. “Askin’ about you, Dais. Your…” Fitz trailed off, drawing waves in the air with his hand.

Jemma rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Go check it out, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Daisy reluctantly jumped onto the metal landing below, resisting the urge to use her powers to cushion her landing. She quickly checked the perimeter of the dorm, then wandered closer to the forest that backed up to the dorms.

If only she had night vision as well as the power to create earthquakes.

A subtle movement caught her eye, a dark silhouette shifting in between the trees. A haze of clouds covered the moon, making the forest darker than usual. Daisy stepped forward slowly, her breath speeding up.

The air seemed electric, the few clouds in the sky bloodred with the remaining rays of sunset. The tall pines and thick oaks were silhouetted black against the sky, branches seeming to reach out to grab the twilight shadows. Daisy threw a quick glance over her shoulder, letting out a relieved exhale when she saw Fitz and Jemma watching over her from the roof.

A twig snapped right in front of Daisy, the treeline only twenty feet away. Daisy felt the echo bounce around the forest. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands and lungs. Something, someone, was right on the other side of those bushes…

“AAGH!”

A deer leapt out of the brush, landing right in front of her. Its large doe eyes stared at her, ears back. It was just a fawn.

Daisy slowly let out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms from where they had come up in front of her. She snorted.

“You’re just a baby. What are you doing in the bushes by yourself?”

Daisy tentatively reached out, the fawn showed no signs of moving. She opened her palm, letting the deer sniff before it bounded away across the field.

Daisy sighed. She felt something was off, like you would the moment before you were struck by lightning. Like any second, something else would pop out of the forest, this time a real threat…

Silence.

Stillness.

Daisy sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. I just need sleep. If the paranoia has set in, I definitely need sleep.

Daisy headed back to the dorms, the feeling of eyes on her following until she was safely on the roof with her friends.

The twinkling fairy lights lit the rest of their evening, shadows and deer forgotten in the warmth of laughs and starlight.

[yunatheintrovert]

shot through the heart (and you’re to blame) | Chapter 3 [Russell Adler/Female Bell!Reader Soulmate AU]

As you listened to the familiar gradual crescendo of Morning Mood overlap with the regular hiss of your oxygen mask, you looked around the darkly lit interior of the C-130. Red netting that comprised the seats stood out starkly against the dark interior. It was certainly uncomfortable but nothing you haven’t dealt with before. 

Aside from the several MI6 operatives sent as support for the operation, Belikov and Sims were seated next to you while Adler was seated across from you with some files in hand. Although, you didn’t know how he could read them in the darkly lit cabin while also having sunglasses on. 

You almost wished you brought sunglasses like Adler always did. The harsh desert sunlight was going to be quite the shock. But you were never sure how the hell he kept those things on his head. He somehow managed to do that in Cuba. 

Speaking of the man…

“How does he do that?” you asked lowly, well as quietly as you could in the cabin of a C-130 Hercules with an oxygen mask on and a walkman blaring Morning Mood, “I always see him with a cigarette yet he’s doing fine up here.” 

“Doc?” Sims replied before adding, “He knows how to handle hypoxia. Hell, he was one of the first in our unit to go through with HALO jumping in its experimental days.” 

You recalled that from your “memories” of being on Adler’s team in MACV-SOG. That did come up once in a conversation. Although, like everything else that “happened” in Vietnam, it was foggy. 

Truth be told, you were a bit envious. 

Adler could be a chain smoker and take only a quick breather with the oxygen mask while you and the rest of the team had to breathe through an oxygen mask for most of the flight to flush out nitrogen in the body. 

You must have trailed off into your thoughts at one point as you felt an elbow nudge you out of your thoughts. You glanced over at Sims only to notice the very topic of your idle thoughts staring at you. 

You stared at him for several moments before simply blinking. You were too tired and hungry for this especially after Lazar spent a whole 30 minutes talking with Sims about quarter pound burgers...

“Anything I can help you with, sir?” you asked tiredly. You saw his hands move minutely as if he wanted to take a drag from a non-existent cigarette. 

Habit, you thought vaguely. Military plane transport rides must be quite annoying to him since he couldn’t smoke in the military transport. 

“I had a friend in Vietnam,” Adler began abruptly with his voice taking that familiar turn you heard before, “His canopy got tangled after a collision with one of our own during terminal. He ended up in the treetops. Alive though that wasn’t a damn mercy.” 

...Really at this point, you weren’t sure if Adler was conducting psychological warfare on you or not. 

“...that’s uh unfortunate,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure of what exactly to say to that story. 

Especially since the very thought of crashing like Adler’s buddy was something you were trying to keep off your mind. 

You really were just too tired for a sudden story time with Adler, especially since you couldn’t figure out his angle like this. You’ve pulled all-nighters before back in your desk job at Langley but you had caffeine. Coffee had not been offered in the outpost and most of the team was going through caffeine withdrawal...hard. 

Well, Belikov was fine considering how he primarily drank tea in the morning but you and Sims on the other hand...

“I wasn’t finished,” Adler stated before adding as if simply stating a fact, “His radio wasn’t working. He was alone and panicking. You won’t.”

Oh . 

“...Understood.” was all you could quietly say as you turned your head to the side, suddenly finding the cargo box of M16s to be quite interesting. 

Perhaps if you had a heavy dose of caffeine, you’d have come with a more clever response to Adler's apparent vote of confidence or...support? You really didn’t know. 

Things really did seem simpler the last time you were on his team. 

Regardless, as you heard the pilots announce over the intercom about the approach to the drop zone, you couldn’t help but feel steadier. 

It was time. 

Watching in a trance

The crew is certain

Nothing left to chance

All is working

Trying to relax

“Bell, my friend!” Belikov said rather cheerily while adjusting the straps of his harness as if he wasn’t just about to jump from a plane 30,000 ft in the air, “You ready for this?” 

“...You’ll get my life insurance benefits.”

And really that was an answer in and of itself. 

All that earned you was an amused laugh by Belikov and a slap on the back as he cheerily said, “Just aim for the bushes!” 

As you chuckled at his jest, you vaguely noted that your own harness was a little too loose as it had shifted from the simple action. 

Up in the capsule

"Send me up a drink."

Jokes Major Tom

The count goes on...

“There is always the reserve parachute, да?” The light-heartedness in his voice made you couldn’t help but relax minutely. Although, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling that had nagged at you since the start of the plane ride. 

There were numerous possible scenarios where the reserve chute failed that ran through your mind at that moment: mispacking, entanglement of both the main and reserve parachutes, premature activation of the AAD...

And really it wasn’t quite the possibility of death that scared you as much as it was surviving a bad fall and dealing with the injuries...and the health insurance afterwards. 

The medical bills for the gunshot wound courtesy of Adler nearly made you go broke. 

“Well, at least I’ll die to the sound of Major Tom. There’s worse ways to die.” you murmured to yourself with Belikov looking curiously at you. 

But all you did was simply nod at Belikov as you busied yourself with getting the harness properly fitted to your form. 

Like Lazar, the man always had a way of lightening things.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sounding of the alarm. You noticed the light at the ramp turned to yellow for standby. 

The pilots were about to give the go-ahead for the drop. 

As you fell into line with the other operatives of the operation field team on standby near the ramp, you fidgeted with the straps of the oxygen mask on your head as well as the harness before checking the jump bottle attached to your harness. 

“Alright, guys,” Adler curtly said, “You know the drill. Keep the formation tight. I don’t want to see anyone trekking through the desert for miles to get to the satellite site.” 

Somehow, you felt that last bit was directed at you with how the man’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before looking over at the others. 

And you could tell the others felt the same way. The MI6 members were already looking at you as if you were the “problem child” of the group. 

Truthfully, you expected that, considering your rather...notable past even though you could only recall a handful of memories from it at best. 

If there was a bit of a bounce in your step as you lined up with your assigned group formation at the ramp, well you certainly weren’t going to pay no mind to the looks it may garner. 

You were going to be jumping out of an airplane at 30,000 ft while listening to Major Tom. 

Fewer pleasures in life , you told yourself. 

With a beep over the plane’s intercom system and the switch to the green light, the first cracks of painfully bright sunlight streamed into the dark interior of the plane. 

The glare of the desert sun only got more intense as the ramp fully unloaded. You could see the cloudless, clear blue skies and yellow sand dunes being akin to small yellow hills in the distance down below. 

As you followed the MI16 operative in front of you to the now open ramp, you took a deep, steadying breath through your oxygen mask. 

It was time. 

You secured the glasses on your face as you motioned silently with your free hand, signalling the countdown of Major Tom to yourself. 

4

3

2

1-

And on a wing and a prayer, you let yourself just fall .

Earth below us

Drifting, falling

Floating weightless

Calling, calling home…

You could feel your heartbeat thudding in your chest as your stomach dropped. The adrenaline rush was similar to your previous jumps. 

Although, you didn’t quite feel this...giddy. 

Looking down, you read the marked dials of your altimeter at your wrist. 

29,500 ft. 

All you had to do was follow the “leader” or rather navigator in this case and make sure the parachute was deployed. If shit hit the fan, well...there was always your automatic activation device to deploy the main or reserve parachutes. 

You vaguely noticed the sharp hiss of the oxygen mask as you took each and every breath became louder and louder. 

Even as the low music in your headset- secured by your helmet -played the verses of Major Tom , you could still hear the whistling of the wind in your ears. 

“Approaching drop zone.” you heard the navigator’s voice come over the radio. As you listened to the confirmations over the radio by the other operatives, you shook your head idly. The whistling of the wind was triggering the ringing in your ears apparently. 

Second stage is cut, we're now in orbit

Stabilizers up, running perfect

Starting to collect requested data

"What will it effect, when all is done?"

Thinks Major Tom

You looked down at your altimeter yet again only to see a blur of red, orange, and blue at your wrist- 

And suddenly, there was a flash of light before your eyes. 

Back at ground control

There is a problem

"Go to rockets full."

Not responding

"Hello Major Tom

Are you receiving?

Turn the thrusters on

We're standing by."

There's no reply

________________________________________________________________

You vaguely registered the static of the radio in your ears. 

“We’ve got a job to do, Bell-”

“Wake the hell up!”

You blinked. Why the hell was Adler calling you on the radio like that? You had only blinked for a split second-

And then you looked down at your altimeter. 

4,000 ft. 

What...what the hell-

“ Your main chute is fucked, kid. You need to do a cutaway with your hook knife-” Yes...your hook knife. You reached over to the harness straps where you pulled the hook knife out from the pocket there. 

“Yes, good, now cut the lines.”

You blinked. 

There...there were a lot of lines. 

Almost like that of a cat’s cradle game...

“Bell, focus.” 

You were already sawing away at the tangled white lines of your main parachute. They were twisted so at least you sawed several out in one go-

“2,000 ft.” 

“...sir...I uh dropped my hook knife.” you said hazily with a sheepish laugh. 

“Then use your other knife.” 

Oh . 

“Yessir.”

It really was supposed to be simple. But really reaching for the knife in your thigh holster was an awkward affair when falling at terminal velocity. 

You brought your knee closer up to yourself as you reached for the knife. Suddenly, you felt the world spin-

“Bell, you’re going sideways. Get the knife. Now.”

You felt the firm handle of the knife as you quickly brought it up to the lines above you and dragged the edge across the parachute cord lines. 

“1,000 ft. Hurry the fuck up, Bell. Your AAD will deploy at any second now.”

Your AAD...oh fuck . 

How the hell had you forgotten about that...

4, 3, 2, 1 Earth below us Drifting, falling Floating weightless Calling, calling home...

On a hope and prayer, you sliced through the last remaining line and just prayed that the reserve chute wouldn’t get entangled on the main parachute you had just cut away. 

700 ft. 

Belikov , you thought with resignation, I sure hope you get my life insurance benefits . 

And just like that, you felt like a Soviet heavy soldier had just suckerpunched you with a cinderblock. 

Across the stratosphere A final message: "Give my wife my love." Then nothing more

________________________________________________________________

You stared down at the-relatively-solid ground beneath you. The grains of sand were hot to the touch even as you wore gloves. 

Were you dead…?

Suddenly, you felt a hand wrench away the oxygen mask you wore. You looked up into the blazing sun only to squint and see a dark figure.

There was the distinct smell of nicotine and smoke…

“Sir?” you asked only to see a large gloved hand holding a dark grey oxygen mask and shoving it onto your face. 

“Breathe.”

It wasn’t a request. 

You took a deep breath, hearing the hiss of oxygen and finally registering the ending notes of Major Tom . Wait, the next song was about to begin-

You shot to your feet, pulling the mask away from your face and handing it back to Adler. 

“I’m fine,” you swore fervently with a perhaps bit too forced of a smile. 

Sure, you were a bit dazed. 

But that was just the adrenaline working its magic, right? 

You unclipped the bag attached to your waist and quickly got out your XM4 with the magazine loaded and ready after two trusty taps on your helmet. 

“You’re experiencing decompression sickness right now, kid.” Adler sighed. You couldn’t help but wince at that slightly. 

You had disappointed him. Although, you had warned him about your inexperience with HALO jumping. 

“Just do overwatch for the operation at the cliff side.”

You opted to just obediently nod. 

You’d keep overwatch over the site unless the marked targets were secured and destroyed by the marked time designations. 

If that wasn’t the case...well you always had your good ol’ trusty C4 in your bag. 

________________________________________________________________

As it would turn out, things became a shitshow. 

Apparently Perseus supplied their hired DGI soldiers with more aid than expected. The team had come into the site expecting all kinds of things. Assault helicopters, spy planes, artillery-

But not radio jammers . 

Well, there was Plan B…

But you hadn’t seen the signal for it yet. 

And so you turned off your radio, no longer wanting to hear the crackling static of it all. 

Looking down the scope of your XM4 rifle, you decided to finally resume playing your Walkman. 

Sun is shinin' in the sky

There ain't a cloud in sight

It's stopped rainin' everybody's in the play

And don't you know

It's a beautiful new day, hey hey

Humming the merry little tune lightly to yourself, you fired several shots in a short burst through the skull of a DGI soldier emerging from the small canyon where the satellite had crashed. The body crumpled to the ground and you saw a shadow dart away from the entrance to the canyon. That was the tenth one you sniped down so far-

Your thoughts were cut short by the sight of blue smoke contrasting sharply against the yellow sand dunes. 

Plan B it was then , you mused to yourself. 

Runnin' down the avenue

See how the sun shines brightly in the city

On the streets where once was pity

Mr. Blue Sky is living here today, hey hey

Electric Light Orchestra’s Mr. Blue Sky graced your ears under the clear blue skies of Angola as you soon descended down to the canyon floor. Your gloved hands tightly gripped the ropes. 

The last thing you needed was to make another abrupt fall and land on your ass. 

As you let go of the ropes and fell the remaining several feet to the floor, you scanned your surroundings. The rocks to your left were a good cover in case the enemy tried to flank or ambush you. 

Although, you couldn’t afford to play defense at the moment. 

Plant the C4 and get the hell out of dodge, you told yourself. 

Mr. Blue Sky please tell us why

You had to hide away for so long (so long)

Where did we go wrong?

However, even the best laid plans were burned away by the fog of war.

And just as you finally arrived at the designated Zone A of the KH-9 satellite crash site, yours were stomped to pieces by all too familiar steps. 

Well, shiitake . 

It was your worst kind of enemy.

A Heavy.

Now, you could just waste an entire magazine trying to shoot that impossibly sturdy bucket off their head. But that would give away your position, expose you to those damn concussion grenades, and deplete your ammo. 

Hence why you decided on the only rational thing to do. 

You were going to kill that buckethead with your trusty 7-inch bowie knife. 

Hey you with the pretty face

Welcome to the human race

A celebration, Mr. Blue Sky's up there waitin'

And today is the day we've waited for

With a light whistle from your lips, you heard the Heavy’s footsteps approach your location. 

Just like Belikov taught , you thought as you readied your Magnum, cocking the hammer back. 

The large shadow cast from their figure was already past your hiding place behind the rock. 

They walked closer and closer until you could see the heavily armored plates protecting their legs walking past you. 

And then you took the shot. 

There was a muffled, strangled cry of pain from the DGI Heavy as they staggered back from the shot. You took advantage of the momentum by lunging from behind, sinking the bowie knife deep into the narrow gap between the helmet and the neck. 

The height difference made it somewhat difficult but you could deal with it. 

Hey there Mr. Blue

We're so pleased to be with you

Look around see what you do

Everybody smiles at you

That small fleshy opening was just enough for you to sink your knife several inches in. 

You were quite sure you nicked the carotid artery. 

But that wasn’t nearly a quick enough death. 

Still, you didn’t have time to go for a second strike. A short burst of gunfire erupted from their LMG. You ducked back under the cover of the rock that really was just getting obliterated by the LMG fire.

You silently counted. It wouldn’t take long for them to be forced to reload and throw a concussion grenade your way. 

They always did that. 

It was simply protocol that came from training. 

And you would use that against them. 

Mr. Blue, you did it right

But soon comes Mr. Night creepin' over

Now his hand is on your shoulder

Never mind I'll remember you this

I'll remember you this way

And true as church bells rang on Sundays, you heard the rapid fire of the LMG die down and you fired a quick round from your Magnum at the Heavy before lunging. 

This time, you didn’t half-ass it. 

Large hands were already heavy punches at your ribs but your padded combat vest absorbed most of the blows. Not stopping your momentum, you forced the bowie knife in through the same fleshy gap. This time though, it was a frontal attack. 

You felt the knife enter smoothly into the neck until it hit resistance in the muscle protecting the jugular vein and then you just twisted it. There was a choking gurgling sound erupting from the Heavy’s throat as you felt the hands now grappling at your shoulders squeeze painfully before relaxing. 

You severed their jugular and carotid artery. 

It was only when you withdrew the knife from the neck of the Heavy that you noticed the wet feeling on your eyelashes as you blinked. You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your glove. You stared down at the crimson stain on the fabric when you pulled your hand back. 

Your hands never really were clean.

With a sigh, you stood up from straddling the dead body and set your knife in its sheath at your thigh.

You still had to plant that C4-

And that’s when you heard it. 

That all too familiar beeping sound. 

It had been nearly instinct for you to simply drop to the ground and partially roll the still heavily-armored corpse of the Heavy to face you, shielding you from the direction the inevitable detonation was going to come from. 

Of course like clockwork, the beeping stopped. 

Hey there Mr. Blue (sky)

We're so pleased to be with you (sky)

Look around see what you do (blue)

Everybody smiles at you-

(And you proceeded to see stars in your vision as you felt what seemed to be a cannonball slam into you.)

________________________________________________________________

“Bloody hell! Are you okay?” you heard an accented voice ask above you. 

It was one of those MI6 field agents sent as support for the operation. 

“Yeah,” you murmured hazily, blinking away the blotches of color and stars still littering your vision, “I...uh should have paid more attention.” 

You didn’t quite know how you missed one of the operatives planting C4 at Zone A. They must have been stealthy about it while you were in the middle of stabbing a Heavy repeatedly in the neck. 

“Sorry about that, mate. I got a bit overzealous with the C4. We’re about to head to exfil.” the operative offered out his arm to you which you quickly took. Your balance was still wobbly as you could hear the deafening ringing in your ears drown out whatever songs your Walkman was playing. 

Speaking of your Walkman, you looked down at it worriedly only to sigh in relief. 

Miraculously, it hadn’t taken severe damage. Nothing not unrepairable. 

That was good. 

You could heal from bruises, concussions, and whatever the hell was thrown at you. But you couldn’t replace this Walkman. 

You idly looked down to see the corpse of the Heavy you had taken down. The armor had gotten large fragments but it looked like the corpse was still intact. With a glance at the retreating MI6 agent, you knelt down quickly, pulling away the armor from the corpse. 

Only a select few got to wear this kind of heavy duty armor. It was a privilege due to the sheer expensiveness and maintenance costs of the armor plates. 

Patting down the corpse, you felt a familiar rectangular shape in one of the pockets on the corpse’s vest. Pulling it out, you found that it was-

...a cassette tape? 

‘ Миллион алых роз ’ was written on the white label on the cassette tape. 

Your musings were cut short by the crackling of the radio at your waist. The radio jammers must have been destroyed by now.

“If I were you, I’d get to exfil now, Bell. Doc’s waiting for you.” 

You sighed. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were going to face disappointment at how little you contributed to the operation or how you intervened in the operation after the radio jammers went off. 

Either one wasn’t good. 

Story Time With Adler it was, you thought hazily. At least, you liked his voice. There was just an assuredness and husky tone to his voice that was pleasant to listen to…

And with that idle thought in mind, you hurriedly made your way to exfil, trying not to trip on the rocks on the way there with your still wobbly sense of balance.

_______________________________________________________________  

“ Bell.” was all the man in question had to say. He took a drag of his cigarette in the helicopter as you reluctantly grabbed the offered oxygen mask in hand and took a deep breath from it. 

After breathing in and out for several seconds, you took off the oxygen mask and smiled with widened eyes as you gave a thumbs up gesture to the man across from you. Maybe you were exaggerating a bit too much but you really did want him to get off your back regarding the matter of oxygen. 

It hadn’t helped you much back during the HALO jump apparently. 

Perhaps, he’d buy into it-

“Bell, it’s oxygen, not cocaine.”

...or maybe not…

And so you resigned yourself to spending the next several hours wearing an oxygen mask while Adler watched you like a hawk while taking drags of his cigarette. 

[smileybokuto]

Cherry Soda | Chapter Two | morning rises and school shenanigans

Chapter:��morning rises and school shenanigans 

wc: 1.7k

warnings: none 

a/n: I have no idea how this almost hit 2k 🤧

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        Waking up was always hard for Y/n and Ushijima especially after a long night of studying. The alarm was blaring ‘wake me up before you go go by wham’. Y/n groans and cuddles closer to Ushijima who had his arm loosely wrapped around their waist. Without opening his eyes Ushijima reaches behind y/n and slams the snooze button. As his mother and storm burst through the door and she opened the blinds. 

       “Wake up you dear.” She smacks the bottom of his foot and he groans. “You have to go for your run, dear.” 

       “Ten more minutes.” He pleads sinking his head into the croak of y/n’s neck.

      “No.” Mrs. Ushijima hums. “Up and at’em.” 

      “Toshi. Please. Get up. I’m trying to sleep and she won’t close the blinds till you leave.” Y/n mumbles running their fingers through his hair slowly waking him up. 

       “Fine. Please shut the blinds.” He says rolling out of bed as his mother shuts the blind. Storm hops on the bed and lays down next to Y/n.

        “Y/n hunny.” Mrs. Ushijima lowers her voice as y/n hums in response. “I’ll be back in two hours to wake you okay.”

       “Mhmm.” Y/n hums in agreeance pulling a Storm close to their chest to replace Ushijima’s presence. 

       “Oh I’ll wash your uniform so just switch into the other one in the closet.” Mrs. Ushijima says as she and Ushijima leave the room, closing the door behind them. 

       Just as Mrs.Ushijima promised two hours later she came back and woke Y/n up. Y/n showered and changed, throwing their clothes in Ushijima’s hamper and headed to the kitchen. Mrs. Ushijima was making breakfast, while Storm was sitting on the couch, as Y/n made their way over to the coffee machine.

       “Extra strong please.”

      “Yes Ma’am.” Y/n says plopping a fourth scoop of coffee grinds into the filter and popped it into the machine, hitting the start button. 

      “Hunny, can you set the table?” 

      “Yes. Of course.” Y/n says taking a deep breath and stretching. “Hmmm. Food smells good.”

      “You say that everytime.”

      “Because your food always smells good.” Y/n chuckles resting the plates down on the table. The front door slides open and Ushijima walks in sweating.

    “Welcome home,” Y/n and Mrs. Ushijima says and continues their previous conversation. 

    “I’m going to shower.” Ushijima announces and gets a nod from the two other people in this house. 

    “I’ll teach you how to make this for my son one day then.” Mrs. Ushijima wistfully says. 

    “You’ve said that for years now. How many times do I have to tell you we are just friends.” Y/n rolls their eyes while smiling at the middle aged woman in the kitchen flipping the bacon. 

    “You say that now hun. But that son of mine might be slow to realize his emotions but you are just as bad.”

    “You say the weirdest things sometimes.” Y/n laughs.

     “Don’t you worry one day I’m sure you’ll be my in law.” She nods agreeing with her own statement.

     “Okay.” Y/n laughs brushing it off as Ushijima emerges from his room in his school uniform. 

      After eating breakfast Mrs. Ushijima saw them off to school. While walking Y/n was telling Ushijima about the weird dream they had about Tendo being a spy for a secret organization trying to breed alien superhumans who are good at volleyball. 

     “That’s very interesting Y/n. You should tell Tendo he’ll enjoy that.” 

     “I know right!” Y/n laughs as they spot Semi. “Oi, Semi!” Y/n shouts waving their hand in the air trying to get Semi’s attention. Semi looks back and laughs making his way over to the two. “Let me tell you about my dream!” 

     “Is it about Tendo again?” An amused look glazed over Semis eyes as he stared at them. Ushijima was staring at his friend slightly annoyed that Y/n had started talking to Semi more than him. Y/n explained the dream again.  “You're weird.”  

       “You have no appreciation for entertainment.” Y/n huffs crossing their arms across their chest. “Toshi and Tendo could never, hmph.” 

       “Could never what?” Ushijima questions.

      “You would never treat me like Semi does.” Y/n clarified.

      “Oh okay.” 

      “What are we going to have for lunch?” Y/n asks while looking from Ushijima to Semi. 

       “It’s still morning and you are already thinking about lunch?” Semi rolls his eyes and snickers. 

       “I’ll take you to the convenience store at lunch and we'll find food.”

       “Ooo that’s a good idea!!” Y/n says skipping a little. Tendo spotted the Trio from the gate.

        “Yahoo!” He shouts waving them over. “You’re late!”

       “No Tendo-san you are just early as usual.” Semi snides. 

       “How mean Semi Semi~”

       “Don’t call me that,” Semi rolls his eyes at the red haired boy. 

       “Meeting the happy couple again I see~”

       “Not a couple,” Ushijima and Y/n chimes. 

      “Good Morning Tendo,” Ushijima greets with a somewhat cheerful demeanor. 

      “Good morning Ushiwaka-Kun~”

      “Oh Tendo, good morning let me tell you about my dream,” Tendo’s head swivels in the direction of Y/n with a curious gaze. 

      “Oh! Y/n did you read the new One Piece episode.” 

      “Of course! It was so good!”

     “Y/n wouldn’t let me sleep till they watched the new episode.” Ushijima sighs.

      “I told you to go to sleep without me,” Y/n rolls their eyes and Ushijima scowls at them.

      “The last time I did that. I woke up to you sobbing on the floor.” Semi and Tendo both stopped walking and stared at the pair who soon stopped a few steps in front of them. 

       “Wait… back track… you slept over at his house.”

      “Yeah?” Y/n answers Semi who is looking between the two. He then peers over to Tendo who is just as shocked. 

      “In the same room?!?” Tendo burst out drawing the eyes of a few other students. 

       “Yes.” Ushijima nodded to Tendo and then started to argue with Y/n again. Meanwhile, Semi and Tendo are at a loss for words staring at them in confusion.

      “How can they be so oblivious??” Semi whispers to Tendo.

      “I can’t believe Ushiwaka has game.” Tendo presses his hands to his cheeks watching the two.

      “How long do you think it will take for them to realise they like each other?” Semi places his finger on his chin in contemplation. 

      “I put money down on two years last year. So this year, or I will lose to Ohira. Which would be annoying.” Tendo grimances.

      “You guys made a bet without me!” Semi shouted, smacking Tendo’s arm. 

      “Ow! Semi Semi that hur-”

      “Tendo we have to go or we’ll be late for Modern Japanese!” Y/n says pulling him by his sleeve.

      “Okay~. See you guys at lunch.” Tendo laughs. 

      The bell rang for Lunch and Ushijima made his way to Y/n’s class to wait for them. Tendo and Y/n had gotten in Trouble for talking during class and were being scolded by the teacher. 

      “It was your fault Tendo.” Y/n chuckles walking out of the classroom. 

      “Ahh! Ushiwaka-san please tell Y/n that we only got in trouble because they were laughing too loud.” Tendo hums. 

     “Well Y/n does laugh loud,” a look of pure shock and annoyance flashes over Y/n’s face. 

     “You- ugh! Toshi you alway side with Tendo.” Y/n huffs and crosses their arms over their chest. 

     “But Tendo is right.” 

     “I- fine… whatever let’s go to the convenience store. You coming Tendo?” Y/n asks peering back at him. 

     “Ooo~. Yes!”

     When they arrived at the store. Ushijima grabbed a basket and followed behind Tendo and Y/n who were engrossed with their conversation about the new shonen jump manga that came out. A soft smile creeped its way onto Ushijima’s face while he picked up a peach soda for himself. He grabs a Cherry soda for Y/n and Tendo’s favorite chocolates since they were too busy arguing about who the best antagonist is. 

       “You two need to pick food.” Ushijima’s voice cut off there conversation and they nodded picking up food and placing it into the basket. Then proceeded to continue their conversation following Ushijima to the counter while he paid. Tendo and Y/n both tried but Ushijima blocked the entire counter so they would not be able to. 

      “Awww! Ushiwaka-kun. You can’t just keep paying for us.” 

     “Yeah! I was trying to pay but you just kept swatting my hand away.” Y/n grumbles pouting a little and a faint red hue grazed Ushijimas face while he looked at them. A single thought flashing through his head, ‘how cute’. Ushijima said nothing but just continued to walk ignoring their protests. When they arrived at the table where the team was Semi motioned for them to come over and sit next to him in the open seats. 

     “Ushiwaka-kun took us out on a date~” Tendo sings and the table erupted in laughter. 

     “Oh really? Why won’t you take me on a date Ushijima-san!” Goshiki shouts, staring intently at Ushijima.

    “I didn’t take them on a date.” Ushijima acknowledges Goshiki with a quick glance as he places the food in front of its intended owner. 

    “He took us to the convenience store and he paid for us! That is a date!” Tendo says lacing his fingers together and perches his chin on them while staring at him. 

      “With that logic he would be dating the whole team then.” Y/n muses and everyone laughs.  

       At the end of the day, Y/n, Tendo and Ushijima met at the gym entrance.

      “I forgot we had a practice match with the demon children from Karasuno!” Tendo groans. 

       “Those first years are scary.” Y/n agrees nodding. 

       “KAGEYAMA!!”

       “HINATA BOKE!”

       “And they are loud.” Y/n jokes. 

       “Annoying..” Ushijima clicks his tongue and walks into the gym. Y/n peers door the way to see the Karasuno team making its way to the gym.

       “This is going to be interesting,” Y/n muses and enters the gym. 

       After the practice match the shy silver haired setter approached Y/n, Tendo and Ushijima outside of the gym. He stood in front of Y/n fiddling with his thumbs and swaying from foot to foot.

     “Uh hi! My name is Koushi Sugawara and I was wondering if Ushijima-kun was your boyfriend?”

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 11

The infirmary was nice, quiet, and completely boring so Muska was more than glad to be home. Eras had all but dragged her to the car and fretted over her the entire evening. Even making all her favorite foods and giving her space to settle. Eras had always been attentive to small changes in her mood and knew when she just needed to be alone. That didn’t stop her from making sure she had everything she needed before she left Muska to her own devices.

Eras was in the observatory now, probably destressing from the emotional day she had and really, she couldn’t blame her. When Eras had stepped through the infirmary door, Muska could tell she was on edge. She wasn’t entirely sure that Eras had noticed either, however Muska noticed that she had flinched when she saw the bandages on her arms paired with the word ‘burns’. That's when Muska remembered. She had only seen the scars on Eras’s back once and it was only a quick flash. They were Burn scars.

Fuck, no wonder she was so nervous and on edge. That’s why she relaxed when Recovery Girl promised they wouldn’t scar.

She knew what being burned felt like.

...

....

.....

Absolutely not, she was not dealing with this right now. This emotional revelation will be pushed aside for when she wasn’t absolutely decked by Recovery Girls quirk. Maybe she could even sleep tonight.

Surprisingly, she did actually sleep.

By morning, Eras was back to normal, which is still just as concerning as it usually is. Muska was almost positive that there were some heavy negative consequences to that kind of approach to emotional processing. She may not be a therapist, but her dad had been one so she knew, at least, the basics. Plus, who lives for centuries without gaining some kind of mental instability? At some point she was going to convince her to attend therapy, she just has to find a qualified therapist to handle a young adult vampire with years of memories and possible trauma to get through.

For now though? She was going to focus on her coffee, lovingly made with the higher end brand of coffee Eras had express shipped to their house because she’s desperate like that. Eras also chose not to give Tibbles treats for the next week as punishment which caused Muska to carry around headphones to ignore the loud and meowed complaints voiced during the entire discussion.

The calm and quiet atmosphere that had settled in that morning was shattered by the sound of a blender going off and Tibbles flinging himself from the table to the air and back. A grumbled [Bitch] followed right afterwards which caused Muska to cackle at her familiar.

“Smoothie time huh? It has been awhile since you last ate.” Muska mumbled, even over the sound of a loud ass blender she knew Eras could hear her. Her hearing was freakishly good.

The blender stopped and a few moments passed before the scratch of a pulled out chair was followed by the thump of a physical body collapsing in said chair. Looking up from her coffee, Muska cringed a bit at what she saw.

“Yea, I just… I’ve been a bit tired recently.” Eras looked deader than usual. The pale white skin was bordering on translucent a bit and the deep eyebags normally kept at bay were back full force.

Sighing, Muska sent Eras a rather pointed look. She knew her friend refused to fully sleep so instead she relied on the energy boost coffee and blood gives her to keep going. Along with maintaining a vegetative state close to meditation to make up for not sleeping. Eras rarely ever truly slept and whenever she did she was always off the next day. Energized, but also wary. On edge. Probably nightmares but Eras sleeps in the observatory to prevent Muska from hearing anything so she couldn’t confirm.

Eras ignored her stare in favor of sipping on the smoothie in front of her.

Sighing, Muska dropped the conversation. Eras would just clam up if she pressed further.

After getting ready and heading out, taking the train this time, Muska ran into Midoriya and Uraraka on the way to school. They greeted her with sunshine smiles and dragged her into the conversation. When they got to UA and were still conversing, she had almost missed the loud and angry demands made near the gate of UA.

Reporters.

Muska hates crowds with a passion and they brought one to her school.

Safe to say she absolutely hates them now.

Muska sighed and racked her brain for anything that could help in a situation like this. Energy could be manipulated to push them aside but that’d be a public quirk use law infraction. Witch stuff then. The type to be hidden in plain view. Manipulative…..

Muska grabbed her two new friends' arms and led them through the reporters with ease. The crowd moving and melding around them but not actually recognizing. She was using the energy produced by the human body to limit the signals sent to the brain and pushed the thoughts of “not here” and “just another reporter” to prevent them from being recognized.

She heard the soft mumbled “This is so cool…” behind her from Midoriya and she almost lost her control a bit in her surprise. That would’ve been a nightmare.

They managed to get through unscathed and passed by Aizawa-sensei, keeping the reporters back and helping other students through. Present Mic, or Yamada-sensei as he wanted to be called, was there with him whispering about something.

When they reached the classroom, a sigh escaped Muska as she finally relaxed. There weren’t too many other classmates present, probably due to the reporters outside, and those that were there were relatively quiet. Besides Iida, though it looks like he was refraining from speaking just yet, he did give a nod in their direction though so that was possibly Muska’s fault.

She just really hates when people have a strict view on how you're supposed to operate and act, hates being controlled like that.

Muska Bee-lined for her seat and sat down with a thud as she hooked her book bag on the side of the desk. Relaxing into her seat. Midoriya sat in his seat in front of her and Uraraka deposited her bag on her desk before making her way over to continue talking.

“By the way,” Uraraka started, turning to face Muska who was slowly collapsing in on herself for a nap, “I never got to ask but how were you yesterday? I managed to see Mido here before he left the school yesterday so I was able to ask him but you disappeared.”

Muska sat confused for a second before her brain caught up to the attention.

“Ah, my guardian came to the school for the meeting about what happened and she took me home.” She explained.

“Your guardian?” Uraraka and Midoriya echoed before they both shut their mouths with a click, Uraraka jumped in before Mido to stammer out “Ah! sorry that's rude to inquire about!”

Muska just waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“It’s fine. My guardian is a friend and a friend of my family. When My parents passed away a long time ago, she took me in.” Which was the truth. Eras had found Muska when she had just joined the veil and had promised to take her in after her parents passed away. It’s just that her parents died of old age and not an ‘accident’.

The two nodded before Uraraka brightened again.

“What are they like?!” She asked, hands waving around as if getting rid of extra energy.

“Her name is Eras, so Viridis Eras. She's nice and a bitch.”

Uraraka sputtered and Midoriya muffled a snort. Iida snapped his head around with wide eyes but didn’t actually snap out an etiquette speech. Instead, he grumbled a bit and headed over. Before she could even glare, Iida bowed.

What?

“I wished to apologize for my actions regarding you the past couple of times! I spoke with my brother and he agreed that your advice was applicable to the way the world truly works and so I shall better myself and that starts with an apology!”

Muska was speechless. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Uraraka and Midoriya smiling knowing smiles towards Iida so they had probably had a word with him outside of school. That didn’t help her though. Iida was very earnest in a way she had never actually seen in a person before holy hell. What kind of childhood do you live to be this engaged all the time?

“Ah, sure, apology accepted?”

The rest of that morning was spent with Muska listening to her two friends and Iida talk about what could be happening today. Though Robocop did manage to complain about her calling Eras a bitch before class started, it wasn’t as heavy as his usual lectures.

Muska just wants normality please and thank you, but based on this morning so far she doubts she’ll receive a normal day. That thought plagued her throughout the class representative vote and her first few educational classes. (Was she getting different paperwork? She was definitely getting different paperwork...) The bell rang and her classmates all started congregating to head to the cafeteria while Muska just sighed and got up from her seat. Today was definitely not going to be normal and though she wanted to be wrong, it was not to be.

She just didn’t expect an alarm to prove her right.

The minute the alarm started blaring in the middle of Lunch, Muska did as any student that's been through American public education does. She kept eating. The rest of her classmates that had sat at her table, Mido Uraraka and Iida (for some reason), had already jumped up and started running towards the glorified mob at the doors. She just finished off her absolute heaven of a meal, Eras should meet this Lunch Rush dude (Midoriya had fanboyed loud enough for her to learn his name) their collective chef skills would crush Gordan Ramsey’s taste buds and have Guy Fieri screaming flavor town.

Vaguely, she heard Iida shouting about something and a cheery ‘PLUS ULTRA’ shout but she paid little attention. Instead, she headed back to class.

She would later come to regret not paying closer attention that afternoon.

If she did? She would have noticed the oil like energy tainting the harmony of the school.

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

Tags:

@baguettehead

[ghostsray]

Ch4: Science

(...i swear, this chapter did not go how i planned it at all.)

(first - prev - next)

Danny was panting when he entered the school building. He had arrived in time despite the ghost he encountered on the way. As he leaned over on his knees to catch his breath, Sam walked over nonchalantly and handed him a filled worksheet. "I did your biology homework for you," she explained. "You're welcome."

Danny blinked. "We had biology homework?"

Sam rolled her eyes and said, "What would you do without me?"

"Fail school, for sure," Danny said and gratefully accepted the paper from her.

A girl passing by them suddenly paused and came over. Danny recognized her from a few of his classes, though he didn't remember her name. "Danny--" (He might not know everyone's names, but everyone knew his name; it was kind of hard not to recognize him with the Fentons' reputation)--"I didn't know you had a brother!" she said.

Danny furrowed his brows and said, "Brother? What brother?"

"That freshman who looks exactly like you," she responded, glancing between him and Sam with knit eyebrows. "Are you not related?"

Sam and Danny met each other's eyes. No doubt, the same thought was running through their heads: a fourteen-year-old boy who looked exactly like Danny? Sure, it could be a coincidence, but it was more likely to be Danny's oh-so-beloved clone, Niel.

Danny frowned at his classmate and asked, "Where is he?"

She pointed down the hallway, still confused, and Danny moved in the direction of her finger before she could ask any more questions. It didn't take him long before he spotted the freshman she had been referring to, standing alone by a locker.

Niel looked nervous. As much as the idea of being around other kids was appealing to him, the reality was a bit overwhelming. There were all these students milling about who didn't speak to him and whom he didn't know how to engage with. More than a few were staring at him and whispering to each other, which Niel found pretty rude, considering he was right there.

He perked up when he saw Danny approach him. Finally, someone he knew! Niel turned away from his new locker and greeted Danny with outstretched arms and an exclamation of, "Danny!"

Danny did not reciprocate his friendliness. Instead, he crossed his arms and demanded, "What are you doing in my school?"

Niel dropped his arms (a little disappointed) and replied, "Learning, supposedly."

Danny raised his eyebrows. "You mean you--? But I thought you were homeschooled."

"Not anymore," Niel responded with a grin. "Dad thinks being around others my age would be good for me. Er, my physical age, that is."

"That's great and all, but did it really have to be this school? No offense, but I think people would notice that you and I, you know..." he gestured between their faces and said, "look exactly the same."

"Actually," Niel said, holding up a finger, "sometimes look-alikes exist even though they aren't related at all. After all, genes are based on chance, and as the infinite monkey theorem says: if you allow a monkey to hit a typewriter at random for an infinite amount of time, eventually he will surely write out the complete works of William Shakespeare."

"The infinite mon...whuh?"

"All I'm saying is, it's scientifically proven that there's a one in 135 chance of someone having a perfect genetic double who isn't a twin--or a clone. It's rare, but not impossible."

Danny scratched his head. "You seem well researched on the subject."

Niel smiled and said, "Of course! I love knowing stuff."

"Wonderful," Danny muttered. "I bet you'll fit in just great with the nerd table."

"Nerd table?" Niel asked, sounding genuinely interested. Danny could already picture it in his mind: his double sitting with Mikey and Lester and the other nerds, standing out among their high pants and round glasses with his punk hair and luxurious clothes.

Danny wanted to stay and verbally fight Niel further, but he realized there was nothing to berate him for. Niel had long ago given up on recruiting Danny in joining Vlad, and he wasn't the kind of person to cause problems in school for no reason. Sure, he could be plotting something under Vlad's orders, but Sam had promised him that she had "recruited Niel into the rebellion against the tyrannical rule of parents", so he doubted it. Niel was, simply put, here to learn.

Danny narrowed his eyes at him just in case, then grumbled, "Welcome to Casper High, I guess. Try not to cause any problems."

"Rich of you to say, but all right," Niel said. A few students nearby giggled. Danny didn't know how Niel already knew about Danny's so-called deliquent status at school, but he frowned at Niel's smirk before turning away with the intent to go to class.

He paused mid-step when he caught Wes watching them intently. Oh, boy. Wes. That guy must be having a field trip--an exact double of Danny suddenly appearing at school? No doubt he was already formulating theories in his head about Niel's existence.

Danny and Wes caught each other's eyes. Danny smirked and made his eyes glow for just a split second. Wes scowled.

"You seem well acquainted with the new kid," Wes spoke with narrowed eyes. "He's not just a look-alike, is he?"

Danny shrugged and said, "The truth doesn't matter, especially since nobody will believe you either way."

"You're dead to me," Wes growled.

"Don't you mean I'm dead in general?"

Danny's grin was shit-eating as he walked past Wes like he wasn't there.

Wes glared at Danny's back before returning his attention to where Niel stood, but the other boy was already gone too. The bell rang to signify the start of class. Wes balled his hands into fists and muttered, "I will find you out, clone."

"Really, Wes?" someone said, and he turned around to find that Star still hadn't left the hallway yet.

"Oh, come on!" He gestured wildly and said, "Surely you must have noticed that they look exactly the same!"

"They have different hair. And eyes."

"Hair can be styled, and contact lenses exist."

Star rolled her eyes and said, "You're delusional, Wes."

"I am not!" But Star ignored him and was already leaving the hallway. Wes grumbled loudly to himself before eventually sighing and shuffling to class.

.

School was pretty easy for Niel. In fact, being the son of a scientist--as well as an avid reader and Wikipedia diver--made the subjects he learned in class seem like child's play. As he and his classmates stood in the chemistry lab, the other students oohed and aahed at the rainbow display when the teacher added boric acid to a flame, but Niel wanted to scoff. He'd seen much more impressive things in his dad's lab. Hell, he was a scientific marvel himself, so to speak.

The teacher told them to replicate the experiment in pairs. Immediately, everyone else in the room quickly paired up with their partners, and Niel suddenly found himself an outcast. Danny and his friends weren't in this class; he didn't know any of the faces around him. He didn't have the half year everyone else had to get acquainted with each other, and he doubted anyone was interested in being paired with the new kid.

Niel was just about to accept the prospect of him being partnerless when a boy quietly slid into the seat next to him. Niel looked up in surprise. The boy was tall, and Niel had a feeling he would make a pretty good basketball player. He looked sort of like Danny with red hair--which was a funny thought coming from a literal clone of Danny.

The redhead turned his eyes on him. Niel was suddenly reminded of the way Dad used to look at him during his first weeks of existence outside his pod. Studying him.

"Hello," Niel said, thinking it a polite way to greet this person who chose to be his partner.

The boy just narrowed his eyes and asked, "What's your relation to Danny?"

Did this person know Danny? "His parents and my parent were college buddies," Niel answered truthfully.

"Riiight. College buddies." His eyes squinted so hard at Niel, he wondered if something might have gotten inside his safety goggles. The boy leaned toward him and said, "So you're not, say, I don't know...a clone?"

Niel's eyes widened, but he thought he hid his worry pretty well. Dad had made him promise before going to school that he would not reveal to anyone his clone status. It was a closely guarded secret, like the existence of human-ghost hybrids.

So it turned out Danny was right about people noticing the physical similarities between them. But Niel told himself not to worry yet.

"We do look sort of similar, don't we?" Niel said conversationally. "It's pretty cool, actually. Did you know there's a one in 135 chance of--"

"Cut the bull," the boy interrupted. "I searched that up on my phone just now. The chance of actually meeting your look-alike is about one in a trillion."

"Then I guess I'm the one in a trillion?" Niel said with a shrug, but sweat began to form in his palms. The boy wasn't convinced.

"Yeah, right," he said. "You're way too similar to Danny for it to be normal. Either you're some long lost twin, or you're his clone."

Alarms blared inside Niel's head. He tried to think of a valid response to save himself. Luckily, he didn't need to, because a student from the table in front of them groaned and said, "Leave the new kid alone, Wes."

The boy--Wes--looked at the girl who spoke and said, "Come on, Ashley. You had to have noticed how much he looks like Danny."

"I don't know, his hair's different," Ashley retorted, turning around in her chair to face them. "Are you sure this isn't just your Danny obsession acting up?"

Wes spluttered and shouted, "It's not an obsession!" After getting a glare from the teacher, he lowered his voice and repeated, "It's not an obsession. You're all just too blind to admit the truth that he's Phantom."

Wes knew that Danny was Phantom? Yet, apparently, nobody believed him. Ashley rolled her eyes and drawled, "Suuuure. Just because he's absent most of the time Phantom appears--"

"Not most of the time! All the time!"

Ashley's lab partner snickered and said, "Right, and I must be Batman because we've never been seen in the same room together."

Wes growled. "Nathan, you know Batman isn't real. Phantom is. And he's definitely Fenton."

"Hey, how dare you imply Batman isn't real?"

Wes grabbed at his hairs and made a whimpering sound in his throat.

Niel was starting to realize that these people will never believe Wes no matter what. A sly grin worked its way onto his face, and he said, "No, you're right. I am absolutely a clone."

Ashley and Nathan covered their mouths and giggled. Wes gave Niel a stink eye.

"You're just like your original, you know that?"

Niel shrugged.

Ashley stopped giggling to squint at Niel. A second later, she said, "Actually, hey, I see it now. You do sort of look like Fenton."

Crap. "Really? I don't see it," Niel said, then mentally kicked himself. How could he say he doesn't see it when he already admitted their similarity earlier? Really, Niel, you're starting to slip with your lies.

Nathan just shrugged and said, "Big deal. Everyone tells me that me and my brother look the same."

"Yeah, but that's because you two are related," Wes retorted. "What's Niel's excuse--apart from his extremely unlikely cover story of being a random doppelganger?"

Ashley suddenly gasped and said, "What if Niel and Danny are brothers?"

"I thought Niel is the mayor's kid," Nathan said and scratched his head.

"Of course he is, but who's the mom? Haven't you ever noticed how close Danny's parents are with Masters?"

Niel really hoped she wasn't suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. "I'm adopted," he told her.

"That's exactly what Masters would say to the media," Ashley said with a smirk. She leaned forward and said, "Come on, tell the truth. Am I right?"

"No!" Niel replied, his face burning. Of course, if his dad knew that someone even thought he, um, went to bed with Maddie, he'd be elated. But Niel was not elated. "Danny's mom doesn't even like my dad."

"But Danny's dad does, right?" Nathan said, stroking his chin. "And you do sort of look like him, minus the size."

Wes raised an eyebrow. "Okay, now you guys are just making stuff up. How do two men have birth together?"

Nathan shrugged. "They're scientists, aren't they? Maybe they, like made him in an artificial pod."

Niel silently panicked. Obviously, the idea of Vlad and Jack in a relationship was plain wrong (and a bit funny, considering how much Vlad hated Jack), but the part about the pod baby was a little too close to the truth for comfort. Also, what the heck was with them discussing his birth right in front of him?

Niel was about to find something to say to get them to abandon this conversation when Ashley suddenly exclaimed, "Oh my god!"

"What?" Nathan asked.

Ashley held silent for a few moments to increase the tension before she slowly said, "Vlad Masters is trans."

Silence. Niel was suddenly aware that several other kids in the lab had abandoned their projects to listen in on the quartet's discussion. They observed Niel, as if trying to find the similarities in him to Vlad and Jack.

Niel slowly and deliberately whispered, "What the butter biscuits?"

.

Danny stomped down the hallway with a frown. He found Sam by her locker and approached her.

"As everyone knows, I'm all for brooding, but what's with the sour mood?" Sam asked. Danny glared at her.

"You did my biology paper, but you didn't think to remind me that we had an English assignment due?"

Sam held up her hands innocently and said, "Hey, I can fill out your worksheets, but I can't write your assignments for you. Mr. Lancer is crazy good at spotting differences in writing style."

"I thought you were good at copying styles."

"Maybe, but then I started thinking about what sort of creative writing you would think of, and it bummed me out too much to do it."

"The goth girl thinks I'm too much of a bum?"

"Exactly, Danny. Your life is sad as hell."

Whatever reply Danny was about to say was interrupted when the same girl from earlier ran up to them and said, "Danny, I didn't know you had a secret half-brother!"

Danny didn't think it was possible, but he was even more confused now than he had been before. "A what now?"

"Oh, right, my bad. It's supposed to be a secret." She winked.

"Wait, what? What secret?" he called out, but the girl already left.

Niel walked over to them. For some reason, his face was buried in his hands, as if he was in too much shame to make himself seen.

"Niel," Danny began, "what the heck have you done, and why are people calling you my secret half-brother?"

Niel just slumped his head against a locker and murmured, "The doppelganger excuse didn't work."

That didn't explain much, but just then Tucker came over laughing and slapped Niel on the back. "Niel, I know we haven't spent much time together, but I love you," he said between laughs.

"Can someone please explain what's going on?" Danny demanded.

Tucker spent another minute or so laughing, but after he eventually stopped with a satisfied sigh, he grinned at Danny and said, "People are starting to write Mpreg fanfiction of your dad and Vlad."

Danny choked on his saliva and probably would have died if he had needed to breathe. Tucker's guffaws picked up again, and Niel looked like he was seriously considering phasing through the earth.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter One

                       A special thanks to @statell​ for your help and wisdom

Chapter One

Claire bounced out of bed feeling amazing and full of energy. From her hilltop home, she could look out over the most beautiful expanse of bluegrass fields below that were covered in misty fog at this early hour. It was an inspiring view of the best Kentucky had to offer. Setting down a steamy mug of strong coffee she went through her morning yoga poses breathing in the crispy air gratefully. She pressed her hands together in front of her heart, bowed slightly, and said “Namaste” to the beautiful day.

“God I love days like this.”

She pulled her scrubs on, and a hat atop her fresh-scrubbed face, and bounced out the front door looking for her ride. Typical, she thought, he is late again. She looked at the hands of her watch, 7:38, that guy will never amount to much being late all the time. She didn’t like the energy shift and carefully pressed her body into a particularly hard yoga pose as she closed her eyes and welcomed her calm center. The pose balanced all her body weight on the ball of one foot, the other leg pulled into the air behind her. She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. On her second intake of air the ear-splitting horn of her supercharged Ram, a hospital on wheels blared from the road. The shock was enough to topple her pose, twisting just in time to let her ample butt hit the ground first.

Dusty cursed watching her fall, feeling like a total idiot. His excitement was on overload this morning, so happy to finally be early and prove to Claire he could make his commitments. She said 8:00 and it was now 7:45, a true miracle for him, except Claire was now laying on the patio concrete after he scared her half to death. “Goddamnit, when am I gonna think before I do stuff?”

He ran to help his employer off her ass and noticed her scrubs. They were treating the yearlings today at Highland Brothers Farms and they would be there all day. It was a big deal for Claire, and he thought she should have dressed more…something. Dusty pulled his hat off and watched her feet rise into the air as she used her temporary time of the ground to pull a perfect headstand.

“Ah, Doctor Beauchamp, are ye ready to go? I’m sorry I honked at ye and made ye fall. Now ye got dirt on yer pants.” He didn’t dare look at her on the ground, so he spoke to her cowboy boots.

“You are late Dusty.”

He was about to launch into an argument, but her boots swung to the ground and she popped up with a red face and smiled at him.

“Let’s go.”

Claire jumped into the passenger seat of her amazing vehicle. It was her biggest investment after graduation. With a price tag of almost two hundred thousand, the vehicle did everything a mobile vet would need. Claire had structured their working relationship where Dusty would keep her truck at the end of the day. She only had to jump out, wave as she walked up the steps to her cabin in the woods. It wasn’t easy for Dusty to drive away knowing she had no other vehicle, but this is how she wanted it.

As Dusty fell under Claire’s spell he googled the vehicle and almost passed out at the price. With a fully stocked hospital in the converted bed, he estimated two-hundred-fifty thousand dollars. He gripped his computer desk and tried to breathe. The next weekend he recruited his buddies to come and build a garage to park it in. He installed the best security he could buy and finally felt worthy of her trust the first night the electric garage door closed the vehicle in for the night.

The workday did not end when Claire waved him goodbye. Dusty would wash off the caked-on mud and vegetation that collected in the grill and wheel wells from driving into the farms. Once a month he would wax and buff until he was dripping with sweat. Sometimes she would notice, sometimes she wouldn’t. Either way, it was his honor to do it.

Dusty would grimace and complain to his friends about her demanding nature and lack of appreciation, it’s what young men in Kentucky did when they worked for a female, especially a woman doctor. But it was a kaleidoscope of emotions he felt every day, running interference between her and the world. He was in awe of the young veterinarian and her extraordinary diagnostic abilities.

Claire had her nose in a medical book when Dusty jumped into the driver’s seat. He was at war with himself to mention her scrubs and finally asked if she wanted to change before they left. Her head jerked up at him as her heavy black glasses slid down her nose,

“change into what Dusty?”

“Ah, never mind, not important. Let’s go.” He exhaled a miserable breath wanting to kick his own ass for being such a pussy. He had spent half his paycheck on starched new clothes for today to show respect to the great Jamie Fraser, owner, and breeder at Highland Brothers. Claire’s reputation for being a super healer was burning across Kentucky and doors were opening for her in the most prestigious farms, Highland Brothers being number one on the list.

Claire pulled a stack of files onto her lap to update her treatment notes while Dusty drove. She asked him questions on every file she opened.

“What did we do to the Miller gelding?”

“Drained the abscess, front left chest, forty cc’s of penicillin.”

“What about the Hildebrandt mare that foundered.”

“Restrained in her stall, estimated three months, the family wants to save her.”

“Oh! Thank God.”

This continued through the forty-minute drive to Highland Brothers. Dusty had a stunning mind that remembered every detail of each day. Every animal, every owner, breeder, barn ranking, problem mares, sick and injured horses. Drugs, dosages, and who still owed her money. She looked at his handsome face and sighed, making him look at her and blush. He always blushed when their eyes met, and he quickly looked away.

Claire knew he would make huge contributions to equine medicine. He was already an expert on grain nutrition, and he hadn’t started vet school yet. It was the reason she pushed him so hard.

“I really don’t know what I will do without you, Dustin. Have you chosen a school yet now that you have so many to choose from?” She put her hand up to stop him from talking. “I don’t want to discuss it actually, it makes me…. not happy. Hoooooly bloody shit! Look at how the superstars live!”

Claire’s mouth hung open as her eyes took in every detail of the fancy compound. She swept her eyes across the acres of green, as far as she could see. As they got closer, she saw horses on the track with jockeys and trainers, along with mares and foals in the pastures. She looked ahead at a large Bay gelding being led to an outside arena.

“Doctor B, what do ye think of Jamie Fraser?”

“Who?”

“The owner of Highland Brothers.”

“Never met him.”

Dusty rolled his eyes and realized his boss was not impressed with celebrity in the horse world. If he wasn’t hailed in her medical world or mentioned in her books, he was insignificant.

Claire’s practiced eye scanned the horses she could see as they were being led, running the track, or grazing in the beautiful meadows around the complex. She wasn’t happy with what she saw and felt from them.

She approached the Bay gelding and ran her hand down his back while the handler looked annoyed.

“I am Doctor Beauchamp and this horse is sick. Back up please so he can breathe. The man knew who she was and gave her space. Claire placed her open palms on both sides of the horse's face and stood perfectly still for five minutes as the horse dropped his head into her hands. She jumped back into the truck and looked wide-eyed at Dusty.

“He is sick Dusty, he said they all are, even the babies.”

“Ah, Doctor B, here’s the thing, ye need to keep that part to yourself if ye can. We talked about how it creeps-out the breeders and how they don’t believe in yer gift. Remember?”

“I remember something about that, but I don’t have time to pick my words around these people.” Her face had gone white and her eyes wide and worried. “They are all sick. Someone has done this to them,” she whispered.

Claire walked through the large housing facility that kept some of the most expensive horses in the world. She stopped in front of a beautiful gray mare, stunning actually. She approached feeling the horse’s exceptional health and vitality. Claire was doubtful this horse could be immune to whatever this was. She touched the beast and listened. The mare wanted to leave this place, not afraid of getting sick, but to get away from her rider. Claire felt an evil cold settle into her bones.

“I’m here now. I won’t let them hurt you.”

She went stall to stall gaining more of the story feeling alarm bells go off in her head. She looked for Dusty, he had an important role to play in this rescue. What Claire saw next almost made her heart stop and she took off running as fast as she could. The housing complex was huge and a man with the grain cart was shoveling something into the feeders at the other end. She pushed herself feeling her thighs on fire from the effort.

“Stop! Please stop!”

The man looked up at the woman running full speed for him and just stopped like he was frozen. When Claire caught up to him, she was panting but very thankful he listened to her. She could hear Dusty run up behind her and turned to lock eyes with him. Her voice was quiet, but he heard the stress and felt the immediacy.

“They are eating it, whatever it is that’s making them sick! Look at that horse Dusty!”

She pointed to a large thoroughbred that had backed himself into the corner of his stall, as far from the offending food as he could get. Dusty asked the worker to show him where the feed is kept. Claire continued walking the line of stalls.

She found the breeding wing and it almost crippled her when she touched the mares, fat with foals. She touched them and made promises to help, overwhelmed by how many had given up, ready to accept death because they were so sick.

She was running again trying to find Dustin or the owner that let this happen. She felt the enormity of loss that was coming as all these horses would lay down today for the last time. She started yelling for Dusty at the top of her lungs until he was running toward her. His face told her he found something, whatever it was. Dear God, she thought, who could do such a thing.

“I think I found it, Claire, there’s a shiny coating on the rolled oats. I told that man to lock down the feed room, stand guard, and not let anyone in. Fraser is in a meeting you need to pull him out."

“Triage Dustin, back the truck into the complex, park halfway down this aisle, don’t let the motor run for a second longer than you have to. Hurry!” Minutes later her enormous dually was backing down the aisle, just as Jamie Fraser was running for it yelling at Dusty to get that vehicle out of his barn.

Claire watched him run up on Dusty who stood his ground and pointed at her. Fraser was yelling but she couldn’t be bothered with that, she felt a distinctive change in the energy around her and looked to her side in time to see a horse collapse.

When the first horse went down right in front of her, she shrieked for Dustin to bring fluids and rushed into the stall.

“No, no, no, no! Don’t go” she shouted grabbing her stethoscope pressing it into a quiet chest. She heard another horse fall nearby and another. She bent over, sobbing, and held her stomach. They would all die if she didn’t galvanize against the horror. She was running for the truck as Fraser turned wicked eyes on her. He was roaring at her and she hit him at a full run telling him to get out of the way!

She called out a cocktail of drugs to load into 20 CC syringes and a large gauge needle to shoot the life-saving mixture into the jugular. They were both filling syringes as fast as possible.

“I assume you are James Fraser. Your horses have been poisoned, they will all die in the next few hours, many already have. If you want to help, call every veterinarian you know to help us. On the double Mister Fraser!”

Jamie put fingers to his mouth and blew a loud strange whistle. Two men ran toward him, white-faced, and stopped, waiting for orders. Three cell phones came out and the men called for reinforcement. Dusty ran behind Claire with a sack full of filled syringes. She administered the drug cocktail very fast and listened to the heartbeat stabilize before running to the next. Other men were driving their rigs into the complex and running for the drug protocol. Dusty gave the drugs and dosage and the veterinarians stared back at him frozen in place.

Jamie Fraser was on the verge of collapse, but he ran behind one of the doctors holding the precious syringes. Claire was on her knees doing an emergency cesarean section of a dead mare. Her hands were a blur and Dusty stood above her ready to split the tissue and pull the distressed foal out. Another vet stood watching Claire, eyes wide at her ability to move that fast. He grabbed a blanket to cover the foal and rubbed until he saw movement.

Jamie Fraser looked at the body of his favorite broodmare, ripped open savagely to save a baby that was worth a fortune. Claire ran by him coming back in five minutes with a large bottle of warm milk and enormous nipple. She pressed it into Jamie’s hands and looked into his anguished eyes.

“Please, save the ones we can.”

She pushed him gently toward the baby who was clearly needing some comfort. Jamie wrapped his warmth around the baby and offered the bottle, encouraging the colt to drink.

Claire watched with gushing eyes. She knew they had to assess the loss, pronounce prize horses dead, and prepare for the next round of drug therapy. Fraser was so big and strong. He seemed so capable and willing. She felt her body inch toward him and then kneel next to him. She corrected the angle of the bottle and then leaned against him and sobbed.

Jamie was overwhelmed with this little veterinarian who took command like a general and was spot on with the drugs that would save his horses. When she collapsed into him, he quickly wrapped an arm around her and supported her while she fell apart. He held the bottle for the colt in the other hand. Dusty walked over to her and bent to help her up but Jamie shook his head.

“It’s alright laddie. I’d say she’s earned it.”

Just like that, Claire stopped crying and stood up. A nod to Fraser and she was onto her next task.

The next half hour culled the sickest from the rest. Those that were on death’s door were struggling. Claire put her hands on one gelding’s face and heard or felt how sick he still was. She was very sympathetic at how awful he felt and let him know she insisted he live.

“Dusty! Positive-feedback hypovolemic protocol with 5 cc of digitalis, mix with a quarter dose for hypertension, on the double if you please. Claire grabbed a loaded syringe and ran for the sick gelding. He had given up and was taking his last few breaths as she pushed the cocktail into the huge vein in his neck. He seemed paralyzed, his big head suspended and shaking very low to the ground. She watched him as the other veterinarians questioned her protocol suspiciously. She moved to the gelding’s side and he pushed against her needing her reassurance. Dusty sat on the corral bars watching and waiting, hardly breathing.

The horse gave a healthy snort and lifted his head to a normal position. His tail whacked at flies and he shook his head like he was throwing off the illness.

“Dusty, you know the cocktail.”

Dusty dropped off the bars and jogged to the truck with the other vets watching the mixture he pulled into multiple syringes. Three of the vets left saying the protocol was too much risk. Those that stayed bravely followed Claire’s orders and pulled numerous horses from death’s door.

Claire wrote the milk recipe on a notepad and went to find James Fraser. It took all her strength to hold tears back when she saw his grave face. He moved toward her and the little colt followed so close he plowed into his butt when Jamie stopped in front of her. Even this newborn had the strength to knock Fraser right into Claire’s arms as she laughed nervously feeling a jolt of lightening shoot to her feet.

“Sorry. Ye have a theory lass?”

“I’m sorry to say I do Mister Fraser but it’s not a theory. Someone who has access to the horses and their food tried to kill them, all of them, near as I can tell. Dusty, my assistant, is taking blood and fecal samples and we must carefully get samples of every bag of feed, guarding against cross-contamination. Fortunately, we were able to lock the feed room within minutes of arriving.”

“There are feed rooms throughout the building!” Jamie whistled again and the two men came running. Hearing the order to lock down the other four grain rooms they took off in opposite directions. Claire watched them and prepared to tell Fraser what would be needed for the samples when she went rigid and pale. Fraser could see her hands shaking at her sides.

“What is it!”

“Do…do you have a water main that can shut off the water to the horses?”

Fraser heard the tension in her voice and started running. Claire was very aware of the thirst from her drug protocol and wondered how much they had consumed already.

“Sweet Jesus.” Claire ran along the stalls spilling the water as she went. This high-tech facility used floaters in the water buckets to make the water turn on automatically. She pushed the buckets sideways to spill the water only to hear the faucet above them run a fast stream to refill it. “Come on Fraser, turn it off.” Finally, she could spill the water and the faucets did not turn on. She ran along the stalls spilling the water and reached for her phone.

“Dustin! Hold off more samples we need to get the water out of the stalls. The water main is off, hurry!”

Jamie and his two managers came back and joined the effort to empty the water buckets. When Fraser came back to Claire his face was a mixture of fear, sorrow, and white-hot rage.

“Take a breath, Mister Fraser, there will be time for punishment unless we blow it and start making mistakes. I need to think for a few minutes and form a plan” She walked away mumbling and touching her fingers like she was making a list. She intended to lock herself in her truck for some quiet time but there wasn’t time for such a luxury. She ran back to Jamie panting from the effort.

“Those two men you work with can they be trusted?”

“Aye, with my life.”

“Please call them, or whistle, and tell them to listen to me, please hurry.”

Claire watched the large roll away doors to the outside clearly terrified about something. Fraser whistled again and his two best friends since childhood were racing toward him. “Listen to the doctor boys, do as she says.”

Claire pulled the group into a tight circle so she could speak quietly. She explained her fear of the next strike against Jamie.

Someone who was trusted to have access to the horses and feed tried to poison them. Dusty believes it’s a glycol-based poison so it’s cumulative, over time. Somehow they got all the horses to peak at the same time. I would not think it possible, but it happened so this person is knowledgeable, smart, and determined to bring this place and Fraser down in a glorious murder fest by ruthlessly killing the world’s best horseflesh in the process. I don’t know how long it took to pull this off, but I know the person responsible is close by and may know we thwarted the grand plan with minimal loss. This fucked up bastard will be coming for you Fraser, tonight, now!” Pretend you’re him and you can barely contain your rage, what would you do? Right now, what would you do!”

The three men flinched when she yelled the question. “Call the boarders and the trainers. Anyone with notoriety and a horse stabled here. Tell those people they’re all dead and its Jamie’s fault.” Claire waited while the men wrapped their heads around the enormity of the hatred behind this attack. Jamie’s voice was heard above the others,

“He’ll call the press and start a media frenzy that will go around the world. It will be so easy. People will stampede this place and destroy evidence, prevent the samples, maybe put me in jail until every animal is gone and the evidence is ruined. Jesus Sassenach please help me, tell me ye got a plan.”

Claire looked up, surprised all three of them were looking at her to answer. “Dusty has water and bowl swipe samples and every grain that was opened. If we can clear the water as the source and get the buckets full it’s a win for us. She looked at Dustin sitting on corral bars nearby and told him to go. Dustin drove slowly until he was out of the barn where he left tread on stones racing away.

“We need to pull in the authorities. If there’s anyone you know and trust, call them. Mister Fraser, can you estimate the financial loss attempted today?”

Jamie scanned the stalls as he calculated a rough estimate. “Fifteen to twenty million.”

“Well, that pushes into the territory of the FBI and I’m in favor of bypassing local police, at least until we can process the crime scene. For that, we need a forensic team. Let’s hope a twenty- million- dollar loss will get us one. Last, and most important, we need to remove the dead horses and hide them. I am so sorry gentlemen but six horses dead in their stalls will seal your fate. Game over, you lose.”

“I know what to do.” Jamie pulled Angus and Rupert to walk with him while Claire called her friend at the university where a pacing Dusty waited.

The horses were getting desperate for water and Claire felt their tremendous thirst and heard the hooves banging against the bars. What could they do if the water was the source? Turn them all out and let them fight for the little that collected after a rain? It would be brutal and bloody.

Claire felt like she would split down the middle from the accumulating tension. She walked the line of stalls watching for distress in the horses. She stopped and looked up and down the aisle, noticing for the first time how many stalls were empty. She saw name tags on each of them but no horse. She estimated half of the animals were gone.

The walking calmed her down a little but she couldn’t wait any longer to call the lab. She prayed they were done with the water.

“Hello Michael, you are my hero today. Do you have any results on the water yet?” She held her cell phone so tightly she feared it would crack and still could not relax her hand.

“I love hearing your accent, Claire. I’m so sorry about what happened today.”

“The water Michael?”

“Yea, I have the results of the water. The phone in the lab actually has a cord, can you believe it?”

“Michael?”

“Yea, hold on I’ll grab the report.”

[spiderman-homecomeme]

off the record pt. 3

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

A/N: Hello friends!! The third part of my enemies to lovers from Spideychelle week is here!! currently, there are two more chapters left, so we’re getting close to the end!!

Enjoy 3.8k of Peter and MJ still fuckin hating each other, but then... a change of feelings perhaps??

Read here or on AO3

-

They had agreed to meet at the same coffee shop later in the week, Michelle finding herself mysteriously—and annoyingly—frazzled in the days leading up to their interview, especially the morning of. For some unknown reason, her normal morning routine is extended by at least a half-hour, her mind buzzing the moment she wakes up from a restless night. Her stomach twists as she looks at her planner, and she writes it off as the dread of having to actually converse with Parker again.

“Haven’t seen that dress in a while,” Betty smirks knowingly from behind her morning coffee, Michelle having not even noticed her roommate sitting there in the first place.

Michelle looks up, her eyes setting into a wary glare after the initial startle. “And?” She asks slowly as she puts a piece of bread in the toaster.

Betty tips her head, voice smooth and casual. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uh, nothing?” Michelle’s gaze darts left and right, her mouth setting into a frown as she walks to the fridge, pulling out the strawberry jam, her hands fumbling slightly with the jar. “Work?”

Betty taps her fingers against the glass mug, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Aren’t you interviewing Peter today?”

Again, Michelle looks away, blowing a harsh puff of frustrated air through her nose. “Shut up,” she mutters as her toast pops up. She can hear her roommate suppress a snort of laughter from behind her, the sound making her almost roll her eyes into the fifth dimension as she spreads the jam onto her breakfast.

“You like nice,” Betty offers, the playful edge still in her tone.

Michelle elects to ignore that particular comment, pointedly taking a bite of her toast with an annoyed crunch as she heads for the door, blocking out Betty’s final, “Remember the mission!” as she slams it behind her.

The beginning of the workday before lunch proves to be just as frustrating. Peter has the audacity to wave at her when she walks in, his mouth curved into a stupid, timid smile that she knows has to be just as forced as hers is. Her returning wave is stiff, and she trains her gaze on the ground as she hurries walks with purpose to her desk.

(Peter of course, takes issue with the fact that her tight-lipped, half-assed smile seems so disingenuous.)

Michelle can hardly get any work done, unable to stop herself from glancing up at him working at his desk every so often, feeling as if she has heartburn radiating from her head to her toes. And then, just as she’s leaving her office and out the door, just as she’s walking on the sidewalk, sirens blaring as police cars speed by, she gets a text from him explaining that he ran into some “family stuff” that he needed to deal with first, but that he would still be on time to the interview.

She stirs at her cappuccino, tapping the wooden stick on the cup before setting it aside. Her voice recorder sits to the side of her open notebook, and she twirls her pen mindlessly between her fingers. For a moment, she’s occupied with whether or not she should be toying with it when he walks in, or if it should be at the side, next to her paper—thinking that perhaps the latter might make her look more professional.

Then, in the next moment, she berates herself for worrying about such a pointless detail.

Besides; what did she care about professionalism?

He was the one who was currently eleven minutes late to their very scheduled interview.

But who’s counting?

(She is.)

It’s fine. Totally fine. It’s not like they only have an hour for lunch.

Then, as she starts to feel the real anger set in, she sees the jerk running outside the window, and she watches as he rushes to the entrance. As he flings the door open, the sharp ringing of the bell echoing in the cafe, she quickly averts her gaze down to her own coffee. She’s the very air of nonchalance as he approaches her booth, not even looking up as he flops down onto the bench across from her.

“Sorry—” He’s cut off by his own need to catch his breath. “Had a—had a… thing. With—”

“With your family?” When she dares to glance up at him, she’s alarmed at his disheveled appearance, his hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink.

In her mind, there are three possibilities as to why this is. One, being that he really did have a “family thing” and actually ran all the way here. Two, being that he had lied and just came from an intense workout at the gym. And three, being that he had been caught up in some hasty conquest of some kind.

The third doesn’t seem as likely, given that she’s never perceived Peter as being the “one-and-done” type of person, and he’s never mentioned anything about any significant other. And, of course, the idea that anyone in their right mind would want to sleep with this man just seems impossible to her. Still, the third possibility stays in the back of her mind, poking and prodding at her relentlessly as he blinks owlishly at her.

But, as bothered as she is, she doesn’t let it show (too much).

Peter huffs out a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Yeah…”

“No problem,” Michelle lies. She decides to just ignore his current state entirely, opening her notebook to a fresh page. “Let’s just go ahead and get started.”

Peter nods, lips pressed together in a small smile.

With a click of her recorder, she sits up straighter, taking her pencil in hand.

“How would you describe your relationship with Spider-Man?” She asks first.

Peter had been nervous about this before, but no amount of stress could compare to what he felt in this moment. He coughed, clearing his throat. “Um, well…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, his heart hammering as she gets ready to write whatever nonsense he says. “I’m his photographer, but… I’d actually say that we’re pretty old friends.”

Michelle briefly glances up from her notes. “So you’ve known him a while.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Since, uh—since freshman year of high school.”

“Wow, so a long time.” She takes a moment to finish that particular note. “Did you know him before he was Spider-Man?”

Peter takes another pause, disguising it as another cough, trying to decide the best way to answer. “Uh, yeah. Yeah I did.”

“It’s safe to say that you know him pretty well then?”

“Oh, yeah, you could say that,” Peter says, though there’s a hint of something in his tone that Michelle can’t quite place. “I probably know Spidey better than I know myself,” he jokes half-heartedly, his breath catching when she looks up at him again.

“You must be close, if you’re the only one who knows who he is.” Michelle observes. She knows she’s going off book, but the more he talks, the more she realizes that this is going to have to seem more genuine, that this shouldn’t feel like an actual interview if she wants to get any actual information.

Peter needs to feel comfortable.

Little does she know how impossible that is given what the interview is actually about.  

Peter chuckles quietly, nodding. “Very. We sometimes joke that we’re pretty much the same person.” He bites his lip, and she misses the brief look of panic that flashes across his face as she goes to take another sip of her coffee. He’s too quick to continue, and she doesn’t stop him. “I mean, we’ve had our ups and downs. There are times where he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, and—and… there are times, I guess, where I feel like your articles you write about him aren’t all that far off…” He trails off with a faint laugh.

Her lips twitches upward as she huffs in amusement before her expression turns serious again. There’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Is there a romantic nature to your relationship?”

“What? Oh—no,” Peter sputters. “I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that at all, but…” He coughs. “I’m single. He’s single. We’re just… We’re…” He pauses, trying to find the best way to word it without giving away his secret identity (in other words, what he’s been trying to do this whole damn interview). “...best friends.”

Michelle nods slowly, her expression still holding the faintest tint of skepticism, before she looks back down and continues writing.

After a heavy beat, Peter opens his mouth again.

“We’ve been through a lot, though,” He continues, leaning forward on his forearms. “We, uh, kinda had a falling out… back when my Uncle died, and—” He swallowed, not entirely sure why he’s even saying any of this, and he wonders if Michelle would be willing to keep some of it off the record. Still, he keeps going, unable to stop himself. “And our friendship after that was kinda shaky. But… after a while, I realized that living without him was pretty much impossible.”

“So you just learned to tolerate him?” Michelle jokes, earnestly for once, not as his expense.

Peter laughs softly. “In a way, I guess.” He shifts awkwardly, his fingers twiddling together, fearing he’s definitely said too much. “He’s a cool guy though. Solid dude.”

He holds her gaze for a moment before she remembers herself, eyes shifting down to her notes again.

She stares at her next pre-written question, wondering if this will induce the same word vomit as the first. Though, surprisingly, as annoyed as she might have been before at his incessant talking, here she finds that she almost doesn’t mind, and she justifies this new feeling as the product of knowing that his rambling is only helping her. It’s what she wants.

“Would you say that you admire him?” She asks, looking up again. His surprised face when she meets his gaze makes her stomach do an unexplained flip.

And truthfully, Peter’s not sure if there’s a safe answer to this question, or at least one that he can easily elaborate on. He falters for a beat, mentally weighing what he should say. “I’m not sure,” he says finally. “I mean, he’s been a part of my life for so long, it’s hard seeing him how normal people see him, you know? I mean, I admire him for what he does; looking out for the little guy, I guess. Just helping out because he can. But…”

Going into this interview, he hadn’t had the slightest idea that it would turn into some kind of introspective therapy session for himself.

“There are things he can do better—things we can all do better, obviously—but, I don’t know. He’s so busy keeping track of the city, he doesn’t really make time for the people in his life. And he knows this, and he tries really hard.” Again, Peter laughs, sadly. “But this whole superhero thing… it kinda gets in the way. He just… he has a really hard time keeping friends. I don’t know.”

“You’re his friend,” Michelle offers.

“That’s because I tolerate him. Remember?”

The same half-smile pulls at the corner of her lips, and she almost damns herself for letting it show. But once again, she remembers herself, and why she’s here in the first place.

“What’s the origin story of Spider-Man?” She gets right back to business.

“Oh, it’s kinda… It’s kind of a long story,” Peter says with a slight flinch, scratching the back of his neck.

Michelle looks up from her notes, hand frozen, eyeing him expectantly.

“Well, um—” Peter lets out a breathy chuckle. “Back in high school. Freshman year. We were, uh, we were on a field trip to Oscorp—for uh, science stuff. They had this exhibit on gamma radiation, and we had to put on this like, protective gear before we could go in the room, and when he was putting his on, there was a spider in there—one that I guess got trapped in there, I don’t know—and it bit him—” He shrugs, before hastily continuing. “I mean, I was there but, like, I didn’t see it happen or anything like that. That’s just what he told me.”

“So a radioactive spider?”

“I mean, I guess, yeah? Not really, but… Yeah. Sure.” He sits, mouth twisting in thought before he speaks again, voice slightly lowered. “ My working theory is that the spider was hit with gamma radiation. Just like Dr. Banner, you know?”

Michelle only offers a quick nod before continuing. “What exactly are his powers? What can Spider-Man do?”

“Whatever a spider can?” Peter jokes lamely.

Michelle stares unimpressed. “So, inject venom into your prey and digest their organs and then slurp up their insides? Because that’s what spiders can do.”

At that, Peter lets out a genuine, if not a little grossed-out, laugh, a sound that surprisingly doesn’t make Michelle want to throw her coffee in his face.

“God, no,” He replies. “No. Like, I just meant climbing walls. And he’s got synthetic webs and webshooters. And this like… sixth sense. Really, the walls thing is the only spidery thing about him.”

“Anything else?”

“Um… Advanced healing, super strength, enhanced senses like hearing and sight, powerful, unyielding charisma…”

She looks up at him briefly, eyes narrowed.

“Just to name a few,” he adds innocently.

Michelle opens her mouth to speak, a snarky response at the ready, when she’s cut off by the wailing sirens in the distance. Peter cranes his neck, looking past Michelle. She turns. The TV in the corner of the coffee shop shows the scene outside one of the nearby banks, the news anchor’s voice reporting a hostage situation.

When she turns back to face Peter, his eyes are wide, and after a beat, he hastily pulls his phone out of his pocket. He holds up a finger, obviously pretending to take a phone call from someone named May . Apparently, she’s facing quite the inconvenience, judging by Peter’s overacting.

“Sorry, Michelle,” Peter says as he scrambles up from his side of the booth, nearly tripping on his way out. “I—I gotta go,” He stammers, throwing a stiff thumb over his shoulder. “My uh, my aunt… Needs help…”

She fixes him with a skeptical glare.

“We’ll finish this at my desk? Tomorrow? With Coffee? I’ll buy!”

Before she can even respond, he’s rushing for the door, running as soon as his feet hit the pavement outside.

Michelle can only watch, sinking back into her seat, her arms folded across her chest. This had certainly gone better than she expected. Sure, there’s still a lot of things left unanswered, given that they’d only made it about half-way through her list of scripted questions. But, she’s not completely in the dark anymore.

If there’s one thing Michelle’s sure of—100%, to be exact—it’s that Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

--

Okay, maybe he’s not. Maybe she’s only 67% sure.

Michelle knows that she shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions, and although the thought hadn’t immediately crossed her mind, she knows that confirmation bias can be a dangerous thing. After a semi-solid night’s sleep, as she’s walking into the Daily Bugle offices, she decides that this isn’t something she should rush into. She needs to keep investigating. She needs to keep talking to Peter, getting to know him.

Just so she’s really sure.

Then, and only then, can she make her move.

Besides, if she’s going to ruin this guy’s life—whoever Spider-Man happens to be—she needs to really make sure it’s the right guy.

After finishing up the interview at his desk—even after he willingly and thoroughly answers all of her questions—she still feels as though she needs more evidence that he is, in fact, Spider-Man. So, she asks him to meet with her the next day.

And the next.

...And the next.

At this point, the questions aren’t even about Spider-Man anymore. Perhaps finding out more about Peter’s own personal life will give her insight as to how he could manage such a time consuming alter-ego. And she trades this information with her own personal anecdotes.

You know, to make him feel like he’s her friend. That’s how she justifies it.

Peter Parker is surprisingly funny, Michelle finds. And, just in general, not as terrible a person as she’d initially thought. She even lets him start calling her MJ. His little smiles and waves don’t grate on her as much as they did just a few days ago.

Really, if Michelle didn’t hate him so much, she might thing they were actually becoming friends.

Betty seems to think so as well. Or at least more than that.

And she lets Michelle know this information while she’s mid rant about something funny-slash-stupid he’d said during their fourth consecutive “interview”—this one being after work, dinner at a semi-fancy restaurant. Something ]that seemingly had nothing to do with Spider-Man at all.

Betty has the gall to actually suggest that instead of hating Peter, Michelle might like him.

Like-like him, she dares to say.

MJ, of course, shuts that shit down as soon as Betty even thinks to mention it, mocking the very idea for sounding so juvenile while at the same time finding her face unbearably warm.

And, on his side of their tiny world, Peter’s in about the same position. He’s had to stop talking to Ned about the whole thing because the guy just keeps pushing this whole “You’re actually in love with her, you idiot,” narrative that’s frankly not true at all. Ned just doesn’t understand how annoying MJ really is, how annoying the way she just smirks at him is, the way she just deadpans almost every joke she has, or the way he finds himself laughing at said jokes…

The way she tucks her curly hair behind her ear and looks away from him like she’s shy or something…

Okay, so he might not actually hate her, but actually, genuinely falling for her has to be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. Though, he’s surprised to find himself seeing her more and more as a friend everyday. It’s weird.

But what did it matter that they’ve started going out to dinner to discuss her article? He’s just following the plant. There’s nothing else to it.

So what if he takes a split-second to admire the way she looks?

Unbeknownst to the other, they both feel the same strange warmth between them, and their smiles are starting to become genuine. While there’s still the annoyance that’s always there, it’s accompanied by a new, unknown, strange feeling. And with this new, tingling feeling comes a tugging guilt, one that’s faint and easily ignored, but certainly there.

Michelle, for writing this exposé in the first place. Though, the feeling is fleeting, as she’s reminded by another email from Jameson asking for another Spidey article. She knows that her next step is to just keep hanging out with Peter, just to be sure that he’s not Spider-Man himself, to somehow meet his friends, maybe see who’s the flake he’s told her all about. And for once, the idea doesn’t make her want to throw up.

That, and she still has to interview Spidey.

She knows she just has to stay with the plan, and everything will be fine.

And that’s what she reminds herself as she’s called to her boss’s office, and especially as Jameson grills her for not responding to his emails regarding his demand for more Spider-Man articles. Of course, in the midst of all the prep and interviews, Michelle had neglected to tell her boss that what she had in store was better than anything he could possibly want her to write.

“JONES!” Jameson barks. “You better have a damn good reason for dodging my emails!”

Michelle barely flinches, able to maintain a sense of coolness in the face of danger. “It’s actually—”

“And I mean really good! Like dead grandma good! Is your grandma dead?”

“...No. I—”

“Wait, I take that back, I don’t care about your grandma!” He waves her off aggressively. “I expect this shit from Thompson or Parker, but not you!”

“I’m sorry,” Michelle says, her tone flat and even, though she feels the slightest bit hesitant to further explain herself. “I’ve been working on something else.”

“Something else?!” Jameson balks. “What else could you possibly be working on?! My assignments not good enough for you?! I tell you what, whatever you’re working on better be—”

Her own internal turmoil as to whether or not she should tell her boss about her plan, quiet as that turmoil is, is enough to put Jameson’s angry rant on mute, at least for a moment. Truly, she’s unsure where this sudden trepidation is coming from, but she assumes it’s because she wants to have as little input from her boss as possible.

“—It better be big! What are you doing?! Finding out his secret identity?!”

At that, Michelle jerks her head back, mouth parted as she blinks in surprise. “That’s… That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Oh!... Oh?” Jameson stops, frozen, and for once, he speaks in lowercase letters. “Well. Uh. Good.”

Still in shock that he was lucky enough—she’d say smart, but that was a bit of a stretch—to guess it on whatever try it was, she nods. But then, she remembers the inevitability that Jameson’s going to spread this around the office, maybe as some sick form of motivation for her poor coworkers.

Which would lead to Peter finding out…

“I’d prefer if we kept this conversation between us, though,” Michelle says, to which Jameson’s only response is a confused quirk of his brow. “I want it to be this big shock to everyone , you know?”

Jameson nods slowly, mouth pressing into a thin line. Clearly, he buys it. “Yes… Yes… You’ve got a point there, Jones.” He claps his hands together, the sound echoing in his office. “Alright! Well! Get back to work then! Find out who Spider-Man is!”

God, at this point he’s already told everyone, she thinks, hiding the way her eye twitches in annoyance.

Michelle dismisses herself, moving to leave without another word. As she opens and starts pushing the door behind her, she startles seeing who’s waiting on the other side.

“Oh! Uh, hey!” She tells herself that the smile on her face is only out of politeness. “Peter!”

Peter clutches at the strap of his camera bag. He gives a single, stiff nod, his mouth pressing into a tight, thin smile as he rocks back on his heels.

He looks as if he’s about to say something when Jameson’s booming voice cuts him off.

“PARKER! GET IN HERE!”

“Good luck,” Michelle teases under her breath.

Peter forces another smile before pushing past her and into the office.

It leaves Michelle in the near-empty hallway, staring at the closed door, confused—and with a strange, unwelcome sinking you-fucked-up feeling in her gut.

[cerezsis]

The Missing Link

Chapter Two: Akina

Summary: While overwhelmed by all the attention at Tarrlok’s gala, Korra is relieved to see a familiar face.

--

           The jovial music filled most of the gala’s attendees with great liveliness and jubilance. Everyone, except the guest of honor. Korra hadn’t even been there fifteen minutes when she saw Mako with a beautiful girl draped around his arm, and Chief Beifong very bluntly told her she’d done nothing to deserve this admiration. The worst part was that she couldn’t help but think maybe she was right…

           Tarrlok seemed oblivious to Korra’s discomfort, still parading her around to the city’s socialites. The more people she met, the more she felt out of place. Not only were the mannerisms of all these people classes above what she was used to, but the fashion in Republic City was so different from that of the Southern Water Tribe. Though fashion was something Korra never really paid much mind to, being surrounded by all the modern formalwear was making her self-conscious about the more traditional dress she chose. Especially considering she could still see that elegantly dressed Sato girl out of the corner of her eye…

           “Korra!” a woman’s voice called out.

           The young Avatar turned her head. Approaching her was a fifty-something woman, wearing a light blue dress with gold trim. Her auburn hair was wrapped behind her head, with gold tassels hanging from the sides. Her bright blue eyes alluded to a Water Tribe heritage, though her hair color indicated she was also of Earth Kingdom decent – the mixing of these two nations resulting in her having a pale brown complexion. A small but prominent scar was present on her chin, and she wore a smile that reminded Korra of her mother – something that gave her great comfort in this moment.

           The woman stopped once she reached Korra.

           “I don’t suppose you remember me?” she grinned.

           Korra smiled back. “Yes. Akina, Chief Sokka’s daughter.”

           Akina’s smile grew. Hearing the chatter, Tarrlok finally turned around, putting on his most charming smile.

           “Ah yes, Akina! One of the finest lawyers in Republic City.” He spared a quick glance behind her. “Where’s the rest of your family?”

           “Unfortunately, my husband and I are the only ones in attendance tonight. Not everyone can attend a gala at the drop of a hat.” She turned back to Korra. “Gosh, you’ve grown. How old were you the last time I saw you?”

           “I was twelve.”

           “Ah, yes! It’s such a shame my boys couldn’t be here. I’m sure they would’ve loved to see you again.”

           Before Korra could reply, Tarrlok took hold of her shoulder.

           “Well, it was nice seeing you, Akina,” already trying to walk away with Korra, “Have a lovely–”

           Before he could take another step, Akina blocked his path, raising a hand to silence him.

           “Excuse me councilman, but Korra and I were speaking,” she said in a tone much like one would use to scold an interrupting child.

           Tarrlok frowned, but begrudgingly let go of Korra. Akina allowed her glare to linger on him for a moment, before lowering her hand and turning back to Korra.

           “So, how are you liking the city so far?�� Akina asked, her soft smile and gentle tone returning.

           “It’s… nice,” Korra said, meekly, “I haven’t had a chance to see a lot of it yet. I’ve been busy with pro-bending and airbending training.”

           “Ah, yes, I heard you’re playing for the fire ferrets. I’ll try to catch one of your games before the season’s over. If I can’t be there in person, I definitely be listening on the radio.”

           She glanced up at Tarrlok, who was desperately trying to hide his annoyance. Much like her cousin, Akina never liked the Northern representative, but there was something particularly troubling about him tonight. She especially didn’t like the way he was hovering around Korra.

           She lowered her gaze, once again meeting the Avatar’s. “And your airbending training. Is that going well?”

           Korra’s face fell, and she looked to the ground. Akina got the message, smiling in sympathy and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

           “You’ll get there,” she assured her, “You’re certainly not the first Avatar to struggle with an element.” She removed her hand from Korra’s shoulder. “Once your schedule calms down, I’d love to have you over for dinner. We’d all love to have you. Just say the date, and we’ll make it happen.”

           Korra mustered a half-smile. “Thanks, Akina.”

           His patience waning, Tarrlok once again grabbed Korra’s arm.

           “Well, we still have many people to greet,” he said, quickly and with forced politeness, “Enjoy your night, Akina.”

           Before anyone could intervene, he managed to whisk the Avatar away. Akina stood there for a while, eyeing the two of them as Tarrlok tried to make them disappear into the crowd. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he grabbed her, like she was a prize he had no intention of letting anyone else win.

           Trying her best to not lose sight of them, Akina returned to where she left her husband. He was still there, chatting with some people they knew. She stood next to him, touching the arm of his red suit.

           “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow you for a moment,” she said, her voice nonchalant, but her eyes signaling concern. Seeing this, her husband excused himself and followed her as she led them a short distance away.

           “I need to find Tenzin,” she whispered, “Keep an eye on Korra and Tarrlok.” She gestured her head towards where they were standing. “Don’t let them out of your sight.”

           The top-knot clad man blinked in brief confusion but nodded in agreement. The look of growing concern in her eyes was all the information he needed.

           Akina gave him a quick peck on the cheek before walking off, scanning the crowd for her younger cousin. Luckily, the bald, tattooed man was easy to spot. Just having found him was enough to ease the tension building in her chest.

           “Hey, stranger,” she warmly greeted.

           Tenzin looked up, grinning as he saw her.

           “Akina,” he greeted, politely, in return.

The two of them shared a brief hug. “For only living a ferry ride away, we certainly don’t see each other enough,” Akina lamented.

           Tenzin nodded in agreement. “Pema and the children are around here somewhere. Korra’s here too.”

           “Yes, I was just talking to her. Tarrlok’s parading her around.”

           Tenzin’s expression dropped, clearly annoyed at this. “Yes, he’s been doing quite a bit to get her attention lately.”

           Akina’s stomach dropped. “Oh? Like what?”

           “He’s been sending her increasingly extravagant gifts – gift baskets, fancy dresses, and even a brand-new car. Now he’s gone and thrown this gala, supposedly for her.”

           Akina stopped listening at that point. Every red flag that had popped up in her head suddenly transformed into blaring alarm bells. Her face quickly changed from mild concern to pure horror.

           “Listen to me, do not let him in your home again. Do not let him be alone with her,” she said in a low, serious whisper, “This is not normal behavior. A man his age should not be this obsessed with an underaged girl.”

           Tenzin’s eyes widened and his face turned red. He stammered out his next words.

           “It’s not… I don’t believe…” He cleared his throat, trying to center himself. “You’ve misunderstood, Akina. Tarrlok’s trying to get her to join his task force, not… anything else.”

           Akina eyed him, unconvinced. “As a woman and a legal professional, I can tell you with certainty that Tarrlok’s behavior is incredibly alarming. Whatever his motives may be, they’re far from innocent. I don’t trust the man.”

           Tenzin stroked his beard. “Well, I agree with you on that part.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll remind you that there’s a reason I tried to convince you to petition for his council seat when it was available.”

           Akina glared at him. “Not the time, Tenzin.” She looked around, seeing Tarrlok lead Korra into another crowded ballroom, and her husband trying to look inconspicuous as he followed them.

           Taking a quiet breath, Akina turned back to the Air Nomad, her expression softening. “Korra’s a strong and powerful young woman. I trust that she can take care of herself, but I’d prefer to avoid putting her in any situation with him, if we can help it.”

           “Oh believe me, I agree,” he nodded, “I’ll do my best to keep him away from her, but Korra can be… infuriatingly stubborn. She had no interest in joining his task force the last we spoke of it, but if she changes her mind…”

           Akina sighed and looked to the side. “Teenagers…” she thought out loud, her mind turning to her two sons, as well as flashes of her own youth.

           Her eyes looked back towards Tenzin. His words about Korra’s stubbornness weren’t exactly what she was hoping to hear, but she trusted her cousin. She knew he cared about Korra, much the same as he cared about his own children.

           “Thank you, Tenzin.”

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns--Day 3: Black Friday Chapter 1 of 3

I would like to wish a very happy Thanksgiving to all my followers who celebrate it, and as a thank you, here are a few of my past Thanksgiving stories.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 1 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 1442

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @ineffablecolors, @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch​ @missgymgirl​ @galadriel26​ @the-lady-of-misthaven​ @charmingturkeysandwich​ @jennjenn615​ @laschatzi​ @kimmy46​ @snowbellewells​ @iamanneenigma​ @daxx04​ @nickillian​ @a-rose-for-a-savior @in-spirational​ @gillie​  @britishguyslover​ @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst​ @kmomof4​  @linda8084​ @golfgirld​ @captain-swan-coffee​ @searchingwardrobes​ @hollyethecurious​ @laughswaytoomuch​  @allyourdarlingswans​  @winterbaby89​ @facesiousbutton82​ @therooksshiningknight​, @lfh1226-linda​ @tiganasummertree​

 Other Chapters: 1 2 4 5

 Black Friday—Chapter 1

One week before Thanksgiving

“Do you really think it’ll work?” she asked, leaning forward, eyes bright and delighted.

“It’s perfect!” he answered. “Trust me!  Our plan will work like a charm.  Just make sure you give him Miss French’s flier and make him see how much you want it.  I’ll do the same with her.  By Christmas, we’ll be celebrating our success.”

She grinned.  “Oh, I hope you’re right!  Can you imagine?  If we pull this off, everything will change forever!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning after Thanksgiving

The alarm clock roared to life as a way, way too enthusiastic version of Jingle Bell Rock blared from the speakers of her clock radio. Emma groaned, reaching blindly over to slam the button on the top of the alarm and make the noise stop.

3 am.  It was entirely too early for any sane person to be awake.  Even the early birds were still peacefully snoozing in their nests.  It was only the crazy humans, intent on getting the best deals on the best Christmas gifts who would submit themselves to this kind of torture.

She hoped the payout was worth it.

Her bed was so warm, so comfortable, that for a split second, Emma considered just forgetting about the whole thing and going back to sleep, but then she thought about Henry.

It had been a difficult year for him, for both of them really.  They’d had a great life in New York.  Her bail bonds gig had paid well enough that they could afford a wonderful apartment. Henry had lots of friends at school.  She’d had a guy she loved, a guy she really thought was the one.  He’d seemed great with Henry, and Henry had really liked him.  

Walsh had proposed a week before Halloween, and Emma had really considered saying yes.  Granted, she didn’t feel the epic, sweeping, melt-into-a-pile-of-goo passion you see in movies, but she did love Walsh, and he could be a wonderful addition to the little family circle she and Henry had put together.

At least that’s what she thought.

Emma had made up her mind to accept the proposal when it all went south.  Turns out Walsh wasn’t at all who he said he was.  He’d been playing a long con on her, doing his level best to steal her money and assets right from under her nose, and she felt like a fool for buying into it his b.s.  She was smarter than this!  She ran the honey trap on bail jumpers; she knew the playbook.  How did she fall for it?

She’d just so badly wanted that perfect, white-picket-fence life for herself, and especially for her ten-year-old son, that’s how.

After everything had so epically crashed and burned with Walsh, Emma had just wanted to get away.  She’d wanted--needed--a new start, and so when her brother David had mentioned the opening for a deputy in the tiny town of Storybrooke, Maine, where he lived with his wife Mary Margaret, Emma had jumped at the opportunity.

Within a week, she’d uprooted her whole life--and her son’s whole life--and moved to Storybrooke.  For the moment, she and Henry were crashing with David and Mary Margaret in their tiny loft apartment until Emma could find them their own place.

The move had been the most difficult on Henry.  All he’d ever known was back in New York--friends, school, entire lifestyle.  Small town Storybrooke was like a totally different world than the booming metropolis he was used to.  Her normally happy, vivacious kid had been quiet, almost withdrawn since they’d arrived in Storybrooke.

Emma knew kids were resilient, that Henry would bounce back, but she felt so damn guilty for causing him stress.

And so, naturally when Henry had come home a week ago, excitement bumped up to a level ten, talking a mile a minute and waving a flier in her face, Emma had taken notice.  Turns out the school librarian Belle French--who was also the owner and proprietor of “A Tale as Old as Time”, Storybrooke’s best (and only) bookstore--was holding a special Black Friday sale on a very special storybook, entitled Once Upon a Time.  She had one copy, and one copy only, and the rare book would normally sell for an exorbitant price--somewhere between an arm and a leg.  On Black Friday, however, she was offering the book for dirt cheap, but there was a catch.  The price was only good during the special, Black Friday early bird sale.  Doors opened at 4 am.   First person to touch the book had the opportunity to purchase it.

Henry had always loved stories, and he’d been particularly fascinated with fairy tales.  Naturally, a book chalk full of them would be right up Henry’s alley.  Faced with the prospect of getting Henry the perfect gift, the gift that would finally bring him some joy after the difficult last few weeks, it was a no brainer.

Waking up a few hours before the crack of dawn was a small price to pay for her kid’s happiness.

Emma pushed aside the covers and got up, throwing on the first pair of clean clothes she could find, twisting her hair into a messy bun, and then downing the strong coffee her sister-in-law had set to brew for her.  By the end of her second cup, she was feeling almost human, and she was ready to brave the hordes of Black Friday shoppers to attain her prize.

It was a quick, five minute walk to the center of town where “A Tale as Old as Time” was located, and Emma made it just as the cheerful brunette proprietor was unlocking the doors and letting her first customers in.  Emma knew just where her target was.  She’d scoped out the bookstore over the weekend, getting the lay of the land and mapping out her plan of attack.  She knew just where to go, and within sixty seconds of the store opening, she’d reached her target.  It was right there, in sight.

Emma reached for the book, her hand made contact--just as another hand did as well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian Jones had lived a difficult life.  He’d seen more heartache and tragedy in his thirty-five years of existence than most people did in a lifetime.  Aye, it had been an incredibly difficult life, but it did have one bright, shining spot.

His daughter Alice.

His one-night-stand with Alice’s mom, Eloise, had been a mistake of epic proportions, but Killian would never regret it, because it gave him the greatest blessing of his life, his precious little starfish.

Nine months after their dalliance, Eloise had suddenly showed up on his doorstep, placed their newborn daughter in his arms, and then walked out of their lives forever.  For himself, Killian couldn’t have cared less.  He felt nothing but revulsion for the woman who’d gotten him blind drunk and then taken advantage of him that night nine months ago.  In the bright morning light, he’d been disgusted with her, with himself, and with the entire sordid affair.  He’d have been more than happy if he never saw her noisome face again.

No, he didn’t care if she walked away from him, but his heart had broken at the fact that his tiny, perfect daughter had been abandoned by her mother.  Killian knew from first hand the agony of being abandoned by a parent, and it tore him up inside that his beloved daughter had to deal with it as well.

Though having a child was the farthest thing from his mind at the time, there’d never been any doubt what he would do.  Alice was his daughter, his precious child, and he would do right by her no matter what.

Ten years later, he thanked his lucky stars every single day that he’d made the choice to raise her.  Alice was the most important person in the world to him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

So naturally, when she came home from school all excited about the book Miss French was selling, Killian knew exactly how he would be spending his very early Black Friday morning.

He’d arrived at “Tale as Old as Time” just as Miss French opened the doors.  He rushed to the back of the store, his prize in sight.

He grabbed the book just as a gorgeous blonde made contact.  

“Um excuse me,” she said with a frown.  “This book is mine.”

It appeared this shopping expedition was going to be more difficult--although possibly more intriguing--the blonde truly was breathtaking--than he’d expected.

Killian grinned.  He’d never backed down from a challenge, and he didn’t intend to begin now.

[inkedmyths]

Monstrous roars and mistakes

Wow, another update within only a couple days? Wow Myth, you crazy.

Almost as crazy as this update.

Also, special thanks to @thehufflepuffleboi and @spacemalarkey for inspiring some of the events in this chapter

Also @theonlytrashpanda you said you wanted a ping when I posted it

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---

-

"What are we hiding from?"

They were crouching down behind a crumbling stone wall, one of the few pieces of cover in the nearby area. Most of the surroundings at this point were hills and grasses, the trees having dwindled behind them. They'd ducked suddenly at Wild's insistence, though Twilight was still unsure as to why.

"Shut up, Frog Foot!"

"Excuse me?" Twilight blinked incredulously at Feral, who grinned while he put a finger to his lips.

"You heard me. Now be quiet!"

Twilight had to bite down to keep from snapping back. Just like Feral to give him a ridiculous nickname over that incident.

Wild gestured at them both. Be quiet, he signed. Then he paused, glancing at Twilight as though a thought occurred to him.

You're good, go on, Twilight signed back.

Relief flickered in Wild's eyes. Didn't think to ask if you knew sign. Sorry.

Twilight waved him off. It's fine. What are we doing?

Plotting, Feral replied.

What for?

You never approach a - Twilight wasn't sure what that sign was, he'd never seen it before - unprepared.

A what? I didn't catch that.

L - Y - N - E - L. Wild signed each individual letter, then repeated the sign Feral had used. Must be a sign specific to their Hyrule, he guessed.

What's that?

Wild paused before moving quietly to the edge of the rock. Peeking around the corner, he waited a moment before gesturing to Twilight to come over. He followed the example set and was careful to steady himself silently as he peered over the top of the younger hero's head. What he saw made him suddenly understand the need for stealth.

It was definitely a monster, no question about it, but it was no monster he'd ever seen. Even from far away he could tell it was huge, likely more than twice his height. It had the lower body of a powerful horse, but where the head would normally be was the meaty torso of a humanoid. Thick arms no doubt capable of delivering a blow like a rock slide held some sorts of objects (weapons, he guessed by the sunlight glinting now and again). A mane that blazed like fire burst from the head of the beast, that turned this way and that as it plodded slowly through the grasses.

He slipped back behind the rock. Yikes, he signed, grimacing. Looks nasty.

It is, Wild signed back.

I was wondering why we ducked out of the way so suddenly.

Sorry. There isn't one here, usually. Wild frowned as he signed this.

Since the fall of the Calamity, they no longer seem to be bound to one place, Feral commented.

Yeah, true. But I'm fairly sure there were none even close to this area!

Maybe it's on vacation.

Okay, Twilight signed, gesturing to get their attention before they got to preoccupied with monster vacations. Regardless of why, it's here for now. What's the plan?

I'm surprised you're not making one, Feral signed, raising an eyebrow in what Twilight was quickly associating as his signature expression.

Your Hyrule, your monster. You two have experience with this kind of monster. I don't.

Wild tapped his chin thoughtfully. Well, in theory we could just go around it. The issue there is the possibility it will notice us as we try and sneak by.

I say we do operation Y - A - H - A - H - A.

Yahaha? Twilight was lost. Operation what now?

Wild, on the other hand, was grinning. Sure, why not? Sounds like fun.

Fun? Uh oh. Considering the appearance of the 'lynel', as they called it, fun was the last thing he thought of. That could only mean bad things. Hang on-

But Feral had already disappeared. Literally. He dissolved into the shadow of the wall, and within seconds it was as if he was never there. Vaguely, Twilight registered this ability was important information, but he was a bit preoccupied by his other thoughts. Namely the ones that said this was probably going to go very badly in a moment.

Wild had scooted out from behind the wall, and was slowly making his way around the lynel, inching closer with each step. Twilight saw that he'd pulled out a bow and some arrows.

The beast paused. It's great head sniffed the air, searching. It slowly turned, ears pricked as it's path changed to a direct course for Wild. The closer it got, the more tense it seemed, the more positive it seemed of a presence. Twilight wanted to yell at Wild to move, to retreat, but he knew that wouldn't help anything. He saw the hero draw back his bow, arrow readied. The beast grew closer, pulling its weapons up in ready position-

"YAHAHA!"

Feral leaped out of the shadows near the beast's feet, startling it to its hind legs. At the same moment, Wild fired off the arrow, which exploded on impact on the creature. Bomb arrows? Feral launched himself up and grabbed on the creature's mane, whooping in a decidedly too excited manner. Twilight thought he could hear him say "You found me!" over the lynel's enraged roars.

Dear Hylia help him. Twilight sighed, gathered his thoughts, and drew his sword. Unknown monster or no, he was a hero. He'd improvised plenty of times, and lived to tell the tale. Better that he learn how to deal with this monster first hand then just watch. Dashing out from behind the rock, he joined Wild as the lynel rampaged, trying to shake the shadowy nuisance off.

"A bomb arrow? That was your plan?!"

Wild shrugged. "Does a lot of damage from the get go. These things can take awhile to take down." He traded out the bow for the Master Sword and ran forward. Pivoting to avoid a hoof as it kicked out, he slashed at the lynel's side as it raged by.

Feral, meanwhile was cackling madly on top of the furious monster. He'd drawn his own sword and was slashing repeatedly at its arms and head. This only seemed to make the beast angrier, and it increased its vehement bucking. One arm reached back to grab the shadow, but he dodged, using the mane as a hold to swing himself out of the way. With one last slash across the lynel's chest, he dropped and rolled out of the way.

Incensed, the beast roared it's fury, brandishing its weapons in preparation to counter the pesky lifeforms that dared challenge it. Wild was once again next to Twilight.

"The trick is to not get hit by it."

"That's the trick with every monster!" Twilight hissed.

He stared up at the fearsome beast, sizing it up. It was truly a sight to behold, and not one he relished in. Muscles rippled under thick, red skin. A sword and shield that looked able to tear and break in unison were brandished by unyielding arms. Eyes a sickly, brilliant yellow glared them down, malice emanating from its gaze. He also noted a bow and a quiver of arrows on its back, making it capable of still attacking at long range.

Twilight had never seen a lynel in his life. Never even heard of one until now. Yet, looking at the looming beast, he couldn't help but feel something was off with it. He couldn't be sure what, but his instincts were blaring alarm bells all over the place. Was it just the beast being unfamiliar with his experiences? He glanced at Wild, who was brandishing the Master Sword in preparation for another go, which dripped with the lynel's blood from his attack-

His veins turned to ice.

Twilight put his hand out to try and tell him to stop, to hold on, wait a moment, but it was too late. Wild charged forward, swinging the blade upwards to knock the beast's swing off its course. He slashed at it's feet as he ran by. A roar of rage answered. The huge blade of the monster followed Wild, but he rolled to the side as it carved out a divet in the soil where his feet had been. Feral took advantage of the switch in focus, slashing at one of the front legs of the beast before flipping away.

They had to stop. This was really bad. "Feral, Wild! Hold on a minute!"

But his yells fell on deaf ears. Possibly literally, he thought, as the enraged monster gave another earsplitting roar. The two of them slashed and hacked at the lynel, neither seeming to notice what Twilight had. It was clear they wouldn't listen to him. He had to do something...

Then the beast stopped, inhaled. And when it exhaled, a blast of fire seared past him, singeing the edges of his cloak. At that point, instinct took over.

He sprinted forward to where Wild was. Without pause, he picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. Wild yelped in confusion. "No time to explain." Twilight could feel something hot and slick drip on his arm, and knew the younger hero had gotten injured. Worry about that later. Keep running.

He streaked past Feral, who protested as he scooped him up in his free arm. No time to talk, no time to deal with this. Keep running.

The lynel's thunderous roars boomed behind them as it realized they were getting away. Twilight recalled the bow and quiver on its back, and resolved to run faster. Then, he heard a distant snap. Keep running.

"Shock arrows!" Wild yelled. Twilight changed course immediately, and he felt the electricity crackle at his heels as the arrows barely missed.

He ended up dodging three volleys of shock arrows before finally the roars faded behind them. After a moment he slowed his pace, but only a little. He didn't want to take any risks.

"What's the big idea? We were doing fine!" Feral grumbled. He kicked out, but Twilight ignored it.

"I'm sure he had a good reason, Feral."

"Really? Well I'd sure like to hear it."

"Just wait a second!"

"I want to know now- are you bleeding?"

"Uh..."

"You're bleeding."

"Only a little! That last swing nicked my arm."

"'Nicked'? Dude, you're bleeding all over Twi's arm."

" 's not that bad."

"I bet that's why he grabbed us."

Twilight spotted the ruins of a building up ahead. It wasn't completely destroyed, and he knew they needed to stop at some point. The sun was getting low in the sky. He slowed, and walked onto the ruined threshold.

"Finally! I'm tired of being carried like a sack of potatoes." Feral complained. "Put me down!"

Twilight dropped him.

While Feral complained about that being rude and that the ground was cold, he was more careful in setting Wild down. He held out his hand expectantly. Wild, somewhat reluctantly, held out his arm. Twilight examined the injury. While it was definitely more than a minor scratch, it wasn't as bad as he'd initially thought. The cut was several centimeters long, but seemed to be relatively shallow. The important thing would be making sure it didn't get infected. Rummaging through his bag produced several first aid supplies, and he immediately set about tending the wound. A little health potion and a bandage later, the wound was wrapped and taken care of. "There, that should do it."

Wild examined the bandage. "Thanks."

"Alright, now that Wild is no longer getting blood everywhere, I want answers!" Feral crossed his arms, making a face somewhere between a scowl and a pout. "Other than Wild's arm, everything was fine! We've taken down plenty of those things in the past."

Twilight sighed. "I'm sure you have, but there was something wrong with that one."

"How do you know? You didn't even know what it was until today!"

"Feral, don't be rude!" Wild looked somewhat nervously between his shadow and the older hero.

Twilight shook his head. "No, it's a valid point. However, I say that because I've seen it in other monsters."

"What do you mean? Seen what?" Feral still looked skeptical, but that was becoming overpowering by curiosity.

"Wild, the sword."

Wild looked confused, but pulled out the Master Sword onto his lap. Twilight looked it over, humming and nodding.

"Unless I am mistaken, that's not a normal thing for blood to do, even a monster's."

Wild and Feral looked at the sword, and for the first time noticed something was happening. The blood from the Lynel was hissing. Faint tendrils of darkness streamed away like smoke in the wind. Much of it was gone by this point, evaporated into nothingness. What was left was dark, too dark.

"What the-" Feral started, then paused, squinting at the vanishing stains.

Wild was wide-eyed. "No, it doesn't - it shouldn't - I, I haven't..." He swallowed, then, quieter: "This isn't normal, no."

Twilight nodded. "That's what I thought. The lynel was unnaturally empowered. It was too risky to stick around and try and fight it off when it wasn't really necessary."

Wild nodded slowly. "Okay that makes sense. See, I told you there was a reason Feral." A moment's silence, and Wild looked up. "Feral?"

The shadow was fixated on the remnants of the blood as it spiraled away on the wind. Twilight hadn't seen Feral so quiet and still. It was unnerving. Slowly, he reached out a hand to the sword, waving it through the wisps trailing off of it. His gaze was unreadable.

"Feral?" Wild asked again, looking worried. "Is everything alright?"

"I didn't notice."

"What?"

"I didn't notice. How didn't I notice? It should have been obvious- !" His brow furrowed in frustration, and he clenched his outstretched hand.

Wild reached out a hand in an attempt to calm him. "Hey, Feral it's okay! We were too busy fighting to notice-"

"No!" Feral jumped to his feet, too fast for a normal person. "I should have noticed! I should have sensed it!" Twilight had to resist the urge to reach for a weapon. He knew by now Feral wasn't a threat to him or Wild, but it was hard to fight instinct. Especially given the fact that Feral seemed to be upset enough that his hold on his form was slipping. Edges of his clothes blurred, darkness curling around his hands and hair as he paced.

"Feral..." Wild seemed at a loss, but stood up. "Hey." He crossed the broken stone floor to his shadow, gently placing his hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. Everything is okay. We're okay."

Feral stiffened, but after a moment seemed to calm down slightly. His form re-solidified, and the shadows dissipated. "Right. Okay."

"Yeah. It's okay." Wild patted his shoulder. "Why are you so upset about not sensing that there was something wrong?"

Feral looked as though he might get agitated again, but bit his lip. "I just... I should have noticed the darkness before. I can't believe I didn't notice until Twilight pointed it out. It should have been glaringly obvious."

"Why's that?"

Feral was silent for a moment. "You remember how we've talked about how light and dark each come in many different forms?"

"Right. Like how the type of light manifested in the Sword is related but different from the light in the Bow?" Twilight didn't quite follow the comparison, but Feral seemed to.

"Yeah."

"So you're saying the darkness in the lynel should have been more-" Wild paused. "That you think you should have noticed it sooner?"

"Exactly."

"Why?"

Feral stared at the sword. "For one thing, it's very different from the Malice of monsters. It's only as related as far as all darkness is related. For another, it's... unique."

"Unique? Have you seen it before?"

"I have, plenty, but... I've only seen it come from one source, and this definitely didn't come from that."

Suddenly, Feral's reaction made sense to Twilight. Of course. No wonder he was so agitated about it. He was a fool for not considering the possibility of him reacting to it earlier.

Wild furrowed his brow. "How do you know it isn't from that source?"

"Because that source is me."

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 4/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

Jessica was both overjoyed and terrified when she recognized Rey’s voice over the phone. She was shouting with a mixture of glee and rage about something along the lines of worrying to death and never being happier to hear something in her life.

Noticing Jessica’s sheer levels of anxiety, Rey strategically omitted certain details. She confirmed that she had arrived safely and had spent an unforgettable night in a luxury hotel—all at Finn’s expense, of course. She also downplayed the fact that her phone had run out of battery.

On the other end of the table, Ben Solo was trying very hard to pretend that he wasn’t listening. Rey knew that he didn’t miss a single word she said. She didn’t like the idea of being indebted to him, so she cut the call short, simply asking Jessica to tell the others that she was doing just fine and was having a splendid holiday.

Except for Finn of course. Finn could go die for all she cared. In fact, she really hoped he would.

She handed the phone back to Ben, who was still pretending to be disinterested.

“Problems with the boyfriend?”

Rey narrowed her eyes, dismissing the question as inappropriate.

“None of your business. Thanks for the cellphone. How much do I owe you?”

“Your digits. Then we’re even.”

Was he actually flirting with her? Rey sighed disdainfully.

“After nearly killing me with your Monster Truck, you’re trying to flirt with me? You have some gall, don’t you? Have a nice day, and thank you for the call.”

Picking up her damaged suitcase again, she waved politely to the waitress, who waved back. Then she headed over to the door. At the shopping center, she withdrew 500 dollars in cash, some of which she used to buy an adapter and a shoulder bag. She judged the new bag to be more suited to her trek across the country than her current roller model (which wasn’t doing a whole lot off rolling anyway).

The encounter with Ben Solo kept gnawing at her. The man was both intoxicating and insufferable, like over-sharp cologne that gave you a headache and made it harder to think.  He was a bullish, arrogant show-off—and yet something about him mesmerized her. The way he chewed his lip when he was deep in thought, the constellation of beauty marks on his face, or the involuntary grace in the way he ran his fingers through his hair. It made him seem vulnerable, utterly human. A far cry from the apathetic snark he pretended to be.

Emerging from the shopping center, she peered around the corner to make sure the pickup was no longer parked there.  Reassured that it had disappeared,  she walked over to the Night Owl café in relief now that Ben Solo had left the premises.

The new customers were hipster types, likely students, clad in harem pants, plaid, and oversized glasses. They typed away on their laptops, sipping from fancy drinks graced with floating scoops of ice cream.

“Hello again, can I hang around here while I recharge my phone? Should I order something else?” She asked, approaching the waitress again.

“No need, go ahead and make yourself at home. You can stay as longs as you want. I’m sorry about that annoying customer. Are you alright?”

Manners dictated that Rey should simply have responded fine, thanks, but the words that left her lips instead were “It’s absolute hell, I want to die.”

She blushed immediately, chewing on her lip. What had possessed her to open up to a stranger?

The waitress looked up at the clock mounted on the wall.

“I’ve got some time before the lunch rush, wanna talk? I can make you some fresh squeezed orange juice, it’s loaded with vitamins, it’ll help you recharge,”

“I—well…alright. That’s kind of you. By the way, I’m Rey,”

“I’m Rose, nice to meet you. I have a feeling your trip hasn’t gone to plan. Have you been here long?”

“Since yesterday,” Rey sighed, taking the glass of orange juice that Rose offered. She plopped down onto a bench and when Rose sat across from her, she told her everything: Finn, the wedding, the annulment, Poe, Jessica, the honeymoon trip, Ben Solo and his pickup.

Rose listened attentively, occasionally nodding mhm to encourage  Rey to keep going. Finally she asked, “But how much money do you have for this trip?”

“Not much, really” Rey shrugged, “Finn and I took out a loan to pay for the wedding, but now I have to reimburse the suppliers, give back our apartment, and whatever else I have to budget for the next five years. I’m generally better off the less I spend. It wasn’t the idea of the century to go on a two-week holiday with barely a quid to spare.”

Rose pursed her lips, assessing that last sentence. “I know someone who could use your services, if you’re interested. The job will make you some cash and take you pretty close to San Francisco.”

Rey hesitated. Silent alarm bells went off in her head, a gut instinct to pull away. She responded without thinking, “Is it prostitution or something? Because even if I’m penniless that’s out of the question,”

“No, not at all! It’s completely harmless. It’s just that I don’t have time to do it because of the café and all. No one will force you into anything.”

“Is it drug trafficking? Cannabis?  That’s legal in Colorado, isn’t it? Will I make enemies in the police department?”

“No, none of that,” Rose giggled, “It’s actually just taking a car up to California. And knowing your situation, I thought you could really use a ride. But if you don’t feel like it we can figure something else out.”

“And what does that entail exactly? What’s in this car?”

Rose jotted down a number on a Night Owl business card, handing it to Rey.

“You can contact Leia Skywalker using this number, she’s a friend. She’ll explain everything. I would do it myself but like I said, I just don’t have the time. And it would be a two-way trip for me anyway. You would only be driving one way, it’s totally convenient.”

Rey slipped the card into her pocket and drained her glass, rising to her feet.

“I’ll think about it, thanks a load,”

“You’re welcome, thank you too. I hope it all works out for you…”

Rey threw her bag over her shoulder, taking out her phone, she made her way to the exit.

“Yeah, I hope so too...”

She found herself on the road again. Inside her pocket, her fingers fiddled with the glossy edges of the business card.

The thought of that card in her pocket distracted her throughout the day.

She went to the Black American West Museum on California Street, to broaden her horizons on a culturally and historically relevant fieldtrip. She didn’t retain anything however; distracted by hard realities like not knowing where she was going to sleep that night.

She ate a cheeseburger and an Oreo milkshake at this “Jack in the Box” place, where the hundreds of options at the soft drink machine left her feeling indecisive. Looking at the advertisements, this Jack fellow was an odd mascot who only appealed to American sensibilities; his prim suit contrasted comically with his ballooning head, which looked like it was decorated by a child no older than five.

She travelled on foot to the Santa Fe Art District, where she wandered without really admiring the bright murals and art galleries. It was getting late and she was feeling tired due to the lingering jet lag. She needed a room for the night.

Worn out from her day-long walk, she slumped onto a bench. It was there that she saw the poster, in the corner of a shop window across the street.

Howl at the Moon presents: Kylo & the Knights of Ren, June 30th to July 4th: Free admission

Where had she seen that name before? Kylo and the Knights? What a bizarre name, but why was it so familiar?

It dawned on her. Kylo Ren was written on the bumper sticker of that pickup. The one belonging to what’s-his-face Ben Solo. It was a rock band.

Well, then! Instead of finding a place to sleep, she had stumbled upon the perfect place to spend the evening…

When she made it through the doors at 7 PM, the place was still quiet. It was too early for the show and the scene was deserted. Rey ordered a beer and a club sandwich at the bar. Gritting her teeth, she sat down at a small, empty table in a quiet alcove. She had a good view of the stage while taking up as little space as possible. Why had she come? Objectively, she had no desire to see Ben again, the unbearable arse. And yet—and yet she was curious. If he was any good, she could ostensibly revise her judgement.

The venue filled up slowly as the music blared. The crowd was tight-knit, greeting each other with smiles and pats on the back. The drinks kept flowing all night. At first Rey thought she would garner attention, a girl sitting all alone with her beer. But the crowd thickened, and soon she was safely just another silhouette in a sea of hundreds of others.

The sound of a few stray guitar notes made her look up. The band was onstage. There were seven of them—four women and three men. Clad in that many shades of black, they left no doubt that they were a rock band. They had it all, the leather and denim, Doc Martens, miniskirts and crop tops. Their hairstyles ranged from expertly shaved to long flowing locks and intricate braids. In center stage was Ben Solo (or was it Kylo Ren?) microphone in hand. He chewed on his lip and ran his fingers through his hair, habits that Rey had already picked up on after just two encounters. He had an unusually deep, almost guttural voice—Rey would be lying if she said that her interest wasn’t piqued. The music was a perfect sort of chaos—the melodies hypnotic under the savage rhythm and relentless beat. Rey surprised herself by singing with the crowd, repeating the refrains that she hadn’t memorized yet but which descended upon her ears and lips as though they had always been there.

Realizing that she was finally smiling, Rey thought of how the past hour had rid her of her worries for the first time in a long while. It was cathartic—she felt alive again. She had no desire to leave this place, to go back out there and find a room, as common sense would dictate. She wanted nothing more than to stay there a little while longer, a carefree spirit enjoying the music as she basked in the anonymity of the crowd.

She stayed for just about the entire evening. The band descended into the crowd after the show to drink a few beers with a small group of regulars. They laughed like old friends. Rey couldn’t help but notice their guitarist. Her style was gorgeous punk, complete with an immaculate mohawk and studs in her nose and ears that contrasted beautifully with her ebony skin. She never left Ben’s side. Shoulder to shoulder, her hand on his arm, her subtle touches and accidental brushes seemed to multiply.

Stars, I’ve never seen a girl more madly in love, too bad for her that he doesn’t look like he will ever reciprocate it.

And as though it was meant to contradict her, Ben’s hand shifted to rest on the girl’s hip, subtly pulling her against him. Rey raised the beer bottle to her lips, and found herself eye to eye with him as he looked up.

He was so shocked to see her that he began looking around, perhaps to make sure that it wasn’t one of those tacky hidden camera shows. As nothing continued to happen, he got up and walked in her direction.

The guitarist let him go, but not without seeking a reason for the sudden desertion. Her eyes locked on to Rey. Suddenly, Rey felt that she hadn’t exactly made a new friend.

“Good evening! Lovely concert there, Kylo Ren,” Rey said sweetly as Ben towered over her.

“What are you doing here?”

The question could have been unexpected if she wasn’t so naively spontaneous. Rey took a large swallow of her beer.

“I saw the light and I wandered in, what a small world, right?”

“Denver is a small town. And the nighttime rock scene even is even smaller. I didn’t realize that you liked rock music.”

“Well I don’t mean to brag but I have all sorts of hobbies apart from throwing myself at moving vehicles, really. But we never got around to that. How long have you been playing?”

“A few years.”

He wasn’t talkative and Rey pursed her lips as she scratched her brain for topics of conversation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the rather impatient guitarist and seized upon the opportunity to ask him about her.

“Lovely guitarist you’ve got there, is she your girlfriend?”

“None of your business.”

Rey took the blow. It was fair play. She finished her beer and turned to leave.

“Well, then! Alright Ben Ren, Kylo Solo, or whatever your name is, thank you for the evening—it was a memorable performance. I had a great time but I ought to leave.”

She rose and slung her bag over her shoulder again, as it caught Ben’s eye.

“New bag? You were right to buy it, your other one was completely useless.”

“Yeah, someone was nice enough to tell me that it didn’t match my outfit. Goodnight, then.”

She had only taken a few steps toward the exit when he called out behind her:

“Where will you be staying tonight, Rey from England?”

“Nowhere. I’m a free woman in the Land of the Free.”

Her response was drowned out by the voices of late-night conversations between party diehards and smokers who congregated in packs near the door. Rey was feeling lightheaded and tipsy; she took a few wobbly steps onto the sidewalk before he called her name.

“Rey, wait!”

She turned around to see Ben cutting through the crowd in her direction, as she hit the lamppost hard. I must really be drunk then, she reasoned before giving in to the darkness.

[rorynne]

Time Lost (Rewrite) Prologue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Summary: An accident during a mission sends you back in time to the second world war. There you enlist the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.

Warnings: 

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: This is a rewrite of an OC fic that I have been writing and been wanting to turn into a reader Fic. Im unsure if I will be continuing the OC fic currently, I may just transfer it completely to my reader Fic. Currently 6 chapters are up of the OC fic, and I shall be posting a rewritten chapter every few days on here. 

Masterlist

You adjusted your dress slightly as you watched the party from you perch atop a high barstool. Who would have thought that experimental arms dealers liked 40’s themed parties? Apparently other arms dealers by the looks of it. “This place is a real whos who of people you don’t want to fuck with, isn’t it?” You stated more than asked as you stirred your drink with a mixing straw.

“Yeah, unless you’re us.” Clint’s voice said through the communication device in your ear.

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “Unless you’re us. How is setting up that distraction going?” You peeked down the hall where two guards stood watch over the entrance to another corridor. “Macho Man and Biceps Mcgee don’t look apt to let me through.”

“Patience Y/N/N, patience.” You rolled your eyes as he continued. “The Blues Brothers should be off your back in a few minutes.”

“Stop calling me that. I didn’t need to help you with this mission, remember?” You said, leaning against the bar. This was not how you intended to spend your day off. “Why did I agree to this again?”

“Because I’m your best friend and you love me?” He offered as the lights flickered. You looked down the hall again to see the two guards moving to investigate. Bingo.

“Oh, right.” You said as you slid off the stool. “You wouldn’t stop begging me until I caved.” Head held high, you walked into the hallway as if you owned the place. “You owe me an introduction to Captain America when this is done.”

“You know, I wouldn’t need to introduce the two of you if you just joined the avengers.” He said as you turned down the now unguarded corridor. “The door you’re looking for should be on your left.”

“I don’t like the limelight.” You defended, “Remember the entire reason why you’re asking me to do this is because you can’t walk into a room without being recognized anymore. Not after what happened in New York.”

“Yeah, yeah. You would think people would have forgotten by now.” Clint grumbled making you stifle a laugh. Forget the people that saved New York from giant space whales? As if. You tried the door Clint had directed you to and found it locked. You sighed. “Probably should have expected that.” You pulled a bobby pin out of your hair and started to pick the lock. “So what exactly am I looking for here? Just some files?”

“That’s what Hill said.” He confirmed. “Probably something on the tech they are trying to sell, you know, arms dealery stuff.” The lock clicked and the door swung open. You quickly slipped inside, closing the door behind you.

Wasting no time, you immediately started pilfering the desk in front of you, looking for anything that might be of note. “This guy’s desk is a fucking mess. Do you have any clue what I’m looking for specifically?”

“Uhhh,” Clint replied, making you groan.

“You didn’t think to ask for specifics?” Jesus Christ, half of these documents are in german, do you even kn-” Your eyes went wide as you looked up. You didn’t know how you managed to miss the giant, bell-shaped, hunk of metal with a fucking swastika in the middle of it when you entered the room, but you did. Especially since, now that you noticed it, the thing seemed to produce a low, unnatural hum. “Uh, Clint?”

“What is it? Did you find something? You gotta hurry up the guards are on their way back.” Clint urged as you approached the Nazi bell.

“Are you sure Maria only said anything about files?” The bell seemed to grow more agitated as you stepped closer, vibrating strongly enough that its edges seemed to blur. “What the hell is this thing?” As you reached out, the door crashed open. You whipped around to see the two guards from earlier, their guns aimed directly at you. Thinking fast, you dove towards the desk as the guns fired. The bullets hit the bell with a thundering clang, causing the bell to go deathly silent before emitting a dull blue glow. The glow quickly intensified into a blinding blue-white light until a shock wave of energy exploded from the bell with a deafening gong.

You were thrown against the back wall with such force you saw stars. Groaning, you stumbled to your feet as alarms started blaring. Swearing to yourself, you blindly grabbed a handful of loose papers, and ran out of the room, jumping over the two, now unconscious, guards in the process. Glancing both ways down the hall, you swore again as you saw a swarm of guards running down the way you came. Papers in hand, you sprinted down the corridor away from the guards.

“Clint? I could use a little back up right about now!” You hollered but got no response. “Clint!” you said again, raising a hand to your ear. Your heart dropped when you felt no communicator. “Son of a bitch.” Hooking a right down another hallway, you stumbled as the building shook, another loud gong ripping from the bell now rooms away. Damn, that thing was loud. The walls began to crack from the force of the shockwaves. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that bell was going to bring the entire building down.

You looked over your shoulder, the guards were nowhere to be seen. God only knew if they were going to come back or if they had decided to save themselves. With the noises the building was making, you honestly couldn’t blame them if they chose the second option. The red glint of an exit sign caught your eye as you turned down yet another hall. “Thank god.” You gasped, forcing yourself to run just a little faster. You lunged at the exit as a third gong tore through the building.

You fell out of the emergency exit gasping for breath as the sound of sirens screeched overhead. You froze as you took in your surroundings. Why was it so dark? Pulling your phone out of your bra, you checked the time. 5:36 pm glowed up at you brightly. You shook your head, that was impossible. It was far far too dark. You looked back at the building you escaped from, only to find it completely restored to its original state. Except, you noticed, there was no door for you to exit out of. “What the fuck is going on here?”

The sirens continued as you turned on your phone’s flashlight. No signal, you noticed, great. You walked out of the alley and down the street, not a single light was on anywhere, not even streetlights. Did that bell have something to do with this? You looked down at the papers you managed to grab as the sound of planes roared overhead. ‘Die Glocke’ was all you were able to read before being unceremoniously dragged into the shop next to you.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? Walking around with a torch in the middle of an air raid? Are you mad?” The woman scolded, your phone in her hand. your jaw dropped as the woman fumbled with your phone: Peggy Carter. The Peggy Carter. The same one whose picture you passed every day walking into the shield offices. That Peggy Carter was now standing in front of you, trying to figure out how a cell phone worked. “How do you turn this bloody thing-”

An explosion rocked the street, shattering the glass of the shop they were in. Both women dove to the floor on instinct. You took the phone from Peggy and turned off the light. You popped your head up and peeked through the broken window. The building you had just escaped from was now reduced to a pile of rubble. Holy shit, you realized, That bell has sent you back in time. You had no chance to rationalize this information when you heard the signature sound of a gun being cocked. You turned to see Peggy pointing a pistol at your head.

“Who are you, what are you doing here, and what is that?” Peggy gestured to your phone. Oh god, how does someone even begin to explain time travel via nazi bell?

You took a deep breath. “Do you want the answer that makes me look like a nutcase? Or the quickly cobbled together lie you probably won’t believe?”

“I want the truth” Peggy answered firmly, making you feel very much like a scolded child.

“My name is Y/N L/N. I am here because of an accident.” You said slowly, trying to give yourself time to plan out how to explain time travel. “I, well, I was sent back in time by a giant Nazi bell.” You glanced at the crumpled papers still in your hand. “Here!” You shoved the papers towards Peggy. “Die Glocke, the bell! Maybe this can help explain it.” Peggy eyed you warily before taking the papers. Peggy squinted at them, reading slowly with the lack of light. Slowly, she lowered her gun, instead, focusing on the documents.

Peggy sighed, “You’re right. Your story does make you sound like a nutter, but these documents…” her voice trailed off as another bomb rocked the street. “It isn’t safe up here.” She said simply, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards the back of the building. “How did you get into this situation Y/N?”

You stumbled, trying to keep up with Peggy, as she dragged you through the shop. “I’m an agent of shield.” You paused for a moment, should you really be saying this? “An organization you help form after the war.”

“At this point, the war doesn’t feel like it will ever be over.” Peggy sighed again, stopping in front of a blank wall. She stepped forward and pressed an unseen switch. The wall opened up to reveal a small elevator.

You stopped just short of following Peggy inside. “Are you sure this is a good idea during an air raid?”

“We don’t have time for this nonsense,” Peggy said, rolling her eyes and pulling you in by the collar just as the doors began to close. Peggy looked over the papers again in the dim light of the elevator. “You said you were an agent Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“And no doubt you want to get back to your time.”

“Well, yeah, that would be preferable.”

Peggy nodded. “Then I supposed, you would have no issue helping us find this bell HYDRA created.”

You looked at her, “Who is ‘us’ in this equation?”

“The Strategic Scientific Reserve. SSR for short. Have you heard of it Agent L/N?” The elevator rattled as more bombs exploded above.

You scoffed, “Heard of it? I was named after one of the agents. Yeah, I’ll be glad to help, especially if it gets me home.”

Peggy furrowed her brow, “What agent were you named after?”

“Agent Y/N M/N L/N? My family has been in shield since its inception, I grew up hearing all the stories about her.”

Peggy shook her head as the elevator stopped. “There is no Agent Y/N L/N. Unless you count yourself.” She said before stepping out into the hall.

You went wide-eyed as Peggy’s words sank in. “Oh my god. I was named after myself.”