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moonflms · 3 years

Text

➷｡˚ alcoholic — nct jaehyun

PROLOGUE ༄ - —wherein jaehyun's cravings leads both of you to an alcoholic atmosphere.

"to be drunk and in love in seoul city" —johnny and jaehyun's cravings got the best of them. in the end, johnny had to call in you to pick up your husband who was tipsy over alcohol-flavored cookies.

PAIRING ༄ - husband! jaehyun x wife! fem reader, husband! johnny x fem reader's friend

WARNINGs༄ - DRINKING THEMES

GENREs ༄ - fluff, crack, night cravings, married life au, drinking, boy's night out, college squad

W. COUNT ༄ - around 1k+

NOTES ༄ - third oneshot here ! CONTAINS DRINKING THEMES. expect inaccuracies since i reffered to google for some info, i don't drink since i'm a minor. expect grammar and typo errors. simple wording.

do not repost. copyright belongs to @moonflms 2021. reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! originally posted on my twitter (@suhhvsco) and wattpad (@johnsparrot) . enjoy reading!

cw // drinking, alcohol

happy nct day! <3

masterlist

—start

Incoming call... Johnny

(italic- jn, bold- y/n)

"Y/n-iee?"

"Johnny? Hi! Any problem?"

"Hello?"

"Uh... kind of? Don't get mad."

"O..kay?"

"..."

"Suh Youngho."

"She's doing the full name thing, Jae." You heard Johnny from the opposite line.

"Sooo, I invited you and Jae over right?" You remained silent.

"Well, we did what we usually do, hahaha." You listened to him giggle nervously.

"That is?" You asked as if you didn't knew the answer.

"...drinking." You could imagine his nervous face, gulping silently.

"I-I mean that uh, Yoonoh kinda dr– I mean not drink but—" You stopped Johnny from sugarcoating the problem.

"Cut to the chase, drunk?"

"Well, good thing he–"

"Johnny." you cut him off once again.

"He's leaning towards the tipsy side," Johnny admitted.

"Coming." You ended the call as you heard Johnny mumble a 'sorry'.

"And I was going to binge-watch that new drama," You sighed.

You took your car keys and walked out of the house, towards your car. Your car made a beep as it unlocked. You opened the driver's seat and sat inside. You started and prepped the engine for a while. Gripping the steering wheel, you stepped on the gas pedal. You were now on your way to Johnny's manor.

Johnny had invited both you and Jaehyun for some drinks at his place, having a small catch-up. It was quite a while since you three had sat down and relaxed. You three were together since college! You thought of the invite for a while, but declined and let Jaehyun go alone. You decided to give them their 'boys night' after all their business conferences and the likes. Plus, there's this new drama on Netflix you wanna start on.

It all started with those two, then 'til they met you and your other college squad members. You trusted Johnny and Jaehyun anyways.

You weren't mad at Johnny. You were simply annoyed by how your self-care night was disrupted by a call about your husband who was laying on Johnny's living room carpet.

You and Johnny knew he had great alcohol tolerance, so it brought you to a surprise when Johnny called earlier about picking him up. Usually, it was you who needed help to get home.

You also found it cute whenever Jaehyun was in a drunk-ish state. He could start by getting silent then becoming quite clingy and fluffy for the first few whiles. And you had to sigh in relief because you wouldn't have to struggle to get Jaehyun home.

God, he was a lot taller and buffer than you, knowing that the other buddy was too jelly-like drunk-ish as well to help you out. And who knows what Jaehyun has in store.

Thinking of the possible scenarios you avoided, you kinda need a shot or two now.

You were nearing Johnny's house, which was around the corner. Not that long after, your car was parked behind Jaehyun's.

You then turned the car off and stepped out. With the car key with you, closing the driver's door and locking it right after. You walked across the porch and stood in front of the doorstep, you rang the doorbell twice.

It didn't take long for Johnny to answer the door. There he stood in front of you, sheepishly smiling. It was obvious that he drank, noting the pinkish tint of his eyes –but he seemed completely sober. He first mumbled a sorry before hugging you.

"I'll have him pick up the ca–"

You didn't finish the sentence as you spotted his maroon polo had some white powder near the lower-stomach area, you shot him a somewhat concerning glare, Johnny –completely getting what you meant– stifled a chuckle

"And no. that's not any of that high stuff, y/n. flour," he cleared. Now you wondered why he was covered in flour.

He guided you inside the house as if you haven't drop by a million times. You decided to start a short conversation. In the end, you did end up coming over. "So, where's Y/f/n?" You asked Johnny where his wife was, and he simply answered 'out' as she went to Incheon in advance to pick up Johnny's in-laws later by dawn.

As he guided you, the living room started to appear before you, then there you saw. There you saw your husband sitting on the carpeted floor, leaning on the room's huge couch behind him, munching on a cookie, which explains the flour on Johnny's shirt. He looked at you and smiled, showing his dimples. "So Youngho, was exactly happened?" Unbothered, you asked for context.

"Okay before anything, he suggested it." As Johnny explained his right hand continuously rubbed his nape.

Johnny and Jaehyun craved for treats, so they baked cookies... with a twist. they decided to make the cookies chocolate chips and alcohol-flavored.

Johnny did confess that they experimented for a while and eye-balled the measurements, ending up putting a lot more alcohol than needed. Knowing that Jaehyun absolutely loves cookies (maybe his guilty pleasure) didn't hesitate to munch on more than 2 pieces. It may sound dumb, but hey, it's the creativity that counts you guess? Ever since you met the boys it felt like you were a mother to two huge babies.

"And what made you eyeball this recipe?" You took a skim at the recipe they printed out. "The batter was too dry and doughy, we did what needed to be fixed."

"Good. But you should've used water to thin out the batter instead of adding more liqueur. Look at the guy." Both you and Johnny's view diverted to Jaehyun who was blushed and smiley at your presence.

You walked over to the lounge and sat on the fluffy carpet beside Jaehyun. "Hey baby" Jaehyun gushed and kissed your cheek as he immediately rested his head on your shoulder, his arm snuggling around your body.

You held his wrist as you leveled his cookie to your mouth, taking a bite. The cookie was good and for sure, it was strong. You took Jaehyun's shot glass and took some shots straight. Johnny came over in time to see you getting in action, he continued himself to squat in front of the two of you, with the coffee table in between, occupied with the tray of cookies and some opened drinks.

"You guys sure make a great couple" Johnny laughed as he shook his head seeing you take some shots, you three loved drinking together. Silently, you were relieved that Jaehyun was mostly sober, 'semi-drunk'. Let's say he was too sleepy to drive himself home.

You stayed at Johnny's for a while, continuing some talks and snacking on those cookies. Jaehyun slowly fell asleep on your shoulder making both you and Johnny giggle at the rare sighting. You softly laid Jaehyun's head against the couch for a while as you stood up and started to clean up, helping Johnny who started.

After quite a while, making the chit-chat the main reason for the continuous delays, you both finished cleaning both the living room and the kitchen which was a mess from the baking. You left Johnny who was packing a few of the cookies for you to take home and headed again to Jaehyun, who was now stretching on his seat.

Jaehyun woke up from his nap, stretching out the stiffness from sitting for the past few hours. You softly pinched his cheeks as you helped him up. He was awake but groggy. You hugged him from the side acting as a support while he tried to gather himself, slightly leaning some weight on you. Johnny both escorted you out to the doorstep after he handed you the container of cookies.

"I gave you the rest or else Y/f/n's pregnancy cravings gets the best of her."

"Thanks! Still betting on blue, Johnny" With that Jaehyun scrunched his brows as pats Johnny's shoulder as he sides with him, rooting for a girl.

Jaehyun took some slow steps as he approached the car. You guided him to his side before heading back to the driver's seat.

When both of you were buckled into your seats you started the car engine. You honked as a sign for Johnny inside the house, letting him know about your departure. You were now on your way to your last destination, the Jung residences.

Jaehyun was napping peacefully as you played some music to fill the quiet air. After a few songs, Jaehyun woke up again and was up for the rest of the ride. He started to accompany you as he started to sing to whatever was playing, he started to sing with his eyes closed.

On red lights, you couldn't help but look at the male beside you, immersed in his element. Your husband singing off to a night drive playlist, lids shut, and his face was tinted with a light color of blush. The view was immaculate. Even if it's been a year after the marriage, you still felt butterflies like a teen gal.

The next song started, and perhaps it was one of Jaehyun's faves. He slowly opened his eyes as he looked at you, eyes sparkling. He rested his arm on the compartment in between the seats as he tries to get closer to you. "to be young and in love in– babe, green light." You snapped yourself out from adoring your man and continued driving. Jaehyun chuckled and continued on with singing.

"To be 'drunk' and in love in Seoul city" He tugged your hand that was resting on the hand brake as he intertwined his hand with yours, making it rest by his cheek. He played with your wedding ring, "damn" he whispered and smiled.

"I like me better when I'm with you." He slowly brought your intertwined hand to his lips as he placed a soft peck. You took a glance as he smiled. You felt your cheeks heat up.

The rest of the drive, you both vibed to the music, even singing along. You were both enjoying the atmosphere, the alcoholic atmosphere. Once you both arrived home, you hopped out of the car and took some breathers. Jaehyun managed to balance himself on the way inside the house.

Inside, Jaehyun plopped on the couch as he sighed. You brought back a glass of water from the fridge and placed it on the small table. Jaehyun held your hand and pulled you down, making you hover above him. His polo softly reeked of the alcohol he had, the smell slowly sent up your nose. He held you in place as his arms were around your hips, slowly after admiring you he laid his lips on yours.

The soft taste of chocolate from the cookies and liqueur filling up, leaving an aftertaste. Breaking away, you laid on top of him he continues to trap you in his arms. Your hand slowly made its way to his head, fiddling with his hair. You buried your face into his chest as you slowly started to close your eyes.

Jaehyun whispered to your crown "g'night baby" rubbing his palm against your back. "i love you to the moon and back."

the night ended with soft snores and you against him in his arm.

—end

➷｡min's letter: so liqueur is like a sweet version of liquor which is preferred for baking (esp sweet desserts). well, i got something to try out once i'm able to drink. btw let's be moots and check out my masterlist! all rights reserved @moonflms 2021

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fleckcmscott · 3 years

Text

Out of Sight

Summary: Y/N has an unexpected dash of inspiration. Arthur doesn't require much convincing.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,221

A/N: This fun little request comes from @sweet-nothings04. You're wonderful and I hope this meets your expectations. Thanks for the request - I can't imagine ever writing this without it! 🙈 Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for agreeing to beta!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Words didn't often fail Y/N, but the admission left her foggy, reminiscent of what she'd experienced after tipping over in a wheelbarrow race at a school fair. Her foot swung back and forth as she sat on the counter. Fiddled with the phone cord and twisted its beige, plastic curls around her fingers. Were there signs she'd missed? Was her gut right in insisting she was a terrible friend?

"Marriage counseling?" she repeated.

Arthur stopped filling his bowl with sandy, pecan cookies, alarm encroaching his features. She waved off his concern, mouthing "not us" before she spoke into the receiver. "I'm so sorry." With a grimace of understanding, he patted her knee and ducked out, sweets in hand. No doubt he'd ask her to elaborate. Not that she had anything to share. Not yet. "I had no idea you and Robert were having problems."

Patricia laughed lightly on the other end. "Neither of us have our bags packed." A whistle came from the background. Vague cheering. Then mild cursing about how terrible this season's Gotham Guardsmen's picks were. She sighed. "The little green monster's dropped-in since your wedding. Don't get me wrong. I couldn't be happier for you if you were my own sister."

Y/N wished Patricia was within arm's reach instead of all the way in Burnside.

"Next month we'll have been married thirty-five years," Patricia continued with a rare nostalgia. "We're a team, Robert and me. But we've both let things go, gotten old. I'd like the spark back before we lose the kindling."

Pursing her lips, Y/N bit back her qualms. Rebutting the steps Patricia had taken was uncalled for, and doubly so when she needed her support. Besides. Y/N understood them. She'd climbed them once, too.

When she'd begun to figure out the direction in which the weather vane of her life pointed, the comfort and confidence she'd shared with her ex-husband had started to wither. Transformed over the years into an awareness that her childish belief in love being enough was inaccurate. It was natural, she thought in hindsight. They'd wed at seventeen and twenty-one. But divorce had been uncommon back then, particularly in a small town in the Bible Belt. The night she'd moved in with a friend (a tactic to delay confessing defeat to her family), Jeff suggested they speak with a professional. Though her heart had known it was over, she cared for him. She couldn't deny them the chance to salvage their union, no matter how remote.

A solitary counselor was available, a disadvantage of rural living. The man claimed to be a pioneer in couples therapy, having begun his practice in the thirties. One forty-five-minute drive later and they'd found themselves squished into a leather loveseat in a smoky, cramped office. Diplomas and certificates covered the walls, the veracity of which she couldn't verify. Dr. Ellis's puffy pink cheeks and offer of sweet tea had been kinder than his approach.

Fountain pens and worksheets were provided with the mumbled instruction to answer honestly. But the questions had not fit her situation. They were for women who desired to be happy homemakers. To plan meals and do the weekly shopping. To nurse children and have dinner ready by six. Responsibilities and life stages that had given her mother purpose - a purpose that mostly eluded Y/N. Every comma and quotation mark inferred fault. And Dr. Ellis had read her responses like a disappointed teacher.

Somehow the filmstrips, accompanied by a crackling LP, were worse. Mr. Provider and Mrs. Housewife were featured. He consistently came home on time. She always wore an apron. The narrator's spiritless voice contrasted with the cheery soundtrack while matching Y/N's mood. A lively ping! cued them to advance to the next still, a duty switched between her and Jeff to practice teamwork. At least the sidelong looks they shared could still connect them.

The slides, the homework, the speeches. They all pointed to one problem: her. Her parents were a model couple. Didn't she know encouraging her husband in his livelihood was her job? That his main obligation was to invite her to share his success? She had to mend her ways. Make herself more attractive. Be grateful he displayed his affection by returning to her after a long day at the office; he could just as easily hang out at The Rusty Boot.

Not a little indignant, she'd stared at Jeff's profile. Downcast eyes betrayed his regret and assured she'd maintain composure, for his sake if nothing else. She fixed her focus on Dr. Ellis and gave the situation a good, long think. Jeff had never questioned her ambitions. Who the hell was this jackass to judge?

She'd covered Jeff's hand, rubbed his knuckle with her thumb. "You're the expert here, doctor. But isn't it possible neither party is at fault?"

"Mrs. Thompson, I've heard that misconception from many of my clients. It's never led anywhere positive. Now-"

"But what if they're both good people?" she interrupted, hanging onto diplomacy by a thread. Her resolve stayed, even as her volume lowered at the prospect of wounding the man she'd loved as a girl. "Good people who've grown apart?"

Dr. Ellis took what she'd learned was his usual position on the corner of his cherry desk. "You're mistaking natural sex differences for incompatibility. Not every husband allows his wife to work outside the home." His paternal smile hadn't diminished the sting of his words. "If you want your marriage to thrive, I'd advise a little more maturity. And I think I have just the book to help you."

Twenty tons of silence festered on the ride home, louder than the pulse beating her eardrum. Distress distracted her from noticing the run in her stockings. And it was drizzling. She cracked the passenger window of the Lincoln Continental, anyway. Closed her eyes at the bite of raw air against her overheated face.

"Look, I don't agree with what that guy says," Jeff started. He pulled at the gearshift and flicked the turn-signal. "Not when it comes to you."

As the car came to a stop, she swiped at her eyes. "I'm not going again." The press of a napkin to her palm prompted a mix of appreciation and annoyance. For his courtesy and that he'd detected her tears. "Do you even like being married to me?"

"Y/N-"

"Please." She flinched at his attempt to embrace her. "Don't spare my feelings."

Headlights from a passing car flashed in the cabin, revealing his stretched lips. He raked back his thinning hair. The quiet shake of his head when he moved to gaze at her was a relief. "I miss the girl I fell in love with."

She offered a slight shrug and pulled the corners of the tissue. "I don't like it, either."

His rapid blink softened her posture, along with the recognition that the dream they'd had was also out of reach for him. "I'm proud of the woman you've become," he said. "Even if she's not what I need."

"I don't want to be a lawyer's wife." A quiet laugh bubbled up. "The oral arguments are terrible."

He checked his blind spot and put the sedan back into drive. "I'll file the papers tomorrow. We can tell your parents and sister together. If you'd like." After some seconds, she'd slid across the bench seat and put her head on his shoulder, heartened by an affinity she'd nearly forgotten.

Counseling techniques must have evolved, Y/N considered. Perhaps Patricia would find help instead of blame. If not, tips in women's magazines were a tacky if economical alternative. She'd have to check the breakroom at work for forgotten issues.

She hopped off the counter and poured herself another cup of decaf. "Let me know if we can do anything. And how it goes."

"The first few sessions were great. I picked up a few booklets. 'Modern Marriage,' 'The Complete Woman...' Oh!" Paper shuffled as Y/N put back the milk. "'Enrichment & Exploration: Tips for Bedroom Fun.' I tried reading it with Robert the other night, but he left when I mentioned massagers and blindfolds."

"He's sixty," Y/N snorted. "Give him time."

Peeking around the corner, she spotted Arthur in his writing nook. He stood to stretch, then grab his lighter and pack of Stuttons. The low sit of his pajama bottoms was enough of a temptation for her to tuck her lip. An unexpected spasm tickled her abdomen. "Brief me on the blindfold chapter."

~~~~~

Nervous anticipation had kept her feverish for hours, ever since she'd bid farewell to Arthur with a "Save a smile for me" on her way out the door. His clumsy smooch lingered as she changed the date on her rubber stamp. While she cleaned the office refrigerator, she spent a good sixty seconds pressing a cup of expired yogurt to her flush cheeks. When the shoulder strap of her canvas bag gave out, she shrugged rather than cursed and settled the tote in her lap. With her plan in mind, the corners of her lips refused to relax .

After working the grand opening of the Gotham Mall, Arthur had the workshop she'd registered him for, a beginners' seminar for stand-ups. He'd be home right around six. That would give her thirty minutes to change into her mini nightdress with the ruffled hemline, dab musk oil behind her earlobes, and put on an LP. Dinner would be delayed - neither of them would be in the mood if they were too full. If she remembered correctly, they had a pizza in the freezer, the good kind with the real pepperoni and rising crust. She just had to figure out if she should wait in the bedroom or lounge on the sofa like a poor-man's Lauren Bacall.

As she unlocked the apartment, however, there came a muffled phomp-phomp-phomp. The unmistakable sound of a sink plunger. Fuck. This was the third time this month. Pushing through the door, she hoped the super had called a different plumber. It had taken ages to clean up the stray sediment left behind by the last one. Upon entering, Arthur's plaid bag came into view, next to his keys on the counter. A glance into the kitchen confirmed he was trying his hand at the repair.

"Hey." Y/N hung her coat, glad her consternation was hidden by the wall. "What happened to your class?" she asked with deliberate playfulness. "Did they decide you were too advanced?" She crossed her arms and moved to the doorway. Tried to hold onto the tendrils of fading arousal by taking him in.

A pleased chuckle. "The instructor left a message." Phomp-phomp-phomp."It'll be rescheduled."

"I know you were looking forward to it." The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and flexing biceps were having the right effect. She ambled towards him. "Let me help."

"It's fine. I had to do this a lot at my old place." The set of his jaw tightened as it gave it another go.

They went through the litany of usual questions. Arthur contently reported the mall had gone well, except for a couple of teenagers who'd given him grief at the start. ("Nothing serious. They were just kids.") Her nine-to-five had been quite low-key, she explained, and had allowed her to catch-up on a backlog of paperwork. ("With the new judge, we keep having to file motions for correction.") But when he asked about this evening, she mused and tapped her fingertips on the counter. Horny, annoyed at her thwarted plan, yet nevertheless itching to seduce him

Water streamed as he turned the faucet's handle, followed by his satisfied hum. He tidied up, then washed to his elbows. Grabbed the nearby dish towel and pivoted on his heel to face her. "What is it?" he asked at her lack of response. He wiped his hands a little harder. "I thought you'd be glad I'm already here."

Seeking to allay his concern, she scooted next to him with a gentle nudge. "You know I am. You've been running through my head all day." She scrunched her nose. "I just had this idea for a romantic evening and wanted to surprise you."

"Oh." Pink colored his chiseled cheekbones and his eyes softened. "You still could. I'd like that." Ardor sparked anew in her belly. Unfurled as he leaned into her, grin cutting across his mouth and straight into her heart. "Would ten minutes be enough?"

Her toes curled. His enthusiasm for her, for them, had a habit of sending electricity up her spine. "Better make it eight," she pronounced.

A sharp nod and a pat to her bottom later, he dashed off. Once the bathroom door shut, Y/N rushed to rummage in his workbag, delighted when she found her prize. She scurried to the stereo and put on one of her soul records. Adjusted the volume to a suggestion instead of distraction. Though the genre wasn't his favorite, it never failed to induce the swivel of his hips. Unbuttoning, unzipping, she made her way to the bedroom. Yanked off her tan skirt and jacquard sweater before carelessly tossing them in the nearby chair.

She'd just gotten settled on the foot of the bed when Arthur sauntered in. Clad in his white briefs and wrinkled socks. "That was five," she said and wadded her pantyhose to hurl at him.

He dodged it easily, stepping forward to gaze at her with hooded eyes, their clear green darkened with need. He licked his lips. "I think it was four." Without further preamble, he knelt between her legs. Scrambling up the bed, she kicked subtly against his hold on her calves. Bit her lip on a giggle as he crawled over her lap to smother her with kisses. She rested on the headboard and nabbed his red and gold Carnival tie from under her pillow.

He quirked a dark brow. "What, you want me to wear it?"

Before any reservation could resurface, she smoothed the broad neck of the tie over her eyes and secured it loosely at her temple. Hesitation floated through the air. Threatened to pierce the veil of desire that enveloped her. She wondered what he was waiting for. If he was wearing that wolfish grin he saved for the bedroom. Or if a modicum of anxiety had spawned. She had sprung this on him without prior discussion. The muffled music from the living room switched to the next song. She attempted to peek under the bottom of the makeshift blindfold, tried to make out more than a vague shadow in the muted light.

But then he sunk into her. Wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her into the mattress. "If you're uncomfortable, tell me," he murmured into her mouth. "Please."

The implication of his request, albeit more loving than licentious, wracked her with want. She couldn't halt her shudder. Blindly, she reached to cup his face. "I trust you," she promised. To both him and herself.

His round nose dragged down the underside of her jaw. "Where'd you get this idea?"

The caress of his smile on the crook of her neck caused a delicious heaviness to settle in her center. "A pamphlet."

"On what?" He tugged at the knot between her ample breasts. Fondled her through the thin satin. "How to make your husband high-strung?"

She carefully skimmed the rigid bulge in his briefs with her knee. "It was actually on how to loosen him up," she retorted. He always loved it when she paraphrased one of his jokes.

Every hushed kiss, every whisper of him against her flesh was magnified. Forced her to concentrate solely on him, to pay attention to each move he made. His humid, hot breath teased her nipple, prompted it to pebble with a twinge. When she released an embarrassingly desperate whimper, he snorted lightly and slipped his palm to the middle of her back. Following his lead, she arched into him. His soft curls brushed her as he laved her areola, swirled his tongue around it, her skin coming alive at the contact. Weathered hands that had so eagerly learned how to touch her groped her neglected breast, rolled its peak between slender, nimble fingers. She fisted the pillow, tipped her head, and grasped his shoulder with a cry. "Arthur..."

Getting her going usually wasn't difficult. Especially when she'd been thinking about making love for an inappropriate number of office hours. But the suspense of not seeing where he'd next pet her, of every caress being a discovery, had her core already pulsing for him. The intrigue was a treat. The best case she'd ever worked on. His strokes walked a path to every clue.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thighs. Groaning, he hooked them under the waistband of her bikini, tugged until she lifted her rear. He pulled them off hastily. With a gentle pressure, he encouraged her to open herself to him. She did so gladly, splaying her legs without a hint of self-consciousness. The relatively cool temperature of the room hit her hot, swollen folds and she quivered.

Then there was an odd sensation at her clit. Scratchy. Rough like a canvas. And was that a corner? After a few seconds it was clear it wasn't doing it for her. And she didn't think Arthur was trying to wipe away her slick. Reaching down, she found a twisted bedsheet in his fist. She was relieved he hadn't run to the kitchen for ice.

"Not good?" he asked.

She softened the blow. "You feel better."

The pad of his thumb trailed over her patch of springy hair, a faint tease that sent a dizzying current racing through her limbs. She strove towards him but he didn't oblige. Rather, he took her hand and placed it on her labia. Guided her to dip within her inner lips. A short moan left her, at the sensation and the sound of his increasingly labored breathing, tinged by his deep voice. "You look like sex," he blurted.

Laughing, she halted. Whenever something brazen spilled from his mouth, however left-footed, she adored it. She clasped his sides. "What does that mean?"

"If I'd seen you in a magazine," he started, moving to settle over and straddle her. His hard-on grazed her abdomen, leaving a damp trail of his arousal in its wake. Even as she wondered when he'd taken off his underwear, her muscles tensed and she gasped. Playful pecks met her cleavage. "You'd be pasted on every page of my journal."

Her reply slipped out before discretion could take hold. "We better buy a Polaroid." A stitch of reluctance before she added, "Just keep them in your desk."

He uncurled her fingers and pressed her palm to his chest. "Touch me," he whispered, pleaded. Her pulse quickened. With an unhurried deliberation, he guided her over the peaks and valleys of his body. The lean pectorals she loved to nuzzle after a weary day. The freckled indent of his sternum. Downward, to the slightly loose skin around his navel, then the soft, toned curve of his abdomen.

Unable to resist, she stretched to chart the ridge of muscle leading to his groin. "You make me so wet."

He let out a bashful giggle, edged with excitement. The instant he rasped his next words against her forehead, she knew he was doing his damnedest to rival her. He pushed her hand to his erection. "You make me so hard."

She followed the bulging vein from base to tip, encircled him with a firm grip. The vibration of his harsh grunt rumbled through her and he jerked forward. Released her wrist to stroke her vulva and flick back and forth along her aching nub. Focusing on the satiny feel of his flesh, the heaviness of his length, she felt petite. Feminine. Powerful. Her hand glided between his legs, cupped the sensitive skin with care. His practiced rhythm faltered. The elbow beside her ear trembled.

While he was a captivating visual, one she missed, her imagination was determined to compensate for her lack of sight. Breathless moans spun her fantasies. Perspiration tickled her nose, woodsy and sweet, conjuring memories of his taste in her mouth. Then all at once he was inside her, going down on her, sucking at her while fucking into her. Impossible feats that nevertheless caused a fever in her brain. "Oh, god," she mewled. Her wanton writhing hastened. She ground against his thigh. "I want your cock in me."

He took hold of himself as she held herself open. The blunt tip of him slid just inside her entrance, a drop when she needed an ocean. She grabbed his hips and thrust upward, hissing as he stretched her completely. "You're fucking tight," he uttered through clenched teeth.

She smoothed her palms over his back, memorized each notch of his ribs. The odd angle of his distended shoulder. The strong tendons at the nape of his neck. He crushed her closer, until her mouth bumped his clavicle. She nibbled lightly, licked the salty sheen of sweat from its hollow, drawing her name from his lips and rapid bucks of his pelvis. "Fuck me," she said, a command and an appeal.

A creak came from above. She followed his taut arm to find he'd clutched the headboard. It occurred to her, then, that her inability to see had been liberating for him. Enough to let go of his inhibitions, to give voice to the bawdy, wonderful things he'd said, to not worry about his appearance.

She reached to swipe her clit steadily, relentlessly. Tears pricked her eyes as she became weightless. Her frame seized, and she came with a choked cry. She sniffled and laughed into his neck, overwhelmed by him. The way he made love to her as if he sought to erase her earlier trials and replace them with the present.

His throaty, punctuated groans, his fingernails digging into her ass divulged his approaching release. She ran her foot along his calf, relished in his body as its angles pressed into her. He balanced himself on his knees, snapping into her at an erratic pace. Then all at once he moaned sharply and went rigid, cock twitching. She cradled the back of his head while his essence marked her walls, closed her eyes when he sprawled on top of her.

Raking her hands through his loose waves, she swallowed thickly. Although she'd always enjoyed sex, exploring this way hadn't been conceivable with anyone else. Allowing that match to light, allowing herself to fan that flame had been unthinkable. She'd felt inadequate. Unable to live up to others' demands, especially her own. There'd been too many boxes to check. Revealing herself in that way would have been a demonstration of trust she wasn't quite ready for.

Being an established woman on equal footing with her partner wasn't something she'd believed possible. She'd been content to go without and find meaning through her work. Arthur had helped her augment that. She could be tough as old leather or delicate as gossamer without concern he'd see her differently. If expectations were left unmet, their easy discussions and compromises promised they'd never become resentments. They supported each other - authentically and as themselves.

For the first time, she knew she was loved for who she truly was. And she wouldn't have to change to keep it.

Choppy panting gradually ceased, replaced by leisurely, happy sighs. He skimmed her flank, then the curve of her hip. She tickled his midriff gently, only stopping when he reclaimed her lips and slid his tongue against hers. Tenderly, he loosened the knot at her temple. She blinked at the orange, evening light invading her eyes. When his came into focus, they were still dilated, a tad sleepy. And so full of affection her breath caught.

Cheek propped on the heel of his hand, he raised his eyebrows. "How was it?"

"You have to ask?" she chuckled, swatting his backside.

A stray lock tumbled towards her as he bent closer. "I wanna hear it."

"Wonderful." Her thighs tightened, keeping him within her. "What I've been craving all day."

His smile was a slow build, equal parts shy and deservedly smug. Then he stared at his tie. "I- I don't know if I'll ever be able to wear that again."

She snorted and looped it around his neck, secured it with a half-Windsor knot. "You're a professional, Mr. Fleck. You'll manage."

He rolled to her left and yanked open the nightstand drawer to riffle through its contents. "What else is in the pamphlet?"

"Hey!" She batted him half-heartedly, boosted herself on her elbow, and spooned him. "What if I had a surprise hidden in there?"

Undeterred, he huffed. "It wouldn't beat this."

"Patricia told me about it." He stilled and slanted his gaze her way. "I can get a copy."

At first, Y/N assumed he'd contradict her. That he wanted to keep their escapades private. But once a few seconds had passed, Arthur acquiesced with a smirk and snatched a nearby tissue. Wiped himself off and tossed it in the woven wastebasket. He reclined beside her, hands folded behind his head. "Okay. Just don't give away my whole act."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur x female reader #arthur x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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hoardcloneheadcanons · 3 years

Text

Rhack Story P5-Meet Angel

Moxxi's eye's leveled with Rhys's, scanning him.

"So…. let me get this straight. Jack and Nisha were dating,”

"U-huh."

“Then you and Jack were dating.”

“Sure.”

“Then you get closer to him and... Jack introduced you to his daughter?”

Rhys let out a low unnerving chuckle.

It wasn’t a laugh, so much as what a laugh might sound like if you left it in the dark for months on end and it started scratching designs on the cell walls.

“Oooh No… Good Guess, I guess? Like I can see how you would see think that. Like, it gets serious then you introduce your significant other to the kids. Right? That’d be Normal? That’d be sane?

As if Jack could ever be normal.

So Nooo.”

He made some mouth-clicking noises on his cheek as he tried to form his words

“She was in a satellite.”

“There’s no other way to start that, he was keeping her in a fucking SATTELITE!

OH God. Um. As you’ve noticed, she is a siren. And Jack couldn’t control her. And he hates that, but he still loves his little girl, or he thinks he does. So he couldn’t kill her, because he still loves her, but he couldn’t control her so he had to lock her away. In a satellite.

I know I already said that, but it just keeps getting to me that he put her in a prison that wasn’t even on any natural land. It was way out in the middle of space. It was inescapable, she’d have to make her own pod to get out. If that thing blew up she’d have no way of getting out because he wouldn’t leave that amount of escape for her.

I cannot emphasize how much No ONE was supposed to know about her, meeting her was a fluke.

Jack gave me a mission where I was supposed to go inside a pod with a mechanic, and that mechanic was supposed to fix one of our satellites… uh Krios, specifically.

We were taking a weird path to it, it was longer than it should have been, more… arcs. The official reason was that it was supposed to avoid meteor clusters, but that didn’t track. We send our cargo pilots through meteor clusters all the time.

And all we were supposed to do was follow the autopilot to the satellite, fix it up and go back.

And he said that he knew how mechanics liked to cut corners, and he didn’t want the mechanic trying to take a faster path. He wanted us to stay directly on the charted course. If the mechanic tried to take a different path, I was to shoot them in the head.

He gave me an upgrade specifically for the task. It was a gun hidden in my arm. They’d have no way of knowing it was coming.

And at that point I wasn’t sure if he was giving me the task because he trusted me or because I was disposable. I was in a weird place with Jack at the time, It was after the first time I tortured a guy for him. I knew I was a terrible person. And I couldn’t tell if he saw me as competent or disposable.

Because on one hand, I just beat up a guy for him. so maybe he wanted to see if I’d be willing to kill someone for him. On the other, maybe whatever was important enough to kill a mechanic for was important enough to kill me for.

It went great for a bit. The ship moved itself, and I didn’t have to do anything.

It was awkward. The shuttle was about the size of a small room, and the mechanic and I were just sitting on opposing benches across from each other, trying not to make eye contact.

She didn’t like to talk, and I was just staring at a corner. I was trying not to get attached just in case I had to kill her, so I wasn’t very chatty either. It was just a job to her. It was just a job to me too.

But half-way through the autopilot shuts off. Debris is creating a magnetic interference and it’s making the system glitch out.

And the mechanic- she said something like “fine, I guess we’re going to have to go manual."

And I told her “No we have to wait it out. I don’t know the route and the autopilots off."

She told me she knew the route to Krios, that she’s done this repair job before

And I ask her “Do you know the route we were using, or do you know the old faster route? Because we’re only allowed to use the current edition. It’s company policy.”

And as soon as I say that she looked ready to punch me in the face.

“Are you serious? I’m losing money while we sit here. I don’t get paid by the hour I get paid by the job, and I got other jobs to do. My company’s going to be down my throat.”

Hyperion is a client of her company’s. She was an out-of-house contractor.

Anyway, while we’re having that discussion the debris comes flying at us. You know, the debris causing the interference? It’s a trash shuttle, a big one, about the size of the shuttle we’re on. And the lid is pointy. I don’t know why they design them like that but it’s terrifying. and it was partially opening so that robot limbs are leaked through.

I froze. All I could think about was that after spending so much time terrified of Jack, I was going to be killed by a flying trash can.

While I was distracted, the mechanic, whose name I was specifically did not learn, shoved me out of the way, got to the controls, and steered us out of the way of impact.

Trash compactor collided with a meteor that was behind us. Parts flew everywhere and she continued to steer the ship until we were out of the field of scrap.

Then we get a moment to breath, and the auto-pilot turns back on and kilometers off course.

So based on my mission directive, I had to kill her.

And I got as far as readying the gun on my arm before I realize that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be the guy who killed someone after they saved his life. I’d already done things I regretted for Hyperion, this wasn’t going to be one of them.

Instead, I started panicking. And the mechanic thought I was just freaking out from our near-death experience with the debris.”

Rhys mimicked her dry gravel the best he could.

……

“Dude, we’re out of the debris field. We’re alive, calm down.”

“No you don’t get it, we’re both fucked, we’re both dead. I’m suppose- We’re supposed to be killed if we go off path. Hyperion has too many secrets and they don’t like orders being disobeyed, even dumb ones.”

I remember she took a moment to look at my face to realize my panic was real. That I wasn’t lying.

“Fuck, I can’t change my identity again. My sister just adjusted to her school, we just got stable. I can’t do this again.”

I remember her inhale, how quickly she changed from frustration and fear to solid resolve. I remember her looking into my cybernetic eye with hatred, and I didn’t blame her.

“Fine. Fine. We’ll leave. I guess that’s the only option. I’ll take this shuttle as far as it can go, drop you off on some unknown planet, take my sister, and try to get somewhere safe. It’ll suck to restart again but it’s my only option, so lets go.”

Once she said it I realized that the nearby planet she’d probably drop me on would be here, Pandora. And I had to visualize what it would be like to build a life here. And I had a moment of cold fear where I just considered my options before I realized there was a way where neither of us had to give up our lives.

I put my left hand on her shoulder.

“Wait, maybe there’s another option. The data from the mission logs from the shuttle and my eye are probably going to give us away, but it’s going to have to go through a communication’s satellite first.

I’m going to jam the signal and hopefully the magnetic interference is causing a delay. If I can get to a communication satellite, I can alter the data a little bit to make it look like nothing happened. No one needs to know we got off course. No one needs to lose their job. Your sister doesn’t have to switch schools.”

She looked skeptical, but she was as desperate as I was.

….

So, we drove over to the nearest communication satellite.

or what we thought was the nearest communication satellite.

When we were… six clicks away? 400 meters? I noticed that we were arcing away from the dock we were trying to land on and the mechanic told me she lost control of the shuttle.

She lifted her hands up, and the steering wheel kept turning, no human control, and no autopilot engaged. The control panel was glowing a faint blue, so light you could swear it was some odd reflection from the stars.

And suddenly I got this splitting migraine.

Right now, all I have is glass and this eyepatch. But all the circuitry relating to my old Hyperion-tech eye was tied into my nervous system, all too close to my brain. I’d been getting mild headaches and buzzing in the brain since the start of the magnetic field interference. But when we got close to the satellite it felt like something was drilling into my head.

I keeled over in pain and got dark spots in my vision.

Then, while I was on the floor I heard a female, robotic voice say to me,

“I’m sorry I had to take control of your shuttle. There are turrets attached to the outside of this satellite that I cannot control. They will shoot you if you come closer.

I am sorry for your predicament. I am partially responsible. I am doing my best effort to make amends. I am currently erasing your shuttle’s data systems and your eye’s memory banks to make it look like you were never here. Jack will not find you. It is fine. You need to turn around.”

Do not tell Rita Greene I am here. Knowledge of my existence will only bring harm to the people who possess it. I am sorry I had to contact you, but it was the only way to communicate.”

I didn’t know what I was hearing at the time. The best I could guess was a highly advanced surveillance A.I. that Jack was hiding, and who had power over my tech. I was afraid to disobey her, and eager to believe something had saved me from needing to rebuild my life on Pandora.

Rita was the mechanic whose name I was trying to avoid learning. I verified that the data was altered, and then I lied to her. Told her I was in pain because I was hacking from a distance. She asked me why we lost control, and I said the autopilot must still be glitching. I’m not sure if she believed me. She believed me enough to see if my plan work, I think she trusted I wouldn’t put my own life at risk.

We turned around, fixed the Krios satellite. Went back to Helios, and no one killed us. No one mentioned us breaking any rules.

I waited for days for someone to kill me, to realize I didn’t follow orders and gut me, but it never came. Jack never found out.

That was the first time I met Angel. I thought it would be the last.

I was wrong.

#Tales From the Borderlands #Rhys #Angel #OC #Handsome Jack #Thoughts of Murder #Fanfiction #Borderlands #Why Angel Gets to Live

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harrystyleswatermelon-sugar · 4 years

Text

Gas station encounter - Part IV

Part III

The next day I wait for him standing behind my window. When he pulls up outside I smile because he is too early. His black car is standing in the same spot than the day before, when he brought me home.

I see him getting out of the car and shooting a glance up to my flat, then onto his phone. He leans his back on his car and puts his hands in his pockets. He wears a black hat and a black coat with some brown Chelsea boots and dark pants.

When I close my door behind me I feel my phone vibrating and look at it. Harry sent me a text and I start going down. He smiles when I open the door and step outside.

“Hey there, how are you?” he asks and hugs me.

“Great, how are you? Ready to grab some coffee?” he nods and kisses my cheek.

“Sure, let´s go. I thought I would show you my favourite café. Believe me, they have the most amazing things” he promises and opens the car door for me.

The way to his café is not very long and when he finally found a parking spot a few streets away he looks at me.

“I apologize in advance. It is very likely that I am recognised and because you are an attractive woman it probably will be in the media tomorrow. Be prepared” he warns me and I shake my head.

“No worries, I can handle it I think” I assure him and he gets out of the car. I shut the door behind me and we walk next to each other in comfortable silence. He seems a bit tense but when nothing happens and no one tries to stop him, he relaxes a bit.

“So tell me, what happened to Anna? She told me yesterday, that she is feeling so much better and she might be able to go home? I thought she was on the edge of dying when I visited her the first time” he asks while he leads me towards the little café.

“There are moments when those miracles happen and I try to not question them too much. Her bloodwork is great, she doesn’t need more chemo and she feels better. Her vitals are really great. This might be a miracle but to be honest, we should appreciate it as long as it is possible” I explain and walk through the open door into the café. We find a table in the corner and he pulls my chair, so I can sit.

“So you think she might get sick again?”

“It is possible. At this point, no one can say yes or no. I will do my best to let her go in a few days and give her some time at home with her friends and family. But I try to not let it get too close to me” I reply and he nods while he hands me the menu.

“I hope the best for her. Maybe you can keep me updated” he asks me and I agree to nod. I decide to get a normal coffee and a blueberry scone.

When our order arrives we dig into the food and I immediately know why it is his favourite café. The food is excellent and even the coffee seems to be better than other coffees.

“This is really good,” I say and he smiles at me. He got a cinnamon roll and seems to enjoy it as well.

“I´m glad you like it. Their cinnamon roll is the best I ever ate” he declares and I giggle.

“That’s a huge compliment from someone who has probably eaten in the whole world”

“You want to taste it? Then you will see that it is the best” he holds his fork with a piece of that roll into my direction and I nod, eating from Harry Styles´ fork and I close my eyes in awe. This is the best cinnamon roll I ever ate.

I nod and he smiles delighted that I agree.

“It´s great. Wow. Thanks for showing me this place, I´m sure I will come back some time” I assure him and he takes a sip from his coffee.

“I don’t share those special places with anybody but I think you deserve the best. I appreciate the work you are doing so much, I am so impressed how you handle all this and I can´t believe anyone takes this for granted. You and your team should get an award, you are the real heroes” he says and I try not to choke on my scone. I am very much touched by his words and I honestly don’t know where to look.

“Thank you, I think it is normal to us because we love what we do. We don’t need an award…a simple thank you and some smiles on those kids faces, that’s why I do this” I reply and take my cup in my hands.

“But you sacrifice so much, please don’t get me wrong…but someone who tries to make others happy should be happy themself. What would make you happy? Maybe I can give something back” he asks and I shake my head.

“No, no it´s fine. I am happy, I really am” he looks at me and licks his lips, to get all the cinnamon and sugar.

“I have some time off, so if you would like…I could come and play and sing with the kids. It would be a pleasure and I absolutely don’t mind it” he proposes and I truly don’t know what to say. It’s a very kind offer from a very busy man like him.

“If you want to, sure. I am happy when the kids are happy” I agree and he bites his lip, what I find very sexy.

“Great, I will contact you if you don’t mind”

“I don’t. Soooo…it´s already 3 pm and we still need to get my car. How long do you want to spend time with me?” I ask him and look at my phone.

“If you want to leave, we can go immediately…shit I think I got spotted” he whispers and I am clever enough to not turn around as he tries to hide behind me.

“Are you Harry Styles? You are, right? Do you mind, if we take a picture with you?” a young girl asks next to our table and eyes me sceptical. Harry smiles friendly and gets up to chat with them and take a picture. After they left he pays for our order and is eager to leave the place. Maybe he knows that when he was spotted once, there will be more fans in no time. I hurry after him and as we are a few streets away he gets a bit slower.

“Sorry for leaving so abruptly but I know how fast they are. By now we would have been swarmed and I don’t want that right now…we can get your car or take a walk in the park if you like” he suggests and I nod. Sounds great.

“A walk seems to be nice, we have a lot of time left, so no hurry with getting my car” we walk next to each other, chatting about anything that comes to mind. He tells me about his family and friends back in Manchester and I listen very interested. His mom sounds lovely from his stories and at this point, I am just happy that I met him at the gas station.

“It is lovely spending time with you, Y/N,” he says and smiles at me.

“Likewise, I never thought I would spend time with you after our first meeting. But I´m glad we do, you are easy to be around and I kind of like you” I confess and giggle a bit.

“I appreciate it very much, that you are accepting me in your life and I have the feeling you don’t mind me having in it? Or am I completely wrong and this is just your average kind of being nice?” he asks a bit concerned and unsure.

“I don’t mind having you in my life, not at all. And no, you are not wrong” I can see his happy smile and follow him at his side across the park.

A few weeks later during my shift, I can see Harry sitting amidst a lot of kids with his guitar and singing with them. They love having him around and he loves entertaining them. Anna was able to go home and I promised to come visit her soon. The last days have been really exhausting, we have a few very critical patients and I had to tell their parents that it´s only a matter of weeks.

Harry comes here as often as he can and I am very thankful that he spends his rare time with all of my children. We usually don’t spend much time together but when I have the opportunity I stop and listen to him telling stories or singing to them. When he notices me, he smiles at me and I return it gladly. I know that he won´t come here forever, he has a job and soon he will be gone because of promotion and recordings and tour. But he never mentioned it, when he walks me to my car after my shift.

A soft knock on my door jerks me out of my thoughts and I look up, seeing Harry in the doorway.

“Hey, can I come in or is it bad timing?” he asks politely but I don’t mind it at all.

“No, it´s fine. Come in, you alright?” I reply and watch him, as he sits down in front of my desk.

“Yes, I love being here seeing the kids smile but I noticed something…” he says concerned and I sit up straight.

“What? Is something wrong with one of the kids?” I start to panic, that I haven’t noticed. I get up and walk around the desk to get to the door, but Harry holds me back by grabbing my wrist.

“They are alright but are you too? You hardly smile and you look tired and exhausted, can I do something for you?” he asks and I meet his soft green eyes. I relax a little and lean against my desk his hand still wrapped around my wrist.

“I´m alright. Just a bit tired but nothing I haven’t handled before plus I have a free weekend ahead of me. The first one in three months” I answer and see him smiling.

“Free weekend, huh? How about…I try and make it the most relaxed weekend in your life? I just want you to feel good and we haven’t spent much time in the last weeks” he requests and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“And what are you picturing?”

“Hmm maybe me cooking some dinner for you, watching a movie, getting a massage and not worrying about anything. How does that sound?” his eyes are shimmering with hope and I chuckle. It sounds great but what if it gets really awkward? I have never been to his house or the other way round. We usually just hang out in a café or here, this is kind of a next step.

“I´d love to do that but…I don’t want it to be awkward honestly” I say and he entwines our fingers.

“It won´t, I promise” his voice is low and deep and touches me like velvet.

“Okay” I agree and he squeezes my hand lightly.

“Great, I´ll pick you up after your shift?” he sounds really excited and I grin at him while I nod in agreement.

Part V

Hey guys,

sorry for the delay and lack of posting. I hope you are still here and enjoy my newest chapter. Please send all your love or hate, I´ll take it.

You can still be added to the taglist for this story, if you want. Don´t be shy.

Love, Julia xx

Taglist:

@wotamelonsugar @lanallaa @highladyofelfhame-remastered @lucky-worm @theresthingsthatwellneverknow

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles smut #Harry Styles Imagine #Harry Styles FF #Harry Styles blurb #Harry Styles Oneshot #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles fluff #1d #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction imagine #one direction oneshot #1dff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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warofshadowstheorder · 3 years

Text

Chapter 30

During the intermission, the entire Pit was abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Two undefeated fighters, two Elites, two former champions, two true warriors, were only a few minutes away from competing against each other for the first time ever. Olcán Farrell versus Connor Gladiusdei was a fight that every person in the Order that followed the tournament had speculated about, anticipated, and hoped would happen for a very long time.

The anticipation was so prevalent that even Bledsoe could feel it. Thinking back to the other fights she’d witnessed, she could tell why Tadeas had said that missing the tournament was out of the question. Now that he and the rest of the Order were going to have their dream fight, Bledsoe was caught up in it as well and excited to see who would hoist the championship belt above his head.

After the third round, the other fourteen fighters had left the area by the cage where they’d been sitting, with their nameplates in hand, and joined the rest of the crowd to watch the final fight. The refreshment stands had been packed up as well. All eyes and the complete focus of everyone in attendance were completely focused on the cage and the final fight.

“You seem to have it out for my bro,” Tadeas remarked to Bledsoe, “maybe you’d care to set a wager on this fight.”

“What did you have in mind?” Bledsoe asked in a slightly flirtatious manner very uncharacteristic of her.

“How about this,” Tadeas answered, “if Olcán wins then you have to give me a personal tour of Washington, D.C.”

“And what do I get when Connor kicks his ass?” Bledsoe asked coyly.

“That,” Tadeas answered, “I leave to you.”

“Hmm,” Bledsoe cooed biting her bottom lip. A roar erupted from the crowd before she could answer. Tadeas and Bledsoe saw Master Lee entering the cage.

“I’ll have to get back to you,” Bledsoe said quickly before turning her complete attention to what would in a few moments become the site of a battle whose legendary status would rival Agincourt.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Master Lee announced, “Once again, we have been witness to the greatest display of unarmed combat the world has to offer! Before we proceed to the final bout of the evening! I ask that we show appreciation for all those who have participated!”

Master Lee applauded and was quickly joined by a standing ovation from all in attendance. Dieter and the thirteen other fighters stood up and graciously accepted the applause before sitting back down.

“Now,” Master Lee thundered bringing back the anticipation, “without further delay, I present the final bout of the evening!”

Master Lee stepped back amid a thunderous ovation. To Bledsoe’s surprise, music began playing over some speakers hanging on the walls. Bledsoe saw Olcán making his way to the cage down a ramp that started from a room in the back of The Pit as a live recording of Iron Maiden’s “The Mercenary” echoed through the arena bringing the crowd to its feet amid chants of “BAY-EUX! BAY-EUX! BAY-EUX! BAY-EUX!”.

Olcán’s hands were freshly wrapped and he already wore his gloves. He was dressed in black shorts and a green t-shirt with “Fightin’ Irish” written across the front. O’Connell walked just behind Olcán as he advanced with purpose, mouthing the words “show them no fear, show them no pain” as Bruce Dickinson belted them out. He stopped just in front of the cage and took off his shirt before entering and taking a lap around it before stopping back at the door to share a few words with O’Connell.

Bledsoe watched the interaction between the two men. She couldn’t tell what they were saying over the music, but she could tell by their actions that it was a tender exchange. After a few moments, O’Connell kissed Olcán on his forehead and gave him a hard pat on the back.

“This is different,” Bledsoe commented to Tadeas.

“Yeah,” Tadeas replied with a smile, “for the final match Master Lee allows each participant a more elaborate entrance. They get to pick entrance music, have someone escort them to the cage, and after they’re both inside Master Lee gives each fighter a personal introduction.”

“Why are so many people chanting ‘Bayeux’ for him,” Bledsoe asked as the chanting and music continued.

“Do you know what the Bayeux Tapestry is?” Tadeas asked.

“Of course I know what the Bayeux Tapestry is,” Bledose answered, “it’s the most famous artwork from the Medieval period in the world.”

“Well,” Tadeas responded, “I told you about Olcán’s scars and how they effectively tell the story of his life. People took to calling him Bayeux because his body is like a tapestry that tells the story of his missions.” Bledsoe nodded in understanding and took another look at Olcán’s scarred body and found herself imagining what event each portion of the living tapestry depicted.

“I didn’t peg Olcán as a fan of this kind of music.” Bledsoe said after a few moments.

“He’s a huge fan,” Tadeas answered, “This is his favorite song. He even has an original vinyl copy of the Powerslave album. He and Odin used to go to Iron Maiden concerts together before Odin got married. They were in the pit at the concert where this was recorded.”

“You didn’t go with him?” Bledsoe asked slightly surprised.

“Nah,” Tadeas responded, “not really my style. I prefer the Vienna Symphony Orchestra.”

Inside, Bledsoe marveled at how cultured Tadeas was. It seemed that he couldn’t get any better, and Bledsoe fervently hoped that there would be a second date between the two of them in the near future. A few moments later, one song ended and a new one began.

Shinedown’s “Diamond Eyes” now came out over the speakers. After the music had been playing for 45 seconds, Bledsoe could see a muscular figure standing still in front of the entrance area. Three seconds later, a very energetic Connor Gladiusdei sporting a red mask with large black circles around the eyes and with his arms raised in the air, made his way to the cage. His brother Duncan followed close behind him, and now that Bledsoe could see Duncan’s face she definitely saw a family resemblance between the two of them. They looked almost identical except for Duncan being a little taller and having longer hair.

The cheers of the crowd were a little louder for Connor than they had been for Olcán, mainly due to the amorous shrieks of a myriad of female admirers.

“What’s with the mask?” Bledsoe asked.

“Oh,” Tadeas answered rolling his eyes, “Deadpool is his favorite superhero.”

Not knowing much about comic books beyond any that her brothers brought home or collected, Bledsoe shrugged off Tadeas’s comment and asked about something she’d noticed from the moment she first saw Connor.

“He always seems so calm,” Bledsoe remarked to Tadeas, “is that confidence or ego?”

“You know that guy you hate because he succeeds at everything without seeming to try?” Tadeas asked earning a nod from Bledsoe as she thought of her brothers, Agent Cruz, and a few other people she knew from work. “Well, Connor is that…on Crack. The guy moved through Knight training and all the necessary steps to become an Elite like it was nothing. And he always does it with that dang smile on his face and a happy-go-lucky attitude. In my opinion it’s confidence, and he’s certainly earned the right to have it.”

Connor entered the cage and moved around it a few times before stopping in the corner opposite Olcán. He then removed his mask, which was accompanied by increasing from his female admirers, and threw it into the group of Gifted Ones.

After a borderline ferocious rush for it that Bledsoe had only ever seen during the bouquet tosses at her brothers’ weddings, and a struggle that caused Bledsoe’s eyes to widen in surprise as the mask floated downward on the air, the mask was caught by Katrina. With her prize in hand, Katrina quickly sat back down and said a few sharp words to a few other Gifted Ones that attempted to wrench it from her.

Bledsoe couldn’t tell what Katrina said. But judging from the way any Gifted Ones close to her moved back, Bledsoe deduced that Katrina’s words were something in the way of “back off”.

The continued cheering of the crowd was only silenced by Master Lee moving to the center of the cage and holding one of his hands into the air.

“It is now my privilege,” Master Lee began, “to introduce the final fight of this Tournament! Introducing first, the fighter standing to my right! He is a Boxer and Order Fighting Method specialist! He is the youngest ever Elite, and is undefeated in Tournament competition! Born in Waterford, Ireland! Ladies and gentlemen! Olcán Farrell!”

The crowd erupted into a huge cheer, Bledsoe even offering a polite applause, as Olcán walked forward and raised his arm to the crowd before returning to his corner. The cheers subsided when Master Lee again returned to the center of the cage.

“And his opponent, the fighter to my left!” The cheers already started, showing Connor to clearly be the fan favorite. “He is an Order Fighting Method specialist! The quickest graduate of the Tenet system! Also undefeated in Tournament competition! Born here in the Monastery, the latest in the prestigious Gladiusdei family line! Ladies and gentlemen! Connor Gladiusdei!”

Connor, with his usual smile across his face, stepped out of his corner and raised both arms in the air. It was evident that he enjoyed the spotlight, and he took his time soaking it in. The cheers for Connor were much louder and longer than they had been for Olcán, and Connor accentuated the attention he was receiving by blowing a kiss to the group of Gifted Ones seated nearby.

Bledsoe smiled, she liked Connor and was hoping to see him pulverize Olcán. Connor soaked up the applause for a few more moments before taking a bow and returning to his corner. Master Lee stepped into the center where Connor and Olcán now faced each other with only Master Lee himself between them.

Olcán stared straight ahead at his opponent, never blinking or varying from his customary look of firm determination. Connor returned the stare, but with his customary confident smile. Both men were giving different looks that conveyed intimidation, but at the same time they couldn’t have been more different.

Master Lee finished his instructions. Connor held out his fists and Olcán, in a move of classy sportsmanship, brought his own out in front of him. The two fighters took turns bringing their fists down on top of those of their opponent before touching the fronts of them together and separating for their respective corners.

The excitement of the crowd was at a boiling point, Bledsoe feeling some of it inside as well. Connor and Olcán, both determined to have their arm raised in victory, stood opposite each other already in fighting stances and only awaiting the go ahead from Master Lee.

Master Lee moved to the center and raised his arm. The cheers only increased as Master Lee deliberately waited a few moments to perform the motion that would unleash what promised to be the highlight of the evening. A few moments later, Master Lee’s arm dropped and the crowd erupted into a frenzy of excitement.

Olcán and Connor both immediately moved to the center of the cage and tested each other by throwing a series of punches, kicks, elbows, and knees. The result of which being mainly a string of blocks and counters. Neither one of them was expecting a knockout, instead wanting to test the Elite they were fighting and gauge how hard their opponent could strike.

They both had ample opportunity to determine that as each of them landed multiple blows. Connor was careful to defend against Olcán’s punches, the image of what he’d done to Dieter’s ribcage still fresh in his mind. Olcán was also being careful to not get too ambitious too soon in the fight and paced himself.

The first slipup was done by Connor when he went for a high kick only to have it blocked hard by Olcán. Olcán jumped on the opportunity and let loose with a brilliant combination of punches to Connor’s torso and head. The crowd rose to its feet thinking that the fight could be over a lot sooner than they’d anticipated as Olcán forced Connor back against the cage.

When Connor hit the back however, he used the small bit of momentum he got to bring his arms up quicker than Olcán could react and lock his hands behind his head. “My turn” Connor said as his usual smile returned and he began to barrage Olcán with hard and targeted knees. Soon, Olcán had fresh bruises and shiners to match the ones he had given Connor as the crowd roared its approval.

Olcán backed up and did his best to counter the precarious situation in which he found himself. He was able to slow down Connor’s momentum and hit him hard in the ribs with a few strong punches. As Connor winced from the pain, Olcán ducked under Connor’s arms and hit him with a knee to the chest followed instantly by a kick to the stomach. Far from daunted, Connor smiled at Olcán and waved him forward.

Olcán took Connor up on his invitation and approached. The two of them, both bruised and bloody by this point, exchanged strikes once again. This continued until Connor decided to take the fight to the ground and brought Olcán down. What followed was a display of chain wrestling that would have made the greatest Olympic wrestlers jealous.

Every time either one of them attempted to submit the other, they were met with a perfect counter and an attempt by their opponent to take control. The back and forth between them was flawless, bringing the crowd to their feet and even making experienced wrestlers like Dieter stand in awe.

Olcán and Connor, neither one of them wanting to back down and experience the taste of defeat, gave everything they had and then some even with the earliest stages of fatigue beginning to set in. Olcán attempted to lock Connor’s arm between his legs, the result being Connor quickly rolling over and sitting on top of Olcán with a knee on either side of him. After taking a few punches to the face, Olcán managed to block a punch and move under one of Connor’s legs. Connor responded by maintaining a grip on one of Olcán’s arms and wrapping his legs around Olcán’s head to cut off his airflow.

In an impressive show of strength, Olcán stood up with Connor still locking in the hold and prepared to slam him down. But Connor released the hold as Olcán lifted him up and landed on his feet. The pause in action allowed Connor to land a kick to the body and a combination of three punches to Olcán’s head.

As a testament to his resilience and will to win, Olcán fired back with a few hard punches to Connor’s body before following up with more combinations. They’d been fighting for almost twenty minutes, giving the crowd everything they’d expected and more, and it was starting to show as both of them breathed heavily and began moving slower. It was coming down to a question of resilience and desire.

Connor’s characteristic smile was long gone and now replaced with a look of intensity that bordered on outright contempt for his opponent. Connor’s sentiments were mirrored by his opponent. Blood spatters decorated much of the cage floor, and both faces had donned a crimson mask accentuated with patches of black and blue.

The two of them stood facing each other. Neither one of them could see straight, and both were now effectively running on fumes. They slowly moved toward each other with their guards up. Olcán threw a punch, Connor ducked under it and moved to Olcán’s side. He then wrapped his arms around him, lifted him up to where his feet were barely off the ground, and slammed him to the ground. As he positioned himself on top of Olcán, Olcán brought his legs around Connor’s neck.

Connor quickly brought one of his arms between his neck and Olcán’s leg and threw the leg off. Olcán used the momentum from Connor’s throw and the last energy he had to get to his feet. As Connor also got to his feet Olcán, in an uncharacteristic move, used what energy he had left to jump in the air and turn his body around as he extended his leg.

Connor was able to get to his feet and, although in disbelief at what Olcán was doing, had the presence of mind to counter. As Olcán’s heel hit Connor full on in the side of the head, Connor brought the leg opposite where Olcán hit him with all his energy into the side of Olcán’s head. As a result, Connor spun around before falling to the ground, and Olcán dropped like a rock flat onto his back.

Rather than a thunderous cheer, the crowd went silent. Master Lee ran and knelt beside both fighters, and after a few moments stepped back.

“What’s going on?!” Bledsoe asked frantically. “Is the fight over?!”

“Oh man,” Tadeas said almost in wonder, “this has never happened before! If both fighters are out, then the first one that can get to his feet and be responsive wins. If they’re both out for two minutes, then it’s a no-contest.”

Bledsoe, along with the others in attendance, watched intently looking for any sign of life from the two fighters. The suspense was almost overwhelming as the climax of the evening now awaited its conclusion.

“When Connor gets up first,” Bledsoe said quickly to Tadeas, “you have to arrange a private lesson for me with Master Lee.”

“Deal,” Tadeas replied, “but I’m sure you’re going to owe me a tour of D.C. any moment now.”

After about one minute of no activity from either fighter, Olcán began to stir amid cheers from the crowd and renewed urging on behalf of both fighters. Connor began showing signs of life as well when Olcán attempted to sit up. They lifted themselves up on their hands. Olcán shook his head a few times while Connor looked down and tapped his a few times with his hands.

As though it were choreographed, both of them simultaneously crawled to the nearest fenced portion of the cage, attempting to pull themselves up. Being completely punch-drunk, they both had to feel the fence trying to find places to grip. Within seconds of each other, they both got to their feet and pressed against the fence with their palms before leaning against it.

Neither one of them wanted to lose, but they knew they would fall to the ground and not be able to get back up on their own power if they pressed off too soon. Master Lee looked over at each one of them, and then walked to where he was an equal distance from both fighters.

“They have to walk up to him,” Tadeas said to Bledsoe, “correctly say how many fingers he holds up, and then tell him that they can continue.”

The entire crowd was now watching Olcán and Connor to see if there would be a victor to the fight. The silence was almost deafening.

With all the energy they had left, Olcán and Connor took the five steps that separated them from the man who had been instrumental in them acquiring their skills in unarmed combat. Each step was like trying to lift 300 pounds with one arm, but they willed themselves on and did the best they could to walk straight.

They simultaneously reached Master Lee. He extended a hand toward each of them, he held up three fingers on the hand facing Olcán and five facing Connor. Both of them could be heard to give the correct number. The silence of the crowd allowed everyone to hear the next words that came out of the fighters’ mouths.

“Master…I am able…to continue.”

Master Lee stepped back and raised and dropped his arm once again, signaling for the fight to continue. It was obvious that both Olcán and Connor were completely spent, how they were continuing was anybody’s guess. Pride and desire fueled them as they tried to raise their hands and advance towards each other. They each took two steps and then collapsed.

Neither one of them moved as they remained on the floor. Master Lee quickly walked over to them and raised Olcán’s arm, which dropped after he let go. He repeated the same process with Connor, then stood up and waved his arms back and forth signaling a stop to the bout.

A cheer the likes of which had never been heard before then erupted from all present. Applause and shouts of praise echoed throughout the Pit as Master Lee raised Olcán and Connor’s arms.

A couple of Gifted Ones came in to attend to the fallen fighters. Katrina immediately ran in and attended Connor while a Gifted One Bledsoe hadn’t met saw to Olcán. With a strength that surprised Bledsoe, the Gifted Ones dragged their respective fighter to the nearest side of the cage and placed their backs against it.

The Gifted Ones attended to the fighters long enough for them to be well enough to use the fence to get to their feet and hobble to the center of the cage where Master Lee awaited. He once again raised one of each of their arms to renewed cheers from the crowd.

The fighters faced each other, but could only really turn their faces in the direction of their opponent while moving so that the eyes they could see out of were facing them.

They gave knowing glances to each other and slowly moved their fists together before staggering to the wall and slowly sitting down against it once again.

“Wow,” Bledsoe managed to get out after a few moments, “that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Yeah, me too” Tadeas said in response, “and from the sound of things it looks like everyone else here can say the same! We’ve never had a draw before!”

The crowd continued to cheer as the Gifted Ones attended the fighters and their energy completely returned. Connor’s eyes adjusted to the sight of the woman staring down at him. She playfully brought his mask out from inside her gown where she’d stashed it and playfully spun it around on her hand. She smiled down at Connor, who returned the gesture as the battle damage adorning his face and the rest of his body subsided.

After a few minutes, Olcán was healed enough to get back on his feet and make his way back to the center of the cage where Master Lee, now holding the coveted championship belt, awaited. Master Lee held the belt as Olcán walked up and stood next to him. Connor was also able to stand but was unsure of what to do for a few moments before Master Lee waved him forward and he stood next to him with Olcán on the other side.

“For the first time in history,” Master Lee boomed as he accepted the nameplates and a screwdriver from the Gifted One beside him, “The winners, of this tournament! Olcán Farrell and Connor Gladiusdei!”

With that, he screwed one side of each nameplate onto the belt letting them drift down so that one plate dangled from each side, and presented one strap of the belt to each of the champions as the crowd roared their approval. Then, in a move unexpected by Bledsoe and many others in attendance, Olcán released the strap he held and moved to Connor’s side before raising his hand that held the belt.

Connor and Olcán exchanged knowing nods as Olcán continued to hold up Connor’s arm, allowing him to soak up the applause that he enjoyed so much. Connor returned the favor by putting the belt to Olcán’s chest and raising the arm that Olcán instinctively brought up to grip it. The moment of mutual respect ended when O’Connell entered the cage and gave Olcán a big hug which was quickly returned.

The entire crowd was on their feet and showering Olcán and Connor with a monumental ovation. Tadeas got on his feet and turned to Bledsoe.

“Well, looks like we both won,” he said with a smile, “stay here for a little bit please. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Bledsoe asked slightly disappointed.

“I have to give my brother his due respect,” Tadeas answered, “don’t worry, I won’t be long.” Bledsoe understood and gave Tadeas an affirming nod.

“And I need to talk to Master Lee about a private lesson tomorrow with our special guest.” Bledsoe was speechless as the realization that she was going to get to study with one of her idols dawned on her. Tadeas gave her a smile and ran into the cage.

Within moments, O’Connell and Odin had hoisted Olcán onto their shoulders. Olcán held the belt up over his head as the procession made its rounds. Connor stepped back to let Olcán’s supporters enjoy the moment.

Bledsoe looked on impressed with all she’d seen. She knew that Master Lee spoke the truth when he said that the tournament was the height of excellence in unarmed combat. She was slightly embarrassed to find that her gaze reverted back to Tadeas.

Eventually, Olcán was brought back down. Only one last thing remained, O’Connell picked up a professional-looking camera he’d left beside the door of the cage when he’d entered.

“Little Wolf,” O’Connell said with a grin, “will you please do an old man the honor of commemorating the greatest event of his life?”

Olcán, the belt now resting on his shoulder, nodded and moved to where O’Connell stood with Odin and Tadeas. O’Connell asked Connor if he wouldn’t mind taking the picture, and he accepted. As Duncan and Connor’s other family members and several friends waited outside the cage for their own celebration, Connor took a few pictures, and the four men in them had nothing but happiness across their features.

#novel #action-adventure #fantasy #historical fiction

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Books are better than People

TITLE: Books are better than People CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 16 AUTHOR: dance-in-moonlight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine taking Loki to the biggest library in the world, The Tianjin Binhai Library in China. As soon as you walk in, he’s like a kid in a candy store as he doesn’t know where to start with 1.2 million books surrounding him… RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: I am sorry for the delay guys, real life kept me busy. And without feedback I don’t really know whether I should keep uploading or not, you know.

ADDITION: You are Tony’s personal assistant.

“About the mudbath…”

“My bedroom is the second door on the right, you’ll find some clothes in the drawer. We can purchase another set tomorrow. The door across is the bathroom”, he explained and nodded his head into the direction.

“Thank you…you’re an angel.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and then marched into his bedroom. It was small and neat like the living room and probably the rest of the house too. There wasn’t any personal stuff, after all he was only staying for a few days. The room contained a bed in the left hand corner by the window, next to the door on the left there was a desk with a few books and plants. You noticed the books you had bought him among them. To the right were a wardrobe and a little shelf, along with some more plants. The wardrobe wasn’t large enough for your taste, but you found some cosy clothes inside. You chuckled, Loki had a fable for black and green. Armed with a pile of clothes you walked across the hallway into the bathroom.

Loki turned around when you approached. He held a bottle of bath salts in his hand and the fluffiest towel you had ever seen in the other.

“Wow…do you always travel with those?”, you teased. He grinned and tilted his head.

“They sat on the shelf and we paid for them. Here, take your time. I will get us a cup of tea.”

He sat the towel on the ground and left the room with a little smile towards you. Once he was gone you dropped the pile of clothing and began to peel of your own. They were dirty and wet, you couldn’t wait to get into the tub. The room already smelled like roses and lavender, helping your mind and body relax. You slid in far enough to only leave your head above the surface, watching little bubble isles drift around.

A few minutes later you heard footsteps approach and suddenly stop by the door.

“Can I come in?”

“You’re the one who rents this place”, you replied and quickly shoved bubbles around to cover you, then smiled at him as he entered. He handed you a cup of tea and sat down on the floor next to you, holding his own cup in his lap. “Where did Strange let you out? You seem to have walked quite a while.”

“In the middle of nowhere in a field. I tripped and stumbled half the way”, you replied and grimaced. It drew attention to your bruised knees and your ankle, which burned in the water. Loki frowned and looked to the end of the tub where he assumed your legs.

“I’ll have a look at that later if you want.”

“Are you an Æsir doctor or something?”

“No, but I helped the healers. I liked it; being able to use my magic for good. I treated battle scars, a bruise should not be a problem.” He smiled amused, and it made him look a whole lot younger. Smiling made him prettier, you noticed. You were staring, so you sipped your tea. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“What?” He looked completely thrown off, which was actually really adorable. “Your favourite animal. Everybody has one.” “Hm…I have always been fond of horses”, he thought. You couldn’t help but laugh, and he seemed even more confused. “What is wrong about horses?” “Nothing. Just the Sleipnir story”, you giggled and nearly spilled tea in the tub. “Hey, that was Midgardian fiction!”, he protested and launched your towel at your head. “Heyy! I can’t know that!” “I promise I never had intercourse with a horse.” It sounded ridiculous, but you tried to stop laughing. He played sulky and got up. “I’ll see you in the living room, bully.” He smirked and then closed the door behind him.

You bathed for a few more minutes before you got up and let the water out. The towel was so fluffy you never wanted to put it back, and part of you wondered whether Loki had enchanted it. Probably not. You slid into boxer briefs, a large green hoodie that covered half of your thighs and a pair of loose black knit socks that you had all found in Loki’s wardrobe.

Loki sat in one of the two armchairs in front of the fireplace in the living room. He had started a fire and was skipping through the pages of a book that rested on his thigh. A little insecure you walked over and sat down in the other one, watching him. “Oh, there you are! You-“ He stopped mid-sentence, eyed you and quickly regained his composure. “Let me see your injuries.” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Now show me your foot.” “Loki? Please?” He tilted his head and looked at you again, curled up in the armchair in a hoodie twice your size. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” “You’re ridiculous.” “I mean it.” “Oh…thanks.” You blushed and fell silent. You watched as he gently examined your ankle and mumbled something. He disappeared and returned with a bandage which he tightly wrapped around it. He whispered a few spells, fascinating you with the light dancing around him. It was beautiful, he was beautiful.

“Thank you”, you whispered when he was done. He nodded and explained that your ankle was sprained and it should heal faster now. After that you quietly drank your tea for a while, legs stretched out toward the fire. Eventually he turned into your direction. You felt him watch you for a while before you looked over as well. “Hey”, you smiled. “Hey.” He thought for a moment. “Remember I wanted to tell you something in the elevator?” You nodded. “Good. And do you remember I said I always care too much too soon, and that’s how I get hurt?” Right, you had hurt him. You bit your tongue and nodded again. “You…were very kind to me. Although I was…” “A prat”, you suggested.” “…I was a prat”, he agreed. “Yet you tried, and you weren’t like the others. I felt like I could trust you. After just one day.” He leaned towards to over the armrest of his armchair and after a few seconds you mimicked his action. “I wasn’t mad at you, Y/N. I was sad. Because I really like you. I was afraid I had…destroyed a…possible path.” You swallowed. “Like, um…?” Loki leaned even further out of the chair until his face was right in front of you. You felt your heart pound in your chest suddenly, louder and faster than ever as he leaned in and kissed you. It was a sweet kiss, full of meaning yet short and innocent. For the hundredth time today you chuckled. Your hand found his cheek and you kissed him again, a little fiercer this time.

Time passed, and at some point you had joined him in his armchair. Once you had gotten over the newfound joy of kissing each other you snuggled up half in his lap, watching the fire. He played with your hair lazily, and occasionally a finger brushed over your neck. You knew him barely a week but already felt like you’d known him for ages. It was weird, but it felt amazing.

You assumed time passed slowly, but when the front door opened you realised it must have been late. Turning your head you leaned forward in the armchair to look over at the door. Thor came inside, making the room look ridiculously small. He knocked something off a side table and it fell down with a loud clatter. He stared at it for a few seconds, hadn’t even noticed you yet.

“Thor? Are you alright?”, you asked quietly, somehow uncomfortable with disturbing the room’s silence. The tall man raised his head, stared at you. Eventually he grinned.

“Y/N! How are you?”

“Um…good, thanks. How was your night?”, you replied politely. Loki seemed disinterested, still staring into the fire and playing with your hair. His brother was more active, he walked over to them with big steps.

“Oh it was great, I did make friends! Although one had to be taken home; he had a little too much I fear”, he laughed. It boomed through the room, and his voice was a little bit too loud to be comfortable. Beneath you Loki growled quietly.

“It appears they weren’t the only one”, he snapped at his brother, then gently pushed you off his lap. He got up and approached Thor.

“You’re drunk, come on. The sooner you sleep, the better.”

Thor allowed his little brother to take him to his bedroom after wishing you a good night. You smiled, it was funny to see the god of thunder tipsy. Perhaps he had been tipsy more often in Asgard. You wondered what it must have been like, a magical place full of gods, parties and advanced technology. They probably had had large feasts, everyone in their best garments, maybe crowns and tiaras involved…you tried to imagine Loki in a suit, norse patterns woven into the fabric, a silver tiara on his forehead. If he had ever looked like the picture in your imagination, you sure had missed something.

“Daydreaming again?”

You looked up and blushed. Loki stood behind the armchair, looking down on you. The light from the fire complimented his jaw and cheekbones and made his eyes shine like emeralds. They were very, very green. You tried to think of anyone with similar coloured eyes, but nobody you knew had such a extraordinary shade. But…hadn’t he said something?

“I…sorry, what?”

He beamed. “I love how my appearance alone makes you lose your composure”, he teased and leaned down closer. Your heart sped up again and you tried desperately to keep your thoughts together.

“You do not! I am just thinking. How is Thor?”, you attempted to change the topic. It worked.

“He’s drunk”, he shrugged, “sleeping usually helps. He will be fine tomorrow.”

“Ah. Well I think it’s cute how you took care of him”, you smiled. Loki rolled his eyes at you.

“He is my brother after all. That doesn’t mean he is not a burden sometimes.”

“Aww come on, you really love him, don’t you?”

“None of that”, he replied and grinned, “you won’t get all those ‘softie’ confessions from me in only one night.”

“Well”, you gave back and yawned,”I have time.” Your eyes began to feel really dry, and your head got a bit heavier.

“I see. Do you want to sleep? You can go to bed if you want to”, he offered calmly. You froze.

“Right, ahh…Loki…I don’t think I want to, uh-”

“Oh nonononono”, he stuttered, “I meant for sleep alone. I can sleep here if you want to, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Nonsense, you are too tall for it. You’d hurt your back. I am perfectly fine sleeping on the couch”, you replied and got up to walk over to it.

“Not on my watch. I am afraid I have to insist, Y/N.”

“Such a gentleman”, you smirked and stopped to think about it. He had been very careful and respectful towards you, he surely wouldn’t try something, would he? No, you decided. You would trust him.

“Okay, seems like we’re sharing. I really hope you don’t snore, mister”, you grinned and marched off toward the bedroom confidently, mostly to hide your own insecurity. It satisfied you to have caught him off-guard, for he needed a few seconds to react.

“Fine, I will just put out the fire”, came from the living room, followed by the sound of someone tripping. You chuckled; it had been a while since you had had that effect on someone.

Once you found yourself in the bedroom you decided the large clothing you were already wearing made a nice pyjama as well, so you took the comforter off the bed and crawled under the covers. The thick mattress immediately embraced you as you sunk into it. It felt like lying on a thick cloud, less humid though. The cover on top of you quickly warmed up and reflected your body heat, and that must have given you the rest, for you fell asleep before Loki even entered the room.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #Books are better than People #chapter 16 #dancing-in-moonlight

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aweebwrites · 5 years

Text

Where Be Dragons? Pt.2

Part 1 of Where be Dragons

Part 1 of Series

___________________

'Jay! Hope you don't mind seafood!' Kai yelled as they returned.

'Depends!' Dragon Jay groaned as he slowly got up, yawning.

He however looked at the parts of crustacean they brought in confused.

'What's that?' He asked as they all brought their pieces over to the two dragons they left behind.

'Some kind of mutant crab. Ninjago has a lot of undiscovered species.' Kai shrugged then slid down off of Lloyd's wing. 'It's tasty though.' He called over his shoulder as he walked towards the others with a makeshift bag he made out of a large leaf.

'I came across some wild figs and bananas. Thought you guys would like em.' He says, placing it before them.

"Didn't catch any of that at all but thanks!" Jay says, reaching out and taking a banana.

"Sorry." Kai says sheepishly, embarrassed that he forgot to switch to words again.

"Worry not." Wu reassured him, taking a fig.

"You guys did take your own food... Right?" Kai queried.

"Of course! What do you think your bag's full of? You're a savage. You don't need more than one suit of spare clothes." Jay says around his banana.

"Rude Jay." Kai huffed as he walked back over to the dragons.

"It was a joke!" Jay called after him. "But I really did pack one suit of clothes for him." He says, leaning back against his duffle bag of clothes.

"I heard that!" Kai yelled and he laughed sheepishly.

___________________

Night fall found Dragon Lloyd sleeping under his father's still overly large wing with Kai under his and Morro close by. Everyone else piled in, careful of their smallest member. Human Wu, Jay and Lloyd were asleep not too far away in their sleeping bags around a burnt out fire. At least, two of them were. Red glowing eyes opened, slitted pupils blowing wide open to adjust to the complete darkness. Lloyd looked around, sharp hearing not picking up any indications of anyone but himself being awake. He sat up slowly, carefully sliding out of his sleeping bag and walking out towards the entrance of the cave. He quietly sat at the cliff at the edge of a platform large enough for the dragons to land on.

The dragon's words were echoing in his head. He sneered, revealing fangs glinting in the moonlight. He knew nothing. A monster couldn't be the green ninja. He was fine growing up, it never showed. He never knew. It was after the tomorrow's tea incident that things changed. His body started to change more than him getting older. It felt as if something was trying to break free those three days he holed himself away from the ninja. By the end of it, he knew he wasn't human.

Not fully at least. He didn't have as much scales as Kai did and his hind legs and clawed hands faded to black from knees and elbows down. The few scales he did have dotted his shoulders and spine, coming across his upper chest. They were the same green as his human eyes. He looked down at his feet before taking of his shoes, taking a breath then holding it as he let them change. He dug his claws into the ground as they changed, intense pain radiating as he did. Once they were fully changed, he released the breath with a shudder, focusing greatly on keeping his breathing even to not wake anyone. They hurt... But only because this is the first in 4 months he's let them change. He usually did so once a week for a few minutes or an hour and it would be fine but ever since Kai came back...

He glanced up. It just reminded him that he has to be perfect. Ninjago didn't take Kai's shapeshifting well at first. Not even their friends did. They treated him like some kind of freak show attraction and Ninjago city thought him a monster. Things would be different for him. Worse. He was the green ninja. Ninjago's protector. Ninjago's saviour. He was the leader of the ninja, an example. He had to be normal. He wasn't disillusioned. Even if he should show this form to them, this monster he is to them all... They wouldn't be as accepting as he was to Kai. Kai was part dragon and dragons are all fine and dandy but he was part Oni. He had done the research after this had first happened and he knew. Oni were destructive demons that fought against the dragons in the first realm. He and Kai would probably become enemies. He didn't want that. Kai was his brother...

Although he seem to have found a new one already.

Lloyd couldn't help the bitter thoughts. Hiding it all as long as he has... It's been hard. It hurts. But... He prodded at his lower canine that jutted up out of his mouth. They wouldn't accept this. He'll just keep hiding it, baring through the pain. He'll be fine. He bit back a whimper as he forced himself to return to normal, feeling the shifting in his anatomy to do so painfully. He'll be fine.

Garmadon watched him in silence. He won't be fine and going by what he just witnessed, he will find out soon just how bad this is for himself. He didn't want things to advance that far but it appears to be the only way for him to see reason. He closed his eyes again. It will be a hard lesson, but one worth learning.

___________________

"They have powers like us, right?" Jay asked, holding on to his dragon counterpart's tail as he slowly flicked it back and forth.

"Yeah. Though just like Sensei Wu, Dragon Wu and Garmadon here don't use theirs so I can't say for sure what it's like." Kai shrugged, unphased by the battle over him, over him.

Lloyd and Morro were growling at each other, each of them wanting to spend time with the smallest member of their family. Kai lifted his head to look up at them.

'Here's an idea. How about you two spend time with each other?' Kai suggested and their growls stop immediately.

'Are you kidding me? Spend time with him?' Morro says, glaring at Lloyd who growls at his tone.

'Yes, him. You have a lot more in common than you think.' Kai says, patting both of their paws. 'Him and everyone else. They'd like to be friends with you too.' He says to Morro more specifically who looked uncomfortable.

Lloyd saw this and felt bad. He, much like the others, didn't know what happened to Morro. He was born after he was gone after all. But it looks like he was on his own. At least he had Kai for half the time he got separated from his father...

'Hey dad, is it ok for Morro and I to go out flying?' Lloyd asked his father and Morro looked at him surprised.

'Zane, do you mind going with them? I trust you to be responsible.' Garmadon says to the white and blue dragon sitting up.

'Certainly.' Zane nods, getting to his feet.

'I can be responsible too!' Nya huffed from where she was laying on her back.

'Oh, really?' Garmadon says, eyeing the loop of water she had going in the air, more than enough to drown their smaller friends.

'... I see your point.' She says and Kai snickers.

'Don't go too far!' Kai called as Lloyd and Zane stood by the mouth of the cave, Morro walking over still wholly uncomfortable.

'We won't!' Lloyd called back before they flew off.

"Are you ok Lloyd?" Sensei Wu asked his nephew, noticing a pinched look on his face.

"I'm fine uncle. I should be getting used to sleeping on the ground by now." Lloyd says, arching his back before slumping.

"I see. Then perhaps you should join Kai with the dragons tonight. I'm sure they wouldn't mind." His uncle suggested.

"No, that's fine. I just need to walk around for a bit." Lloyd says as he stood.

"You sure you're ok?" Kai asked, watching Jay attempt to climb his dragon self, knowing he will fall at some point.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Lloyd called over his shoulder, heading out to the mouth if the cave then walking to the side. "Shit." He whispered, looking down at his clawed right hand, his fingertips blackened.

He couldn't make it go back to normal.

______________

Meanwhile on the Bounty, the ninja were almost there but utterly bored.

"They must be having all sorts of fun." Cole says with a pout, wanting to hang out with the dragon version if himself.

"Our mission here is far more vital." Zane pointed out next to him on deck as Nya piloted the ship.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But dragons Zane. Dragons!" Cole emphasized.

"Kai seemed ecsatatic to have his old family back. Or rather, new." Zane says with a frown.

"What are you trying to get at?" Cole asked, not sure he'd like his answer.

"... Perhaps, he might want to go with them... Back to their dimension." Zane spoke quietly.

"What? No way! Kai loves it here with us!" Cole protested.

"Indeed. But it seems he would be happier with the dragons. You can't deny you haven't seen it. When he thinks he's alone, he always sighs in a way that indicates homesickness." Zane pointed out and Cole when to argue but paused.

He did see Kai do that before. More than once. He didn't think... Cole frowned, looking over the edge of the Bounty. What if Kai really wanted to go with them? How would they function without their brother?... Nya frowned, hearing the conversation from the bridge. She had the same doubts and had hoped the conversation would convince her that it wasn't so, not confirm it. When the find Vortica... She might have to also say goodbye to her brother...

________________

Lloyd had to keep both hands tucked into his pockets as he panicked on the inside. Something is wrong. He can't turn his hands back to normal and they keep slowly changing on their own. Slowly but surely. He couldn't stop it. It hurts. It hurts so badly. As if both of his hands have been broken. He was glad that he wore long sleeves but that was the least of his problems. He could feel his legs starting to go. If they do then he'd be exposed. They would know he was a monster. He was debating with himself on speaking to the dragon version of his father about it. He knew he didn't have a choice but he was trying to delay the inevitable. He abruptly turned around from his standoffish position to the far left of the back, walking towards the black and white dragons waiting on him.

'How do I stop this? How do I look normal again?' He asked them once the dragon version of his uncle helpfully laid beside him, blocking the view of him from his human counterpart since Kai took Jay hunting with the other dragons.

'You cannot stop this.' Dragon Wu told him and Lloyd gritted his teeth.

'This is who you are. You have been denying this part of yourself for too long. It is fighting back.' Garmadon told him patiently, paws crossed in front of him.

'Then what good are you for?' He growled as he turned away, ready to stalk off.

'You must have faith in your family Lloyd. Do not let your fears and doubts blind you from the truth.' Garmadon told him and Lloyd paused.

Just then, he sounded just like his father. So... Wise. Yet so blind that while he hadn't passed the evil the venom of the Great Devourer to him, he passed on its physical effects. The tomorrow's tea didn't just make him older, but made the mostly dormant genes he received run wild. He grunted as he dropped to his knees then, clawed hands coming up to grip his head.

No. He had to stop this. Had to fight it. If he didn't! If he doesn't! He whined as he dug his claws into the ground, his entire body feeling overrun by burning, pulsing, agonizing pain.

"Lloyd!" No Uncle! Stay away!

Sensei Wu didn't stay away however, he hopped up onto his dragon counterpart and gasped to see his collapsed nephew. He hopped down, setting his staff aside to place his hands on his shoulders.

"What is wrong Lloyd? Please tell me." He asked and Lloyd shook his head before grunting, an even more intense wave of pain washing over him and Wu gasped, seeing the black horns pushing out of his head.

He almost stepped back. Impossible. His Oni blood wasn't that strong... Was it? He was helpless to watch as Lloyd transformed fully, immediately falling unconscious once it was done. He looked over his nephew he held up so he didn't fall face first before turning him over. He... He spotted green scales along his neck and had to sit down to process this. Was this their dragon counterpart's doing? No. He had stark Oni features as well as Dragon features. This wasn't of their doing. But perhaps it was the doing of blood. His father's blood.

If there was ever a moment we need you brother, it is now.

A low croon sounded and he looked up at the large black dragon with red eyes.

But in a way, you already are here.

______________

"So, how was your first hunting trip?" Kai asked as Jay slid off of Nya's wing, onto the ground once they returned.

"Dragons are awesome!" Jay grinned, bouncing eagerly on his feet.

Flying was a little terrifying without a saddle but Kai played seatbelt for him. Then he got to watch the biggest, baddest monsters down there run away with their tails between their legs at the sight of them. Then he got to watch them hunt. Dragon Cole had used his earth powers to trap a Walliber that wandered too far and even though Kai told him they don't normally use their powers to hunt, it was still awesome!

"Hey, where's Sensei Wu?" Kai asked as they walked in.

'Over here. You may want to see this.' Kai frowned at Dragon Wu's response before he flew over.

He landed on his back from here he was laying down before gasping at the sight that waited below. Lloyd... His hands, his feet... He had horns??? He slid down, ignoring Jay's yells to look down at him confused.

"I... I don't understand..." Kai whispered, reaching out to touch but hesitating.

'This is who your human Lloyd really is. He has been fighting himself for so long, his true nature has rebelled.' Garmadon told him and Kai didn't know what to make of this.

"If this is what his true nature is, why would he hide it from us? Why didn't he at least tell me?" Kai says, hurt. "I would have understood. We're alike. At least somewhat..." He whispered, lowering his head.

"What... What happened to Lloyd?" Jay asked as he was helpfully lowered into the protective circle both black and white dragons made.

"Nothing has happened to Lloyd. The true question is what has he hidden from us." Wu says and they all fell silent, the dragons watching the humans.

Their Lloyd is different. Like them but also not. They sensed things would changed among the small group.

________________

Lloyd came to slowly, his ears ringing. What happened... His body hurt... He forced himself to sit up, grunting once he did, resting his aching hands in his lap. Why did- his eyes widened, looking down at his blackened hands, holding gleaming black claws. They widened even further looking down at his feet. Oh no. Oh no. Everything came back to him and his breathing picked up.

Uncle knew. He'd tell the others and they would hate him, all him monster. He is a monster. He's one of them. An Oni.

"Take it easy." His head whipped across to see Kai, amber eyes glowing in the low light of coming day. "You've been out a while. Are you thirsty?" He asked and now that he mentioned it, his throat felt as dry as Cole's cooking.

But he was wary. Why isn't he commenting on his appearance, asking why he did it? Why didn't he tell them he was a monster? Why wasn't he attacking him? He was a dragon, wasn't he? Oni and Dragons are enemies. Why was he treating him like a friend?

"Don't look at me like that." Kai says with a frown, startling him. "If you think I give a damn about what you look like, think again." He says with a low growl in his voice.

"You should. Can't you see? I'm an Oni. You should hate me. You should be attacking me." Lloyd says, a low growl slipping into his own voice.

"News flash! I don't give a shit it you're Oni, dragon, human or even a fucking fly. But that doesn't make me any less mad at you." Kai growled, tail whipping back and forth as Lloyd looked at him bewildered and confused.

"You've been knowing hurting yourself by hiding this. Why? Why not tell someone? Why not let us help you?" Kai demanded.

"What's there to help? This won't just go away! The team and Ninjago needs a leader, a hero. Not some- monster!" Lloyd hissed, gesturing to himself.

"You are not a monster!" Kai yelled, getting to his feet. "You are our brother! What the team, what Ninjago needs is for you to be happy and healthy. This isn't healthy and it sure as hell isn't making you happy! I don't know what ideas you've been putting in your head but you need to wake up! We don't care what you look like, as long as it doesn't hurt you- but this form isn't what's hurting you. You're hurting you! We can save you from anyone else but we can't save you from yourself!" He yelled, voice gone from angry to hurt and worried.

Lloyd sat there, stunned for a while. Before the consequences of his actions could set in, Jay who had been awoken along with everyone else by their argument decided to give his two cents.

"Kai's right Lloyd." He says, gaining his attention. "You're our friend, our brother. We don't care what you look like. We care that you've been hurting like this... And we were too blind to see it." Jay whispered, guilt settling in and Kai looked away, the same guilt hitting him.

He knew what someone in pain smelled like and he always smelt it on Lloyd but after the first few days of his return and him acting completely fine, he chalked it up to his overprotective nature. If he had prodded more, asked more questions, maybe he wouldn't have to be in pain for so long. Maybe things could have been different. He let this go on for this long. If he had been a better brother...

"I am deeply sorry if I somehow made myself difficult for you to speak to Lloyd." Sensei Wu whispered and Lloyd was sure he was going to get whiplash with all these quick head turns. "I realise I have been distant since the loss of your father but I will not let my emotions prevent me from being there for you any longer." He says, lowering his head and Lloyd wanted to scream.

This wasn't what he expected! Where is the anger? The hatred? The names?! They weren't supposed to be blaming themselves for his stupid mistakes! He didn't see this coming at all. Didn't dare hope.

'Do not let your fears and doubts blind you from the truth.'

The dragon's words echoed in his head and his eyes welled up with tears. They didn't hate him... They didn't think he was a monster... This had all been in vain. All he did was hurt them. Kai blinked once a small sob caught his ears. He whipped his head around, finding Lloyd rubbing at his eyes, trying to stop his tears but they kept pouring down his cheeks. Kai's heart broke seeing that. He looked so small and young. He didn't waste a second. He knelt next to him, pulling him into a hug, letting him cry into his naked shoulder.

"Let's just forget about the past. From now on, we'll take care of you like we should, yeah?" Kai whispered to him, stroking his scaled back.

"You better believe it." Jay says, leaving his sleeping bag to join the hug. "But if you don't tell any of us if you're in pain I'm gonna put you in even more pain." He threatened lovingly.

"We are all here for you Lloyd." Wu says, joining as well, all of them hugging it out.

Garmadragon and Dragon Wu watched, feeling accomplished. Their trip here may have been unwanted and unplanned but they were beginning to believe they were sent here for a purpose. Wu looked across at his son Morro, whom had his head rested against Jay's back, tail curled close to Cole. It has only been two days and so much progress has happened on them all. Both he and his brother felt humbled to have witnessed it.

________________

"Hey! You're getting the hang of it!" Jay says with a grin later on that day, watching Lloyd walk slowly on two legs.

"It's more comfortable on all four..." Lloyd mumbles, taking baby steps. "Woah!" He yelped as he lost balance and fell- but his dragon counterpart caught him.

'Keep going! You're almost there!' Dragon Lloyd crooned at his not so human self.

'Thanks...' He says with a smile before standing again, rolling his shoulders and gaining a determined look.

He then determinedly marched ahead, focusing on keeping his balance. He beamed when he was a few steps away from where his uncle was, enjoying a cup of tea. -Sadly, he tripped over his own foot before he got there, landing with a grunt before him.

"You know what they say. Gotta get up and try again." Kai chuckled as he flew over, picking him up and setting him down on his feet but he went down on all fours.

"Yeah? Well I need a break." Lloyd chuckled before giving himself a shake, getting most of the dust off of himself.

"You've made great strides already." Sensei Wu says, then sipped his tea. "Literally." He added and they laughed.

"Do you think it'll ever be possible to make video games dragons can play?" Jay asked as Dragon Cole, Nya, Jay, Zane and Blaze watched him play on his phone, entranced.

"Not likely." Kai says drily then returned his gaze to Dragon Wu who was nuzzling Morro as said dragon eagerly returned the sentiment.

It made Kai's heart full. Just two days and so much has changed, huh? His smile fell as he picked up a familiar sound.

The Bounty.

What if they found her? What if he had to say goodbye again, so soon?

He immediately felt guilty after thinking like that. Yes he wanted to keep both of his families but that would mean preventing them from going home and protect it. They loved him enough to let him go... It's time he did the same. He lowered his head. No matter how much it hurt. He turned to look at Garmadon and at Dragon Lloyd. They heard it too. They knew. He flew over, landing before them.

'I won't lie, I'm really starting to hate goodbyes.' Kai admitted as he looked up at them.

'I know the feeling.' Lloyd says, nuzzling him. 'But it's for the best. We both know that.' He says quietly and Kai smiled, stroking his snout.

'Father's rubbing off on you.' He says with a smile, allowing him to lift his head.

'Yeah, well... He's a good influence.' Lloyd says, lifting his head to look at him.

'My son.' Garmadon says, taking hin in his paw as he sat on his haunches. 'In time, you will learn that not all goodbyes are sad ones, and not all goodbyes mean an end.' He says and Kai glanced at tge others, already moving towards the exit.

'You know, I think I just did.' Kai smiled.

______________

"I'm sorry you were all sent from your dimension but at least this situation gave me a lock on the dimensional crystal." Vortica says to them all at the edge of the stone platform. "Let's just say in another dimension, someone interfered and gave the most powerful First Spinjitzu Master the idea to build a dimensional crystal instead of a Realm Crystal. Bad idea. Very bad." She explained at their confused expressions.

"This is the time for heartfelt goodbyes. I can only keep a portal open for 10 seconds." She warned and Kai smiled.

"We've already said our goodbyes." He says, looking at his dragon family.

"So you see going with them." Cole says solemnly and Kai blinked at him.

"What? No. Ninjago is where I belong." Kai says, confused.

"But you're always sad here. If you are then... Maybe you should go..." Nya whispered and Kai smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Nya. It's fine. Yes I was sad but I wanted a little more tome with them, not to live there. And I got that time. I'm perfectly happy staying here with you guys. You're my family." He says, looking at them and they all smiled.

"But it's time for them to go home. It's been almost three months since they've been gone there." He pointed out.

"And with that..." Vortica says and opened a portal just beside her.

'Goodbye everyone!' 'We had fun!' 'See yah!' 'It's been fun!' 'The experience has been well!' 'Thanks.' 'Be well.' 'Best of luck' The dragons yelled as they rushed through.

'Goodbye brother.' Lloyd says from over his shoulder and Kai smiled, watching him go.

"See you guys too." Vortica says, saluting them before walking in too, the portal vanishing afterwards.

"Well..." Nya sighed loudly.

"... Does anyone wish to explain to us what has happened to Lloyd?" Zane asked as they walked over to the anchor of the Bounty.

"It's a long story." Lloyd huffed as they climbed on deck.

They startled once another flask of magenta came as a portal opened, allowing a dirty Vortica to hop out.

"Those Oni are something else." She huffed then blinked at them. "Right. Time difference. Catch." She says, throwing something sparkly and Kai caught it with enhanced reflexes.

"This is..." Kai says, looking at the glowing pink crystal in his hand.

"The Dimensional Crystal? Yes. But it only goes one place now. I trust you to take care of it." She says with a wink then looked sheepish. "Could I get a lift to Ninjago City? Dimensional portals doesn't have any travel perks."

"It's the least we can do after what you just gave him." Nya says with a smile, heading to the bride.

Kai looked down at the crystal in awe. He could really have the best of both worlds...

He grinned.

I suppose goodbye really isn't the end.

__________________

(All done! This was so long but so fun! I have to do at least one more installment of this au. I just??? Love it??? So much??? Second fic will be up in a few hours so keep an eye out!)

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djinmer4 · 5 years

Text

Headline News (Noir AU)

NEW YORK MOURNS MYSTERIOUS DOUBLE DEATHS OF ELDEST LAWRENCE SIBLINGS

“Looking for more inspiration?” Kitty frowned and looked up from hunting the second half of the article among the scattered sheets of the newspaper. “What?”

Kurt passed her a plate of eggs and toast, then turned away to take a sip of his own coffee. For once, they were switching roles, with Kitty on her way out to meet with her editor while Kurt had the day off. He’d offered to go with her but she’d declined. For some reason, he always made her editor Green very nervous. So instead, he’d run a few errands that they’ve been letting slide.

“It’s a pretty interesting case. But I’ll wait to see if anyone else in the family dies. ‘Once is coincidence, twice is happenstance, but three times is enemy action.’” She all but inhaled her breakfast, then quickly applied her make-up and was out the door. “I won’t be back until the evening,” she said, dropping a quick kiss on his thinning hair.

“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Kurt promised. When the door had slammed shut, he finished his sentence. “Or at least, I won’t do anything you wouldn’t write.”

_______

Charles Lawrence, age 34, died two weeks ago in what appears to be an industrial accident. While inspecting a local meat processing plant, Carl was hit by a stray meat hook and torn apart by an automated dismembering machine. Authorities have shut down the plant and have started a more thorough investigation into the practices of owner Johann Schmidt. The death has prompted a recent jump in purchases of Upton Sinclair’s book ‘The Jungle’ with retired . . .

________

Patricia Lawrence-Tomson, age 32, found deceased last week from strangulation. Police are investigating her husband Dylan Tomson for any possible motives . . .

_______

John Lawrence was going to be a difficult target. Two previous deaths, a career in the military during the Great War and a lifetime of paranoia meant he wasn’t going to be taken off guard the way his two older siblings were. Still, Kurt wasn’t too worried. He’d been planning this hit since he first got the assignment. Kurt went up to the gated estate and rang the doorbell. “Who the hell are you? “

“Language, Mr. Lawrence. I’m Dr. Kurt Wagner, from St. Patrick’s in the city. Father Christopher is trying to make arrangements for your siblings’ funerals now that the bodies have been released from the morgue. As next-of-kin for both of them, we’d like to know any wishes or requests that the deceased made.” He waited a minute. “May I come in to discuss these arrangements with you?”

Rather than the gate opening, a man came out, carrying a shotgun. “I’ve heard of you. The Father called last night to tell me that you’d be coming. Any reason he couldn’t make it himself?”

“Father Christopher is in his seventies and more than a little apprehensive about automobiles. Since I had the day off and a car, I offered to take his place.” He waved some papers at the younger man. “The reading of the wills for both your siblings has been delayed, but the solicitor was kind enough to make carbon copies of any relevant requests. Charles Lawrence wrote he wanted to be buried in the Long Island National Cemetery rather than the nearer Cypress Hills and Patricia has several requests about the flowers and decorations for the mass and wake. Are you aware of any other preferences or requests that the two did not write down?”

John Lawrence ignored his words. “I recognize that accent. Did Father Christopher send a Kraut spy to speak to me about my siblings?”

“Please, sir,” Kurt kept his hands in the air, careful not to advance towards the paranoid ex-soldier. “I’ve lived in this country for over five years now, I’m not a spy.”

Brown eyes narrowed over the shotgun. “I don’t fucking care. I’m not letting some Jerry onto my property. You can either get the hell away from me or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

“I’ll leave then, but at least let me give these to you. These are the arrangements the Church has made for your siblings and it also has the number you can reach Father Christopher at if any changes need to be made.” Kurt took a step closer and Lawrence lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. The German ducked . . . but it turned out that was unnecessary.

Instead of a bullet whizzing by where his head was a few seconds ago, the shotgun misfired. Not only misfired but did so spectacularly, with a blowback that shattered Lawrence’s chest. Kurt stared as the light faded from John’s eyes and his body went limp in death. Then he turned and raced towards the nearest neighbor, shouting for them to call an ambulance.

_______

“Sorry, it took so long to get ya outta there. They didn’t keep ya from anything, did they?” Kurt rubbed his wrists. The handcuffs hadn’t been too tight but it had still been an uncomfortable couple of hours waiting for the police to check out his credentials and clear him from their list of suspects. The German suspected they would have kept him overnight if not for Logan coming by to take over the case. “It’s fine. That was my last errand for the day.” The Canadian waggled an eyebrow at him. “And Kitty’s got a meeting with her editor. They’ll probably be out all night.”

“In that case, why don’t I buy you a drink to make up for this?”

“Hypocrite. Shouldn’t an agent of the Volstead Act refrain from being caught in a speakeasy?”

“Hey, I work the supply side of the chain, I don’t care about the people distributing it. Besides, tonight’s case got nothing to do with alcohol. I just want to bounce some ideas off ya.”

“Lead the way then.” They wandered over to the Black Cat Nightclub and ordered a meal from Felicia Hardy. The food wasn’t the best but it was cheap, the servings were generous and no one had gotten sick from it yet. Logan took a generous sip of something that perhaps could be called whiskey if you were being kind and started talking. “So, they’re upgrading the case to a serial killer.”

“I see. ‘Once is coincidence, twice is happenstance, three times is enemy action.’” The shorter man squinted at him. “I got that quote from Kitty.”

Logan snorted. “Oh yeah, she’d definitely know all about that. Eh, I guess Charlie could have been a freak accident but Patsy was definitely murdered.”

The German nodded then took a bite, carefully turning away so that the other couldn’t see his face. Logan had known him before the gas had ruined his good features and even several years later couldn’t look at him without the mask. “And there’s no way that misfire could have been natural. I was a sharpshooter, I know misfires don’t explode like that. And I find it hard to believe a man as paranoid as John Lawrence could have had a weapon in anything in other than top condition.”

“Right. Killer didn’t want to take chances. The guns were fine, but all the ammunition’s been tampered with. We’re gonna go back through his supply chain and see if we get some leads that way.”

“So are you still looking for clues?”

“Yes and no. Our biggest suspect right now is the younger brother, Mace Lawrence. Guy’s scum, hires out as low-level muscle to all the different gangs in the area. Word on the street says he was angling for a bigger share of the Lawrence inheritance than the parents left him in the will. Add that John had a successful import/export business and the proceeds from selling it will go to the survivors . . . “

Kurt took another sip of the not-whiskey. “But you have a different idea.”

“I’m thinkin’ it might be the work of the Demon.”

“The Demon? Not the younger siblings?”

“Two reasons. First, there’s a big gap between the elders and the younger ones. John was thirty, then Mace at 22, then Mary at 18. Mary’s old enough to want the money but she’s too smart to be doing this. Second, method. I can definitely see Mace wanting to kill his siblings, but we’ve got three different styles used. One person gets violently ripped apart, another is found strangled to death and the third falls prey to sabotage. If all three of them had been poisoned or savaged, I’d be more likely to believe it was the brother. A killer may vary their methods when first attempting to murder someone but once they’ve come across a method that works, they usually don’t change their habits. The Demon is the only serial killer we’ve seen who regularly varies her methods when killing people.”

The shadows hid the grimace that formed on the German’s face. “And I don’t need to ask why you think serial killer rather than strange coincidences. People die every day, but the chances of three siblings in one month are minuscule. There’s only one problem. What’s the Demon’s motive?”

“Yeah, that’s why Chief Magnus dismissed my theory. But the Demon’s an insane serial killer, it’s not like she needs a motive.” The Canadian took another bite of salmon and potato mash. “That reminds me, I’ve got a favor to ask ya.”

“Shoot.”

“The Chief won’t let me pull anyone off the other cases to bodyguard Mace Lawrence. But if it is the Demon, he’s the next target. I was wondering if-”

“Logan, I work now. I’m not the dockworker who can just not show up for a few days to help you run a stakeout. Besides, even if he won’t assign someone to protect him, wouldn’t the Chief lend you some people to tail Mace in case he decides to go after his younger siblings as well?”

The older man’s voice dropped. “He already did. But Dukes ain’t much good as a bodyguard, too slow. Pete’s better but he’s a rookie, he doesn’t know how to watch a target while watching the surroundings too.” His voice strengthened after that. “Anyway, ya won’t be the only one. I’m gonna pull in a few favors . . . from Slim and some other people I know. I just need to know what day you’ll be taking so I can work out a schedule for everyone.”

“Do you want me to ask Kitty-”

“No!” He took a deep breath and deliberately lowered his voice again. “Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, Kitty doesn’t have any self-defense or weapons training. She won’t be much use as a bodyguard.” Then below his breath he added. “Or at least, that’s what she claims.”

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Logan was clearly still hung up on his theory that Kitty was the Demon. “Fine, I’ll check when my next day off is. By the way, you’re paying for the meal tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

After he’d seen Logan off but before he went home, Kurt went to check on the mailbox he kept at the Black Cat. As a hub of the underground, Felicia Hardy provided a means for customers to contact various services provided by criminals such as himself, a network she had taken over after the death of her unlamented lover, the Crime-Master. Having just completed a job, Kurt was hoping the final installment of his payment would be in, although he rather doubted it. This last client had been a pain in the arsch from the very beginning. If he didn’t get his money within the week, he was going to take a pound of flesh instead.

There was some cash in the box, and another letter as well. When he opened it, he noticed it was the same typewriter that had been for the earlier notes. With some unexpected contents as well. “This will make things much easier,” he muttered to himself.

_______

Mace Lawrence proved to even less impressive than his reputation made him out to be. The man was a lush, a lech and a braggart. He regaled an indifferent audience with imaginary exploits in an attempt to lure some of the working girls into his bed but needless to say, they were all too jaded to fall for his antics. Kurt was thankful Kitty was buried in her next chapter today, she had barely heard him on his way out. With her so focused on her typewriter, there wasn’t much chance of spending time together, so he wasn’t missing out by helping Logan watch this fool.

Rejected and out of money, Mace made his way out of the speakeasy. The nippy fall weather made it easy for Kurt to tail him, just another trench-coated figure in the crowd. By the time Mace was ready to cross the 8th to get to Penn Station, the German was right behind him. From there it only took a light shove to send the inebriate stumbling into the street . . . and in front of a bus.

As soon as the body stopped rolling, Kurt was at its side, shouting (as much as he could with the damage to his throat) that he was a doctor and turning it to lie on its back. He had one of the other bystanders (white hair, was this Logan’s Peter Magnus?) steady the torso while he pulled the arms up and down to stimulate breathing. Despite the best efforts of himself and the cop (and Dukes when he came puffing up), Mace Lawrence was pronounced dead on arrival at St. Lukes.

“Sorry, Logan. I tried to keep up with him but . . . “

“It’s alright, Kurt. I was really expecting something more subtle from the Demon this time. Although I guess a random figure pushing another in the crowd is as subtle as ya get. Without other clues, there’s no way to track everyone who was there at the time. Only good news is that Chief Magnus is taking my theory more seriously now. The last three Lawrence siblings are gonna be moving outta New York, where the Demon probably can’t follow ‘em.”

_______

“How did you know you know Mace had hired me to kill your siblings?” Mary Lawrence stopped and turned to the man standing in the shadows of the pillar. Average height, trench coat and a fedora on his head, he could have been anybody. But the dull blue mask and harsh accent . . . it definitely matched all the descriptions the police had given her about the Demon.

“Why ask about Mace and not my other siblings?”

“I asked first.” He moved his hand and she could see a pocket knife gleam in the dim light. Deciding this was no time to be brave, she caved and answered first. “Mace was an idiot. There were a bunch of drafts contacting you that he hadn’t disposed of properly at our house.” She took a deep breath. “I burnt them before the police could find them.”

The anonymous man nodded. “All the letters were done on the same typewriter, but there was a different writer for the last letter. The first client gave me all three names at once, then sent a note delaying part of the payment after each death. You, on the other hand, paid half up front, then the second half the day after he was confirmed dead, and didn’t bother to boast at all in the one letter I have from you. You were very efficient.” He paused. “Also, there were a lot of pictures of you with the others in John’s home. You don’t seem the type to be willing to kill for money. Vengeance on the other hand . . .”

She sighed. “Too bad Mace didn’t feel the same way.”

“If it makes you feel better, he only had three names on the list. He didn’t intend to kill you or the younger ones.”

“That might be because until John died, he couldn’t afford it.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t seem like the type to think ahead like that. So, are we free of each other?”

“Yes. I’m taking my siblings out of the city and moving to Saratoga or Albany. Someplace in the northern part of the state. And I take it you have no quarrel with us or any intention of giving the police an anonymous tip?”

“You’ve paid your price, dame. You won’t hear from me again.”

#noir au #dr wagner #detective logan #serial killer kurt

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solivar · 5 years

Text

WIP Ghost Stories On Route 66

In which there is an unexpected and troubling revelation.

“Team Tokki, report.”

“On station, sorry for the delay.” Hana replied a nerve-wracking ten minutes later. “Took us a minute to get all our cables in order but Kozy Kot Motor Inn Basecamp is now online.”

The topographic holomap hanging over the dining room table rippled gently as she proved it, pulsing their location in the scrubby desert flatlands between Mesa Prieta and the ruins of Albuquerque, turning their basecamp icon electric pink-and-green.

“In an amusing sidenote,” Hana continued on breezily, “You know those MiBs -- the TALON guys? Their base may be in Albuquerque Sunport but they’ve got mobile units all over the place in the immediate vicinity and some kind of stationary observation post up on the mesa itself. So yes this is me formally blaming my tardiness on avoiding the notice of scary goons who may or may not be employees of the federal government.”

“Mesa Prieta is an archaeological preserve -- it has been for decades, the petroglyphs there are thousands of years old.” Ana, seated at the opposite end of the table with stacks of airtight herb containers, a mortar and pestle, and a digital scale, observed carefully, pausing in her work. “Ownership yielded back to the Federated Southwest Tribal Government after the Crisis.”

“Meaning?” Hanzo asked, inclining a questioning brow.

“Meaning,” Ana gave the contents of her pestle another thoughtful turn, “that either the FST is acting in direct cooperation with TALON or else their actual employers kissed considerable quantities of ass to access that site for reasons other than advancing the cause of cultural preservation.”

Hanzo blinked at her. “That feels extraordinarily bad.”

“It is what it is, my young friend. Until we have better intel, we can only take matters as they come.” She spooned the contents of her pestle into a little tin container.

“I’m not so sure I like Team Tokki’s proximity to a potentially hostile unknown quantity,” Hot Vampire Jack’s tone was significantly less philosophical. “Maybe you should relocate?”

“Their base doesn’t directly overlook ours -- it’s on the far northern point of the mesa, closer to the Chamisa Wilderness Area than to us.” Jesse replied, calm and even. “We can set a drone on stealth observation if you want, but hauling off and moving again might get us seen by one of their mobile units. They’re putting up those pylon things they’ve got on the UNM campus all over out here.”

“I tried getting a look at one of those the other day but campus security waved me off.” Hana added, aggrieved.

“Whatever else they are, they’ve got a pretty hefty sensor and communications package on them -- I can see their output on our own passive monitors.” Lucio added, and the map rippled as he pushed data, added clusters of red-white-black pinpricks representing the pylons’ locations, easily a few dozen spread across the desert basin between Albuquerque and the mesa, many of them concentrated just above the Red Line along old Route 40. “I can try hacking one of their transceiver modules and skimming the data to see what they’re monitoring but that might attract some attention if they’ve got any kind of intrusion detection capabilities onboard.”

“No unnecessary risks. The pylons likely aren’t going anywhere and they’re extraneous to our own mission.” Terrifying Smoke Gabe rasped, his voice on the comms a weirdly metallic echo. “We can always try that if we can’t get intelligence from other sources.”

“Speaking of which,” Zenyatta interjected smoothly, “Team Tattoo reporting perimeter secure at Four Daughters Basecamp -- we are about to begin deploying our sensor and visual observation drones and begin transmitting.”

“El Malpais Basecamp likewise secure and ready to begin deployment.” Jamie added. “Team Helicopter Parents on perimeter patrol.”

“God, I hate that name,” Jack muttered.

“Who gave the lecture about appropriate comm discipline last night?” Gabe asked sweetly.

“Oh, shut up.”

Actual comm discipline immediately dissolved in jokes and back-and-forth smacktalk, a release of tension that even Jack recognized as necessary before any real work could get done, especially since they were waiting for Team Tokki to get up to speed. Hanzo, recognizing at as well, went and fetched tea and cakes and fussy little finger sandwiches for himself and Ana and, eventually, Reinhardt when he came in off his own perimeter patrol with the members of the pack left on guard duty. She accepted the cup he poured and the plate he delivered with a gracious smile, setting aside her work for the moment, while in the background nearly everyone they loved pretended not to be afraid.

Four days they’d been in the field -- four days of hunting the monster haunting him, four nights of sleeping rough, fanning out from Cerrillos in a gradually expanding search pattern enabled by Jesse’s practical maintenance of multiple gasoline-powered vehicles and Jamie’s purpose-built technology. Hana had dropped her presentation and then bagged the rest of her classes to assist in the physical construction of the drones, displaying a level of mechanical skill that Hanzo at least had never suspected. (“When I was a kid, my cousins and my friend Dae-hyun and I built hovertech for competition before I got into gaming -- seriously, aniki, it’s like falling off a bike, you never really forget once you know how to do it.”) Genji and Lucio had done likewise with the programming, following Jamie and Roadie’s careful instructions, working late into the night on stress-testing up until the day before their departure. Hanzo, relegated to a support role, had helped prepare the supplies and the vehicles for departure, packing MATILDA and the largest of Jesse’s off-road capable Jeeps with military surplus rations and bottled water, three fully stocked first aid kits, the heavily warded four-season tents and camping gear going with Team Helicopter Parents and Team Tokki, and extra warm clothing for everyone. He forced cardigans and sweatshirts on all of them at breakfast the morning they departed, a meal he crawled out of Jesse’s warm embrace to make for them and to which he returned before he allowed them to leave.

Jesse had taken his face between his hands, his kiss sweet and soft, and Hanzo had exercised enormous restraint by making only a few rude gestures at his brother and friends as they whistled and shouted suggestions and encouragements ranging from the mildly obscene to the outright pornographic. Jesse’s husky laughter had warmed him almost more than the kiss as he drew them together and murmured against his ear, “I’ll bring Hana and Lu back safe and sound, I promise, and Roadie won’t let anything happen to Genji and Zen.”

“I know.” Hanzo replied, soft and low against his shoulder. “I just wish...I wish I could do more.”

“You’ll have plenty to do when we find this thing. For now, you’re our lifeline. Don’t forget that.” Jesse pressed a last kiss to his forehead. “We’ll be back before you know it, darlin’. Never fear.”

But fear he did, despite Jesse’s assurances, despite his knowledge of all their skill and ability and competence, because he also knew the cruelty and viciousness and above all else cunning of the thing that they hunted, a cunning that had concealed what he had become from their entire clan, from the sister raised at his side, from the Dragon of the South Wind himself. That concealed him now, still, even as they found the telltale traces of his passage through the world, marked on the holomap in a particularly vile shade of bilious yellow, twisting tracks that appeared and disappeared without apparent pattern, growing gradually denser as the search teams moved west. Fear moved him to carry an inflatable camping mattress down to the dining room, where the communications nerve center was set up by virtue of adequate work-and-table space, and built a nest where he slept, light and restless, alert to the slightest twitch of sound on the comms, the tiniest hint of distress, which mostly came in the form of bodies shifting in their sleep and a terrifyingly vast assortment of snores.

“Drones airborne and headed to optimal scan radius,” Hana reported. “You want me to send one of our spares up to keep an eye on the MiBs?”

“Couldn’t hurt to gather a little intel at this stage of the proceedings.” Jesse opined.

“It could if your drone is detected.” Terrifying Smoke Gabe pointed out. “If you send one up, I recommend passive visual observation only.”

“Doable. Lu, you wanna handle that while I get these puppies where they need to go?” A clattering of equipment on the line as Hana and Lucio moved about in their working shelter.

“Gotcha. Temporarily disabling the drone’s sensor package just to be on the safe side.” Lucio came on the line for the first time that day. “You want me to stream footage back to HQ?”

Hanzo glanced at Ana who nodded slightly and murmured, “If they can detect our drone sensor data streams, a video stream will hardly make matters worse, and if they cannot, we will have fresh information of our own.”

“True.” Hanzo replied as his stomach tried gamely to twist itself into a Lemarchand cube of pure dread. “Go ahead, Lucio.” He clicked his own comm off and looked back to Ana, meditatively sipping her tea. “If they -- if TALON -- detects our data streams, could they trace them here, to Cerrillos?”

“Theoretically? Yes. In practice, Jack and Gabriel and Jesse have all exerted considerable effort to make this place as difficult to find as possible for outsiders.” Ana smiled dryly. “And, in any case, they may be the least of our concerns at this juncture.”

“Point.” Hanzo muttered and clicked the comm back on, applying himself to his own tea in an effort to wring some calm out of his digestive tract.

“Team Tokki’s drones on station, optimal positioning.” Hana sang.

“Team Helicopter Parents, ready to begin scanning.” Jamie replied.

“Team Tattoo, likewise prepared.” Zen added tranquilly.

All three Basecamp icons flashed and Hanzo set the countdown timer. “Ten second timer.”

At ten, the holomap blossomed as the drones’ sensor packages and associated data streams came online, populating it with a picture of local reality that overlaid and intertwined with the topography in ways that would make a cartographer’s eyes bleed. In the corner, a secondary pane opened with Lucio’s camera drone feed as it climbed out of basecamp, view panning out across the remains of the Kozy Kot Motor Inn and its eight identical “log cabin” cottages plus the motel office, set around an inner courtyard that had once contained picnic tables and grills and now held two four-season tents linked by a vestibule, a camp sanitary structure, and a warmed, weatherproof work tent, where they also ate their meals. As Hanzo watched, Jesse made is way between two of the cottages and looked up, waved for the camera as Lucio panned and zoomed away, over the cracked and crumbling remnants of a paved road, through the remains of the little tourist town that had sprung up around the motel, as fully abandoned as it was, and into the desert beyond.

There the ground was rucked up and rugged, split by arroyos and tumbled spits of dark, jagged stone, blanketed in tough, autumn-browned grasses and scrubby, wind-tortured trees and shrubs, elevation rising steadily until the drone was climbing vertically along the wall of the mesa. The top of the mesa itself was so flat the TALON installation was clearly visible miles off, a crescent of four dun-colored prefab structures clustered together, their communications uplink arrays pointed skyward, the rest of their camp’s perimeter delineated in those pylons, spaced neatly exact distances apart. Lucio dropped the drone to a few inches above the mesa hardpack and brought it in behind the largest of the structures, up the back avoiding the windows, and settled it into place on the edge of structure’s roof, cameras trained down into the camp itself.

Ana moved to join Hanzo, teacup in hand, and settled to watch. Within the relatively compact confines of the camp, technicians in khaki jumpsuits were working with obvious care among the basalt-black rocks, scanning the petroglyphs with handheld devices, taking photographs and video, neither moving nor touching anything if they could avoid it.

“I’ll be damned,” Lucio muttered. “Maybe they are doing archaeological preservation work?”

“You have to admit, we’ve seen stranger things.” Genji remarked dryly.

“But if that’s the case, why are they crawling all over the school? And why’d they interrogate Hanzo about Professor Flakes-a-Lot? And what’s the deal with those pylons? And --” Hana’s stream of questions was cut off by the sound of smashing crockery and Hanzo’s involuntary yelp of pain as Ana gripped his arm with unexpectedly fierce strength.

“Pan back,” Ana snapped over his comm.

Lucio did so and Ana’s grip tightened another degree. “Jack, Gabriel...are you seeing this?”

The pair standing together before one of the largest single petroglyph displays in the camp were not dressed like technicians. One, scrawny and unshaven and bespectacled, dark hair going gray at the temples, wore an honest-to-gods white lab coat over his cable knit sweater and gray cargo pants, hands doing as much talking as his mouth as he conversed with his companion. That companion was a solid two, maybe as much as three, heads shorter, clad in rust red coveralls and heavy hiking boots and more toolbelts and their associated attachments than seemed possible, his hugely muscled and heavily tattooed shoulders uncovered and most of his face obscured by a genuinely impressive mass of thick blonde beard and mustaches.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jack breathed over the comm, his quiet carrying the relative force of an explosion.

“Torbjörn?” Terrifying Smoke Gabe sounded frankly stunned. “But...he and Ingrid retired years ago.”

“Apparently not,” Jack replied, grimly.

“This...changes the complexion of many things.” Reinhardt said, heavily, from the door and came to lay an enormous hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“It does?” Hanzo asked. “How? Why? What does this mean?”

“Too soon to tell on some of those, kid.” Jack said into the silence that followed. “But as to what it means? That little Viking wrench-slinger there is Torbjörn Lindholm and, once upon a time, he was a member of the same UN-sponsored special ops unit as Gabe and I -- Rein and Ana, Yanaba and Nate, too. Helped us save the world a time or six. And, if he’s involved with this bunch, TALON? That likely means nothing good and we should probably figure out what it is sooner rather than later.”

#WIP Ghost Stories On Route 66

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artistic-writer · 5 years

Text

Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 23

Title: Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam - Brennan - Ruby

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW) - Ch5

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Here is the penultimate chapter of Werewolf! Thank you all for coming on this journey with me, especially those of you who have encouraged me so much along the way. There is another art to post, but I am unfortunately not in the right place to do so (it’s saved on another computer) so that will be posted tomorrow with a reblog. I have also been sick all week, and not been able to complete ch 24, so i am aplogising in advance if there is a delay with the ending, especially as I have left this one on a cliff hanger.

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her birthday and for creating the @cssnsThank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped with the last few chapters. And to @flipperbrain who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan@sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones@bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan@onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife

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——————————————————————————————

“What are they doing?” Graham asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

David was at the window, peeking through a gap in the curtains, but he had seen all he needed to see. The barrage of werewolves on his land was a real threat, fanning out in human form around a single truck that David knew held his brother. James was dramatic, he always had been, and he would be the last wolf to appear.

“Awaiting orders,” David mumbled, watching the array of wolves with a narrowed stare. His breath fogged the glass in front of his face as he spoke, clouding his view of the attackers.

They were organized and methodical, moving into position like they had been practising for years. David heaved a sigh at the thought. Knowing his brother, these wolves had probably been conditioned to the highest degree, beaten until they were unable to take any more and then made to take more. James was pure hatred and in his world, only the strongest survived.

David wasn’t sure how many wolves had lost their lives at the hands of James. The only one thing he knew for certain was that they had.

“Speaking of,” Graham interrupted his thoughts with a gentle hand on his Alpha’s shoulder. “We have wolves ready throughout the grounds, inside and outside the house. Will is awaiting my next instruction.”

“Will is here?” Emma asked, almost a little too excitedly.

“Who is Will?” Killian added gruffly, a darkness to his voice that had David staring directly at him. The Alpha cocked his head sideways and looked at his newest pack member.

Killian looked at Emma and the blue of his eyes had turned grey, taking on a coal like darkness that echoed the clench of his jaw. She matched his stare, green eyes boring into his, the silent conversation between them of assurances not going unnoticed by their Alpha. Emma was telling him it was okay, that she would explain everything, but Killian only had rage in his eyes.

“Something I should know?” David prompted them, interrupting their stare.

Graham looked to Emma, who gave him a sideways glance, not committing to the full act of looking at him. He had no idea that mentioning Will would cause this sort of reaction of her mate, and he looked to Killian nervously. The only other wolf he had ever seen with the same sort of look was James.

“Answer your Alpha,” Graham insisted, nudging Killian with his elbow.

“We don’t have time for this,” Emma said impatiently.

David silenced her with a wave of his hand, moving across the room towards Killian. He took him in, Killian’s stance closed and aggressive, shoulders hunched and stiff from tension. He was angry, but David couldn’t tell why. His scent had changed, a more masculine scent than before invading the space between them as David approached him and shook him from his fury with a slight nudge.

“Killian?” David spoke quietly and calmly, and Killian blinked a few times, clearing his red blurred vision. David looked at him, a mixture of fear and apology in Killian’s eyes after the inner wolf, so full of bloodlust, had subsided. A blush crept over his cheeks and Killian licked his lips nervously, averting his gaze as David reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Killian stuttered nervously. “I’m not...I don’t-”

“Will is Graham’s beta,” David assured him kindly. “He is no threat, I promise you. I know it’s hard, all these terms and new rules that you’ve never heard before.” Killian nodded a little. “We can help you tame it, Killian. I know the inner wolf so eagerly craves blood, and we have all struggled.”

Killian’s eyes went wide with shock, and despite all his warnings, he stared David directly in the eye. There was no challenge, and David knew that; he was not threatened a single bit by the half-wolf in front of him.

“Your whole life is about to change. You are going to feel things you never have before, and some will be confusing,” David told him with a warm smile. “Being a wolf takes more than being a man-”

“With all due respect, sir,” Killian interrupted sheepishly, “being half man makes me a better wolf.”

Killian had the drive and the tenacity that made only a few wolves great, but he also harboured a darkness David had seen within his brother. James was taught the ways, shown the path, and despite his father’s encouragement, had been overtaken with the desire to kill once he spilt blood. Killian needed a gentle hand to guide him into pack order, and Misthaven was where he would find it.

“Maybe,” David agreed with a nod. “In time, and with Emma’s love, you will be a better wolf than me.”

David could see the flash of fear in Killian’s eyes, behind the bravado, the love for his daughter shining above all else. David had seen that before too, in his own reflection, his love for Mary Margaret lighting his journey and taming his own darkness, shaping him into the wolf he was today. Every wolf had the ability to become encumbered by the blackness in their hearts, but not every wolf had the chance to shine a light on it.

Emma was Killian’s light, David could see that now, and he just needed the right pack to guide him the rest of the way.

“You are strong and fierce, Killian. More wolf than human, I’d say. Do you think, just for a little while, the wolf my daughter loves can help us protect our home?” David gave Killian a warm smile, patting him on the back like an old friend and Killian felt his entire body relax.

“Yes, sir.” Killian smirked. “I can certainly try.”

“Good,” David nodded before turning to Graham with a much sterner face. “Emma, go to Will. Protect the rear. Killian, Graham, you come with me,” David demanded, the sound of his wolves rousing throughout the old house. “This is my home as long as I am breathing. Graham, you see to Walsh. That snivelling mutt needs to know his place.”

“Above or below ground?” Graham snarled, his nostrils flaring.

“You decide,” David rasped darkly. “Killian, you think you can think clearly enough to fight with me?”

“Like my life depended on it,” Killian said faithfully.

“It might,” David sighed. “I’m sorry, but it just might.”

James stepped from the truck, the old leather seat squeaking under his weight as he slid from his place behind the wheel. There was a light dew hanging just above the ground all around Misthaven. It was coated with the scent of wolves, mostly male, but between the droplets of moisture, James could detect the scent of his niece. She was no longer in heat, he could smell that, but she was scared, her fear evident in the air.

“She’s here,” James growled on a long inhale, turning to meet the gaze of his beta at his side.

“I smell her too,” Walsh agreed with a nod, the inside of his mouth becoming wet with saliva. Emma’s scent was new, freshly laid across the ground and a nearby truck that reeked of the Misthaven beta, Graham Humbert. There was another scent Walsh could detect, one he would never forget as long as he was alive. He ground his jaw impatiently, fists balling at his sides. “The mongrel is here too,” he spat, lips curling as he focused on the house.

James whipped his head to the house once more, an eyebrow rising on his forehead. “The mongrel? Now that is interesting,” he muttered to himself.

“Maybe he is dead already,” Felix offered, the Neverland pack member appearing next to James. Even though he had no visible injuries from his alleyway fight with Killian, his ego was still bruised from the way Killian had grinned a blood stained smile in his face.

“If he isn’t, he soon will be,” Walsh ground out, shooting his comrade a glance whilst fingering the scar tissue on his neck.

“Enough!” James barked, looking between the two wolves on either side of him. “This isn't the time to be caught up in petty revenge,” he growled, pointing first to Felix and then to Walsh with a menacing finger. “Look where that got you last time.”

Walsh looked to the ground, his toes curling in his boots. He didn’t have to look at James to know that his Alpha was still disappointed in him, but he could redeem himself. It was either that or his life would be snuffed out before he had time to blink. James was ruthless. The years Walsh had spent at his side would mean nothing to James if he stopped him from taking Misthaven from David.

“Take half the men and flank right,” James told Felix, nodding towards the back of the house. “Stop anyone that gets in your way.”

Felix nodded eagerly, silently signalling a handful of werewolves to follow him as they slipped into the darkness beside the house and around the back. They were silent, and as big as they were, they tread silently across the driveway and scaled the fences with ease. When they were gone, Walsh let out a breath, the skin on his forearms standing to attention in the sleeves of his jacket as a ripple of excitement passed over his skin.

“This is going to be fun,” he sneered, all but rubbing his hands together.

“Attack!” James called out, ignoring his beta, his voice echoing through the nearby trees. A bird flew off from its perch, calling out it's warning as it took flight, wings hitting branches as it escaped the confines of the brush.

The wave of werewolves behind them rushed forward, barging shoulders with each other as they let out an almighty roar, their voices carried across the land like the rumble of a huge engine. James led the charge, Walsh at his side, feet sliding on the gravel beneath their feet as they ran up the driveway that led straight to the huge doors of the house.

“Will!” Emma called out, rushing through the hall and into the huge, farmhouse style kitchen at the back of the old house. She slid to a stop just in front of the huge island counter, the flash of black in Will’s eyes as he gave her a quick glance telling her he knew what she was about to say.

“They’re coming over the fences!” he said quickly, pointing left and then right. “Come on!” He motioned Emma to follow him, yanking the door open and rushing out onto the slippery grass behind the house.

Emma followed, quick to take instruction from Graham’s beta. Will Scarlett was another loyal pack member, another stray that David and Mary Margaret had taken in when his family had abandoned him. He was a few years younger than Emma but had struck up a firm relationship with Graham when they were teens. Now, adults, Will answered to Graham as his second-in-command.

Misthaven was like any other pack in terms of hierarchy, with an Alpha at the forefront, leading the pack in everyday scenarios as well as political decisions. His second-in-command would be a beta, in Misthaven’s case Graham Humbert, who in turn would have his own beta. Will Scarlett was Graham’s beta, and as such, a high ranking member of the Misthaven pack, so Emma fell into line immediately, following his orders.

Out in the open yard they were bombarded, five burly looking werewolves in human form rushing towards them whilst the one known as Felix followed up the rear. Emma spied him instantly, recognising him from the alleyway where Killian was taken, and caught his gaze with her stare. He sneered, lips curving back across his teeth in a grimace that made her feel sick to her stomach.

“You take the stragglers,” Emma whispered to Will. “The big guy is mine.”

Will didn’t have time to object before he was pushed out of the way by Emma, her eyes fixed on Felix with an aggressive stare. Her feet carried her across the grass, dodging a few of the Neverland wolves, the point of her elbow connecting with Felix’s jaw as she jumped through the air with a roar. He recoiled back, his forward momentum causing his jaw to slide sideways and out of place, his hand immediately clutching the offending joint as he fell to the ground.

Emma skidded to a stop, turning to face the brute with a wicked grin. Felix snapped his head towards her, a growl escaping his throat as he grunted in frustration. His mouth tasted coppery, the blood from his gums coating his tongue, and with a curl of his lips, Felix spat a mixture of blood and saliva to the ground.

“You don’t look so tough,” Felix grunted, shaking his head at her and pushing himself to his feet. He rushed her again, but Emma parried left, spinning on her heel and righting her stance immediately in case he was quicker than her. He wasn’t, his weight not on his side as it carried him passed her, and Emma sent a kick right into his back. Felix howled, arching his back into the pain as he fell to his knees.

“How do I look now?” Emma smirked.

Felix scrambled to his feet, charging her once more, his jaw clenched tight as he ignored the pain that still throbbed through it. Emma was ready, blocking blow after blow as they sparred, Felix’s clenched fist finally connecting with her face. He grinned triumphantly, snorting through his nose, and Emma dabbed the split in her lip.

“Oh,” Felix taunted, heaving a breath. “Did that hurt, princess?”

Emma grit her teeth, inspecting her fingertips for blood, the crimson fluid coating her skin. She growled under her breath and licked the cut, the tang of copper coating her taste buds.

“Not as much as this is going to!” Emma roared, rushing for the brute once more.

Felix let out a cry, and Emma dodged him again. She was smaller than him, more nimble and she landed another elbow to the back of his neck. He cried out, clutching the back of his head and narrowing his eyes at her as he winced in pain. Emma smiled, mirroring the one Killian had given Felix in the alleyway, and it made him boil with rage. Felix let out an anguished cry, tearing the jacket from his back and falling to all fours with a groan.

Emma watched in disbelief as Felix changed, his hands clutching at the ground before turning into paws and his spine growing longer as he stretched into wolf form. His clothes ripped from his body and Emma was met with the sight of his wolf, the huge, black tipped grey hairs of his pelt bristling along his back. Felix lifted his head after his transformation, a low growl in the back of his throat as his green eyes darkened and fixed on his prey.

“Oh, shit!” Emma gasped, a hot flush of panic rippling over her flesh. She turned tail and ran, heading back towards the house as Felix gave chase, snarling and snapping at her heels. She ran into the house through the kitchen door and turned, pushing the heavy wooden door as hard as she could, but the weight of the wolf pursuing her crashed into it and sent her flying across the kitchen.

Emma hit the wall, crashing into her mother’s display of patterned plates, and overturning the table in the process. There was a huge crashing sound, bits of the broken ceramics raining down on her as she winced from a pain that shot through her ribs. One was definitely broken, maybe two, and she clutched her side in agony, boots scuffing the dusty, wooden floorboards as she scrambled for cover behind the fallen farmhouse table. A shard of a plate had sliced her face, but Emma ignored the dripping wound when Felix’s growl roused her once more.

The wolf was in the house, the door swinging shut behind him keeping Will outside. Emma heard him sniff the air, tongue licking at his chops as he sought her out. She knew he could smell her, and it was only a matter of time before he realised she was so close and injured. Emma glanced around, finding only a huge shard of the broken crockery and clutched it in her hand.

The sound of Felix’s claws on the floor drew nearer, and Emma could even hear the drops of his drool hitting the floor as they spilt from his maw. He growled low, a warning most likely, and Emma clutched the broken bird covered porcelain harder, the jagged edge tearing into the fingers of her skin and palm. With a bark of excitement, Felix leapt onto the edge of the upturned table, looming over her and Emma cried out in surprise.

The wolf snapped its jaws, lips upturned in a menacing snarl, fangs dripping with saliva as it growled, green eyes aglow with hatred. Emma squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her arm, broken plate piece ready to strike but then, out of nowhere, the sound of cast iron hitting bone echoed through the kitchen and Felix slumped to the ground, limp and lifeless. The hollow vibration rang out again, and again, and Emma peeled her eyes open to see her mother straightening her stance and wiping specks of blood from her pale face.

“Mom?” Emma asked, her voice high pitched.

“Hush,” barked Snow, eyeing the wolf carcass now slumped over her kitchen table. She huffed, annoyed. “If your father thinks I am going to hide away in some panic room whilst my daughter gets mauled by a Neverland wolf, he has another thing coming.”

Snow extended her hand to her daughter, smiling warmly as Emma clutched her limb and was pulled upright. Emma groaned in pain as she stood, the feel of bone crunching against bone inside her torso and the sting of her cut cheek as it reopened making her hiss. Snow looked her over, concern etched on her face, but Emma gave her a reassuring nod.

“I’m fine, mom,” she insisted but Snow was unconvinced, just about to object when Will came crashing through the back door.

He was bloodied, a swollen lip and a cut under his eyes, but somehow Emma could still see the red tint of a blush when he realised Snow had caught him inside the house with dirty boots and clothes on. She gave him a frown, hands on hips as she motioned to his mud clad footwear with a glare, just like when he was a child.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nolan,” Will stammered quickly, out of breath from his fight. “I’ll clean up, I promise.”

“Yes, you will,” Snow chastised him playfully. “But not before you go help my husband.” Snow pointed to the hall, giving Will the silent go ahead. He nodded, rushing off through the doorway as Emma collapsed against her mother once more.

Will bounded up the huge staircase three steps at a time, grabbing the rail and pulling his weight with each step. He breathed heavily, already half exhausted from his fight with the straggling wolves outside, but the sound of his Alpha in a fight made him ignore the burning in his lungs and continue on to his goal. At the top of the stairs he saw Graham, engaged in a fist fight with James and from the look of things, gaining the upper hand.

The Neverland Alpha was strong, and he fought back, countering each of Graham’s blows with one of his own. The men exchanged blows so furiously quick, Will had a hard time keeping track, but he heard the unmistakable sound of teeth breaking loose from James’ jaw as Graham landed a backhanded punch to the older wolf’s face. James stumbled backwards, giving Graham pause, and the Neverland Alpha looked back at him slowly, a dark, narrow stare as he spit blood out onto the floor between them.

“My brother chose a fine Beta in you, Humbert,” James said darkly, licking at a split in his lower lip. He rearranged his jaw again, spitting out a tooth which hit the floor and sounded like a dice rolling across the wooden boards. “Ever considered a darker career path?”

“Not in a million years,” Graham spat disgustedly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Ah, that’s right,” James said snidely. “You can’t, what with your human and mongrel child.”

Graham ground his jaw, fists balling at his sides. He hunched his shoulders, staring down the Alpha who dared threaten his family. He didn’t know how James knew, and he didn’t want to know, but what he did want was the man in front of him dead. Anger fuelled his already tired body and Graham lunged forward, teeth bared and his lungs expelling a cry of rage.

“Graham, no!” Will screamed, the thickness of his accent rolling his tongue around the name.

Graham didn’t listen, following through his action and grabbing James by the shoulders. The men stumbled backwards, Graham’s weight atop James as they rolled to the floor. James threw a punch upward, colliding with Graham’s jaw, but the beta didn’t falter, stiffening his neck to absorb the blow. James lifted his knee, tossing Graham over his head in one motion that sent the beta sprawled out behind him towards the end of the hall.

“You’d better get me, boy!” James taunted, pushing himself to his feet and motioning Graham to him with a flick of his fingers. “Before I get to that pretty human of yours.”

Graham jumped to his feet, barely giving himself a chance to shake off his fall when he charged James again. The Neverland alpha grinned a bloody smile, digging his hand behind his back to grip at the handle of a knife sheathed on his belt. As Graham got closer, James took up stance, half squatting on the spot, bouncing on the balls of his feet ready to move. As Graham reached him, James dodged sideways, pulling his knife free and plunging it into Graham’s shoulder as he passed him.

Graham cried out, falling to the floor with a thud, and Will was at his side in an instant. By the time Graham rolled over, hand clawing at the top of his shoulder, James was gone, nothing but his scent lingering in the hallway.

“Where did he go?” Will asked quickly, assessing Graham’s shoulder. The blade was in deep, probably touching bone, and Graham winced with a growl when Will gave it a tug.

“God, Scarlett!” Graham hissed. “Stop pulling on it!” Graham batted his beta’s hand away, tutting in frustration.

“It’s got to come out!” Will insisted. Graham growled again, half a groan of consensus as he nodded. “On three,” Will told him firmly, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the hunting knife. Graham tensed, gritting his teeth and snorting short, panicked breaths. “One, two-”

“Son of a bitch!” Graham yelled when Will pulled the blade earlier than he anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” Will said quickly, tossing the blade aside and covering the wound with his hand. “Hold still, let me see.” Graham calmed his writhing, steading his breath as Will lifted his now bloodied palm and peered down at the slice in Graham’s shoulder. He wrinkled his nose a little but the wound looked clean and not as deep as he first thought. “I think you’re good,” Will confirmed. “It looks clean.”

“That mother fucker,” Graham rasped, his voice hoarse from his earlier shouting. “He’s gone after David.”

“Killian was with him,” Will assured, helping him into a more comfortable position. Graham hissed through the pain, his shoulder blade throbbing like he had been burned. “I’ll go and check-”

“No!” Graham insisted hastily, clutching Will’s arm desperately. “Neverland knows about my family,” he gasped between breaths. “Go to the cabin. Make sure Ruby and Davin are okay.”

“But-” Will began.

Graham cut him off. “This is not up for discussion, Scarlett!” he growled. He grabbed Will by the head, forcing the lower pack member to look directly in his eye, and unable to look away, Will paled under Graham’s command. “Go.”

Will nodded, rushing to his feet and fleeing the hall, his feet pounding the floorboards as he ran down the stairs and out the huge fortified front doors. Graham slumped back against the wall, the cold, wet patch of bloodied cloth sticking to his skin as it pressed against the surface behind him. He looked along the hall in the direction James could only have gone, and prayed Killian was able to finish what he had started.

David and Killian were holed up in one of the libraries with nowhere to go. They would fight their way out if needed, but David had intentionally drawn the Neverland wolves to that spot because he knew it would give them the advantage. He knew the house like the back of his hand, and any Neverland wolf able to get through his pack defenses would surely fall by his hand.

The sound of men hitting each other ricocheted through the old house as wolves battled each other. Dull, sickening punches and the cracking of bones was all that could be heard from the opposite side of the door. Killian’s heart pounded in his chest, the blood pulsing through his eardrums and almost making him deaf to the cries of wolves as they fell. He wasn’t sure if they were friend or foe, but he was caught between the lust for blood and the fear of the battle. Killian had never encountered hostility like the Neverland pack, and if he survived, he never wanted to again.

“You traitor!”

Killian looked at David when he heard the unmistakable sound of Walsh from the end of the hall. There was another room there, and David nodded when Killian reached for the handle, twisting it open silently. They both stared down the silent hallway, bodies littering the landing like dirty laundry. There was another shout, this time of pain, and Killian instantly recognised it as his father.

“Neverland is fighting amongst themselves,” David whispered, peering over Killian’s shoulder.

“It’s my father,” Killian told him, whispering back.

“He’s here? Why?” David looked confused. He knew that Brennan Jones was a member of Neverland, but what he didn’t know was why he would be fighting in their corner, turning on his own to help defend an Alpha he didn’t follow.

Killian strained to listen, but the conversation between Brennan and Walsh was muffled on the other side of the door. He could only smell Walsh and his father, the still warm bodies of the fallen wolves fading from his senses.

“He’s helping,” Killian whispered, unable to believe his own words.

The dull sound of a clenched fist hitting a body caught Killian’s attention and without thinking, he ran along the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. The door at the end led into one of the libraries, and just as his boot connected with the door and sent it flying open, Killian saw his father hunched over in pain. Brennan was clutching his stomach, all the air leaving his body as he stumbled back into a huge wall of books. With little energy to even stand, Brennan grabbed a book from the shelf behind his shoulder and launched it at his attacker, the heavy leather bound tome hitting Walsh directly in the jaw.

Walsh recoiled in pain, grabbing his face as the weight of the book completely turned his neck sideways and his head was jarred unnaturally. He snarled in anger, launching himself at Brennan once again, but Killian was there to block his assault and take the brunt of the damage. He caught his arm mid air, twisting it sideways with a sickening snapping sound, Walsh howling in agony as he desperately tried to pull away.

“Killian, get back!” Brennan rasped, his voice changed from how hard he had been gasping for breath. He clutched at his arm, a burn mark in the fabric there.

“No!” Killian roared, eyes fixed on Walsh, his feet planted firmly on the ground to protect his father.

“Listen to your father,” Walsh spat, hugging his broken arm to his chest. “Or should we end this once and for all, mongrel?”

With an evil grin, Walsh presented what he had been hiding behind his back, and the reason why Brennan had been overpowered so easily. The long black pole of the cattle prod in his hands sent a shiver down Killian’s spine, his neck flushing hot with anxiety at the sight of it. Walsh let out a chuckle, his sadistic laugh not even enough to rouse Killian from his panic. He was frozen, petrified to the spot and when Walsh turned it on, the blue spark jumping between the pronged ends, Killian flinched backward.

“Oooo!” Walsh sounded through a laugh. “Looks like someone has a little residual trauma lingering around.”

Killian took a breath, steadying his nerves, grinding his teeth at the remark. He knew Walsh was just torturing him, trying to force him into making a move. Walsh was injured, incapacitated by his broken arm in such a way that all he really had left was his threats. Killian licked his lips, eyes scanning over Walsh’s face, searching for any indication that the wolf in front of him might attack, only all Killian saw was panic behind Walsh’s bravado. He was a wolf alone in a battle, outnumbered and at a disadvantage, and he knew it.

“What’s wrong?” Killian asked frankly. “You look a little scared.”

“Ha!” Walsh sneered. “Of you two?” He motioned between them with a wave of the cattle prod. “An old wolf not fit to be alive and his mongrel son? Please.” Walsh stepped forward, brandishing the sparking pole and Killian couldn’t fight the way his body moved back again. Walsh let out a sadistic laugh, igniting the rod once more, only for it to fizzle out after a small blue spark as the batteries run flat.

“You’re not having much luck, are you boy?” Brennan coughed, clutching his side as a grin lit up his face. “Not so big without weapons, are you?”

Brennan’s jibe riled Walsh enough that he lunged forward, holding the pole above his head with the intention of striking Killian. Killian was too quick, reaching up and grabbing the cattle prod mid strike, his might too much for Walsh who had to let go when Killian twisted the device from his grip. Walsh jumped back, huddled near the wall, panting hard from the tussle.

“What are you going to do now, halfbreed?” Walsh spat, his lips curling over his teeth in disgust at the words he used.

Killian looked down at the rod in his hands and then back to Walsh, a wolfish grin on his face. He shook his head, pinching his eyes closed for a second, before tossing the defunkt pole aside where it hit the wooden floor with a clatter.

“I’m not like you,” Killian ground out. “I will not hurt someone else for fun.”

“Just like I suspected,” Walsh growled. “Weakness runs in the Jones blood. Tell me, Killian,” Walsh growled, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a small handgun. Killian’s eyes went wide, the black pistol pointed directly at him. “Does Liam know how to fight?” he asked, waving the pistol around, “ because, when I’m done with you, I am going to find him, kill him and wipe every last Jones halfbreed from existence!”

“Over my dead body!” Brennan rasped, forcing his change in the blink of an eye. The light grey wolf leapt through the air, black patches around his eyes like a bandit mask, jaws snapping together as he attempted to reach Walsh. There was almost no time to react, Walsh squeezing the trigger as soon as Brennan’s feet left the ground, the crack of the gun echoing through the house.

Brennan let out a yelp, his wolf body stopping mid air and falling to the ground like a stone. Killian felt his entire body go cold, the whole scene playing out in slow motion as his father’s body hit the floor and Walsh fled through a door at the back of the room. The narrow passage was like a secret tunnel into the next room and as he squeezed through the gap, he dropped his gun. It clattered to the ground but was soon forgotten over the whining wolf at Killian’s feet.

“Dad! No!” Killian cried out, rushing to his father’s side. He slid down to his knees, tearing the jacket from his back as Brennan changed back to human, his naked form quaking on the dusty floorboards. Killian covered his father with his jacket and attempted to make him more comfortable, bundling the man into his arms like a babe and ignoring the way blood stained his hands. “Come on, stay with me.”

“You called me Dad,” Brennan smiled, looking up at his son with a glassy stare. His eyes were vacant, void of the colour they had once held so vividly, and Killian heard a rasp from his father’s chest.

“And I will again, just hold on, can you do that for me?” Killian clutched his father’s body harder, pulling him closer to his body. Brennan groaned, the twist of his body causing him pain. “Somebody help!” Killian called into the room, quickly scanning for anyone who could help him but finding them all alone.

“Killian,” Brennan muttered, clutching his son’s arm and drawing his attention. Killian looked down, the paleness of his father’s face a stark contrast to his black hair.

“No, don’t try to talk. Somebody will come,” Killian reassured his father, but he didn’t believe the words himself.

“I want you to know-” Brennan’s words were cut off by a hacking cough, blood dribbling from his mouth and down the side of his face. Killian’s hand hovered over his father’s face, ready to dab at the trickle of blood down in his father’s beard. He was unsure what to do, how to save him, and his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of losing the man in his arms.

“I know,” Killian smiled weakly. “I love you too.”

“Tell Liam,” Brennan rasped, and when he inhaled, his chest sounded hollow. The bullet had gone through a lung, possibly something much worse, and he was drowning in his own blood. “Tell Liam, I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to tell him yourself, just hold on.” Killian reached under his jacket and pressed his hand to his father’s wound, the tiny, circular hole oozing crimson on every one of Brennan’s breaths.

“I wish-” he gasped on a ragged breath.

“What, Dad, what?” Killian asked him eagerly, desperate to hear his voice a little while longer.

“I wish I was half the wolf you’ve grown to be, my boy,” Brennan coughed, his words but a whisper. His hand found the side of Killian’s prickly face and traced the apple of his cheek with a serene smile. “You’re just like your mother,” he told Killian softly before expelling his last breath, his hand falling back down to Killian’s lap as his smile faded.

“No, father, no!” Killian cried without pause, his words quick and panicked. “Don’t leave me again! Not again,” he whispered through tears, his father’s lifeless body heavy in his arms.

Killian had convinced himself he would never love his father. He had grown up believing that the man had left his mother, breaking her heart, for himself and nothing else. Killian now knew he was wrong, and his father was willing to sacrifice even more for those he loved, including his own life. Killian pulled his father’s suddenly heavy body towards him even harder and cried. Hot, fat tears streamed down his face and dripped onto Brennan’s head tucked under his chin. Killian was sure his wails could be heard throughout the house, but still, no one came.

The sound of a frustrated growl coming from the next room pulled his attention away from his father, and fuelled with a new anger for Walsh, the wolf who had taken and tried to take everything from him. Killian let his father’s body slip from his grasp and pushed himself to his feet. He took a long, deep breath, wiping at the tears wetting his face, and ignoring the discarded gun as he pushed himself through the gap and into the next room.

“Fuck!” Walsh growled, kicking the door that was locked from the outside. It was trapping him in the room; there was no other way out except back through the other room where he really did not want to be. A noise from behind him made him freeze and spin around, forehead beaded with sweat and eyes wide with a newfound fear for the young wolf that had appeared.

Killian was different. The blue of his eyes was replaced with black, his previous hues as soulless as the devil. Walsh swallowed hard, clutching his arm tighter to his hunched frame as he panted for breath. For the first time in his life, he was the scared, cornered prey of a predator hell bent on revenge. Killian’s nostrils flared a little and his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, the tips of his ears pink with anger.

Killian surged forward across the last remaining foot between them, and grabbed the lapels of Walsh’s jacket. He hoisted Walsh into the air, the wolf shying away from his gaze and flinching with the expectation of a strike. Walsh’s one good arm covered his head, instinctively trying to protect himself, and he couldn’t stop the whimper that tumbled from his mouth.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait, I was just following orders!” Walsh snivelled, shaking in Killian’s firm grip.

“Orders to tear apart my family?!” Killian roared, his face inches from Walsh’s as he gave him a shake. “Orders to have my mate!” Walsh flinched even harder, pinching his eyes closed as Killian’s breath heated his face. Killian’s grip tightened on the fabric of Walsh’s jacket, twisting the material in his fists and pulling Walsh even closer to him. “Orders to kill my father?” he added darkly.

“No!” Walsh objected firmly. “No, no, no, no,” he shook his head from side to side, the sting of tears in his eyes. “He turned on me! I was just defending myself! I didn’t mean anything I said,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “You know that, right?”

Killian took a long breath, loosening his grip on Walsh’s jacket. The other wolf took a breath and sighed thankfully, his body relaxing a little as Killian set him back on the floor and let him lower his hand.

“Just his orders,” Walsh said slowly, nodding in understanding. “You don’t know what he’s like. It was follow the orders or die, Jones, what would you have done?”

Killian wasn’t sure what Walsh was trying to achieve by humanizing his so called orders. Emma had told him all about James, the twin to her father and a lion with a rather large thorn in his oversized, powerful paw. Killian expected no less than brutality from James, but after seeing the sadistic side of the Neverland beta, he thought Walsh would put up more of a fight.

“You’re right,” Killian told him calmly, his voice eerily level headed. Walsh looked at him confused, watching Killian’s hands release the edges of his jacket and slowly flatten out the creases. “What would I know?”

“Exactly!” Walsh grinned excitedly. “You’ve never been a part of a pack, followed an Alpha,” he added quickly.

“Of course,” Killian agreed, a tranquillity falling over him. “Pack loyalty is of the utmost importance.”

“See! I knew you would understand!” Walsh screeched excitedly, his one good arm reaching out to pat Killian on the shoulder.

“What I understand is your idea of loyalty is to follow pack law without question. Not because you’re afraid of the consequences if you don’t, but because deep down you like the reprehensible things your Alpha makes you do.” Killian rasped, looking at the spot on his shoulder where Walsh’s filthy touch had made his skin crawl. “You take pride in serving your own brand of darkness, but are too much of a coward to do so in your own name, so you disguise it as loyalty. You’re a weak wolf. Weak, pathetic, and I pity you.”

“So… you aren’t going to kill me?” Walsh whimpered hopefully, trying to gauge Killian’s expression.

Killian stepped back, watching his feet as he moved and then extended his hand out to Walsh. For a second, Walsh looked confused, straightening his back from his hunched position and eyeing Killian’s olive branch suspiciously. Killian nudged his head towards his hand, giving Walsh a nod, and with a small smile, Walsh reached out with his good arm and shook Killian’s hand. No sooner had his hand touched Killian’s, than the young wolf’s fingers wrapped around his palm and crushed it in a vice like grip, pulling him forward on unsteady feet until Killian was in his face again.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” Killian growled menacingly. “Because my idea of loyalty to pack law is to protect those I love, regardless of orders or the price it might cost me.” Walsh’s mouth opened in a silent scream of pain as he tried to pull his hand free, sure Killian was breaking every bone in his fingers from his grasp. “And if killing you is that price,” Killian added, the darkness back in his eyes. “I am more than willing to pay it.”

Before he had time to object any further, Walsh felt the splitting pain through his skull as Killian headbutted him, holding onto his hand ever tighter so he couldn’t shy away from the assault. Walsh cried out, his eyes springing with tears as the force of Killian’s forehead hitting his nose broke the skin wide open and triggered a stream of blood from both his nostrils. Walsh had no time to even cry out before Killian pulled his arm so hard he felt his shoulder pop, and met the momentum of his body with another headbutt.

“That was for my father,” Killian growled, Walsh’s dislocated arm limp in his grasp.

He took a step back, lining up his next shot, which was a firm, heavy booted kick to Walsh’s crotch. The sound Walsh made as Killian’s boot connected with his balls was high pitched and like a trapped animal, the squeak in the back of his throat barely audible. Walsh crumpled to the floor, sinking to his knees and unable to grab at his throbbing testicles because of his useless arms, shaking from the pain radiating up into his belly.

“That was for thinking you could touch Emma,” Killian spat, his jaw clenched with the mere thought of anyone defiling his mate.

Killian reached out and grabbed Walsh by the throat, his fingertips digging into the straining chords of his neck. The muscles in his forearms rippled with the strain, but Killian squeezed until he heard the deep, grunting gasp of a breath and Walsh’s eyes flew open and met his in a plea of forgiveness.

“And this,” Killian paused, increasing the pressure on Walsh’s trachea. The older wolf began to wriggle in his grip but Killian didn’t let up, the tiny red pin prick dots of petechial haemorrhaging appearing in the whites of Walsh’s eyeballs. “This is for my car,” Killian rasped gravely, closing his hand around Walsh’s throat until he felt the spongy tissue and muscles of his trachea give out under his crushing grip.

Walsh went blue before he even hit the floor, his body unable to hold its own weight any longer as he struggled for breath. He rolled onto his side, broken arm and hand awkwardly clawing at his neck where Killian had left dark purple bruises in his wake. Walsh gasped, the deep, croaking sound he made as he struggled for air signifying his end. His larynx and windpipe were crushed, damaged beyond repair causing muscle spasms to close off Walsh’s airway and slowly suffocate him.

Killian simply watched as the wolf at his feet writhed, legs kicking out wildly, and boot soles scraping the wooden floor. Wide eyed and full of fear, Walsh’s ability to swallow disappeared and he began to drool, saliva mixing with the blood that already coated his lips from his broken nose. He caught Killian’s gaze, eye flicking from side to side as his brain began to shut down, remnant muscle twitches all that was soon left when his chest ceased to rise and fall.

Killian held his breath for what felt like an age, staring at Walsh’s body as it continued to twitch even after death. He finally took a step backwards, stopping only when his back hit the wall of books behind him, and then his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Killian had imagined he would feel different, that taking a life would sate the beast inside of him and he would finally be able to set aside the hunger that had plagued him since he had come of age. Only, it hadn’t, and now all he felt was a numbing coldness at the realisation maybe Walsh was right. Maybe they weren’t so different after all?

“Killian?”

At first he thought he was dreaming, the long buzz in his ears almost overpowering the sound of his name. He blinked, slowly and deliberately, unable to stop the image of Walsh’s dead body from invading his thoughts. There was no blood on his hands, but Killian felt like there was, and he lifted them closer to his face to inspect his digits.

“Killian? Can you hear me?” Emma’s voice was clearer now and he lifted his head to see her crouched in front of him. One hand was on his knee, fingers gripping the joint for balance, whilst the other was planted firmly on the scruff on his cheek.

When he blinked and rolled his eyes in her direction, she smiled and he felt a warmth wash over him. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, just a strangled sound that sounded like an apology.

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him softly, moving her weight so that she was in between Killian and Walsh. “Come back to me.” She blocked his view, cupping his head in her hands and tilting it back so he was looking at her and not the corpse behind her. She smiled again, the corners of her mouth ticking into a smooth line that gave Killian instant comfort. “What happened?” She pried tentatively, thumbs stroking his cheek bones and coaxing him back to her.

“I killed him.” Killian blinked again, raising his eyebrows in disbelief of his own words. He frowned, confused for a second, but when Emma gave his head a gentle shake and her eyes met his again, he knew he had no reason to be. Her eyes were filled with love and nothing else, and Killian knew that whatever he told her would not matter a single bit. “He killed my father, and I killed him.” A single tear rolled down Killian’s cheek and was lost under the pad of Emma’s thumb.

She quickly brushed it away, and he finally gave her a small smile. “Are you okay?” Emma asked him again.

He shook his head. “I thought it would feel different, to take a life,” Killian began, his hand finding the smooth skin of her inner wrist and tracing over the bulge of her veins lovingly. He wanted to protect her, by any means necessary, and when Walsh had threatened that notion, Killian had been unable to hold back the darkness within himself any longer. “I thought-”

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him gently. “You thought all of the hatred you had for him would disappear, but it didn’t.”

“Yes,” Killian shook his head, his breath hitching on a sob. “And I still feel like I’m not the one in control anymore.” Killing Walsh had opened a dark door for Killian, and he felt like the hollowness that enveloped him was sure to swallow him whole. “I can’t take it back,” he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling. “It’s free, Emma. The bloodlust inside of me is free and I’m scared I won’t be able to control it.”

Emma’s heart broke. Killian had been raised by a human, with humans. For all intents and purposes, he was a human who just happened to be able to shift into the form of a wolf. There were many things he needed to learn, and there would be some adjustments, but whether human or wolf, Emma knew that Killian knew exactly how to love. The love he had for her was the strongest, fated by the stars, and Emma had no doubts he would learn to control his impulsive inner wolf and not lose an ounce of love for her in the process.

It would make him a wolf to be feared and a man to be cherished.

Emma leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a quick, chaste kiss. She let her mouth linger on his until she felt the quiver in his lower lip stop completely, and then stroked the hair of his beard at the top of his cheeks with her thumbs, holding his face to hers even harder. She felt him relax, his whole body expelling all tension, and he hummed contently in the back of his throat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asked softly, breaking the kiss and resting her forehead against his.

Killian let out a breathy laugh, sniffing and wrinkling his nose against hers. “Not really,” he whispered, parroting the words she had told him when she had first told him of her arranged marriage.

“Excellent,” Emma smirked, repeating his earlier retort. “Neither do I.”

“We are going to be okay,” Emma sighed happily, rolling her forehead against his as she nodded.

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “We will.” It didn’t matter what was going on inside of his head, Killian knew that with Emma by his side, he would be just fine.

“At least now we know that one of the names on the tombstones from our dream was my father,” Killian added idly, the sadness in his voice evident. He let Emma help him to his feet, brushing his hands down the front of his jeans, but as soon as he had finished his words she gasped in shock. “What?” Killian asked concerned. “What is it?”

“What if the names are not ours, but the names of our fathers?” Emma asked.

Killian looked at her expression, worry etched into every line of her face. “That would mean-”

“We have to find my father,” Emma said firmly, tugging his arm as she headed towards the now unlocked door through which she had previously entered. “We have to find him now.”

#Alii dimidium Lunam #werewolf au #cs au #cs fic #cs ff #cs smut #temporary dog au #ch 23 #killian jones #emma swan #david nolan #graham humbert #will makes an appearence #mary Margret blanchard #james nolan #walsh #felix #every one is getting what is coming to them #i think y'all are going to enjoy this bit

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marbelmasnowshoe · 6 years

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Forged in Flames (Part 3)

Three Years Later…

Marbelma’s light shined brightly as it traveled down her arms and into the end of her wooden hammer, before she slammed it against the draenei’s wooden shield. After years of tutelage, not only was she stronger, faster, and a more adept fighter, but months of dedicated prayer, faith, and vindication paid off. The Light not only manifested in her hands, but Marbelma found that it was strong with her.

She continued to hammer away on the other squire’s wooden shield until it finally shattered. The young draenei woman cried in surprise as she fell over, the dwarf pouncing and jumping on her stomach like a trampoline, pointing the hammer into her face. “I win.” she gloated.

“Well done, Marbelma.” Rhyliaandra congratulated from the sidelines. She turned to the other Exodar Vindicator. “Looks like your student still needs work, Jul. She lost to an opponent half her size.”

Marbelma beamed with pride as she hopped off the draenei and hefted her hammer over her shoulder. After the end of the War Against the Lich King, Rhyliaandra returned home to Azuremyst Isle, taking Marbelma with her, to continue the dwarf’s apprenticeship. Marbles had a natural talent for combat. Despite an obvious size disadvantage, she was able to overwhelm most of the other apprentice vindicators in sparring sessions though sheer fury.

But as the Lich King fell, a new threat had surfaced on Azeroth - literally. Deathwing had broken out of his prison in Deepholm and tore the world asunder. The situation got so bad, that many Alliance citizens flocked to the Exodar, seeking Prophet Velen’s council and guidance. Velen was able to calm the situation before it got too out of hand - calming the humans enough to convince them to go home and face the new world wrought by this thing that was already being called “The Cataclysm.”

Marbelma burned. The more she had heard over the last few months about events across Azeroth, the more she burned for action. Entire regions hit hard by natural disasters. New, unexplored territories revealed to the world. A mysterious new threat, known as the Twilight’s Hammer, acting as Deathwing’s army, enslaving elementals and setting them loose on the world.

But what burned Marbelma most were the tales of renewed Horde aggression. A new “Warchief” had risen to power and was deadset on making the world his. His armies were tearing apart the ancestral home of the night elves, friends and allies to the draenei ever since they crash-landed on Azeroth. They’d continue marching north, all the way to Teldrassil, and even to Azuremyst Isle unless someone stops them.

Rhyliaandra had made it clear to Marbelma that they were to wait until called. Someone had to watch the homefront, after all. But the thought of sitting here and waiting made her feel useless.

She hated feeling useless. Helpless. Cowering in a closet while the ones you cared about are slaughtered. Marbelma vowed never again to hide and cower.

Roniaar trotted up to Rhyliaandra and Marbelma as they wrapped up their training session. “Arkanon Poros, friends!” the shaman greeted. “How goes the training?”

“Well.” Rhyliaandra curtly replied. She always seemed to hold her brother in disdain, and Marbelma didn’t exactly blame her. The dwarf had nothing against shamanism - Roniaar proved the effectiveness of elemental combat back in Northrend. Rather, it was Roniaar himself that the dwarf was beginning to find grating. The drinking, the womanizing, the horrible puns - the man was an unapologetic hedonist. No wonder he chose the path of the shaman - he never would’ve cut it as a paladin.

“Well, I’ve got some news - you’ve been summoned to battle.” Roniaar said as she handed his vindicator sister a scroll. As Rhyliaandra took the scroll and read it, Marbelma could barely contain her excitement. Finally! Back on the front lines!

“Where we goin’?” Marbelma asked.

“Somewhere that isn’t too far from here.” Roniaar replied. “Mount Hyjal. The druids there have created a portal into the Firelands and are preparing to defeat Ragnaros the Firelord once and for all.”

Ragnaros? Wasn’t he the one the Dark Irons worshipped? Marbelma would get to kill the god of a hated enemy of the Bronzebeard clan? Sounds good to her!

“It says here we’ll be with the rear guard.” Rhyliaandra said. “It will fall to us to protect Hyjal from counterattack by Ragnaros’s forces?”

“Indeed.” Roniaar replied.

“Rear guard?” Marbelma asked, a little disappointed.

“Don’t worry, Marbles. The fire elementals’ counterattacks have been vicious. There will be no shortage of action on either side of the portal.” Roniaar explained. He smiled.

“In fact, you could say the situation up there is really heating up.”

Marbelma and Rhyliaandra both groaned.

One trip to a mage and a portal later, the three of them arrived on Mount Hyjal. Marbelma strained her neck looking up and up and up at the world tree, Nordrassil. It lived up to its title, being perhaps the single tallest thing she had ever seen. There was little time to sight-see, however, as the two draenei hopped atop their elekks and began their long march down the mountain road, with Marbelma riding along with Rhyliaandra on her elekk, which was more heavily armored than Roniaar’s.

Through the Circle of Cinders, past the Shrine of Goldrinn and the Grove of Aessina, before finally arriving at the Sanctuary of Malorne, the makeshift base of operations for the Guardians of Hyjal. Night had fallen, but it was already time to go to work. The three of them were told to head into the regrowth and rescue as much wildlife as they could from the encroaching fire elementals.

Not since Northrend had Marbelma seen Rhyliaandra leap into action, cutting down the fiery spirits with the Light’s wrath. Roniaar was no slouch either, calling upon the powers of the wind to snuff out the flames. The two draenei siblings shepherded the fleeing wildlife out of the forest and towards the Sanctuary of Malorne. Marbelma saw everything from tiny little squirrels to majestic stags to mighty grizzly bears, all fleeing before the advancing flames.

She stayed mostly to the sidelines. Officially, her job was to watch the elekks, but she suspected the great beasts were watching her just as closely. It didn’t take her long to develop an admiration for the strange-looking beasts that hailed from the draenei’s old home, Draenor, before the Horde came and ruined everything for them. Seemed like the Horde ruined everything for everyone.

And yet…

In the distance, she could spot Horde. They were fighting fire elementals too - brutish orcs and crafty blood elves fighting alongside noble humans and nature-loving night elves. She didn’t know how to feel about it. On the one hand, she supposed the Guardians of Hyjal could use all the help if could get and it was nice to see those damn savages making themselves useful for once. But the Alliance and Horde were at war, weren’t they? Why the truce?

Once the two draenei came over for a break and sharpen their weapons, Marbelma asked them just that. “Simple - it’s because both Alliance and Horde realize that there’s BIGGER things to worry about.” Roniaar answered. “Which, at the moment, happens to be an invasion of angry fire people.”

“Yes, it’s always SOMETHING, I’ve noticed.” Rhyliaandra scoffed. “First it was demons trying to open a gateway in the sunwell. Then it was undead up in Northrend. And now it’s an army of cultists and elementals lead by a mad dragon aspect. Why must we cease our crusade against the Horde every time a so-called ‘greater threat’ emerges?”

“Because the greater threat is usually exactly that - a [i]greater[/i] threat.” Roniaar argued. “Being more concerned with the Horde than with this is like being more concerned with a stain on your shirt than your house on fire.”

“But it [i]keeps happening.[/i]” Rhyliaandra seethed. “Don’t you get it? Every truce we forge is nothing more than a delay of the final blow. I grow weary of this endless stalemate between Alliance and Horde. Why don’t we just finish it already?”

“Well, Deathwing is the one who’s insisting on interrupting our little war with his campaign to destroy the world. So, if you’ve got a problem with the truce, take it up with him.” Roniaar said.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you would advocate working with those creatures.” Rhyliaandra growled.

“Uh, guys?”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Roniaar asked.

“Bad enough you practice shamanism, an orcish magic, but you actually WORK for those monsters.” Rhyliaandra accused.

“We’ve been over this, Rhyli - I don’t work for the Horde, I work for the Earthen Ring. Big difference.”

“Semantics! How could you work with those green-skinned fiends? After everything they’ve done to our people! To all the Alliance!”

“Guys.”

“Because I don’t waste time dwelling on the past, Rhyliaandra. Hating the Horde isn’t going to bring back mother and father.”

“Well, working with the Horde won’t bring [i]her[/i] back either, Roniaar.”

��Who’s her?”

“Oh, I think you know who. Did you really think that I wouldn’t - “

“Guys!”

“What?!” the two draenei shouted at Marbelma. The dwarf pointed over to a particularly large fire elemental burning its way through the forest in the distance, sending dozens of beasts and critters running for cover.

“We can discuss this later.” Roniaar said as he hopped atop his elekk, Rhyliaandra hopping atop hers and carrying Marbelma with her. A snap of the reigns and the two large beats stampeded their way into battle with all the confidence that came with being a ten thousand pound mammal.

Rhyliaandra’s elekk crashed into the hulking elemental while Roniaar’s chose to circle around as the shaman blasted the creature with bolts of lightning. The elemental roared as it directed its fury towards the two upstart draenei. Marbelma, no longer content to simply stay on the sidelines, took the risk of heading in closer to the action.

In her eagerness however, she tripped on something. She fell to the ground hard and looked over at what had tripped her. A branch, maybe? A root?

It was a corpse.

She had tripped on the talon of a charred hippogryph corpse. She gasped as she saw what the flames had done to the once-majestic beast. She saw many hippogryphs used by the Argent Crusade during the Argent Tournament, and she always thought they were beautiful animals. Her heart wept to see one like this.

But how did it die? Hippogryphs should be the ones most capable of escaping the flames, what with the flying and all. She looked around spotted her answer - a nest, high up in the tree above her. This hippogryph must’ve been a mother, unwilling to abandon her eggs, even in the face of this inferno.

She cast a glance over to Rhyliaandra and Roniaar, still fighting the massive elemental. They were holding their own well enough - she’s seen them both fight off worse. They hardly needed her help. She was just a squire, after all.

But a squire can still climb a tree.

You wouldn’t think of dwarves as being able climbers, with their stout physiques and all, but that’s because you’ve never seen one climb a mountain before. Climbing was an essential skill just for day-to-day survival up in the peaks of Dun Morogh. So this tree posed little challenge to Marbelma, even if it was a little on fire.

Marbelma finally reached the nest and saw the prize - a single, lonely egg. It was surrounded by the busted shells of its siblings, little baby hippogryph corpses still in them. This egg was lucky enough to still be intact. Marbelma reached out for it, and grabbed it. It was hot to the touch, but she could handle a little heat. She stuck the egg in her backpack and began to climb down.

And that’s when she noticed the fire elemental staring her down.

Somehow, it had stomped over without the young dwarf hearing it. She panicked and looked around. Where was Rhyliaandra? Or Roniaar? She spotted them fighting off a pack of those fire snake things. Where did those guys come from?

“You…” the elemental said in a booming voice. “Are a child of fire…”

“What?!” Marbelma asked.

“The Rage of the Firelands burns within you…” it said slowly.

“What are ye on about ye overgrown pilot light?!” Marbelma shouted, hoping that an insult will mask her terror.

“Embrace your destiny, as your kin have…” it said. “Serve the Firelord…And all those who have wronged you will burn…”

Marbelma growled. “I don’t even know what yer talkin’ about, but I’ll never join you! I’m a paladin! And a paladin never joins the side of evil!” she shouted at the creature. She left out the part that she was only a squire. It didn’t need to know that.

“Then burn…” The elemental said as it raised up a huge fiery fist. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning from above struck the elemental in the face. Marbelma looked up and saw Roniaar, riding atop his wind drake - a strange sort of dragon that the shaman somehow acquired in the Throne of Four Winds a few months back.

“Hold on, Marbles!” Roniaar cried as he conjured a torrent of wind to lift up Marbelma from the tree and carry her a safe distance. “Head back to the Sanctuary!”

As she landed safely on the ground, she saw Roniaar’s drake dart around the elemental’s head as he continued firing lightning bolts at the massive creature. What was that thing even talking about, calling her a “child of fire?” She didn’t know. All she knew was that it wasn’t safe here.

She looked inside her bag, satisfied that the hippogryph egg was still whole and in one piece. She smiled. She saved a life today, at least. No doubt Rhyliaandra will give her a good lecture about it once the fighting subsides, but it’ll be worth it. She closed the pack and ran for the Sanctuary of Malorne as fast as he little dwarven legs could carry her.

#Marbelma #Marbelma Snowshoe #World of Warcraft #Wyrmrest Accord #RP

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moamerq · 3 years

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Quarantine Diary

Day 1. Jun 28.

At the point of departure (POD) the lines were long for check-in. I was there about 2 hours and 20 minutes ahead of departure. It took about 10 minutes to clear the initial security check and then walk to the check-in counter. The economy lines wound through about a quarter of the airport terminal. I was blessed to have a travel card and could bounce between business class and card class check-in where people kept having needs to enter ahead of me. The check-in person asked me for A) Exceptional Entry Permit, B) Hotel Booking, C) Residency Card, D) Polio Card. Had everything needed and submitted it with efficiency. She asked some questions and got me checked in. The longest delay was getting me a lounge pass which she did not have and had to be acquired from another desk.

I was able to go through the level of outbound immigration quickly as the lines were uncharacteristically short (a few people ahead) rather than tens of people across all lines. Spent time in the lounge; afterward, the gate security took some time but was finally able to board a fully passenger-laden aircraft.

Took off fairly quickly. Landed quite harshly. It feels like pilots are in a hurry to land lately, more so than into the art of landing with a gentle touch. Or is it that maybe computers are landing the plane at the edge of the aircraft design envelope because we could feel the harsh touchdown and the harsh reverse thrust at the edge of design capabilities which in the end will cut down the life of the plane.

After landing had to wait for business class to exit, then the older ladies and families were going fairly slowly on the left aisle. Post waiting for 10 minutes I took the right aisle out, which moved quickly. Climbed up the stairs, and after a brief pitstop took the long walk toward arrivals.

1. Right after the fork for arrivals or transits, there is a zigzag line for those expecting to go to a hotel. Right is the green channel for free-flowing returnees and left is the zigzag for the Quarantinas. I went to the left, was asked about hotel booking (I suppose there was some staff there to the right of the checker to book you a hotel of some sort if you were miraculously able to board the plane without having an advance hotel booking). The man at the end of the zigzag stamped my booking and I was told to continue downstairs.

2. I went down the two-story escalator and as I exited toward the lounge another person asked for my hotel booking. I told him that the man upstairs had already stamped it, but he insisted on seeing it. So I gave it to him. The guy who had been behind me somehow did not receive the stamp of approval at the previous check upstairs so he had to go to the right to get the stamp. Once this checker was satisfied I was allowed to enter the arrivals lounge.

3. Prior to entering the immigration zigzag lines, I was asked by a 3rd checker for the hotel booking and I informed him that it was stamped by the man upstairs and reviewed 100 feet prior to him by the 2nd checker. He insisted and I complied. I zigzagged to the top of the line.

4. The supervising officers seemed to be in a jovial mood. I was given a slot quickly. The immigration officer was surprised to learn of my POD (what can I say, we have families that deserve to see us), but his primary concern was again (for the 4th time) my hotel booking. Once he was satisfied with the booking he and he retrieved the shared stamp from the fatigued siesta officer, he stamped my passport. After some struggle with the eye scanner, we were able to satisfy the robot/computer and I was on my way.

5. Had to search for the hand-carry scanner and found an open aisle to the very left. I struggled to understand the directions of the guide. He was asking for me to place my file full of required paperwork, copies, permits, bookings in a tray. Had he waited 5 seconds, to allow me to zip up my bag, the folder could have been returned to my hand-carry conveniently zipped up for all. Anyways I complied. My bag came through the x-ray but due to the lightweight of my documents, the folder just stayed in the warmth of the x-rays. I had to request the overzealous guide to send some empty trays into the machine to get my folder of documents out. He gave it a push, I gave it a pull and my arrival train was on its way again.

6. In my excitement of receiving my very organized package of documents (or at perhaps losing a night of sleep prior), I forgot to look for where my luggage would arrive and simply loaded up a luggage cart with my carry-on. Had to walk back to the screen to learn I was on belt 2 to the very left of the baggage belts. The luggage arrived within 10 minutes of my arrival, which experience tells me is ultra-efficient. Adjacent to my belt was the "transfer" check-in area, at which can you guess what they needed? The hotel booking (5th time) of course. The eager woman punched in something from my booking, and printed out a new transfer sheet, and cut it into two pieces. She gave me the relevant parts and asked me to head to customs to the very right. Customs was surprisingly efficient.

7. From customs I had to take the long walk past my luggage belt on the inside of the airport, this time behind a chair/tape cordon to get to the transfer line. The left line was for migrant workers going to Mukaines detention camp and the right was the line for those with hotel bookings. There were many workers waiting. I was asked to show my booking/transfer voucher once more and told to go to the outside. There were cars and buses lined up for us. The line supervisor took my paper (which was hard for me to part with) but he convinced me that the paper was for him and not for me. The driver was quite warm and friendly. He loaded me in a very clean and modern vehicle and ran back to get me a tiny water bottle. Very kind of him and the system to accommodate thirsty and tired passengers.

8. We drove to the hotel between the MIA and Msheireb, an area with intriguing architecture and sights, but currently covered with bumps, lumps, and the dust of construction. It was difficult to locate the hotel entrance among the detours, but we found it. As I was about to jump out to enter, a guard ran out to guide us to the basement. The driver did a loop in the basement and we did not find any entryway. For the moment I was glad there was someone with me trying to help, who likely had obtained some sleep the previous night. He finally found the check-in room/box near the basement exit. Getting out of the car gave me a whiff of sewage and for a moment I wondered about what had I gotten myself into. They isolated me from my luggage, got my ID number POD details, and asked me to wait. An orderly came back with my keycard and wi-fi password. I was escorted by the guard to the elevator, he pressed my floor button and asked me to dial "0" for anything I might need.

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probably-enjolras · 7 years

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Enjolras’ Anon part 5

wow Ryan, I hear you saying, this is posted early in the day. To that I say, I felt productive. I feel horrible but whatever, writing helps.

As always, please support this on AO3, your comments make my day

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Enjolras was only half a drink in and was already regretting this plan. Joly was a light weight so after he finished his first drink, he was sprawled across Bossuet. Grantaire and Bahorel were still arguing about how long R would last if he fought the Rock. While both men were barely even tipsy, the bar seemed to make them louder.

Jehan was surprisingly loud. They were trying to get Joly’s attention, as they were just as tipsy as Joly. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were both only half a drink in and, thankfully, were trying to get the attention of their friends. Combeferre was talking with Feuilly and Cosette while Courfeyrac was talking with Marius and Eponine.

Enjolras sighed, shaking his head at his crazy friends. He kept his head down, not particularly liking this scene. His vague focus was broken by a hand on his shoulder.

“Wow Apollo, can you be any more pathetic over here?” Enjolras looked up into Grantaire’s eyes. He had a teasing smile and an impish glint in his eyes. “I’m not pathetic, this just isn’t my scene,” Enjolras huffed, trying to defend himself.

“Even so, you look pathetic. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone came over trying to take you home.” Enjolras raised his eyebrows. “And is that what you’re doing?” he retorted. Grantaire chuckled and shook his head. “No, I’m trying to save the poor bastard that would try to hit on you.” Enjolras took a sip of his wine. “Well, consider this a thanks in advance.”

Grantaire sighed and chugged his wine. “You know, this isn’t something I’d expect you to do.” Enjolras tilted his head in confusion. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know you’re a cool guy and everything, but going out with a bunch of people to a bar isn’t you.” Enjolras nodded in agreement. “Well, believe it or not, I do care about my friends and I like to hang out with them. Would I prefer to be at someone’s house watching a movie, of course, but pickers can’t be choosers.”

Enjolras felt a pang of guilt as he said those words. He really doesn’t go out with his friends, does he? What’s more is Grantaire thinks he’s not social. And now that he’s going out, it’s to continue this stupid quest he’s on.

“I guess you have a point,” R replied, setting his glass down. “But why now? Why come out with us today?” Enjolras sighed and took a sip of his wine, delaying his answer. “I guess I just feel like I need to get to know you guys better. How can I call myself your friend if I barely even know you.” At least that was true.

Grantaire started to laugh, loud and pure. Enjolras smiled to himself, he never heard Grantaire laugh like that. “Well Apollo, why don’t we get to know each other?” Enjolras nodded, thankful that Grantaire didn’t press his reasoning any further.

“What do you wanna know?” Enjolras thought for a second. “You wear a lot of green. Is that your favorite color?” Grantaire shook his head. “No it’s not. I actually love the color blue.” Enjolras raised his eyebrows, unsure if Grantaire was joking or not. He’d never seen R with anything blue. “Yeah I get that look a lot. But it’s the truth. And I assume that red is your favorite?”

Enjolras shook his head. Grantaire’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “No fucking way.” Enjolras let out a short laugh. “I actually like yellows and greens. They’re the colors you see in a nature a lot. As much as I love red for my cause, I prefer more natural colors.” Grantaire snorted. “You learn something new everyday.”

“I need to go get more wine. When I get back, I would love to learn more about you, Mr. I-wear-so-much-red-but-it’s-not-my-favorite-color. You want a refill?” Enjolras nodded and handed Grantaire his glass. Grantaire gave him a small salute and walked away.

“I thought you wanted us to do the talking.” Enjolras jumped at the voice, which turned out to be Combeferre. “I did… I do. I just got to talking with Grantaire.” Combeferre raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. “Well, I can confirm that Feuilly is not your mystery anon.” Enjolras’ eyes lit up.

“How?” he asked. “Cosette and I just had to help him set up a Tumblr. I am fairly certain that takes him out of the running.” Enjolras nodded. “Well, thank you. That’s one less person to investigate.” Combeferre hummed an agreement. “Well, you go back to talking with Grantaire. I will be trying to make sure Joly and Jehan don’t get too out of control.” As Combeferre walked away, Enjolras could have sworn he heard him mumble something under his breath.

“What did Combeferre want?” Grantaire asked, handing Enjolras his wine. “He was just letting me know that if I needed him, he would be stopping Joly and Jehan from doing anything stupid.” Enjolras looked over his shoulder, noticing the two trying to make a castle out of coasters. “That’s a heroic thing to do. Last time we were here, Jehan walked out of the bar and found a bunch of flowers, turned them into flower crowns and tried to put them on random people’s heads.”

Enjolras snorted, trying to imagine a drunk Jehan making flower crowns outside of a bar at midnight. “Wow, did they get in trouble?” Grantaire shook his head. “Nah, but they did complain about being taken away from their ‘new friends’ while we took them home.” Enjolras shook his head in disbelief. “Part of me wishes I could’ve seen that, and the other part is happy I didn’t.”

“Speaking of you not seeing things, what do you do when you’re not with us? I would like to believe that you are lecturing your plants about consumer capitalism but that’s just my idea.” Enjolras glared at him for a second. “I don’t do that… often. And it was only one time. Most of the time I just browse social media, read, watch some tv. I am a normal person, believe it or not.”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “What shows?”

“I’m currently binge watching Orange Is The New Black.”

“Have you gotten to the part-” Grantaire got cut off by Enjolras covering his ears and humming. “What are you doing?” Grantaire asked as he pulled Enjolras’ hands off his ears. “I don’t want any spoilers,” he replied sheepishly. Grantaire chuckled and let go of Enjolras’ hands. “You really are a normal person.”

Enjolras nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Told you. I know some people see me as a cold hearted leader, but I’m just a guy.” Grantaire nodded. “Well that’s good to know.” The two lapsed into silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It just felt like … two friends. Enjolras drank some of his wine to hide the smile that appeared on his face.

The silence came to an end when they heard a shout. “Nooooo! You knocked over our castle!” Joly, who was now fully drunk, cried. Jehan was bent over the coasters, trying to put it back together. “That’s our cue to get them home. It was nice talking to you Enjolras.” Grantaire went and lifted Jehan up, carrying the distraught poet out of the bar.

Slowly, the rest of the group left. Bahorel closed the tab and left. Cosette and Eponine followed a drunk Marius out the door, making sure he didn’t get lost again. Joly and Bossuet left, along with Feuilly who wanted to make sure they found their way home.

That left Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Enjolras. “Well, I know how Combeferre’s night went. Did you get any information, Courf?” Enjolras asked as they made their way towards Enjolras’ apartment. “Other than watching Joly and Jehan argue about their castle? Not much. Oh! But I did hear Bossuet say something about how happy he is with Joly and Chetta. He definitely isn’t crushing on anyone else.”

Enjolras nodded and made a note to cross of Bossuet and Feuilly once he made it home. “Well thanks guys. I consider this night a success. Maybe next time we can do a movie night instead though.” Combeferre and Courfeyrac nodded wholeheartedly.

“Well this is where I need to leave. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Enjolras stopped at the door to his apartment building. “Bye Enj!” Courf yelled while Ferre just waved. Enjolras gave a small wave and walked in.

Enjolras took out his list and crossed off Bossuet and Feuilly, smiling at the small number of people left. He folded the paper back up and set it on his desk. Enjolras yawned and went to take his computer out. He didn’t even log in before he was asleep and dreaming of the color blue.

this was a pretty dialogue heavy chapter but i like it. hope you do too xx

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bbirbb · 7 years

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So this is a lil prompt thing for @rhinnie so I hope you like it. I don't normally post stuff mostly by tags but yeah Prompt was for a 'ways to say 'I love you"' :- "Here, drink this. You'll feel better" Danvin (romantic or platonic) ---------- (I made it a bit of both and FAHC if that's okay) Dan frowned. They'd said they'd be back soon and that was over two hours ago, so to say the rest of them were antsy was an understatement. Geoff had asked Gavin, Ryan and Jeremy to go and "talk" to a couple of their 'associates' who thought that multiple delayed payments were acceptable, just because "we still paid didn't we?" So a silver tongued Golden Boy and two of his attack dogs were sufficient enough to get the message across. Michael had protested at first, almost whining that it's wasn't fair only two of them got to go with Gavin. Dan knew it was partly because Michael was fully aware he'd have to spend time in the same room as him and the two of them had a minor conflict going on at the moment. In the end, Geoff had told him to sit down and deal with it, "You can go on the next one, dickhead." So almost two and a half hours later, it was disconcerting they hadn't returned yet. They heard the sound of the door unlocking and in walked Jeremy first, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and knuckles stained pinkish-red, and scarlet streaked across his cheek. The youngest member of the crew worried his teeth over his bottom lip, a nervous look in his eyes and when Ryan walked in it was easy to see why. Gavin was cradled in his arms, head resting on his shoulder and lanky arms slung around his back and waist, slurring what-if's at a pensive Ryan who tried his hardest to answer them as sincerely as he could. Gavin didn't seem to be dying but once The Vagabond had gently laid him out on the sofa it was clear by his blown out pupils and dazed expression he'd taken a pretty hard knock to the head. Green eyes kept drifting and slipping closed and Jack's big sister instincts kicked in. She sat down on the edge of the sofa cushion to check Gavin over. Gentle hands stroked over his neck and shoulders, a quick check of the dark stain at his waist proving to have not come from Gavin himself. She checked his head over, finding a nasty looking gash on his forehead, cutting through his eyebrow and dripping blood down his eyelid and cheek. Geoff had been stood passively, arms folded and face blank as he watched Ryan set Gavin down. As soon as Jack took over, he was dragging a fuming Michael (who'd been angrily pacing the entire time since the trio had returned) with him. "Ryan, Jeremy. Come with me please." Dan trailed after them, casting one last look over his shoulder at Gavin who Jack was now hugging, whether reassurance for his B or for herself he didn't know. He walked into the planning room, closing the door quietly behind him before turning to face the rest of the crew around the table. Michael's fists were clenched tightly, knuckles white and tucked under his arms. Jeremy was still biting at his bottom lip, by this point he'd drawn blood but didn't seem to care. Ryan was quieter than normal, mask finally removed and Dan could see his face paint smeared out of the perfect lines he knew Gavin had helped draw that morning. Dan leant against the wall, arms folded loosely and face empty. "So," Geoff started, looking between Jeremy and Ryan after shooting a warning at Michael, "Who wants to tell me what happened?" Jeremy and Ryan shared a look before the shorter of the two sighed. "It started off as standard, you know? Gavin knocked politely, we stood behind him looking like the muscle we were there to be. They let us in and Gav starts his usual routine, waxing poetry and twisting them round his little finger. He had them backed into a corner, Ryan had already had to punch one guy who got cocky and he was passed out on the floor. They were scared." "As they fucking should be." Michael muttered distractedly. "That's great, and by the duffel I'm assuming you got more out of them." Geoff looked to Ryan now. Ryan took over, "Yeah, all Gavin's handiwork. They'll now also be paying in advance for shipments." Geoff nodded, satisfied and proud of his boys. "That doesn't explain why you had to carry Gavin back though." Ryan's face darkened. "That... We were leaving, Jeremy already out the door with the bag and I hung back just to make sure we were all out. The leader, still simpering, called out to Gavin and he turned around and took the butt of an assault rifle to the face. Clocked him right over the temple. I caught him as he went down but he was out of it." Dan scowled, thinking of the cheap shot and how pathetic it was. He glanced back to Ryan when he sighed. "I shot the leader, wish I'd killed him, left a warning written in blood and no one else dared to even move as we left." "So how come it took so long for you to get back here?" Dan asked, fingers now playing with the hem of his shirt and legs itching to carry him back to Gavin. "Oh, someone heard the gunshot and called the cops, took us a while to lose them, then we stayed silent until we were sure it'd blown over. We were on the other side of the city though so it took an hour to get back." Jeremy pitched in, finally putting the bag on the table. Geoff was still frowning, deep lines etched into his forehead even as he stepped forward to unzip the duffel. The amount of cash inside lessened the ache a little, but not much when he knew Gavin was in pain and bleeding. He wiped a hand over his face, pressing fingers into his eyes and tweaking his moustache before sighing with a nod. "Alright. Okay. Well, not much we can do now, hopefully the bastard bled out after you left. We'll sort this. Michael, Lil J, I need you to go get some stuff for me, list is in the kitchen." He tossed a set of keys at Michael, hoping a job would distract him from Gavin. Michael caught them easily, stalking from the room with Jeremy close behind him. Hearing the front door slam not even a minute later, Geoff exhaled in relief. He nodded at Dan, gesturing politely for him to leave and the Brit took his cue; he closed the door gently to the sound of Geoff and Ryan murmuring to one another. Heading back into the living room, Gavin had curled into a ball, tucked up against Jack's side as she ran gentle fingers through his hair, careful around the gauze she'd taped over what he knew would be butterfly stitches. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, smiling gently and shifting. Gavin whined in response, leaning into her more heavily before he glanced up and saw Dan. He stretched out his arms, making slightly clumsy grabby-hands at him, and Dan had to smile despite the worry. He held up a finger, trying not to laugh at the mildly dopey pout on Gavin's face, and ventured to the kitchen quickly. When he returned, Jack was just standing up, still petting a hand over Gavin's head to calm his distress at being left alone. Dan moved over to the sofa, sitting next to Gavin and grinning when his B leaned against him immediately. He gently batted away uncoordinated arms, wrapping long slender fingers around the plastic cup (everything forbid he give a concussed Gavin anything breakable) and guiding it to Gavin's mouth. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better." He hid his smile in Gavin's hair as the Golden Boy let out an appreciative hum at the warm tea. "B. Y'used a Brit t'bag." The sentence was slurred but Dan huffed a laugh at the statement. "Of course I did B, you know I can't stand the pathetic American excuse. 'Sides, you need it." "Mmm. Thanks B." Gavin settled more heavily against Dan, taking another sip of tea and closing his eyes. Dan knew if he let Gavin sleep he'd have to wake him in an hour to check on the concussion. He adjusted his position against the sofa cushion, catching Gavin as he dropped against him, "Go to sleep, Gav. I'll wake you up in a bit." "M'kay." Gavin rested his head against his shoulder, moving his head a little and tickling wild golden hair against Dan's cheek and chin. "Love you, B." Dan swallowed, fighting down the fondness creeping up through his chest and spreading warmth. "I love you too." (When Geoff, Jack and Ryan emerged from the planning room an hour later, Michael and Jeremy still weren't back yet, but the sight of both Gavin and Dan passed out on the sofa was both adorable and perfect for future blackmail.)

#rhinnie #fahc #fake ah crew #sort of danvin #gav gets hurt #micool gets mad

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nivalvixen · 7 years

Text

Catalyst: a tale of Chaos

Also on AO3.

Since setting up her new businesses and becoming more well-known in the super world, Honey often had supers - both hero and villain - come to her alter ego, Hourglass, for advice. Well, sometimes it was advice, other times it was a desperate need for a glimpse into their future. For the most part - and a hefty sum - Honey was willing to provide this service to the supers of the world, no matter their allegiance. (She'd never had the Commander or Jetstream show up yet, but she knew they were curious; she'd checked.) Of course, as time went on and her businesses and life became busier, some of the smaller aspects of her time were often rescheduled, unless she knew the super personally or could spare the time.

Her next appointment was running late, something that Honey never appreciated, and she didn't know the super herself. In fact, by the time he arrived - almost ten minutes late for their appointment - she'd forgotten the man's name completely. She had a vague notion of him being the son of a friend of a friend who's barber was marrying Sarah's husband's friend from college. In a nutshell: nobody important.

"Hi, are you Hourglass?" the man asked, wringing his hands nervously.

Honey wanted to reply sarcastically - no, I'm not Hourglass, you're in the wrong building entirely - but she was running out of time for her next appointment, and she was about 98% positive that the idiot in front of her would take her words seriously. "Yes, I'm Hourlgass. Please, sit down."

The man did so, perching on the edge of the seat and looking around the room curiously.

"How can I help you today?" she asked, glancing to the clock on her computer screen.

"You mean you don't already know?" he asked, surprised and accusatory.

"I don't like to waste my time on mundane questions. Besides, the future I see depends on the type of question you ask. You're welcome to leave if you're unhappy with my service," Honey added, glaring over the top of her glasses.

The man shrank back in the seat a little. Then he collected himself, sat up straight once more, and shook his head. "No, it's okay. I... Well, I just came into my powers, y'see, and I have a friend who recommended you. Well, a friend of a friend, really. I just... I can't think of a name."

"A name," Honey repeated flatly, staring at the man across from her.

She wasn't kidding when she said she charged a hefty sum - she was surprised this man could afford it, judging by his state of dress - and all this man wanted was a name?!

Honey seriously considered kicking him out just on principle.

"Yeah, my superhero name. Or supervillain, I'm not sure about that either, really. I figure the name could help me decide," he said brightly. "I've tried thinking of a name, but all of the really good ones are taken, like the Commander and Jetstream."

Honey doubted that even if the names weren't taken, this man would never have thought of them himself. She was tempted to pull a name out of thin air just to get this over with. Then she reminded herself that the man had already paid in advance for her services - a rarity in the super world; quite a few people tried to pay her with the promise of their 'future gains', which was not only stupid but a bad way to conduct business. (Honey had actively started stealing money from the banks they had wanted to target, just to make sure they knew they were wasting their time.)

Honey pressed a button her desk, connecting through to Sarah at the front reception desk. "Keep the next appointment delayed for as long as you can; this might take longer than I expected."

The man seemed surprised at Honey's words. She ignored his expression, breathed in deeply, and made herself smile at the man. "Hands, please." She held out her own hands to get the point across that much sooner, waiting as the man wiped his hands on his pants and then took her hands gently.

Honey didn't actually need to hold her clients' hands, but it was good to have some sort of show for them. If people thought that she needed to rely on physical skin-to-skin contact, then they would underestimate her the next time they met.

She closed her eyes and watched as the numerous flashes from the man's future passed by behind her eyes, thousands of possible threads leading away from this one moment. Honey sorted through the visions, focusing on the clearer moments as the other threads faded in the background. The future vision she saw made Honey smile broadly and she was so utterly glad that she didn't throw the man out of her office after all.

"Catalyst," she breathed, opening her eyes and looking at the man in a new light.

"Catalyst? I don't know, it sounds kind of weak. I was hoping for something more intimidating? Like, Ultra Crusher!"

"That's the name of a blender."

"Darn."

"Ultra Crusher will be an unknown; Catalyst will go down in the history books. Just think of the things you could do with your power!"

"But... I hover. About half a metre off the ground," he added proudly.

It was the first time in Honey's life that she ever doubted her power. She even raced ahead to the same thread, double-checking that the man in front of her really was the same man in her vision.

"You said yourself that you'd only just come into your power. Powers can flux and change over time. Catalyst will be remembered, but any other name you choose will lead to failure."

The man seemed to think about her words deeply for the whole of ten seconds. He nodded. "Catalyst. Okay, I can work with that. Thank you, Hourglass."

"Great to hear. Have a wonderful life, Catalyst."

He smiled and left her office with a bounce in his step.

Honey waited until he left before she looked at his future again. Some of the other possible threads of his future were already fading; Ultra Crusher was gone entirely, Hoverboard was fading a little more slowly, but ultimately, it was Catalyst that shone the brightest.

Honey didn't feel an ounce of regret knowing that she'd just secured the man's death.

... ...

Catalyst made his way across the street to where the Commander and Jetstream waited. He had set up this meeting weeks ago and could hardly breathe for the anticipation. Or nerves. Maybe both. Well, it didn't matter; he was Catalyst and he was going to go down in history!

He could hover a full metre above the ground now, and thanks to a lot of training and practice at his local super gym, he could dodge even Earthstone's fists. Catalyst was certain that he could at least get a few good hits in. Well, against Jetstream that was, not the Commander. He felt a little guilty about hitting a woman, but Jetstream had pushed in front of him at the drive-thru, so it was nothing more than she deserved.

The one time he'd tried using his power to get into the drive-thru, the employees had said that they didn't serve people who were floating! Then they served Jetstream a minute later! Sure, she'd been flying, but it was as close to floating as you could technically get, right?!

"Really, are you sure we're meant to fight this guy? He looks like a Sidekick," the Commander muttered to Jetstream.

"Don't judge a person by their looks, dear," Jetstream muttered through a smile, waving to the cameras that were set up around them.

The cameras that were installed throughout Maxville were old news now and so long as Steve faced the right way while fighting, no one really cared about them anymore. (Steve had spent many an hour re-watching his fights and complaining about camera angles. Even Will knew to avoid his father after a fight had been aired on TV, lest he be dragged into a conversation about tights again.)

"I'm here to fight you!"

"Is this Captain Obvious? I thought we defeated him last month?" the Commander asked, a little confused.

"We did; this isn't Captain Obvious. Honestly, Steve, it's a completely different person," Jetstream muttered.

"Maybe he's got a brother. Or a Lieutenant?"

Jetstream almost laughed on live TV. She bit her tongue to stop the noise and concentrated on the man in front of them, who was finally getting to the part of the dialogue where he was introducing himself.

"My name is Catalyst, and I'm going to defeat you! Well, at least one of you."

For all of the man's awkwardness in general, he was actually surprisingly fast while he hovered. He dodged the Commander's fists, ducked out of the way of Jetstream's kick, and actually managed to snag Jetstream's cape on the way down. He used her momentum to hover up higher into the sky, taking her higher up than he'd ever been before.

Jetstream struggled to get out of the man's grasp. He wasn't strong, per se, but his fingers were entangled in her cape and he wasn't letting go. In fact, he looked a little pale and, dare she say it, nauseous?

"Are you all right, Catalyst?"

"Fine," he squeaked. "I just... I haven't been this high up before, y'know?"

"Um, okay... How about you let me go and I'll take us down safely?" Jetstream offered. He'd be arrested the moment they landed, but that was beside the point.

Catalyst was starting to turn green and Jetstream hoped he wouldn't puke on her. She struggled to get out of his grasp again, hoping that the sweat-induced terror would make his grip slippery.

Down below them, the Commander was looking for a way to save his wife without harming his wife. He could see her struggling in Catalyst's grip and he knew from experience that if people thought their lives were in danger, they'd usually drop whatever they were holding. Groceries, money, babies, it all came second to a person's own life. It needed to be something great though - he'd had people criticise him for using something small in previous fights - it needed to be big enough to be seen on the cameras. Something like a... car! There were heaps of cars around and whoever lost their car to the villain would be reimbursed eventually, surely?

The Commander looked at the various cars and stopped in surprise when he recognised the Mayor's car. He hadn't realised they were so close to the Mayor's office.

I really need to get a better understanding of Maxville's layout from the air, the Commander mused, wondering if there was some sort of app for that.

He decided not to pick the Mayor's car because that would probably end badly for their upcoming press tour, nor the one next to it because it was reserved for someone with acronyms, and instead chose a smaller car a few spaces down.

It was an older model, so the owner would probably be grateful for the insurance upgrade, the Commander thought to himself, so proud on his decision. Then, with the last two minutes spent on his decision, he lifted the car and hefted it up into the sky towards Catalyst and Jetstream. Vaguely, he thought he heard the villain call something out from up above.

"Okay, I'll come down. I surrender! I surrender!" Catalyst called out, his eyes screwed tight shut just as the Commander threw a car at him.

"Catalyst!" Jetstream yelled, grabbing at the man's spandex to get him to open his eyes.

He did a moment later, screaming in fear when he saw the car approaching and promptly threw Jetstream away from him. Propelled as she was, she was unable to stop the car from slamming into Catalyst and killing him on impact. She wasn't super strong like her husband, so her efforts to grab the car to stop it from pummelling back down to Earth were useless.

"Catch the car!" Jetstream yelled.

"What?!" the Commander yelled back. "We don't have a cat!"

All things that go up must come down. All things that have tanks full of flammable liquids, such as petrol, will most likely explode when they come down. Especially when said tank of flammable liquid is crushed and pierced by metal by the surrounding car and the car owner's Zippo lighter opens on impact.

The Commander realised all of this far too late in time to catch the car, but luckily, he could protect himself with his cape, blocking his body from the explosion's fiery blast. He figured that the cameras would be okay as they were all insulated against this sort of thing, especially after Ice Guy killed that reporter. The buildings surrounding the cameras, however, were not insulated.

All explosions are built up of three shockwaves. The first initial shockwave created an immense amount of pressure that reached supersonic speeds in mere milliseconds, pushing out against the explosion site's surroundings. The secondary shockwave caused the most damage, not only to the buildings and structures, but to the people within them as well. Shockwaves built on supersonic speed don't stop for simple things such as glass, steel, skin, organs or tissue, after all. The third shockwave was the inwards or pull, dragging everything back into the explosion's site, which is often why debris from other buildings can sometimes be found at the site of an explosion.

This explosion was much the same. The initial shockwave built up, the second shockwave shot up rapidly through the buildings, windows shattered and broke apart, one man's pacemaker stopped, papers and chairs flew towards the skyscrapers' broken windows, and the pull of the third shockwave brought it all back down again. Some people who had been standing too close to windows at the time of the explosion were suddenly wrenched out of those windows and pulled back down towards the ground. Most of those people were saved by coworkers and friends, screaming and grabbing for them desperately. One person was not.

Nina Peace hit the ground with a sickening crunch as her head slammed against the asphalt. She was dead a moment later, all light and life fading from her eyes.

...

In the sky, high over Maxville, Sky High was floating with classes full of soon-to-be superheroes (or perhaps supervillains). The fight between Catalyst and the Commander and Jetstream was being broadcast live, as the fights always were. Principal Powers considered the live fights to provide a lesson in fighting techniques for the heroes, posing techniques for the sidekicks, and consequences for the would-be villains.

Once the cameras in Maxville were switched on during the fight between the two superheroes and whichever villain challenged them, the cameras were designed to focus on sounds and collisions, mostly because Jetstream flew so fast that it was difficult to pick her up on camera otherwise, and if the Commander hit people (or objects) at a slower pace, it wouldn't make much difference in the end.

So when Nina's body hit the ground with a sickening crunch and the light fading from her eyes, every camera in the vicinity focused on her immediately. There, in high-definition for the whole world to see, was Warren Peace's mother, dead.

It took less time for reality to sink in than it did for Nina to die. In one moment, Warren was staring at his mother's face on the classroom's TV screen and in the next moment, he was running out of the room with a trail of flames after him. Warren ran straight out of the school building itself, across the yard, and straight over the edge of the grounds of Sky High.

Half of the school followed him to the edge, staring down below, seeing where he'd burnt through the clouds themselves. The other half stayed in their classrooms, eyes glued to the TV screen. There was a hushed whisper between a few of the students and while everyone was preoccupied, Layla borrowed (stole) someone's jetpack. She flew off after Warren immediately. Ethan and Zach were after her in a moment, Zach screaming in fear almost all the way down.

From her place on the edge of the grounds of Sky High, Wendy altered the atmosphere around them. She guided the others down to the ground safely and in the right direction (Warren was doing surprisingly well on his own, considering he'd only just learnt how to propel himself through the air with the heat from his flames last week). Donny was beside her, already on the phone to Honey. Craig turned into Principal Powers while everyone was preoccupied and redirected the students back inside (a few of them were understandably confused when they saw Principal Powers inside the school, watching the TV herself with undisguised horror). When everyone had returned to their classrooms, Adam set about opening certain lockers and emptying the contents into several bags. No one would notice that the school cameras had been disabled for almost a week.

When Wendy, Donny, and Craig returned indoors, Adam handed them a bag each and shouldered his own. They knew what they had to do, so there was no need to discuss anything. Craig grinned, clapped Adam on the shoulder, and headed to his classroom. Donny nodded, took Wendy's hand, and they left as well. Adam went to his own classroom a moment later. Everyone's attention was focused on the TV screens and no one noticed his arrival. Adam didn't exactly mind that, considering the contents of the bag he was carrying. He sat in his seat and looked at the TV, becoming fast engrossed in the battle that was happening in Maxville below.

...

Warren felt the atmosphere becoming dense around him and knew that Wendy was doing her part. He didn't know who followed him and didn't exactly care. He was advancing ahead of schedule, but he knew that Layla wouldn't mind. He could feel the vines spinning around his wrist in a vague sort of way, past the pain, past the intense heat that even he could feel from the flames around him. Layla understood and the others would do their parts, just as they'd planned.

He landed surprisingly lightly, the heat from his entire body making his descent gentle rather than abrupt. Warren's school clothes had burnt away soon after he'd torn out of the classroom with his whole body on fire, but the clothes underneath had been specifically designed to withstand his flames. He had used a mix of fabrics with Kevlar around his torso, aramid fibre fabrics for the pants part of his outfit, and novoloid fibres for his arms and gloves. He had a spare suit made out of vinyon, but preferred training in the Kevlar one so he could get used to the weight difference. Warren was lucky that they had organised training this afternoon, really. Now he could see how Kevlar handled a punch from the Commander.

Layla landed behind him, turning off the stolen jetpack and setting it aside carefully; it might come in handy later. She didn't try to offer any condolences or sympathy - this wasn't the time for that - and instead, she used the shield of his flames to remove her clothes to reveal her own outfit. They all had similar outfits, black as a base, with a line of green and red threading together over the shoulder. From there, they each had a modification here or there so they could see at a glance who owned which shirt or pair of pants. Hidden pockets allowed the owner of said shirt and pants to carry around something useful to them; in Layla's case, she had created an extra hemline around her shirt to hide seeds.

"Are the others coming?"

"They'll be down soon; I think I can hear Blaze screaming," Layla mused, looking up to the sky.

"If we don't hurry, we'll miss them."

"Not a chance, the cameras already know we're here. Jetstream will realise something's happening, even if the Commander doesn't notice," Layla added.

She reached back and tied her hair up with a length of honeysuckle before pulling on her hood, the mask obscuring her face.

Zach finally stopped screaming when he saw the ground below them, turning the jetpack off and practically dumping it off his shoulders the moment his feet touched the ground.

"Next time, we get a hover car," he muttered to Ethan, who was already undoing his shirt.

"If you don't hurry, there won't be a next time," Warren snapped.

"Right, of course." Zach shut up and quickly stripped out of his shirt and pants, almost falling over one leg in his hurry.

Finally, they were dressed in their outfits with their hoods and masks covering their faces. The four of them headed down the road to where the car was still smoking, and where the Commander and Jetstream were waiting.

...

"Ready to go, dear?" Steve asked, brushing the shards of glass off his shoulders and his cape.

"The cameras are still on; something else is happening," Jetstream said, looking around them carefully.

Josie couldn't bring herself to look at the woman lying on the ground because she knew that if she did, she wouldn't be able to sleep that night. She would be haunted by the image of the woman who she hadn't been able to save, and it would remind her of all of the others who she hadn't been able to save either.

She could hear something odd, like a fire burning in the distance. Josie noticed then that the trees on the side of the road - included to the main street of the town when some activist died and the public outcry demanded something in honour of the woman, whoever she was - started blooming. Not just blooming, in fact, but dying. They sped through the process of life and death so fast that Josie was sure she had imagined the whole thing. Then one fire hydrant exploded, then another, and then a third.

The people in the buildings around them let out cries of fear and surprise; while they were no longer close to the windows, they were still close enough to see outside. That was the thing about citizens: they were always so curious despite the risk to their own lives.

Josie ignored them for the moment - as long as they stayed inside, they should be safe - but then the lights inside the buildings, which had already been flickering since the car exploded, started flickering far more violently and in a more precise manner. Josie had a thought of Morse code, but she hadn't kept up with the code herself, preferring to educate herself on current technologies instead of outdated ones that no one should be using anyway.

"Huh, it's SOS. But who's the one signalling for help?" Steve asked, frowning at one of the lit up buildings.

"How do you know that it's an SOS?"

Steve stammered like he usually did when he was embarrassed, but finally seemed to realise that his wife was serious about her question. "Titanic was on TV the other day."

Josie nodded and turned to her surroundings once more. Then, as one unit, the cameras turned to face the other end of the street. Jetstream and the Commander turned to face the incoming threat, fists raised and expressions ready.

Four people came into sight a moment later - Josie wanted to smirk at that; four against two was hardly fair and the public would love her and Steve all the more for winning against the odds - all wearing black, and in one person's case, completely enveloped in flames.

Something about the person's stance rang a bell in Jetstream's mind and she tried to focus on it, to catch it so she could learn at least one weakness in the face of their new enemies. It took almost seven full seconds for Jetstream to realise who they were facing - or, more to the point, the son of who they were facing - and she finally looked down at the dead woman on the ground to see that it was none other than Nina Peace.

"Get the Chief of Police on the phone; he needs to send all of his men to the Penitentiary," Jetstream said.

The Commander looked confused for a split second, but she didn't keep him around because he asked questions: for all of his faults (and sometimes, complete stupidity), her husband was good at following orders, and he did as she said less than a second later.

"The woman who died earlier was Nina Peace; Baron Battle's wife," Jetstream explained.

Despite their divorce, it was obvious that Barron still loved his wife, and her death would set off something within him that Josie doubted even power suppressing cuffs would be able to contain.

The Commander looked to the woman's body and let out a string of expletives that were immediately censored for young viewers' ears.

The man that was still on fire - Jetstream was sure it was Warren, and though she couldn't be certain, the woman next to him could almost be Layla, Will's childhood friend - stepped forward with the woman by his side.

"Good evening, Jetstream and Commander. My name is Poison and this is Fire. Together, we're known as Chaos. Are you ready to fight?" Poison asked, almost as though she was asking if they were ready to order a meal.

The polite tone and genial words almost threw Jetstream off completely, but she told herself sternly this was a fight between good and evil, just as it always was. Even if it was Layla and Warren - children, just like her Will - they'd arrived knowing and prepared for this, whatever the outcome. On the other side of Poison, the tall lanky man was making some odd motions with his hands, something that Jetstream belatedly realised was sign language. He didn't seem to be calling for help or signalling others, but instead, he seemed to be translating?

(Across town, a young boy pulled his mother into the lounge room excitedly because he could understand what was happening! In that moment, his mother almost liked the villains more than Jetstream and the Commander simply because she hadn't seen her son smile like this in three months.)

"We're ready," Jetstream called out.

The Commander put his hands on his hips and looked at their opponents, almost as if he was going to scold them like children. "Four against two is hardly fair."

"Blaze and Molten won't be fighting you unless we're defeated," Poison replied.

"Oh. Well, all right then," the Commander said, lowering his hands again.

"Enough talking already," Fire snarled, launching a ball of fire directly towards them.

Jetstream flew out of the way while the Commander held his cape in front of himself for protection. He was a little surprised to find that his cape was smoking when he lowered it a moment later.

"I thought this was fire-proof, dear?" the Commander muttered as she picked him up and flew him forward.

Jetstream was busy concentrating on their opponents and didn't reply. The tall one was still off to the side translating, the smaller one had somehow disappeared, and that just left Poison and Fire to deal with. "There's a difference between fire-proof and fire retardant materials, dear. Go for Poison first, I'll try to draw Fire away from you."

"Which one's Poison again?"

"The one not on fire, Steve," Jetstream hissed, dropping her husband from a little higher than necessary.

The Commander landed with a small oomph and immediately went up against Poison, his fist raised. The masks only covered the top of their faces, and the Commander was close enough to see Poison smile, even as his fist moved closer to her. Then something grabbed his fist before he could hit his target. He wanted to call out about cheating, about those other two fighting before the first had been defeated, but then he saw what actually had a hold of his fist.

A large vine was wrapped around his forearm, winding its way around with its thorns barbing its way into his skin. He could feel them, tiny pinpricks of pain, but it wasn't enough for them to lodge deeper, which he was sure was his opponent's intent.

"A little plant isn't going to hurt me," the Commander said smugly.

"Oh, it's not designed to hurt you, Commander. It's designed to kill you," Poison said sweetly, and in one fell motion, the vine ripped off his glove and scored several gouges along his hand at the same time.

The Commander hissed in pain; he was indestructible, sure, but that was usually against larger things, things that would kill other people. Something small, something that just scratched against the surface, something that wasn't actually going to kill him (or so his brain thought, changing his molecules in an instant to defend against this giant monster or that meteor hurtling towards Earth), could still leave a mark. Still, it was no worse than several paper cuts at once, and the Commander told himself to shake it off. He still had use of his hand and another glove, after all.

Fire had gone after Jetstream, just as she'd hoped and he had planned. It was a struggle to go after Jetstream when the Commander was right there, but they had a plan and he knew he had to follow it. He was throwing fireballs at Jetstream, small and fast and designed to keep her in the air. Jetstream couldn't turn her back on him because it would leave her defenceless against his fireballs but she also couldn't fly backwards for very long without needing to look where she was going. With Fire making her move left, right, up, and down to dodge his fireballs, it was only a matter of time before she went exactly where they wanted her.

Jetstream was so busy keeping her attention on Fire and dodging his fireballs that she didn't hear the rush of water until it was too late. She flew backwards, straight into one of the geysers pouring from the burst fire hydrants, and was thrown into the air, somersaulted this way and that, her blasted cape getting in her face and blocking her vision. By the time it was untangled, she was less than a metre away from hitting the ground. Jetstream stopped falling abruptly, her eyes wide and heart racing.

Surprised that she hadn't been attacked in mid-air, nor when she had stopped, Jetstream straightened herself out and stood up properly. Her hair was a damp mess, but the cameras were hidden from view behind the geyser anyway.

Fire was talking to the fire hydrant, Jetstream realised, frowning. Maybe he wasn't mentally sound? she wondered, but then the geyser in the fire hydrant stopped completely. The other three were still going, so it wasn't a result of the government or fire department. She remembered the fourth person in their entrance and wondered just what their power was.

"Are you going to kill me now?" Jetstream asked.

"No, unfortunately," Fire replied, the sound like flames crackling against wood.

Jetstream saw that despite the geysers and water surrounding them, Fire hadn't lost an ounce of his flames. She stepped forward. "I'm sorry about your mother."

Fire turned on her then, the flames reducing in their intensity, but not their heat. Instead of a fire of orange and yellow, the fierce blue burned around him and that - for the first time in many years - sent a thrill of fear through Jetstream.

"You're not sorry yet," he snarled, then a lasso of fire spiralled out from his arm and wrapped around her neck.

Jetstream was lifted up into the air unwillingly for the second time that day, the line of fire wrapping around her body and starting to melt and char her outfit. She struggled against the fire, but it was fire and she was only human. Her hands started to blister and burn against the heat of the flames, a line scoring itself around her neck, branding and marking her as defeated. For her position, Jetstream could see the Commander on the ground below. He was kneeling and gasping for air, with an odd mix of purple and black lines marring his skin.

This honestly wasn't the way she had expected to die.

"Let them go!" a voice called out, blustering and trying to sound brave.

Jetstream felt then what all of those citizens must have felt when she and Steve arrived to save the day: ten parts relief and a hundred parts fear. She looked over at her son who was wearing his regular jeans and shirt, and not even posing at that. She was relieved that he had arrived, of course, but more than that, she feared that he would lose just as she and Steve had. She wanted to scream out to him, to tell Will to leave, to run away, but the fire around her throat wouldn't let her make more than an awful croaking sound.

Down on the ground, Poison looked at the Commander with an expression somewhere between pity and disgust. "Tell me, Commander. Did you ever think that the reason a person working for the Mayor owned an older car was because they couldn't afford a newer one? There were seven sports cars in that parking lot, but you chose the only one that was an older model! Those seven people could've replaced their cars in a matter of hours, but insurance claims take months to be processed, especially when superheroes are involved.

"But, no, I suppose you didn't think about that, did you? Now, to you, it seems like a ridiculous thing for me to be upset and monologuing about, especially when you're dying in front of me, but to every other person who watched you on TV, they all thought the same thing: why did he choose my car? It's not actually possible that the car was theirs, of course, but it's what it represented. They saw you avoid the newer cars, the sports cars, the fancy cars belonging to the wealthy and elite, and instead, you chose the car that was essentially them.

"That car represented the working class people, the ones who are never going to be heroes, who are stepped on by people like you. That car you chose, the car you so cleverly handpicked to destroy, represented an entire working class of citizen. You just killed them all, and then you killed not only a villain who had already surrendered, but also someone's mother, someone's wife. Neither the son nor the husband will forgive you for this," Poison said, crouching beside him.

The Commander was starting to lose his eyesight, his lungs starting to collapse, and he tried to reach out to Poison. For forgiveness or help, he'd never know, and then his son arrived. Poison sighed in disappointment and carefully placed a hand on the Commander's forearm, slowly drawing the poison back out of his system. Not all of it - she wasn't stupid - but enough that he would survive to see another day.

"Let them go!" Will called out.

"You can't defeat both of us at once," Poison called, putting her foot on the Commander's back to keep him down.

Her foot felt like hundreds of needles against his skin and the Commander moaned in pain, the cameras immediately zooming in at the sound.

"You get to choose: Jetstream or the Commander?" Fire called.

The heat around Jetstream became almost unbearable and she cried out in pain as well, the noise and motion sensors in the cameras immediately tilting up towards her.

Will was torn between the choice: his mother or his father? His mother, who was captured and being tortured, or his father, who was defeated and dying?

He'd finally escaped Sky High to come to his parents' rescue but he didn't have any back up. Larry was terrified of heights and refused to let Will carry him. Ron Wilson, bus driver, couldn't drive the school bus without Principal Powers' permission. Magenta had offered to come but Will had stupidly turned her down, not wanting his girlfriend to get hurt when he was so sure he could save the day. For one brief and guilt-filled moment, Will almost wished he hadn't been able to escape from Sky High, that he was still up on the school grounds watching everything happen. At least then he'd have a reason for his helplessness, and he would never have to put himself through this awful decision.

Will looked between his parents one more time and then, with a regretful look at his mother, he flew down to save his father.

"Well, I guess we know who he loves best! World, say hello to the Stronghold Three: Jetstream, the Commander, and their son, who's willing to risk his mother's life to save his father," Poison called out, loud enough for every camera, citizen, and dying super in the immediate vicinity to hear clearly.

Will went still at her words, dropping down a few metres when he realised that Layla was Poison. He'd recognised Warren of course, and after seeing his mother's death, hadn't blamed him turning into a villain, but why was Layla here?

"What are you doing?" he hissed at her, finally close enough to pick up his father's black-veined body; his father had never felt so frail in his arms before.

"Defeating you. You'd best save your mother now; I don't think she has the energy to fly anymore," Poison said with a sweet and mocking smile.

Will turned his attention away from her, even though nearly every part of him screamed at the effort of doing so - the first rule of being a hero was never turn your back on a villain! (the second, of course, was never leave the Secret Sanctum open; Will never could follow the rules) - only to see that Fire was untangling Jetstream from his fiery rope and she was indeed falling to the ground.

Will held his father close to his chest and flew forward as fast as he superhumanly could, his arm outstretched to try to catch his mother before she fell and was added to the day's victims. His fingers brushed against her cape and Will let out a scream, forcing himself to close his fingers around the material. His grip held but with one arm caught with his mother and the other with his father, Will fell through the air with both of them. He tried to hold his mother properly, managing to get a face full of her hair instead, and then finally managed to hold onto both of them, adjusting his descent awkwardly.

By the time he'd landed with them safely, the villains were gone and the cameras were starting to whirr down and shut off.

He could hear the loud sirens of the ambulance, police, and fire departments getting closer, and headed to the end of the street so they could see to his parents that much sooner. Behind him, Will heard the citizens starting to gather and leave their buildings. It was odd that Warren and Layla had left so suddenly, especially without staying to gloat over the death of one of his parents - it went against all villainous rules and stereotypes! - and Will looked around, trying to see exactly where they had disappeared.

He didn't get to find out because the emergency department vehicles arrived then, citizens immediately rushing out of the buildings en masse, and while Will would have expected that they'd try to get help, more than twenty citizens rushed over to him and his parents instead.

He tried to smile, tried to look like the caring superhero he was meant to be, but these people were blocking his way, were blocking the ambulance officers' way. Will grabbed his parents and flew up into the sky, landing directly in front of the ambulance instead. "Please. My parents need help," he said, trying to ignore the fact that several citizens had their phones out and were either recording or photographing this entire thing.

Two hours after their initial disastrous fight with Catalyst had begun, the Commander and Jetstream were taken to hospital after their first fight with Chaos, and the world were introduced to the Stronghold Three.

...

Inside Maxville Super Penitentiary, the Commander's phone call had arrived too late. Several guards had seen the live streaming of the fight, the explosion, and the close up of Baron Battle's wife's dead body. They'd laughed to themselves, nudging each other in the ribs as they decided to break the news to the Baron in the worst way possible: by streaming the live news feed directly into his prison cell.

"A very sad moment, folks. It seems that as a result of the Commander throwing the car at the villain, an explosion caused damage to several surrounding buildings. There have been three fatalities as a result, including Nina Peace, employee of the Mayor, and some of our older viewers may remember her as the wife of Baron Battle..."

Barron blocked out the rest of the news immediately, not caring about anything other than the fact his wife was dead because of the Commander.

"I should have killed him when I had the chance!" Barron yelled, the room around him shaking with the force of his words and his emotion.

He was still wearing his power suppressors, but emotional-based powers were rarely subdued in an effective manner. Lustful had escaped them after all, so that meant Barron could as well.

"... It seems we have some newcomers. Four against two, that's hardly fair."

Barron could still feel the room around him shaking as the news filtered back into his brain. He listened carefully, wondering what sort of villains teamed up. Weak ones, surely, if they couldn't hope to defeat the Commander and Jetstream on their own.

He heard Poison's announcement about only fighting two against two, then ignored the newscaster's opinion about all of that until he heard the villains' next words.

"Enough talking already!"

Since his imprisonment, Barron had heard his son's angry voice more times than he'd like, and there was no mistaking it now. His son was taking on the Commander and Jetstream!

Out at the guards' station, the two men looked to each other in worry. Baron Battle was in his cell, laughing.

"Come on, it sounds like he's finally lost it. Let's go check it out," one guard said with a grin.

"I don't know, man. The Baron's already crazy enough, if this has really made him lose it... Well, I don't want to be in the firing line, y'know?"

"Dude, he's wearing power suppressors and we're on the other side of a titanium door. Nothing's going to happen," he said, clapping his colleague on the shoulder and guiding him down the hallway.

Another two guards joined them on their merry venture, laughing to themselves on the way to Baron Battle's cell. From his own cell, Speed watched them as they passed, disgusted that people like them were considered better than people like himself and Lash. At least they wouldn't taunt a man about his dead wife.

"So the Baron's finally lost his marbles, huh? Shame, I heard his wife was hot," Lash sneered.

"Dude, she just died. Have some respect, would you?"

Lash snorted. "Why? She can't hear me."

Speed rolled his eyes and looked out the door's small window again. He heard screaming, some sort of explosion, and saw one of the guards running back to his station, covered in blood and bits.

Served them right, Speed thought, turning away from the window.

... ...

Honey sighed and straightened up in her seat, blinking when she saw the time and realised she'd missed her appointment. She winced and pressed the intercom on her desk.

"Are you all right?" Sarah asked.

"Yes. I got caught up, sorry."

"I know. I had to keep Zona entertained for a whole hour, Honey."

"Is she still here?"

"No, apparently she had a club to go to in Italy or Paris or something."

"Did someone else get her story?" Honey asked; it was the third time she'd tried to schedule an interview with the singer. At least the first two missed appointments hadn't been her fault.

"I managed to get some coherent notes written down between her rants about how she was being ignored. My notes have a lot of swearing, just so you know."

"By her or you?"

"Both. Mostly me though," Sarah said, grinning. "You owe me big time, Honey."

"Yes, I know. I just gave you a raise, didn't I? Hmm," Honey mused, slipping through a few future threads as quickly as she could. "Oh, I've got the perfect present! I'll drop it off at your place this weekend."

"It had better be worth it."

Honey grinned when she thought of the boisterous dog she'd gift Sarah with and the gorgeous puppy she'd get as a result a few years later. "It will be, I promise."

...

The end.

Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it!

#sky high #warren/layla #tale of chaos #NV fanfic #catalyst

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