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lo-55 · 3 years

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Shattered Chains of Fate Ch.11

Silver and Steel

Ichigo holds his sword firmly, his eyes narrowed at the man in front of him. They’d separated. Ukitake stays behind, but Ichigo has no doubt that he’s just as powerful as the man in front of him.

Ichigo knows good and well that he can’t beat the both of them, but that won’t stop him from trying. Rukia still stands behind him, uncertain.

“I can see you’re determined,” hatman says. He changes his stance. “It’s unfortunate, but today my zanpakuto is feeling playful. She’s a bit picky, you understand, but you’ve gotten her interest.”

“Lucky me,” Ichigo says dryly.

That get’s the man to laugh.

“I’m Shunsui Kyoraku, the captain of squad eight, and you won’t find me so easy to pin as these young bucks here.”

“...are you aware that that sounds suspiciously like an innuendo,” Ichigo narrows his eyes at the man, Kyoraku, who looks startled but laughs a moment later.

“We’re going to have fun with you,” he predicts. There’s an undercurrent in his easy voice, something that is not quite malice but still not nice. Ichigo cocks his head.

“We’ll see.”

Kyoraku crosses his swords at the blade and changes his stance. The world seems to shift, just enough to set Ichigo’s teeth on edge. It’s a familiar sensation, one he’s missed in the past few months. He knows, as soon as this Katen Kyokotsu is released, what has been done.

They’re in a reality marble, or something akin to it.

Ichigo narrows his eyes. This is a man strong enough to warp reality itself to his whims.

“You have to know you can’t win,” Ukitake actually sounds gentle. “If you give up now, you and your friends won’t be hurt.”

“Until you execute us, you mean,” Ichigo shoots him a dark glare. He has the decency to wince.

Ichigo looks to the other man. Kyoraku, captain of the eighth. He’s a whole different kind of monster to Kenpachi. Not a claw in the throat but the shadows that lurked just out of reach.

“So. Shall we begin?”

“I suppose. However, I should explain now what it means for my Zanpakutou to want to play with you,” Kyoraku’s smile turns just a little bit sharper. “Katen Kyokotsu makes childrens games real.”

“... you’ve got to be fucking with me,” Ichigo can feel a twitch develop over his eye brow.

“Excuse me?” Kyoraku asks, cocking his head just so.

“No, no. See, I met a little girl who makes nursery rhymes real, and now you’re going to make a kids game real. That just. Yeah. That’s my life. Why the fuck not.” Ichigo shakes his head. “What game are we playing?”

Kyoraku looks intrigued by his admittance, but tells him all the same.

“Have you ever played Kagome Kagome?”

Ichigo was exasperated. “Which of us is the demon?”

Kyoraku started walking, clock wise, leaving a trail of copies behind him while shadows slithered up and locked around Ichigo’s eyes. He stiffened, but he knew how powers like these worked. Kyoraku was just as bound by the rules as he was.

The question was, now, what happened if he guess wrong? What damage would it do?

Kyoraku’s voice echoed around him. It circled him on all sides, front and back, left and right.

Kagome kagome

Kago no naka no tori wa

Itsu itsu deyaru

Yoake no ban ni

Tsuru to kame ga subetta.

Ushiro no shoumen daare

Kagome kagome, The bird is in the cage,

Ichigo tilts his head. The voice will be no help. This game is hardly fair.

When, oh when will it come out

In the night of dawn

On top of that, all of the space around them now feels distinctly like Kyoraku. The laugh on the wind, the shadow at his back, the scent of sake and, now, some type of bun. He can’t feel where Kyoraku is, and the song is coming to a close.

The crane and turtle slipped

Who is behind you now?

Ichigo swallows thickly. His instincts hum under his skin. He’s always trusted them. They’ve guided and protected him well for years.

And, according to the prickling along his arms, the greatest source of danger is to his right.

“A shadow,” Ichigo says with sudden certainty. “It’s one of the copies of you.”

He swings to the right, fast and hard, and feels flesh cave to the bite of Zangetsu.

It’s the last good blow he makes in the fight.

“So. What do you think is wrong with him?”

“Karin!” Yuzu frowns minutely at her sister from where she stands before the stove, a ladle in one hand. Sauce bubbles cheerfully in the pot in front of her,

“What? We both know there’s something weird about Ichigo. There’s been something weird about him since he got home. And now he’s even weirder. Does he really think we believe he’s our brother?”

“Karin!”

“What?” Karin is unrepentant. They both know. Ever since Ichigo came back he’s been weird. He’s up at all hours, he barely sleeps and he’s skittish as all hell. Karin has started walking louder to make sure he jumps less when she shows up in the room. Even their dad has started acting different and distant from Ichigo. On top of all that, Ichigo is more physically affectionate that she’s ever seen him in their lives.

“I’m pretty sure that the guy upstairs now isn’t even Ichigo. He’s a clone or something.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say!”

“But’s it’s true!” Karin insists. Yuzu falters, the irritated furrow in her brow easing. The spatula in her hand is brandished like a weapon until she sets it on the spoon holder beside the stove.

“But he looks just like Ichigo…”

“The one that came back from his trip is definitely Ichigo.” Traumatized, and Karin isn't’ an expert but is he supposed to be so traumatized from an explosion? Did he hit his head? Was it worse than he said? That sounds like Ichigo. “But the one we have now is definitely not our brother.”

“Karin… How is that possible?”

“Ghosts are possible,” Karin reminds her, ignoring the fact that Yuzu can’t see them. Still, Yuzu believes in them, more than Karin herself does. If she doesn’t acknowledge that they’re there they won’t bother her like they do her brother.

Yuzu bites her lip.

“Still… What do we say?”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything yet,” Karin admits. It’s too soon, and there’s too much weird stuff going on right now. She doesn’t trust that they’ll get the truth if they go after it without more facts to shuffle through whatever crap the adults try to feed them. They’re young, but they aren’t stupid, and Karin knows that they’re going to have to pull answers out like they pull teeth.

“Good,” Yuzu says with finality. Quieter, with a glance at the ceiling, she adds, “That Ichigo, even if he isn’t our Ichigo, he seems… lonely, Karin.”

Karin knows the look in her sisters eye. The one she gets with stray cats and the cast off friends that Ichigo brings home sometimes. It’s the look that lead to the entire year they’d spent devoted to guarding a single caterpillar in a jar until it was a butterfly. Yuzu is not the temperamental one, she isn’t the scraper, but there’s not doubt in Karin’s mind that she’s the real power in the household. When Yuzu puts her foot down that’s all there is to it.

“Then we just make him our,” she says with a roll of her shoulders. Simple as that.”

“Yeah!” Yuzu grins. “Oh! Did I tell you my doll is haunted?”

“... huh?”

* *

Shunsui Kyoraku is a dutiful man.

He does what is required of him, to serve his home and protect his friends. He always has, since he’d first felt the weight of the heavy black kosado on his shoulders. He is the second son of nobility, he was born to know duty . Even if he prefers to be lackadaisy, even if he bends the rules until they’re twisted knots, and lets events take their course, he will follow the orders Yamamoto gives directly.

He and Juushiro were some of his first students, and they are the only ones left from their class for a reason. He is perhaps one of only five who remain to remember the wolf that Yamamoto truly is, for all he falls to heel at the call of the Central 46 now under the guise of a loyal dog.

He has seen the fight it had been for Yamamoto to establish the shinigami in the first days of their existence, when the foundations of the world had been shaky and the throne had been empty. He had been there for the first quincy war, one thousand years ago, and then again for the second only two hundred prior.

That one had hardly been a war. It had been a slaughter, and he had raised his sword to it just as he had been told.

Now a child stands before him, desperate to save a girl who he can’t have known longer than a summer. She is one of Juushiro’s, one of his favorites in fact. He knows he’s been grooming her to be his next lieutenant for the last forty years, since even before Kaien’s death.

(Privately he thinks it should be the two of them trying to protect her, but they have seen Yamamoto incinerate men, they have witnessed his bankai first hand. If he presses the issue, what chance do they have? They have gone to the Central 46 as captains and nobles and been turned away both times, in spite of the ancient laws.)

This child, Shunsui thinks while he bleeds from his shoulder down to his sternum, is frightening.

He is young. He is human, he cannot be more than two decades old. But it is his eyes that are the most unnerving.

They are not the eyes of someone who knows defeat. They are the eyes of someone who knows that defeat means death. The eyes of someone who has not been beaten by the merits of his simple being alive right now. The fact that he stands before him, with Shunsui’s blood on his sword, is a testament to that fact.

It’s been a long time since someone had done so well in one of his games. They’re never in anyone else's favor, but now Kyokotsu laughs somewhere in the back of his mind, his swords thrum in his hands.

Truthfully, Shunsui would rather not kill this child. He would rather not kill any of the children in front of him.

He knows Juushiro feels the same way. Killing Rukia would be like killing a part of him, too.

They’ve both sent petitions to the Central 46. Both as captains and as noblemen, but none have been answered. It’s a violation of their own laws, but then the Ryoka had come and their investigation had been cut short.

According to Nanao, little Hitsugaya has taken over for them.

Kyokotsu switches games, and Shunsui sinks into the shadows.

The boy is good, for all he is young. He’s been well trained, he thinks on his feet. He fights like there’s something missing.

And that red ribbon on Rukia’s wrist. Her new clothes. It’s interesting.

Shunsui has never seen anything like it. It’s almost like a pseudo bankai, forcibly unlocked by the child in front of him.

Yes, frightening is really the right word for it.

The games change. Ichigo catches on quickly to each one, to the rules and the ways they are both bound by them.

He’s also accumulating more injuries. Cuts on his arms, his back, his chest. Kyokotsu is fond of the boy. It’s rather unfortunate, really.

Shunsui feels bad when he goes in for a hard attack, an emotion he ruthlessly crushes down. He can’t afford to be worried about an opponent in a battle.

Ichigo barely moves back. He’s not fast enough to completely dodge the blade the cuts into his shoulder, just shy of his throat.

Rukia screams, so does the boy from the forth and kid that looks like a shinigami but probably isn’t.

Blood erupts from the split in his skin, a deadly strike if a slow one. It won’t be a quick death. It might not be a death at all if he can, say, get seen by the fourth division member that’s not twenty feet away in the next ten minutes.

Shunsui is broken out of that idea when white overtakes red and it is no long blood that splatters out of the child's body, but a paste that looks awfully familiar.

What in the hell?

A half an answer comes a minute later, when a hand grasps Katen by the blade and yanks Shunsui forwards so Ichigo can try to cleave him in half.

Shunsui blocks with Kyokotsu. The boys reitsu has changed. It was once light and brilliant, a small sun in his young chest. Now it lashes out darkly, black and tinged with red. The eye that turns upon him doesn’t match the other.

One brown. One yellow, rimmed first in black and then in white.

A hollow eye.

It’s only the fact that rules of their current game mean that Shunsui can’t be cut anywhere where his clothes aren’t white, and the fact that his haori and kimono are already off to the side that save him from the brutal counter slash. The boy is fast, his movements vicious and harsh.

Shunsui separates from the attack. He can feel the wind and the faint crackle of lightning that gives away the presence of the oncoming storm that is Shihoin Yoruichi.

She crashes into the platform and knocks Ichigo unconscious with something that looks suspiciously like a very large baseball bat.

She stands before them, two of the old guard, surrounded by children. She cannot take them all, and Ichigo’s reiatsu is still dark and dank, an ocean of shadows that even Shunsui is weary to tread into.

Kyokotsu laughs softly. She wants to play with this boy. Katen inches forwards, her true nature flickering at the edge of his soul. Pure and holy, she wants to split the boy’s darkness with light.

Shunsui cannot allow it. He smothers her in the darkness of Kyokotsu and bids her sink further into his soul, a burden he still bears with grace and secrecy.

“The lost lady of the Shihoin,” Shunsui greets with a smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your return?”

Yoruichi doesn’t answer immediately, and her playful smile is tight around the edges. Shunsui remembers when she and her brother were still just children at their fathers knee. Yukihira hadn’t even been going grey in the temples when he’d died. It seems all Shihoin lived short, fast lives. They are quick shadows that burn away in the light. Disowned or not Yoruichi is now one of the oldest Shihoin on record.

“You certainly did a number on the boy,” she says instead of answering. Kisuke is involved with this, somehow, the mask is proof enough. Just what do they want with Rukia?

This changes things.

The banishment of half the upper echelons of the gotei 13 had never sat right with Shunsui. It was too much too fast, and Kisuke had never struck him as the type. Not to say Kisuke was a good man, but he certainly was not a good enough liar to fool someone like Shunsui for so long, or Shinji for that matter.

If there weren’t strict orders against it, he might have hunted them down in the living world and demanded answers himself. But Yamamoto had made it clear. No one was to launch any further investigations into the hollowfication incident.

(Now he wonders again ; why?)

“He did trounce little Bakuya over there pretty badly,” Shunsui points out.

“So he did. I’ll be taking him now,” she warns. Her body tenses, ready to flee. Shunsui steps forwards and swings lazily at her head.

He slices through open air and a few stray purple strands of hair.

She’s slower now than she was before, he notes, but still fast enough to flee his field of influence before he can cut her down.

Now all that’s left to do is see to the wounded, figure out what to do with their little turncoats, figure out what’s possessed their central government, find out why a child has been hollowfied, unlock the strange mysteries of Rukia’s new powers, and possibly get drunk.

Easy breezy.

An explosion sounds from where Yoruichi has run off to, and Shunsui figures his plans may have to change.

* * *

Kon paces the basement of Ichigo’s strange house in his borrowed body, wearing a trail in the cement floor.

He’s surrounded on all sides by the strange things that Ichigo keeps in here, the magical artifacts and tools that he’s accumulated.

Amongst all of them is the plain brown box that Kon had found on a table upstairs.

The weirdo from the dreams, Merlin , swears he gave it to Ichigo. Kon would normally call Bullshit but honestly? It’s Ichigo.

There’s just something about that kid that makes him feel like anything is possible. Even gifts from dream men who smell like too many flowers and don’t give straight answers.

Kon arranges the thick crystals on the markings carved carefully into the floor. He’d tried to make it look exactly like the picture in the book, but he wasn’t an artist. It didn’t matter. Ichigo’s body seemed to know what they were doing without him having to tell it. He could feel a strange power thrumming through his borrowed skin.

It sunk in from the world around him, filling up the empty spaces in the bone marrow, in the muscles, in the very pores of his body.

This vessel knows what to do, even if Kon doesn’t.

He sets one of the other items in the middle of the circle. There’s six crystals that shine incandescently on each corner of the design.

“Use the stones first,” Merlin had said, his lilac eyes curved with some hidden joke, “ You’ll need Ichigo to use the last bit.”

The last bit being a scrap of cloth that he’d left in the box. It was same shade as his hair, and tattered at the ends. Kon left it where it was and set in the center of the circle two more stones. One was a red crystal. The other was dull grey, and shaped like the head of a small serpent.

Everytime he touches them Kon feels his fingertips tingle with something .

Kon picks up a paring knife.

On Ichigo’s palm is a long scar, one that’s been opened over and over again. Now, Kon presses the blade to the same thin white line until it splits neatly under the sharp edge.

Red wells up. He barely feels it. Ichigo’s pain tolerance is insane.

He holds his fist out over the circle and let’s Ichigo’s body do as it apparently knows to. Blood drips into the careful lines he’s made and it spreads with a vermillion glow that crackles faintly.

“Let Silver and Steel be the Essence…”

* * * *

“Again,” Ichigo touches his forehead. It throbs horribly. “Why the hell does this keep happening to me?”

His groan of pain is met with silence. He can touch his forehead so he’s not tied up. And he can feel pain so presumably he’s not dead. That’s good. If he dies he can’t keep his promises.

On the other hand, if he was dead he probably wouldn’t feel like he was chewed up and spit out again.

When he finally peels his eyes open, he finds himself in the ‘inside’ again. Vertical buildings, and pieces of himself in the form of places he’s gone. The water at the street is a bit deeper.

Ichigo rubs his head and squints around him.

“Zangetsu?” he calls, looking around. The old man is nowhere to be seen. There’s something familiar about this entire situation. He can taste chalk and blood. His chest aches. What the hell is going on here?

“Zangetsu!” he yells louder. No response.

Fine then. Maybe if he focused on his zanpakuto? Zangetsu was the manifestation of it right? Or something.

Ichigo closed his eyes and reached out, taking a deep breath.

He focused on the feeling of his sword in his hand. The cool metal until sturdy wrappings. The wicked blade. The weight of the weapon. The comfort of Zangetsu against his back.

He closed his hands around something and opened his eyes.

And nearly had a heart attack.

“What the fuck!?”

Standing in front of him, no holding his hand, was him . If he’d been sent through a bottle of bleach. His eyes, the other him’s eyes (fuck this was confusing) were bright, luminescent gold. Where there should be white was instead black. When the other him grinned his teeth weren’t as sharp as Ichigo felt they should be.

“Hey there, Partner.”

Ichigo extracted his hand warily. “Who the fuck are you?” He asked bluntly.

A flicker in the corner of his eyes came from the side. His head snapped to the side to see Zangetsu, the old man.

“Zangetsu.”

Ichigo looked back at the other him. The one who spoke. His head throbbed. His chest ached.

“Huh?”

“Ichigo.”

“Yes, yes. Ichigo, Zangetsu, whatever,” he waved his hands impatiently. “What the ever loving fuck is going on here? Why am I here? I was just fighting and- Did I get stabbed?” Ichigo patted down his chest. There was no blood, and it didn’t hurt.

The other him scoffed. “Damn you’re dumb. Yeah ya got stabbed!”

“Don’t be rude,” Ichigo said absently. He lifted his shirt. There wasn’t even a scar on his chest. Just the same red circle that had rested on his chest since he’d been speared through. It felt like an eternity ago. The longer the wars went on the harder it was to keep track of everything and everyone. Sometimes he felt like he mixed up the order of operations. Did he go to London first? Or Oceanus? Fuck.

“ I’m rude!”

Ichigo has to jump to avoid being stabbed by the sword Zangetsu. Now wielded by the other him, and also reversed in color.

“You’re the one that made us wait that long before you heard us, asshole!”

“Huh?!” Ichigo ducked and dodged each slash. Finally, Zangetsu (the man) blocked Zangetsu (the sword (except they were technically both swords (and this was making Ichigo’s head ache))) to stop the fight.

“Ichigo,” Zangetsu intoned. “You were being beaten. Badly. We cannot allow this to continue.”

“Okay,” Ichigo says slowly. “So you suck me out of consciousness and throw me here while everyone else is back there? What about Rukia and Hanataro and Ganju!”

“What about them?” the Other Him. White Ichigo maybe? Shirogo? Espejo? Nieve? Speaks up. He leans on his sword, looping his arm casually over the bite under the curve of the blade. “Why do you think we give a shit about your friends?”

Ichigo scowls. “If I go down we all do.”

“Exactly,” says Zangetsu. “We all die if you do. If you lose. We cannot lose, it cannot be an option. So you must become stronger. You can hear my voice now. You can wield my blade. But there is power inside of you that you do not know. Prepare yourself, Ichigo. We will make you stronger now.”

“To gain that strength, you must fight. Take your sword back from yourself.”

“Huh?!”

He only has a second to duck a sword strike at his head. Neive (he’s going with that for now. Snow) comes at him with a wild grin and vicious intent. A berserker who swings Zangetsu by the ribbon like a demented yo yo.

There’s something weird going on here. Ichigo knows it. He knows there’s something not right about this. The whole thing feels too familiar.

He doesn’t have time to contemplate it before he comes back at Neive with the best counters he can manage whilst unarmed.

Zangetsu is calm and methodical. Ichigo can see in him the commander, the strategist and the pragmatist that he has had to be when war clawed at his throat and shadowed his footsteps.

Neive is wild and vicious. Ichigo sees in him the desperate strength he’s drawn out at the last seconds, the hail mary victories that he's ripped from the claws of defeat time and time again.

The careful planning of Zangetsu, the intricate steps of a dance of strategy, falls away in the face of Neive’s brute forced, deadly strikes. He aims to win, even if he has to cut himself-who-is-Ichigo down to do it. Ichigo’s blood sings with it.

Even though he steps away from death, even though if he’s just a hair too slow he’ll lose his head, Ichigo has to stop himself from tipping his head back and laughing. Fighting like this, he feels almost free.

Almost.

He steps in close, suddenly, regardless of the fact that Zangetsu-the-sword cuts into his shoulder from the sharp curved heel. Blood dots the blue beneath their feet and Ichigo catch’s Neive’s arm between his hands. With a vicious twist that threatens to break his arm he’s forced to let lose the sword. The ribbon keeps it stuck to his wrist, and Ichigo twists his body until he’s back to front to Neive. He grabs the swords hand and swings it around until it’s a hair breadth away from both of their throats.

“What the fuck?” Neive asks, too loud in his ear.

Ichigo shoots him a crooked smile. “You only said I had to take it back.”

Neive stares at him, the angle awkward and painful to his neck. Finally, his doppleganger relaxes and legs the ribbon slip free. He steps back, letting Ichigo hold the sword on his own.

“Well I’ll be damned. Not bad, boss.”

“Why are you so surprised,” Ichigo hoists the blade onto his bleeding shoulder. “Aren’t we all part of the same person? Me?”

“So we are,” something in Zangetsu’s voice doesn’t sound entirely pleased about that. “You’ve done well.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Ichigo scowls at him. “There’s something wrong with the both of you, I want you to know.”

“By your own logic, there’s something wrong with you too,” Neive pointed out, far too cheerfully.

“Uh huh.” Ichigo rolls his eyes. “How was that supposed to make me stronger? It was a fight, I’ve been a million of them. “

Maybe more than that.

Zangetsu doesn’t answer right away.

Ichigo sits on the sideways building and motions the other him to do the same. Neive drops to his side, both of them criss cross and the blade long enough it covered both of their laps.

“Well?” he presses.

Zangetsu is not quite stoic enough for Ichigo to miss the way his mouth turns down and his shoulders draw together. He’s bracing himself for something.

“We are both… facets, of your power Ichigo. I needed to introduce you to him as well.”

“A simple hand shake wouldn’t do?” Ichigo scowled at him.

“We did shake hands,” Neive points out cheerfully.

“Not the point. Why the song and dance? Or are you all the drama in my soul too?”

Neive crows with laughter and slaps Ichigo hard on the back. Ichigo rocks with the force, hissing. His shoulder burns.

Zangetsu comes to crouch before him. He lays his hand on top of Ichigo’s shoulder and the pain eases minutely. The blood stops staining his shirt.

“What…?”

“I can stop your bleeding,” Zangetsu explains.

Ichigo nods, slowly. He remembers, faintly, injuries that weren’t as bad as they should have been, blood stains that were too small. Roman had commented on it once or twice.

“You’ve done it before, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

Ichigo looks between the two of them. Their words ring through his head.

“How long have you been with me?”

Neive grins. Zangetsu looks at him solemnly.

“ Always , Ichigo.”

* * * * *

It’s over.

It’s over and they’ve won. The price was high (it’s higher every time and Ichigo dreads the day that one of them does not return to Chaldeas) but they snatched victory away with bloody hands and desperation.

They’ve won. Nero is not there to celebrate their victory. Karna has faded away. Arjuna had never really been one of them but Ichigo knows they owe him. Billy the Kid. Geronimo. Scathach herself. All gone.

And how many yet to go, before this bloody conflict is ended? This is one war won, and three yet to go. They’ve come more than halfway, but done so by the skin of their teeth.

What else can they do?

Run?

Hide?

Chaldeas is the only safe place and even that can’t last forever. Even if it could, Ichigo would never stand by, safe within the walls.

Ichigo looks down at the cracked tile of the Whitehouse and finds the tips of his shoes glittering. The war is over. It’s time to go.

“Ichigo?”

He looks to Kyo. His impassiveness is finally gone. His expression is open and horrified.

“It’s time for us to leave,” Ichigo says solemnly. It’s time for you to forget .

“No!” Kyo lunges for him, grabbing his hand, and for the first time Ichigo can see it clearly. His brown eyes, wide and open, his hand grasping desperately at Ichigo’s sleeve. One feeling sings through the touch.

Loneliness.

The lion that stalks in Kyo(in Sousuke) ’s shadow. The yawning the maw of solitude.

He’d broken past it, Ichigo realizes. Had dragged him off of that isolated pillar that Sousuke stood so precariously upon and brought him to stand on solid ground surrounded by heroes and rebels, emperors and goddesses. And Ichigo, just a human.

His throat tightens. What kind of place is seireitei that someone like Sousuke is so utterly alone?

“I don’t have a choice,” he says. He’s gone up to his knees and the light is rushing swiftly to his midsection. Eating him up. He can feel the familiar pull of ray shifting.

“Find me!” Sousuke grips his hand all the tighter. “Promise me. Find me in the future! Make me remember!”

Ichigo feels his hand start to dissolve in his grasp and does his best to hold on for a few seconds longer

“I’ll find you.” He vows

Light glitters, air rushes, and the last thing he sees is the crushing sorrow on Kyos face.

(Ichigo will not break his promise)

* * * * * *

#Ichigo Kurosaki #bleach fanfiction #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #gin ichimaru #bleach #bleach/fate grand order #Merlin Fate/Grand Order #kyo (SCoF)#sosuke aizen #shunsui kyoraku #juushiro ukitake #rukia kuchiki

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Title: burn bright until we’re not Fandom: Star Wars Ship: Biggs/Luke AN: Remember how I complained about the lack of fanfic? Yeah.

Read on AO3!

— first

Luke Skywalker was not the first person Biggs had a crush on, but perhaps he was the first he fell in love with. The day he realized how much he adored his best friend wasn’t really different from any other day on Tatooine. There wasn’t much to do on their homeworld but to laze around, work on the farm, get drunk, repair a speeder and go racing. They had been done with their chores already.

Well, Biggs who had many siblings and less to do in general had been finished.

He’d gone over to the Skywalker homestead after to help Luke so that they could go racing after. Luke had been busy repairing droids, grease smeared over his clothes and face while he frowned at five different wires, only to lighten up as soon as he spotted his best friend. Biggs fell in love with the way Luke smiled at him.

— kiss

More often than not, kissing Luke meant tasting dust and oil. Biggs didn’t mind too much, even made fun of his boyfriend for being made out of storms and machines. Luke tackled him in retribution, they fell down into the sand, complained and laughed. They kissed the day Biggs left for the Academy, for the Rebellion, and there was nothing sweet about it. They clung to each other in desperation, torn between dreams and hopes and promises of coming back.

— final

The fighting stopped, the second Death Star had been taken out and with it the Emperor. But still, there was no sign of Luke. Biggs hadn’t been there when he decided to leave, surrender to Darth Vader so they wouldn’t have to deal with a Sith Lord killing their already few numbers. This was the final day of an era of tyranny, and Luke might be-

— numb

No, I am your father.

Luke had been desperate at first, then panicked and scared and finally angry. Now he only felt numb. When his world had been falling apart, the stories about his father had been something to cling to. He had been a good man, a hero, and Luke had wanted to be just like him.

He didn’t know who was supposed to be now.

— broken

When Luke returned from Bespin, he wasn’t the same. He was missing his friend, his lightsaber and his right hand, but something in him had broken and Biggs didn’t know how to fix it.

“He survived Vader,” Wedge assured him. “He will pull through.”

— wings

“So, uh, does everything around Commander Skywalker usually grow wings?”

Rogue Squadron’s newest recruit was short, and she doesn’t look like much, but her turns were so sharp that Luke wanted to hand her his lightsaber just to see if she’d know what to do.

“You get used to it,” Wedge sighed. “Our dear leader usually goes outside to meditate, but Biggs forbid him after he caught a cold last time.”

Luke dropped one of the floating tools on Wedge’s head.

— melody

Luke was humming. Biggs was fairly sure he didn’t even notice it, but since they had taken off, flying in the direction of the Death Star, Luke had been humming. He only really stopped when he was calling in and giving a status update. Biggs knew the song from Luke. It wasn’t a nursery rhyme, but Aunt Beru used to sing it as one. Luke always muttered it when he was trying to calm down, except for that one time he had shouted it when they’d been flying away from Tuskens in Beggar’s Canyon.

“Oh, You're never gonna be closer to the Great Water,” Biggs whispered to himself. “Than when the Master sends you into the desert, don’t cry, don’t cry…”

They’d make it out. They would survive this suicide run against the Empire and utterly destroy their weapon of mass destruction.

— rules

Luke watched Biggs leave, the japor snippet he’d been given burning warmly in his hand. Biggs had promised that he’d return in three years time, come pick Luke up and they’d be free to travel wherever they wanted. It was a nice dream and Luke wanted to chase after it, but nobody who had made it off Tatooine ever came back, such were the rules of their life. Luke felt like everything inside him was screaming at him to tell him he’d see Biggs again. Well, that could only mean that it would be Luke chasing after Biggs, so that for once in their lives their roles were reversed.

— chocolate

Introducing his new wingman to sweets was Wedge’s new hobby. Biggs Darklighter, Outer Rim pilot, was a terror on the field. You almost wouldn’t assume he was nineteen, looking and acting much older. Right now though, his face utterly stuffed with fine Alderaanian chocolate, he actually seemed like the inexperienced young man he was.

“I have to show Luke this,” Biggs muttered.

“Who’s Luke?” Wedge asked.

Biggs smiled softly and oh- well, if that wasn’t a love-struck expression.

— nostalgia

“I missed this,” Han said. “You, me, people shooting at us while we’re saving the day.”

“This is not the right place for nostalgia, Han!” Leia shouted at him and leaped over their cover, her lightsaber ignited.

“You’re right,” Han agreed, watching her tear her way through their attackers like an angry war goddess. This was way better.

— heartbeat

“We’re losing him! I need a medic over here, now!”

This wasn’t their childhood adventure, this was war. It meant burying and burning their dead, staining their dirty flight suits with the blood of the people they couldn’t help, those they reached too late.

“Quick, someone, his heartbeat is weak, hurry up-“

“He’s gone, Biggs,” Luke said, his voice sounded far away. “We have to keep moving. C’mon, the imps aren’t far behind us.”

— stranger

They hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Luke had been tracking down Jedi artifacts on his own and Biggs had been busy flying transports.

“Hey, there stranger,” Biggs greeted Luke from behind.

Luke didn’t even twitch, it was getting near impossible to surprise him nowadays. He turned around quickly and pulled at Biggs’ collar so he could kiss him. Around them, their friends shout and whistle.

“Idiots, all of them,” Biggs laughed and went in for a second kiss. He tangled his fingers in Luke’s hair. It was darker than it had ever been on Tatooine, and longer too.

“You need a haircut.”

“I need a shower,” Luke replied. “Care to join me?”

— confusion

Han didn’t know what he was supposed to make of the kid, the old man, and the two droids. Chewie liked them, especially the old man. He’d introduced himself as Ben Kenobi and the kid as Luke Skywalker. Han had been a brat himself during the Clone Wars, but even he recognized those two last names. The Jedi magic business he was less sold on – it made no sense and it was confusing as hell, alright? – but back in the war, the Jedi had been Generals. Military titles Han could work with. Either way, the kid and the old man didn’t look like much, but perhaps they’d prove him wrong.

— bitter

The alcohol tasted bitter on Luke’s tongue, but it wasn’t the worst drink he'd ever had.

“Passable,” he judged and handed his bottle over to Wes who promptly choked on it.

“The heck, Skywalker! This tastes like the stuff I put in my tanks! This isn’t drinkable.”

Luke frowned and took back the bottle to hand it to Biggs, who also had no problems drinking it. They shared a look, then grinned.

“You should taste the stuff we drunk back home.”

“No, thank you.”

— afterlife

Biggs stared at Luke, then at the empty space beside Luke where apparently Anakin Skywalker’s ghost was lurking, and finally back again at Luke.

“No,” he said, pulled their blanket over his head again and dropped back on their bed. “It’s too early for funky Jedi business. I can meet him later when I’m awake and coherent enough to understand dead people coming back. The world of the living is closed for any afterlife dwellers until I’ve had my kaf.”

Biggs slowly fell asleep again to the sound of twin laughter.

— daybreak

Biggs had spent the whole day over at the Lars homestead until it had been so dark, Aunt Beru hadn’t wanted him to go home by himself. Luke and he had squeezed together in Luke’s bed, which was much too small for two teenagers, even if Luke was short for his age. They stayed up way to too late and got up before the first sun rose.

“C’mon,” Luke whispered and dragged Biggs with him outside. They climbed up the dome of the homestead and huddled together, watched the sunrise. At daybreak, Biggs decided he’d follow Luke everywhere, he’d only need to ask.

— audience

They had an audience.

“Didn’t you say he was your boyfriend?” Wes asked. Next to him, the pilot Luke had arrived with – Han Solo or so? – looked just as flabbergasted as the rest of the team. He kept looking at Luke, as if to check that they weren’t playing a prank on them.

“You talked about me?”

Now Luke was looking up at Biggs with his big blue eyes flickering mischievously and Biggs could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Well, yes. I mean, it’s not like this is Tatooine, but I figured I should still, ah, stick to the oath, so boyfriend-“

Luke finally had enough torturing Biggs. “Yes, you did fine. And yes, we are married.”

“When did that happen?” Solo asked, throwing his hands in the air. “We arrived not even a week ago!”

Now it was Luke’s turn to blush, rightly so. “Uh, before Biggs left Tatooine, so three years ago…?”

— endless

Sometimes it felt like the fighting never stopped. They came back from patrol, someone slapped a few bacta patches on them if they could afford any, they ate if they could keep the ration bars down, went to sleep if they didn’t wake up screaming and got sent off for another run. There were moments where Biggs thought it didn’t get any better, the Alliance just tried to avoid the worst of the punches. He hated this endless fighting, the thought that this might be it for the rest of his life.

He always got back up again either way.

— fireworks

The first time they kiss, it wasn't so much a kiss as Biggs being stupid and getting lost in his thoughts. Luke couldn’t sit still and he was always making sounds, whether he was humming or talking. Luke had turned to Biggs, asking him to hand him a tool and all Biggs could think of at that moment, was how nice it would be to kiss Luke.

So he did.

As soon as his lips touched Luke’s, he realized what he was doing and pulled back. He expected Luke to start shouting maybe, not to flush bright red, stammer and abandon all attempts at communication to dive in for a second, clumsy and awkward kiss. They made up inexperience with enthusiasm and nothing, not even the drought season fireworks, could compare.

— wishing

“So you what? Rub a lamp and get three wishes?” Leia asked skeptically.

Han groaned. “Yes, it’s an old Corellian story. Can I go on now?”

“But, Dad, aren’t there any rules about the wishes?”

“Yes, Han. There must be rules.”

There probably were, but Han couldn’t recall them. He only vaguely remembered the story from his childhood. Maybe his mother had told it to him or he had just put it together from the many stories the fellow orphans used to tell at night, he wouldn’t know.

He did know that his wife and son shared the same inquiring look that looked utterly adorable on Ben’s small round face.

“You make up some rules then,” Han decided and as expected, Ben and Leia immediately began discussion.

So much for bedtime stories.

— birthday

Leia’s birthdays had always been overshadowed by the much more important Empire Day, a festive no planet of the Empire could escape. Her parents used to sit down with her for an hour at least, both making time in their busy schedules to have sweets with her and give Leia their presents. After Alderaan’s destruction, Leia had never stopped to think about her birthdays. She’d forgotten it twice and only remembered it when Luke mentioned offhandedly that it was his birthday while they were stuck together hiding from bounty hunters.

The war wasn’t over now, far from it, but a year after the Emperor’s death, Leia could celebrate, wanted to celebrate her birth and that of her twin’s. She’d missed enough years with him, she didn't want to miss another.

— tomorrow

Today they partied. They cheered and danced and got so blackout drunk they wouldn’t be able to hear the desperate screams of their friends’ dying breaths. Tomorrow they would burn flags for their dead. They would pack up their base and rush to a new system to hide in.

— oppression

Biggs could have had a comfortable life on Tatooine. His family was well-established and he’d earn enough money to live a good life, but Biggs had always dreamed of the stars. But even more than that, he’d yearned for a free galaxy. The Darklighters had kept their last name when they became free, Biggs great-grandmother hadn’t ever wanted to pretend she came from somewhere that was not oppression, but the people around them had forgotten it more and more with each year that passed.

Skywalker, on the other hand, was so glaringly a slave name, people took notice.

Tatooine bred two kinds of people, those who resisted and those who sought to establish their cruel system. If they had just one or two pilots more, a chance to get off this planet, the rebels would be overrun with help from the Hutt space.

— agony

Leia stared at the people in front of her, wondering whether they were serious pilots or a bunch of teenagers.

“You don’t understand,” Hobbie insisted. “It’s agony. You’re our only hope, Senator.”

“I’m busy,” Leia said and walked past them. Honestly, Luke and Biggs were adults, they could solve their fight on their own. Interfering would only make it worse.

“Please! They won’t even talk to each other!”

Leia rolled her eyes. If they already weren’t talking anymore, they were already done fighting and just trying to figure out who needed to apologize first.

“Busy!”

— return

Luke wondered what it said about himself that he’d been so reluctant to return to Tatooine, even when he knew that Han was here and they had to free him. Perhaps it was because he could still smell the ashes of his burned childhood home. Or maybe because he could hear the desert scream at him, beg him to save their children.

But he couldn’t. Not today.

He’d be back again, he knew then. Free the remaining slaves as the Jedi had ought to do decades ago, teardown the makeshift grave he’d made for his parents, and maybe watch in amusement as Biggs’ mother would be forced to treat him politely as her son-in-law.

— protection

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Wedge shouted, as always the loudest of the Rogues.

Right beside him, Hobbie laughed. “And close the doors if you’re busy!”

Wes, the last remaining member of the original Death Star Red Squadron only snorted and shook his head. “They’re going on a mission, guys.”

“Undercover!”

“Without supervision!”

“Left alone for the first time in- uck.”

Biggs had thrown a pillow at Wedge, while Luke hadn’t even bothered to turn around. No, he had a husband to protect his honor.

— boxes

They exchanged gifts near midnight while the party showed no sign of ending, but the day was almost over.

“What is this?” Luke asked and for a split-second, Leia was angry at her parents. How could her father let them be split up? Luke should have grown up together with her on Alderaan, known their customs as well as she did.

“They’re marriage cords,” Leia explained. “Siblings make them for each other when they get married. I’m…” Leia quickly counted the years. “Nine years late, but I wanted you to have one. We usually put them in our hair during the wedding and keep them as necklaces or bracelets after.”

“Oh.” Luke examined the sky blue cords Leia had spent weeks fussing over. “Can you help me put them in? I don’t know how exactly.”

“Of course. Do I get to open my present before?”

“Yes!”

Luke eagerly pushed a small box into her hands. Leia opened it carefully and took out the bright purple crystal out of the box. Her brother looked a little sheepish, but there was an edge to his expression of which Leia knew that it meant that this was important to him.

“I know you said you prefer blasters and would leave the Jedi-ing to me, but the galaxy’s better off when we’re together.”

She grinned and elbowed Luke. “Don’t start complaining when I kick your ass, little brother.”

“I have it on good authority that I’m actually the older one-“

— hope

When Biggs finally returned to Yavin IV, he was exhausted. It was daytime on the moon, everyone seemed to be outside, running around, but all he really wanted to do was drop in his bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

“Good morning, Commander Darklighter!”

The young boy who had greeted Biggs was dressed in loose tonics, looking much happier and comfortable than he had half a year ago when they’d found him and another two dozen children in an imperial training facility. He hadn’t gotten out of his habit of calling people by their titles yet, but his night terrors had lessened considerably and Biggs counted it as a win.

“Morning, Finn,” Biggs greeted. “And who is this little lady?”

The little girl hiding behind Finn mustered him curiously. She couldn’t be much older than four if Biggs were to guess.

“This is Rey Skywalker,” Finn said. “She’s new. Master Luke found her on Jakku. He’s training with the Padawans right now, do you want me to take you?”

Skywalker, she was another one of their many nameless and abandoned children then.

“I’d like that,” Biggs said and crouched down. “It’s nice to meet you Rey. My name is Biggs. I’m usually in charge of making sure our Jedi Master is behaving.”

He held out his hand and little Rey, new hope for a new age, took it.

— preparation

There were four of them, five if you counted Luke. Out of thirty, five had made it back from the Death Star. The other squadrons weren’t faring much better, there was a lot of reshuffling to be done.

“We need a name,” Hobbie decided, the oldest of them all at twenty-six. It seemed a little bit like a macabre joke.

“Five rogue pilots? We’re not gonna be a new squadron. They’ll split us up,” Wes tossed in, anger coloring his voice. He’d been with the Red Squadron the longest, lost the most friends. Despite his words, he had marched with the rest of them to the first empty room near the hangers, not awaiting room assignment. None of them were really preparing to be split up.

“So we tell them we’re a team,” Luke said, shrugging. “They can’t do anything about it then.”

Biggs wanted to protest. That really wasn’t how the Alliance worked, and yet when he opened his mouth, the words were lost to him. Luke got this air about him sometimes, like he knew whatever was saying was the truth and nothing but the truth.

“Rogue Squadron,” Wedge decided. “We should be the Rogue Squadron. We made the Death Star shot, we finished what they started, we’ll take their name. I’ll be Rogue Two.”

Wedge hadn’t been at Scarif, he’d been in medical at the time, but Tellem had been and they had died there. Biggs had never known what exactly their relationship was, and now it was too late.

“Rogue Three,” Biggs said instead.

“Four,” Wes added, while Hobbie claimed Rogue Five for himself.

That only left Luke and it seemed obvious now where he belonged.

— beautiful

“You’re beautiful.”

Biggs snorted.

“I’m old and gray and no, I’m not going to go pick up the Padawans in the jungle with you. Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Skywalker.”

Luke laughed and sat up. “Oh, I’m pretty sure it’ll get me everywhere.”

After all these years, Biggs still felt like that clumsy sixteen-year-old with a crush on the loveliest person he knew. He’d thought of himself as so grown up then already, but looking back, he knew they had been children still, much too young for the decisions they would make.

“If we pick the kids up with a ship, how much longer can we stay in bed?”

Going by the speed at which Luke made himself comfortable next to Biggs again, he assumed they could stay like this at least another hour.

— lies

“He’s my father!” Luke finally shouted, cut off from the rest of their squadron, stuck in a jungle on some Force-forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere.

In the desert, you learned how to be silent, least of all you attract womp rats or raiders or even more dangerous beings. Luke rarely raised his voice but now, admitting the truth, he was shouting at the storm inside his mind.

“Darth Vader is your father,” Biggs repeated.

He wanted to tell him to stop lying, except it made terribly sense. Luke’s wanted posters never named him as the Death Star Shot, and they demanded that he was to be brought in not only alive, but unharmed.

“But you’re still Luke Skywalker,” Biggs continued.

He pulled Luke back into his arms and, as so often in the last months, hoped they’d get a break from fighting the Empire, fighting for Justice.

— underneath

Han opened the secret compartment of the Falcon, hoping everybody would be alright. Three bright-eyed kids looked back up at him and not for the first time, did Han wonder why he of all people always ended up smuggling Jedi brats through the galaxy. He was married to Leia, Senator of New Alderaan and Jedi Knight, and he was a pretty well-known figure as well. He really shouldn’t be cut out for undercover work still after so many years.

“Thank you, General Organa,” the oldest of the brats said and climbed out of the hatch.

“Don’t sweat it.”

— hide

Watching the tiny Skywalker and Darklighter interact was one of Rex’s favorite past times. They were so much like General Skywalker and Senator Amidala, it was almost funny. Always searching for the other when they were in the same room, making eye-contact, the cheesy flirting toned down to keep an air of professionalism – Rex could go on and on.

The only difference was that they didn’t have to hide.

Commander Skywalker rushed past Darklighter and gave him a quick peck on the lips before chasing after some new recruits. Rex wondered if perhaps his parents would be here now too, fighting alongside them, if they hadn’t been forced to keep their relationship a secret.

— diary

“He knew, you know,” Luke told Leia. “Ben- Obi-Wan. He knew about our parents’ relationship, but he kept it a secret anyway because Father would have been thrown out of the Order and Mother would have lost her seat in the Senate. He wrote about it in his journal.”

Leia had wanted to get her hands on Obi-Wan Kenobi’s journal ever since her brother had given her the purple kyber crystal that accompanied Leia everywhere. It was difficult to figure out how to construct a lightsaber without any reference texts, but Luke had been busy.

“So all of this could have been avoided with a few changed laws?” Leia asked, already knowing the answer.

Of course, it wasn’t this easy. Tracking down how deep Palpatine’s machinations had ran took up most of her time. Leia still resented Vader and she didn’t think she’d ever care for him the way Luke did, but there was something horrifying about reading through a Sith Lord’s observations of a bright twelve-year-old child meant for greatness. Leia could never mourn Vader, but in the quiet presence of her brother she allowed herself to mourn Anakin Skywalker.

— unforeseen

Biggs didn’t believe it when he saw a tuft of blonde hair, the color of spun gold, during the meeting. Wedge had mentioned that the princess had been returned by a farm boy and a smuggler, but he didn’t think of Luke. He was still back on Tatooine, waiting for Biggs to come pick him up. He’d been meaning to go a few weeks ago, but the Alliance had needed him more. Now Luke was within reach, and yet, even when Biggs could clearly see his face, just across the hall, he couldn’t believe it.

— conditional

“These terms are non-negotiable, Skywalker,” Fett said.

His blaster was still pointed at Biggs’ temple. The bounty hunter would kill him before either could move.

“Fine.” Luke threw away his lightsaber. “I come with you, but he stays alive. Those are my conditions.”

Fett agreed and tossed a pair of handcuffs at Luke, shooting Biggs’ leg in the same motion. Biggs shouted and dropped to his knees.

“He’s alive, now come on, Jedi.”

— gone

He had missed twenty years, two decades, too much time his son should have been at his side. Padmé was gone, Vader had returned to Naboo to examine her grave, to ensure that this hadn’t been yet another trick played on him, that she hadn’t betrayed him once more.

Vader had always thought their child would be a girl with Padmé’s coloring and maybe his blue eyes. She had been fond of them. He wondered what Luke looked like beyond the red haze of Vader’s vision.

— clear

“Are you threatening me?” Biggs asked, trying to figure out why Han Solo was metaphorically waving his blaster in Biggs’ face.

Han nodded and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The two of them were almost the same height, but Biggs was tired and slouching while Han was standing with his back straight.

“Yes, it’s tradition. Luke is my friend. I figured nobody else had done it on his behalf. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Biggs replied.

— heartache

“He’s stupid!” Leia ranted. “And ignorant and arrogant and petulant and-“

“Important to you?” Luke interrupted her.

Leia glared at him, then dropped face-first onto her bed and groaned. It was strange seeing her so childish. Around everyone else, she acted much more serious, never said a word about how she was feeling. Luke thought it might be because everyone called her “Princess” first and by her rank second, making it easier for themselves to talk over her.

But the two of them clicked well. Sometimes it surprised Luke that they hadn’t been friends since childhood, teasing each other about their crushes and heartache.

“One day I’m going to kiss Han to shut him up,” Leia vowed.

— wired

There were always a lot of droids on their bases, especially around the hanger where most of the repairs took place and the pilots kept their astromechs, except Luke’s of course. Artoo always followed his Master or, in his absence, his Master’s companion.

“Your droid has some loose wiring,” one of their mechanics said.

Artoo had left one Master once, he wouldn’t leave a second.

— insanity

Watching Luke train was fascinating. He was right in his element, all the habits that made Luke a little strange fit so suddenly. You couldn’t spent half your life in love with Luke Skywalker and end up thinking he was normal. Biggs recalled the stories the Clone Wars’ veterans on base told of the leaders they always called their Jedi, loyal to the end. They sounded like ethereal warriors with too bright eyes, always a little too aware of their surroundings. It was almost too easy to picture Luke as one of them. It wasn’t insane to imagine him bringing back the Order he belonged to now.

Biggs wouldn’t mind. Hell, he’d be right out there with him helping. If Luke set his mind on something, he could do it.

— foolish

“Marry me,” Biggs said.

“What?” Luke thought he had misheard Biggs.

“Let’s get married,” his boyfriend repeated, grinning like a love-sick fool. “So you’ll always know I’m going to come back for you.”

“We can’t. My uncle-“

“So we’ll do it in secret,” Biggs argued. “No one but us has to know.”

Marrying in secret was nothing unusual on Tatooine. It was often enough that couples couldn’t be together openly, Hutt rule prevented that kind of freedom. Luke had always thought his wedding would be different.

“We’re not slaves,” Luke said stubbornly. They shouldn’t have to do anything in secret, they were free people and few things had ever been as important to Luke as reminding others of it.

“I know. I know Luke Skywalker, freeborn child of Anakin, child of Shmi, child of the desert. I know you and I want to marry you.”

Luke stared at him in disbelief, giving Biggs a chance to take back his words, but his best friend was still serious, unwilling to budge. Luke was strong, stubborn too, but not enough to deny himself this.

“We don’t have any water!” He finally blurted out. “We need water. And japor pieces.”

“Is that a yes?”

Luke leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Biggs’. “Of course, I’m saying yes.”

— words

He was silent at his father’s funeral. He could hear the people celebrating in the distance, but right in front of the funeral pyre where Anakin Skywalker’s prison laid burning, Luke couldn’t say a word.

— study

“Master Yoda told me to pass on what I’ve learned,” Luke said and dropped the datapads in frustration. “But there’s so much I don’t know! How am I supposed to bring back the Jedi if I don’t even know half of what their Padawans had to know?”

He’d spent hours upon hours reading through his Father’s archive. He barely managed to get through one text without having to look up another and another- A lot of it didn’t make sense to him and half of it he didn’t even understand.

Whenever he told one of the others, they just said he’d manage with some more studying, but Luke was starting to lose faith. Where did one start to study without a teacher?

Master Yoda had called him a Jedi Knight, Luke wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

— love

Luke didn’t know how to love gradually. Unlike his Father, as he’d later learn, Luke’s love wasn’t all-consuming, going further than it should. He cared for his pilots, for his friends, his sister, and his father. Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader, but Darth Vader was also Anakin Skywalker or he wouldn’t have chased after his son for years. Once that knowledge settled in his mind, Luke loved his father. It gave him the strength to throw away his lightsaber, to come in peace instead of war. He’d never excuse Vader’s actions and he’d never give more than he could, but Luke loved and the galaxy was a better place for it.

— skies

“Rogue Squadron reporting for duty, Sir,” Luke said.

He knew that the rest of High Command didn’t really know what to make of him. He was young, he was short and he had a lightsaber he was only just now figuring out how to use. The sky, though? That Luke knew. He didn’t know how to be a Jedi, but he knew how to fly and soar through the sky.

He could be a pilot.

He would be.

— stars

“I want to see the stars, all of them,” Luke said, proud that his voice didn’t crack even once. It had started breaking a while ago, much to everyone’s amusement.

“All of them? That will take a while.” Biggs was teasing him, but Luke knew his friend yearned for the stars just as much as he did.

“A whole lifetime!”

Luke couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.

— lucky

Luke closed his eyes. He had to make this shot. Failure was not an option. What was, was.

Back on Tatooine, people always said Luke was a lucky one. He may not have had the most money, but he always managed to pick the best droids and ship parts for the few credits he did have. Shooting womp rats half-blind with sand making his eyes tear wasn’t more difficult than this.

He just had to focus.

— shake

“This is Rogue Three, I’ve picked up some annoying imps and I can’t shake them.”

“Rogue Twelve here. I’m helping you out. Where’s your wingman?”

“Busy getting shot at- I just got that wing repaired, don’t aim at it, you stupid-“

“Rogue Six, has anybody got their eyes on our fearless leader?”

“Rogue Two, I’m still following Luke- kriff, shit, oh, no, no-“

“What’s going on there? Wedge, what the heck’s going on?”

“TIE fighters, three of them- fuck, that’s Death Squadron! Everybody retreat! Get out! Hail command and tell them we need back up! Now!”

— punctual

Biggs pulled up, just in time to avoid the shot from the TIE fighter behind him and spun, just like he used to back home, causing the enemy pilot to crash into the wall. Biggs resumed his position as Luke’s guard, sure that once more he wouldn’t be able to make it. Instead of falling into a panic, remembering the names and faces of the decimated Red Squadron, Biggs forced himself to look ahead. They’d make it, he told himself. There was no fear. The winds of Tatooine carried them forward and Biggs watched as Luke made his shot. Even before the hit landed, he was already pulling up, ready to give Luke cover so they could escape in time before the Death Star blew them up as well.

Biggs knew Luke had done the impossible.

They escaped the Death Star as fast as they could, passing the wreckage of a bloodless battlefield.

“Red three, are you with me?” Luke’s voice echoed over the comms.

“Yeah,” Biggs replied. “Like I’d ever leave you alone. I promised, remember?”

They were both laughing and crying when they got out of their ships. Biggs pulled Luke into a hug, desperation and utter joy overwhelming him, so very similar to that last night on Tatooine.

They had survived.

#star wars #Luke Skywalker #biggs darklighter #skylighter #leia organa #Han Solo #the rogue squad ended up playing a way bigger role than i though they would #fanfic #almost 6.000 words my dudes #in one day #that'S what the cool kids call #'i didn't work on my essay'#look at me go tossing all my worldbuilding in here again #i just have feelings about Alderaan alright

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sabine-leo · 5 years

Text

A smile to remember

Chapter 1: Just another manic monday

Author: @sabine-leo

Chapters: 1/?

Genre: Fluff and Humor

Note: I´m new to writing stuff like this, but i thought i´d give it a try.

This is a story about Tom Hiddleston and a original femal character (you, if you want to) I hope you bear with me and give it a try. This could be more then a Oneshot. I´ve got some Ideas in my head :) Please leave a comment if you liked it. Sorry for grammar mistakes or else... english is not my first language

-Chapter 1-

The one where you meet a kid, a stuffed gorilla and a handsome man at work.

It was your first day at work after a relaxing weekend. Since you work in Nursery Education you mostly enjoy some peace and quiet in your off time. A good book, a nice Play or movie. Which doesn´t mean that you’re not one to go dancing if you feel like it.

This Monday morning starts out as usual. You make sure everything is ready for the kids and soon parents begin to bring them in, greeting you. You are just taking a book out of it´s shelf as someone whirled into your leg. Hugging you as hard as possible for such sweet little arms. “Hey Mrs (Y/L/N) I´m baaaack!” You look down and smile at Dylan. He´s new in your group but won the hearts of the kids as well as the teachers quite fast.

You crouch down and look into his eyes, smiling still. “Hey Mr. Dylan it´s so good to have you back after your vacation.” He grins at you and hugs you again. You haven´t been paying attention to anything else then this little kid and your conversation so far.

“Coooome Mrs (Y/L/N) I HAVE to show you something!!” He takes your hand in his little one and tugs you along into the hall. After rounding the corner, you have to come to a sudden stop. Almost colliding with a tall figure. You look up and see someone tall and lean smiling right at you.

Beside him you see Sarah, Dylans mother laughing quietly.

“Hey there, are you allowed to run in the hall?” He asks, as you look him in the eyes. There is a little mocking grin playing inside them. But Dylan wont budge. He starts tucking at your hand “Coooome now Mrs (Y/L/N)” You shrug and say “I think it´s rather important...so yes, we are…aaaand you´ll have to wait.” With those words said you follow Dylan fast (but not running anymore) to his backpack.

The tall man next to Sarah laughs almost dumbfounded and turns to see what Dylan was up to. You don´t glance back. You just hunker down and wait for Dylan to reveal what was so important to him. Dylan fumbles around in his bag and takes out a little stuffed gorilla. He presents it to you with a huge grin on his face and eyes wide open.

“Look Mrs (Y/L/N) I got this from Uncle Tom.” Dylan talks really fast and excited. “It´s a big gorilla and he´s strong and protective and look at his face… he´s smiling now but Uncle Tom sad he would be looking REAAAAL mean when I’m sleeping and some ghost tries to come near me!!” He makes growly noises and puts the gorilla nose to nose with you.

You have to fight to stay serious with this cute little display of joy and emotions in his face. But you nod and say “Oh yes, I can see that happening!” Dylan smiles and throws his arms up and hugs you.

“I have NOOOOO trouble sleeping anymore.” You hug Dylan back and are not aware of Sarah and the man next to her watching you with a smile on their faces. As fast as Dylan tackled you with his hug, he let go of you and said “I´ll go play now!” He beelined it through the small space between his mother, and you assumed Uncle Tom, and went straight inside. Sarah laughed and the man next to her said “that was a sight to behold.” Sarah looked at him and answered “I told you he likes her and this place a lot. No need for you to be worried that he´s to young or not in good hands.” The man looked at her with a roll of his beautiful eyes but said nothing. But he was thinking that he had not thought about anything else then your smile since the moment you left him hanging in thin air to be with your nephew.

You stand up and go to Sarah. “Hi. It´s good to see you again. Sorry for letting you wait, but your son had other plans for us.” Sarah laughs and points to her left. “This is Tom Hiddleston, my brother. He´s responsible for that stuffed animal and all it has done with you this morning.” You laugh sweetly and look at Tom. “Hi, I´m Mrs (Y/L/N) or simply (Y/N).” He takes your hand in his and crooks his head a little to the side. “Well, well (Y/L/N) I´m sorry you got almost tackled by a gorilla.” You both laugh. He lets go of your hand with a last lingering brush of his thump across your skin.

“(Y/N) I have to tell you something regarding Dylan if you have a second.” Sarah looked at you. “Sure, Mr Hiddleston, if you want you can go inside and let Dylan show you his favourite game you´re welcome to. Tom looks like he doesn’t want to leave but Sarah gives him a nudge and he goes to find his nephew.

God Lord, that smile. He thinks.

Sarah had told you everything new you needed to know and had to step out to take a call.

As you went back inside the group where Dylan and Tom would be you stop and take in the sight bevor you. Tom is sitting on a pillow and has a book in his hands. 3 boys including Dylan and 2 girls are sitting in front and next to him soaking up his every word. His voice is so.. you can´t find words for it it seems. His eyes light up and his gestures along with this animating voice bring the story to live. You just stand there and listen for a moment. Not wanting to disturb this cute sight.

Tom looks up for a moment and you can see a little blush creeping up on his cheeks, but he continues to read anyway. “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” Tom ends and closes the book The Little Prince. “Mooore Uncle Tom!” Dylan yells but Tom smiles and says. “Maybe next time Buddy. Your Mom is probably waiting for me already.” Dylan sighs but gets up and hugs Tom. “Ok… promise?” “Yes, absolutely!” You push of the wall where you were standing and go over to Tom. “Thank you, that was really nice of you.” Tom smiles lightly “My pleasure. Books, Stories are important. And one can only hope that these little ones will one day read to their children.” You nod. “Wouldn´t be a good day without ending it with a good poem or book, wouldn´t it” Tom looks at you intensely. As if he was measuring you anew.

“(Y/N)” a co-worker calls you. “Sorry, just a moment please.” You excuse yourself.

Clara tugs you around the corner. “You know who this is?? This is TOM fucking HIDDLESTON” She says with a little squeak. You look at her. “Yes, he got introduced to me.” “Are you serious. This is LOKI, the God of Mischief. Asgards Prince from the Marvel movies you like!” You look at Clara for a moment. “Oh..you could´ve fooled me. Without his black wig and leather outfit he looks quite like a Man to me. Not royalty from a fictional movie…and man, it must have sucked that I kneeled bevor his nephew before even speaking to him.” Unbeknownst to you Tom was eavesdropping and laughing quietly, biting his finger at the snark of your comment.

Clara rolled her eyes at you. “You can´t be serious (Y/N).” You interrupted her bevor she could go on. “Look, I don´t think he wants us to fangirl over him let alone roll out the red carpet. He´s here as a normal human being. He´s here as Dylan’s Uncle who has quite funny taste in stuffed animals and who sits down with the kids to read to them. Let him be Clara.” Clara sighed but nodded.

Tom took that moment to walk around the corner. Clara went pale before turning red and leaving…fast. You laughed a little but Tom soon took up all your attention and asked for his sister. “Oh, sorry, she said she´d wait outside. She had to take a call.” He nodded and smiled a very handsome smile just for you. “Well, then I´d better go. It was nice meeting you Mrs (Y/L/N)” “Likewise!” you endow him with a gorgeous smile yourself. Tom bites his lip for a moment, but then get´s himself together and leaves for the door.

Letting you know he heard what you said to Clara he says. “I´ll be seeing you again!” in his Loki voice whilst pulling at the door.

Which doesn´t open.

He pulls again…. pushes but nothing.

Irritated he looked at it for a moment. And with an “oh…” he bangs his head lightly against the wooden door. Tom pushes the buzzer next to the door frame and the door simultaneously.

“Open Sesame” You can´t hold back the quote out of Ali Baba and the forty thieves.

Tom grunts lightly “Here I was thinking I could leave with dignity and Loki-like. But my dorky self had other plans!” He´s smiling at you as he leaves backwards through the entrance.

What a Monday!

Throughout the whole Monday you ask yourself if you´ll really be seeing him again or if this all was just a dream.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddelston imagine #reader x tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston you #tom hiddleston fan #tom hiddleston fandom #more than a oneshot #hiddles #tom hiddelston fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #hiddlestoner #Loki #a bit of loki

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jarpadandjensenaremyheroes · 7 years

Text

A Baby?

A/n- This one got away from me. I blame @queen-of-deans-booty. I gave her the gist of what I wanted to write about (just in casual conversation) and she RAN WITH IT. Seriously, I love this woman. She’s amazing. This story was written for @gone-to-fight-the-fairies’ Supernatural’s Summer of Heroes Challenge, and my quote was from Pepper Potts. It is bolded in the fic. I hope you guys like this one!

***I know not all foster homes are bad. For the purposes of this work of fiction, they are momentarily talked about that way. If you grew up or knew someone that grew up in a foster home/similar environment, I MEAN NO DISRESPECT to you or your caregivers.***

Characters/Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Jody (mentioned), Donna (mentioned)

Word Count: 3,544

Warnings: Swearing, typical spn level death, baby feels. FLUFF and a smidge of angst.

With Dean being as sick as he was, it was up to you and Sam to take care of this milk run that Garth had sent your way. After an hour of him grumbling about it, you finally put your foot down.

“Dean you are too sick! We can’t risk you getting us all sick. This may be a milk run, but it will be ten times harder if we’re all puking our guts out every 10 minutes! Besides, you probably can’t even handle being in the damn car right now. You’re staying here and that’s that. I’ll drug you if I have to!”

“I hate it when you use your mom voice,” he whines.

“Well if you weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t have to! Someone has got to take care of you, because you obviously can’t do it yourself,” you snarked at him.

“Well if anything happens to you and Sam, who’s gonna save you guys?”

“Dean, it’s a ghost. I think we can handle a ghost. Now we have to go. Sam thinks he knows who it’s going after next.”

-----

By the time you and Sam got there, you were too late. You pulled up and heard screams coming from the house, busting the door down just in time to see the woman take a nasty tumble down the stairs. You rushed over to check her but slammed your fist into the wall when you couldn’t find a pulse. Her neck had snapped on the way down. The ghost gave you an evil grin before dissipating.

“DAMMIT!” you screamed.

Suddenly, the house was filled with crying. You and Sam shared a wary look, hoping that this wasn’t another trick from the ghost. You quickly but carefully made your way up the stairs with Sam hot on your heels. As you turned the corner at the top, you were looking straight into a nursery. The walls were a pale yellow, with an antique white crib with matching cradle on one wall and the matching changing table on another wall.

Immediately you tucked your gun back into the waistband of your jeans and moved quickly to the cradle. Inside was a baby, who couldn’t be more than 2 months old, dressed in pink and white. She was screaming bloody murder; probably because of the ghost or her mother’s screams.

You scooped her up into your arms, trying to quiet the baby girl. Sam watched you as you moved around the room, easily finding everything you needed. You changed her diaper while humming to her and talking in a low baby voice. Soon the baby was quietly cooing at you. “What’s your name, huh sweetheart?” You looked around the room trying to find anything that might have her name on it. Mom’s gotta have a baby book around here somewhere… Opening a drawer in the small dresser located in the corner, you found what you were looking for. Scrawled on the front of the small purple and yellow book was the name Katherine Marie.

“Katherine Marie,” you said to no one in particular. The little girl in your arms let out a small gurgle and Sam chuckled.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this, Y/N.”

“Well, the girl just lost her mother. We know the woman didn’t have a husband or a boyfriend, so she was all Katy here had. Someone has got to take care of her. What are we supposed to do, just drop her off at the local police station and say ‘Uh, yeah, this kids mom was just offed by a ghost. We took care of it, but now we need you to find the kid a good home!’ Does that sound like a good plan Sammy?”

Sam stuttered over his words as you continued.

“No, Sam, that is a terrible plan! We’ll take her with us and call Jody. I’m sure she’d jump at the chance to take a baby.”

He sighed. “Alright fine. But I’m not responsible for any diapers!” he said with a scowl.

You chuckled. “What Sammy, you afraid of a little baby pee?”

His face scrunched in disgust as he shook his head and walked away. You quickly packed a bag full of stuff that Jody would need and a few mementos for the little girl and joined Sam in the car. As you climbed in, he was just getting off the phone.

“…yeah thanks Jody. We’ll see you then. Love you too, bye.”

“So where are we meeting her?” you asked him.

Sam sighed and started Baby. “We’re not. She’s entirely unprepared for a baby, so she needs a few days to get things ready and talk to the girls. She said she’d come to the bunker and pick her up when she’s ready, but it may take a week or so.”

You could feel the color drain out of your face and you subconsciously held Katy a little tighter. “Dean’s gonna kill me,” you whispered to yourself.

The two of you found the old man’s grave and Sam dug it up while Katy slept in the backseat, and soon enough it was all done and over with. No more casualties, no bumps and bruises. It was a simple salt and burn. But you still felt guilty about the poor mother who had lost her life because you weren’t fast enough. And looking at the little bundle in the backseat only made your heart pang even harder.

A few hours later you and Sam had parked in the bunker’s garage and Sam was helping you out of the car.

“Sam you gotta protect me. He’s gonna be livid. You know his opinion on having kids in this life. I can handle the yelling and whatnot, but don’t let him yell at her. She’s so tiny and innocent…”

“Just stay behind me alright? I think you’re overthinking this whole thing, but if it will make you feel better I will butter him up first.”

You nodded your head as you held the sleeping baby to your chest. You walked closely behind Sam into the hallway and cringed a little when you heard Dean’s voice. Sam pretended to not be scared about it all, but he froze in place with a deer in the headlights look on his face.

“God I seriously thought I was gonna have to come after you two. You’ve been gone for so long! I’m all better now, so there will be no more leaving me behind on any hunts from now on, and-” he paused when he finally took in the way you two were standing. “What’s wrong?” his voice immediately changed to panic. “Y/N are you hurt? Why do you look so terrified Sam?”

Sam started trying to explain the situation. “So, we get there and finally figure out who the next target was, but we got there moments too late. The girl died. Old Mr. Willow pushed her down the stairs and her neck snapped. But when we did a sweep of the house, we uh…well…we found…a umm…”

“Oh my god Sam, just stop talking!” you exclaimed. You pushed him out of the way with a sudden burst of confidence and held Katherine out to show Dean. “Before you say anything I want you to listen to me damn good and well. This little girl has no one else, and her mother was just killed. We already called Jody and she will be taking the girl in, but needs a week or so to prepare the girls and the house. Once she does that, she will be coming to pick her up from us. So this is a temporary situation. I know you don’t want to bring children into this life and I have been very respectful about that so far, but I couldn’t let this little girl grow up in some shitty foster home and be bullied and god only knows what else. So she’s staying with us and that’s final!”

Dean’s eyes got wider the longer you talked. When you finally stopped, there was a long pause and you could see all his muscles tensing.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” he shrieked. “Do you have any idea what a colossally stupid plan this is? Y/N, not only did you fucking kidnap someone’s INFANT, you brought it here to my home! You know how I feel about kids and why I feel that way, but this is too much. You can’t just do this kind of thing without consulting everyone else!”

You could feel your blood boiling with anger at his words. How dare he. How fucking dare.

“First of all Dean, this is a helpless infant. Second of all, HOW FUCKING DARE YOU. This is my home as much as it is yours and Sam’s, and I will do whatever I goddamn please around here. Last I checked, you are not my father and therefore have zero authority over my actions. Just because you are my boyfriend does not give you the right to treat me like a fucking child. I did not kidnap anyone’s child, I took in an orphan. I took in a child that had no one and nothing left; something you of all people should be able to appreciate. I took you in when you lost everything! When you lost Sam in the pit and had nowhere else to go! It’s called having compassion and being a decent human being! You don’t have to do anything with Katherine. I know what I signed up for and I’m more than capable of doing it by myself. I don’t need your or Sam’s help. So take your shitty attitude and get the hell out of my face. And so help me god, if you wake this sleeping baby up, I will skin you alive and then kick your ass 6 ways to Sunday. Do you understand?”

You turned on your heel and brought Katherine into your old room. It hadn’t been occupied in about a year, not since you moved in to Dean’s room with him. But it would work perfectly. Katy wasn’t old enough to roll yet, so she could just sleep nestled into the crook of your arm. You were suddenly so exhausted. That fight with Dean had taken everything out of you. You laid down on your bed with the baby nestled safely in your arms, and fell asleep before you could even give her a kiss.

-----

Dean’s POV

I was so furious. I couldn’t believe she would bring a baby into this life like that. There are so many other options for this kid, none of which involve hunting or the life! It deserves better! And Y/N should know better. We’ve talked about kids and she knows where I stand. I just can’t believe she would do this.

I also couldn’t believe she got that heated about it so quickly. I guess I did speak to her a little harshly…

“Dude. You need to go fix that,” Sam says, interrupting my thoughts.

“She started it when she brought that damn thing here!” I growled back.

Sam smacked the back of my head. “You stupid idiot! That thing is a baby. A baby girl, I might add. And Y/N rescued her. What the hell were we supposed to do, Dean? Take her to a police station and say ‘Yeah, her mom was killed by a ghost. Find her a good home!’? That was the best alternative we could think of in a pinch, and it would’ve ended up with us both in jail. Again. So we thought of Jody. And Jody happily agreed. She just needs some time to get the house ready. Now you, need to go fix things with your girlfriend. Or she may never forgive you. Is that what you want?”

I shook my head in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go find her.”

“She went in her old room!” he called after me as I walked away.

“Why the hell would she go in her old room? Is she really that mad at me?” I wondered out loud.

I gathered my thoughts as I rounded the corner and moved to knock on the closed door. At the last second though, Y/N’s words about waking the baby echoed in my ears and I shuddered, opting to quietly push open the door instead. The sight before me made me freeze.

I’m so used to seeing this big badass side of Y/N. The one that can take down any monster that comes her way. The one that can drink any man under the table, and hustle even the best of the best pool players. The same one that puts up so many walls, it rivals my own.

But this Y/N was curled up on her side, protectively wrapped around the tiny child while still gingerly holding her in her arms. Her long Y/C/H hair was sprawled out on the pillow behind her, gentle curls throughout her tendrils, and her eyelashes gently fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamed. Just then, the baby started to stir. She wiggled side to side for a moment before Y/N’s hand came up to brush the little one’s head, instantly soothing her back to sleep. The whole scene was just so serene and peaceful, I couldn’t help but feel calm just looking on.

I quietly toed off my boots and shed my flannel to lie over the infant as a second blanket, and grabbed a spare blanket for Y/N from the closet. I laid down on the other side of the baby, Katherine, I reminded myself, and wrapped my arm around them both. I was careful not to go near Katherine’s face though. For some reason, I was suddenly anxious about this child. Was that normal?

Y/N’s hand moved once more to brush my face before she placed it back on Katherine’s chest. That was all it took to lure me to sleep.

I woke up to the sound of a baby crying, and momentarily forgot why there was a baby in the bunker. But when I opened my eyes, I was stunned once again. Y/N was gently rocking her back and forth in her arms, quietly speaking to the baby who was still wrapped in my flannel.

“Shhh, we need to let Dean sleep. He’s still recovering from being sick. It’s alright, I know I’m not your mommy and you miss her very much, but I’m doing the best I can baby girl. Let’s get you a new diaper and a bottle, little one.”

She must not have known I woke up, because she very quietly opened the door and slipped out of the room. The more I watched her with Katherine, the more I realized just how stupid I had been with my reaction. Y/N was only doing what she thought was best for the child, just as any mother would for her children…

I got up and stretched for a moment before I walked out the door to go find Y/N and Katherine. The further down the hallway I got, the louder the giggles got. I followed the sound into the library, where Sam and Y/N were leaning over a table talking and cooing to Katherine, who was cooing and giggling back. A pang of jealousy shot through me at the sight of my brother interacting with my girlfriend and the baby that way. Come on, Dean. It’s not even your kid, I thought to myself. But you wish it was.

The realization startled me enough that I cleared my throat. The other two adults in the room looked up at me with slightly sheepish looks on their faces and I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

“Well don’t you two look like the cats that ate the canary. Team effort, huh?” I teased them.

Y/N just laughed. One of her full body laughs where she tosses her head back and her shoulders shake with a noise like wind chimes that echoes throughout the room. Her eyes sparkled when she looked back at me.

My eyes flashed to Katherine, who was still gurgling and cooing at Y/N and reaching her tiny hands up towards her. When my eyes moved back to Y/N, her expression had darkened. I felt my face furrow in confusion, but before I could get a word in, she was speaking.

“I’ve made arrangements to go stay with Donna until Jody can take Katherine. You made your feelings clear earlier, and I’m not one to stir up trouble in someone else’s home,” she sneered. She turned to Sam, “Could you watch her for a few minutes while I go pack a new bag? I won’t be long,” she added as she handed Katherine to Sam, who gave me a cautious look before nodding once.

“I think I’m gonna give Katy here a tour of the place. Give you two some space for a little bit,” he said while quickly exiting the large room.

I could tell she was pissed, and I wasn’t sure I could say anything to quell her anger this time. I was terrified if I let her walk out that door, she might not ever come back. After a few moments of tense silence, I finally found my voice.

“Please don’t leave.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m coming back, Dean. I just don’t want to deal with a cranky infant and a broody man at the same time. I may be a badass sometimes, but I’m not a damn superhero.”

“I don’t want you to leave, because I overreacted earlier. I didn’t mean to blow up on you like that; I was just so shocked that I couldn’t control what fell out of my mouth.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and I knew I had phrased it wrong.

“What I mean to say is, I’m so sorry baby. Watching you with Katherine, you are a superhero. You rescued that little girl and took her in without a second thought. You have the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever known, and it never ceases to amaze me how loving and caring you are. You are the most selfless, kind, compassionate person I’ve ever met, and that is a damn superpower. You are a hero, Y/N. You’re Sam’s hero. You’re Katherine’s hero. You’re my hero.”

Her face fell and tears welled in her eyes.

“How can I be anyone’s hero if I can’t even save a helpless baby’s mother, Dean?”

The softness in her voice broke my heart, and I pulled her to my chest just as the sob broke through hers.

“Sweetheart you know we can’t save everybody. I know you did the best you could out there, and despite someone dying, you saved an innocent life. You saved Katherine. You were right earlier, when you said she would probably end up in some god awful foster home. Like you told Katy earlier, ‘you’re doing the best you can.’ That’s all I could ever ask of you. Now get out your phone and call Donna back so you can let her know that your superhero ass is staying right here in our home.”

“You heard all that?” she asked.

I nodded.

“But what about-”

I quickly cut off her thoughts. “She stays too, obviously. Besides, I may not like it when you use your mom voice on me, but you make an amazing mother.”

She looked up at me and smiled the biggest smile I’d seen in months. “Seriously? You mean that?”

I nodded. “I actually don’t think I’d mind Katherine staying here on a more… permanent basis.”

“What?! Are you kidding me right now?!” she screeched as she practically jumped up and down.

The laugh that burst out of me was uncontrollable. “You’ve clearly already bonded with her, and she with you, so why make her do it all over again? She trusts you. And like I said, I like seeing you with her. You’re genuinely happy when you hold her. Plus, you didn’t see yourself sleeping with her. It was the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. It made my heart stop, Y/N. And it made me wonder what it would be like to make you a mother, and be a father to children. So why not start here? We can do this together and maybe later on down the road, we can add a few kids of our own into the mix. Whaddya say baby?”

Tears fell down her face once more, but the smile had never left. “I would love nothing more Winchester. Looks like I have two phone calls to make.”

I listened as Y/N gushed to Donna, then Jody, about how I had overreacted and come to my senses about the sweet little girl she rescued, and explained to them that we were going to keep her ourselves. She would be safe here, we had grown kinda attached, etc. When she got off the phone, she turned to me with that smile still plastered on her face.

“Let’s go find our daughter.” She grabbed my hand and led me down the hall.

I grinned as my heart skipped a few beats at the mention of the word daughter.

I’m actually a father. God I hope I don’t screw this up…

Forever Tags

@queen-of-deans-booty

@gone-to-fight-the-fairies

Dean tags

@spn-dean-and-sam-winchester

@akshi8278

#supernatural's summer of heroes #spn fanfic #spn fandom #dean Winchester x reader

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thegirlsinthefirehouse · 7 years

Text

Descendants, Chapter 25

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“Okay,” said Erin, looking at Patty, Holtz, and Cheyenne.

They were all in older clothes and their hair tied up. Both Holtz and Cheyenne had theirs up in bandannas. They were standing in the baby’s room on the third floor of the firehouse.

“David, Zack, and Kevin are in the guest rooms painting, and we’re going to help each other in between coats. We’re painting the nursery. Paint cloths are down to protect the floors. Please be careful as to not move them as this is a beautiful reclaimed hardwood from the old firehouse days. We’re going to try to get two coats up today so they can dry and Holtz can work on the murals later tonight. This is a fast drying paint, so two coats shouldn’t take more than six hours. Then the boys are going to help bring back in furniture, but we don’t have to help them with any of that. Holtz and Abby are going to take care of the arranging. We just have to get everything out of the various storage spots around the firehouse and back upstairs. We’ve got masks and gloves if anyone wants them, and we’ve got fans up for ventilation and to help with the drying.”

“We definitely need to get the baby diapers and bottles out of the client conference area,” said Patty. “I don’t think all that stuff will help inspire trust in our work come Monday.”

“You should be glad we only came down with all that stuff Friday night,” winked Holtzmann. “Because all the baby things are piling up here and we might have to start stockpiling downstairs.”

“Abby and I were already talking about making a donation box once everything is settled and in place,” said Erin.

“Not me?” scoffed Holtzmann. “I feel wronged! Wronged, I tell you.” She gestured wildly with her hands, pretending to be dramatic for whatever reason suited her.

“Best friends always come before spouses,” said Erin, sticking her tongue out at Holtz, who tried to look offended, but failed. Cheyenne laughed into Patty’s shoulder.

“We’re still getting free pizza and beer right?”

“And all the doughnuts and coffee your little heart desires Patty,” said Holtzmann. “I might even splurge for dinner.”

“As long as it’s somethin’ good,” said Patty with a small smile.

“There is that great Greek place down the way,” said Erin. “I vote for that.”

“Where is Abby?” asked Cheyenne.

“Downstairs, tucked safely away from all paint and fumes,” said Holtz. “She’s going to make all our food runs so I can get her out of here.”

“Overprotective,” said Patty to Cheyenne. “As always.”

“I still don’t know how Abby puts up with her sometimes,” said Erin. “I mean, really Holtzmann.”

“I could say the same thing about you Gil--” said Holtz, but cut herself off when she saw Abby coming up the stairs. She ran over to the doorway.

“Nope,” said Holtzmann. “Downstairs honey. The boys are already working.”

“Sorry Holtz, but this can’t wait,” said Abby grimacing. She marched over to Erin.

“The Mayor’s Assistant is here, and she’s brought a couple of members of the Public Safety Commission. They’re waiting to have a look around.”

“On today of all days,” said Patty, rolling her eyes.

“No, we can do this,” said Erin. “Abby, you and I will take care of them. We’ve got this.”

“Because there’s no fun like a surprise inspection,” said Holtz sarcastically.

“We’ll get rid of them,” said Abby. “It’s not like we haven’t been preparing for this. Everything is in order.”

“You hope,” said Patty. Abby nodded and grabbed Erin by the hand and they both headed downstairs.

“Don’t let them in my lab!” yelled Holtz.

“That’s probably the first place they will look Holtzy,” said Patty. “They know you’re probably hiding another large nuke somewhere.”

“It’s in plain sight,” grinned Holtz. “They won’t ever find it.”

“You mean the thing on top of the car?” asked Cheyenne.

“Nope, Abby’s earrings. Put them together and drop it at just the right height...” Patty rolled her eyes while Holtz demonstrated a large explosion. She grinned and wrapped her arm around her friend, which made Patty laugh. Holtz gestured upwards.

“I’ll take the long roller brush and paint the ceiling while you two paint the walls. We’ll let Erin go around the doorways and such when she gets back. She’s a stickler for details.”

“You’re painting the ceiling?” frowned Patty.

“I’m going to paint the constellations up there later on tonight,” Holtzmann said. “Once the blue is dry.”

“I can’t wait to see this,” said Cheyenne, looking interested.

“I might have to borrow your wife,” winked Holtzmann. “She’s the only thing tall enough around here for me to stand on.”

“I don’t think so Holtzy,” said Patty. “I ain’t your step-ladder.”

-----

“Well, that was complicated,” said Abby as she sat down on the couch downstairs. Erin sat down beside her and leaned her head on her best friend.

“Are we sure we want to add another team?”

Abby laughed. “Little late for that now, isn’t it?”

“It’s a good thing we were prepared,” said Erin. “Or they really would have gotten a hold of us.”

“Did you notice how Ms. Lynch kept looking at me?” asked Abby. “I’m starting to wonder whose safety she was really worried about.”

“Abby, you are nearly seven months pregnant. If you haven’t noticed, people do sort of pay attention to that sort of thing. You have a very cute round bump.”

“I can’t wait to be un-pregnant,” said Abby, not even bothering to be correct. “It feels like I can’t do much.”

“You can and you will,” smiled Erin. “Someone’s got to teach the new recruits the different classification of ghosts.”

“So basically anything that doesn’t involve any actual field work we do.”

“Yep.”

“Ugh,” said Abby, laying her head back against the couch. “I shouldn’t complain. I’m the reason I’m in this mess.”

“Yes,” Erin grinned. “You couldn’t say no to those blue eyes.” Abby rolled her own.

“You should go get back to them,” she said. “Tell them it’s all clear.” Abby picked up Erin’s arm and looked at the time on her watch.

“I’m sure it won’t be long till they want lunch, especially since the coffee and doughnuts were lacking because of the surprise inspection. You know how men are. If you don’t feed them every two seconds, they get cranky.”

“Do I have to?” whined Erin.

“You volunteered for this,” Abby responded. She winced and rubbed her side.

“And someone’s telling you that their room needs to be painted.”

“I can stay down here and keep you company.”

“I’d rather you go up there and get things done and I can sleep peacefully in my bed tonight knowing that it’s finished.”

“Umm...” said Erin, wincing. “You won’t be sleeping upstairs.”

“WHAT?!?!?!”

Erin looked sheepish. “You’re staying at my place tonight. Holtzmann insisted. I think she’s already packed you a bag too.”

“I’m going to kill her. She is getting way, way too overprotective.” Abby tried to get up off the couch but failed. Erin laughed, but bit down on her index finger knuckle to keep from doing so again. She watched as Abby slowed down and used the arm of the couch as support.

“I’m thinking for the next couple of months you need to avoid this couch.” Abby ignored her and headed for the stairs. When she saw Holtz coming down, she glared at her wife. Holtz looked at Erin.

“You told her didn’t you?”

Erin shrugged, trying not to smile at Holtz's mild discomfort.

“Abby... I have a plan. I’m going to be painting all night. I thought you might enjoy spending some... some fun time with Erin.” She started backing up at her wife’s fast approach. After nearly falling, she yelled for Patty to save her and ran up the stairs all the while flailing her arms. Abby sighed and turned and looked at Erin.

“Put the fear in her for me, would you?” Erin saluted like Holtz with a smirk and headed upstairs. Abby groaned. Her lover sometimes. Half the time if she didn’t just absolutely love and adore Jillian Holtzmann, she probably would be very annoyed by her.

-----

“I am so glad to be home,” said Erin after putting some of the leftovers that had been sent home with everyone from the day’s events in the fridge. She kicked off her shoes and laid her head in her husband’s lap. David chuckled and kissed her forehead.

“What time is Abby coming over?”

“Whenever she gets through chewing out Holtz and spitting her out.”

“So an hour or two then?”

“Five.”

David laughed and shook his head.

“I can’t blame Holtzmann though. She is just looking out for them in all the ways she can.”

“As she should be,” said Erin. “David...”

“I know Erin,” he said softly. “I saw how you kept stealing glances at Abby during dinner. I know you’d love to raise a little one with your best friend.”

“I don’t think Holtz would go for the partner swap though.”

“You know what I mean. Your kids growing up together, being best friends...”

“Is it wrong?” frowned Erin.

“No...” sighed David. “It isn’t.”

“What do you think?” asked Erin, sitting up. “About--”

David went quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

“Fair... fair enough,” responded Erin. “I don’t want to push you into anything David. I--”

He smiled sadly and kissed her. Erin closed her eyes and kissed back. She loved being in the comfort of her husband, especially since he always seemed to worry about how she was doing.

“We can talk about it later,” he said. She hugged him, knowing what that answer meant in her heart. She pulled back.

“At least today is done.”

“I feel like I’m covered in paint,” said David. “Patty is more devious than I gave her credit for.”

“At least you don’t look like Holtzmann. She was quite determined to make sure that blonde hair turned blue.”

“Or Kevin.”

“That was Kevin’s own fault. He shouldn’t have tried to sneak up behind Cheyenne. We told him there would be consequences. He should have never let Patty corner him.”

“Everyone I think is going to need showers,” chuckled David.

Erin smiled. “I’m glad we got Abby to take that group picture.”

“I don’t think she was too pleased with the one Kevin’s husband took of Kevin rubbing her belly.”

“Kevin promised her a back rub in compensate. At least he’s been paying attention.”

David rubbed his black hair. “I think I’m going to go get a shower, then head to bed. Tell Abby I said good night.”

Erin nodded and he kissed her on the cheek as he got up and headed towards their bedroom. She propped her feet up on the couch and got comfortable. She knew it would take Abby a few minutes to stop arguing with Holtz and finally give up. All of them knew Holtz was being way overprotective. As long as the place was well ventilated, Abby would have been fine helping. She had wanted to help. But once Holtz got an idea in her head, it was stuck. And she was really stuck on this one. But Erin had a feeling that this day wasn’t so much about the paint, but about Holtz’s work this evening and how she wanted to surprise Abby with it.

At least they had all the basics done. All the rooms were painted and the furniture and things were moved back upstairs.

The doorbell rang and Erin got up to answer it. Abby was standing there with an overnight bag and a body pillow.

“I didn’t win.”

“Uh-huh,” said the redhead. “Didn’t expect you to.” She gestured for Abby to come in and closed the door behind her. “Holtzmann is a force of nature.”

“Tell me about it,” said Abby, taking off her jacket once she had sat her things down on a chair. “I’m scared to see what she’s going to be like when I’m actually in labor.” She headed over to the couch and sat down gingerly, rubbing her back.

“I think by that point, you’re not going to care, Abby,” mused Erin. “You’re just going to want the baby out of you.”

“I want the baby out of me now,” huffed Abby. “But 27 weeks is a little early.”

“Aim for 40 weeks,” said Erin. “It’s a good goal.”

Abby made a face. Erin chuckled and sat down. “I can’t wait to see you with an even bigger and round bump.” She patted her best friend’s shoulder while she made a face.

“Neither can Kevin,” said Abby. “I think Zack was amused by how Kevin kept wanting to feel the baby during dinner.”

“Think they are getting baby fever?” asked Erin.

“Who isn’t these days?”

“David,” said Erin with a sigh.

“He’ll come around,” said Abby. “Heaven knows I had to give it a lot of thought.”

“Maybe,” said Erin, a little soft and uneasy. “I’ve been thinking about adopting on my own.”

“Really?” Abby said, surprised. “You’re going to go through with it even if he doesn’t want to?”

Erin put a hand on Abby’s baby bump. “I want us to have kids together Abby.” She smiled at her friend. “We always wanted to do everything at the same time, and we almost did.”

Abby laughed. “I was not expecting this, however. Really should have been reversed.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Erin, grinning. “You being pregnant is my favorite thing.” Abby elbowed Erin.

“I want to see you with swollen feet.”

“I can’t wait to see you and Holtzmann holding your baby.”

“I just want to go back to work full-time,” sighed Abby. “We need a new... mystery.”

“You and Patty.”

“She has the right idea,” said Abby. She paused for a moment. “I’m glad the safety people are now taken care of, even if we had to run through the place and hide all the baby stuff.”

Erin nodded. “It’s something off our minds at least. Now we can get the new kids up and running.” She looked at Abby.

“Is Holtz still planning a ghost hunt with the penguins for them?”

“If she is, she hadn’t told me,” said Abby. She shook her head. “Really, Holtz?”

“Probably was going to try to keep that a secret for as long as possible,” chuckled Erin. “Are you and Holtzmann going to need help decorating?”

“I think we can do that,” said Abby. “I need to do something.”

“I think you’re just going to have to accept the fact that your wife thinks because you’re carrying the baby, you get off scot-free from everything.”

“I know,” Abby said, picking up her pillow and folded it, putting it at her back. “Maybe I need to talk to David.”

“Abby, no.”

“What? On your behalf...”

“So you want to argue with a law professor?”

“Well, I could mention that there was a recent study that said women over 35 getting pregnant are mentally much sharper later in life.”

“Yes, because I’m sure David is worried about my intelligence level.”

“You never know.”

“Now I know you went batty sitting downstairs while we were painting,” Erin huffed. Abby smirked. “I think I lost all sensibilities some time ago while waiting for you to come back around.” “You ready to get some sleep?” asked Erin, ignoring the barb.

“Might as well, said Abby. “Guest room?”

“Should be ready. I can get an extra blanket out of the closet if you think you’ll need one.”

“Erin...”

“Don’t say it, I know.”

Abby sighed and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Just be careful, okay?”

Erin nodded and hopped up off the couch. Abby wished she could get up that quickly as she carefully stood to follow her best friend. <– Prev | Next –>

#yatesmann #ghostbusters 2016 #descendants fanfic gb

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