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weasleylangs · 3 years

Text

opposites attract - f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor. Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k

A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!!

P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

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Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.

Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.

Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment.

When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.

This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.

She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.

“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag.

Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’.

These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’.

“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?”

Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.

“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care.

“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.”

She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.

“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.”

It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over.

“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.”

Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?”

He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening.

“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.

“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,”

They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.

“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”

Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek.

Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.”

She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?”

Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.”

He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck.

When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done.

The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.

“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!”

She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.

He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”

He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist.

“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.

“I love you.”

This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?”

Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.

“I do, I love you.”

She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide.

“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley

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refurbishedgray · 3 years

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Point of Contact

Reader x Tech. Maybe we get feisty and it’s reader x Crosshair, too. In this house, we like both.

Multi-part fic; probably NSFW; f!reader (she/her pronouns)

**Updates: I’ll tag you if you holler

Summary:

“No good ever comes to the Republic from Banking Clan business,” Hunter tells them, “Let’s get this done and get home, boys.”

Arriving on Scipio with the unhelpful directive of, “be discreet, but do whatever it takes,” the Bad Batch find themselves at the mercy of a stony representative whose allegiances lie with the best deal.

Or, the one where Tech and Crosshair think the reader is as intense as she is pretty.

**************************************

Part One

The office is too empty, too bright. The merciless glare of Scipio’s sun cuts across the room, gleaming unpleasantly from the gilded corners of all the fine furniture and glass. A corner office, inherited from an out-maneuvered relic of the past.

All light and no warmth, you think, not for the first time. Never any warmth. In your early years with the Banking Clan, being stationed here had felt suspiciously like a punishment you hadn’t deserved, a proving ground when you had already proven so much. These days, however, you’ve come to understand that the frigid peaks standing vigil beyond your window are a reminder of how far you have climbed.

Now, as you shift in your chair, the expensive Corellian leather barely squeaking beneath you, you squint past the harsh light filtering in from the floor to ceiling window at your back. It’s all pristine snow on those peaks. Icy. Easy to slip if the cold didn’t kill you first.

Yes, you had climbed and clawed your way up these proverbial mountains. And like the man who last haunted this office, it has left you with so very far to fall.

The early days had been simpler. Smile. Look pretty. Never forget what can be saved for later. You hadn’t forgotten. Beyond the pale blue sky, twinkling out of sight, are worlds fraught with battles, littered with unsuccessful or unlucky tacticians from two sides of a conflict that won’t ever be ended, not truly. You have always preferred to keep your strategizing corporate. Clean.

A frown drags at the corners of your mouth at the uncharacteristic foray into reminiscence of the…

The…

A phrase comes to mind and you allow yourself a small, private smile against the sunlight. The bad old days.

Since then, things have always been kept tidy.

Until now.

An unwanted spur of concern digs in behind your chest as your gaze turns from the window to sweep over the room. To your dismay, you realize why, and realize too clearly that the concern is not solely for yourself.

He should be here.

Things were less empty when he was around, a relic in his own right and your pride and joy and confidant. How proud you had been when you had been informed that you would require a bodyguard. “A mark of success if there ever was one,” you had told the few family members you kept in contact with, of which there were very few, upon being informed of the recommendation after your previous promotion. “Aren’t you proud?” you had wanted to ask. But you had not asked. Better not to make the query when the answer was always so heavy and obvious.

He had become your one and only friend. But he, too, is absent now, and upon permitting the observation, your office seems at once less empty and instead, guttingly, horribly hollow. Two rotations it’s been. Two rotations to give into the inconvenience of noticing.

No, no, you think. You had noticed. Admitting it, that is the phrase that would be more accurate, but if it makes you feel less or more weak, you find you cannot decipher the bitterness creeping up your tongue.

Rising from your seat, you at once miss the meager warmth provided by the leather as the cool office air licks at you. Once upon a time, you had comforted yourself with the promise that one day, you would get used to the cold here. It was one of the few lies you allotted yourself over the years. Crossing the office, the marble floors as white and frosted as the mountain peaks outside resounding crisply beneath your heels, you make your way to the small bar trolley tucked away in one corner. Your last guest, a senator with strong -- unsubtly strong -- ties to the Clan, had complimented your selection of fine whiskeys and other alcohols. You had not admitted then that you did not keep the bar stocked for the guests who were few and far between, but rather for yourself, to chase away the damnable chill in this place.

Your hand stills between decanters, your mind hesitating at the threatening burn that awaits your selection.

A bad habit.

You can imagine that peculiar modulated voice now. “Madam, the faces you make.”

Instead, you shun the alcohol and the ice that never thaws, yet still gets replaced each morning, now resting in a round chest, as gilded as everything else in this room, and reach for the Felucian pear juice. Duller, perhaps, but you don’t need anymore guilt on your conscience.

A sip, then two, settles a gnawing in your stomach you only notice once it passes.

Intolerable, you muse, downing what remains in the glass. The beverage is sweet, almost as sweet as the air outside is cold. Too quiet. Where are -

A rush of air and sliding metal breaks the silence. Glass in hand, your eyes narrow over the rim at the assistant who scuttles in. This one has been particularly insipid since her arrival. The daughter of someone marginally important, she is small and hunched shouldered -- she hasn’t learned, not like you did, and a part of you suspects she never will.

She stops just short of where the tile begins and as she does, your eyes track down her uniform to a pair of shoes that have never been polished. Stars help her.

In a quavering voice, she asks, “Madam?”

You raise a brow.

“We’ve received word. The transport with the troopers has requested permission to land. They’re on their way.”

You set the glass aside, gingerly, its bottom barely clacking against the tray atop the cart. Republic troopers. A battering ram when a scalpel is needed.

“Ah, the Senate’s grand favor,” you murmur.

“Yes, ma’am.”

So many years spent with watchful eyes on you has made you good at hiding your frustrations. You swallow a sigh before it ever rises and allow yourself a brief moment to thumb the crystalline edge of the glass. The senator had warned you.

Your voice is quiet as you instruct the girl, “Get out.”

She scurries gracelessly back through the door. It is an improvement; the last time she had squeaked pitifully before leaving. Perhaps you should have enjoyed the alcohol while you could. If this goes badly, all these nice things, all this luxury will be reassigned, a new name on the door. Such is the way of things -- you know the warnings well.

Until forty-eight hours ago, they had been going so smoothly. An unfamiliar voice at the back of your mind whispers at you. Had you gotten complacent? You never get complacent. You had been warned for star’s sake. Senator Clovis had been all too clear that vaults here on Scipio were being targeted. You had taken that to mean the transports would be targeted as well. Credits were valuable, gold was valuable, as were artifacts and treasures. The Clan stored it all.

But most valuable of all were and would always be secrets.

And secrets...you were very good at secrets. Finding them. Keeping them. Exposing them.

The hand on the glass tightens and through touch or through sound, you sense that just a little more pressure will splinter it. Gently, you lift your fingers.

You’ve got enough messes to clean up already.

…………….

Two of his brothers look unhappy. Hunter suspects he, too, looks unhappy. Only Crosshair remains unaffected, toothpick lolling from one corner of the man’s thin mouth to the other as he watches the sky shift from icy atmo to the very tips of craggy mountains.

“Looks cold,” rumbles Wrecker from his seat, thick legs kicking out miserably. “Nobody said it was gonna be cold.”

From the pilot’s chair, Tech glances at Hunter, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. Now that Hunter can see him full-on, rather than that goggle-obscured side-profile of his, he realizes that he’d been right. Even Tech is unhappy with the assigned locale. Still, the man sniffs and turns back to navigating the gunship.

“It is Scipio,” says Tech.

“What’s that got to do with anything? Just sayin’, a little warning might’ve been nice.”

Crosshair shifts, the movement almost imperceptible, just enough that Hunter knows the sniper is asking for his attention. “I believe Hunter was preoccupied with warning us about the...what was it you called them, Hunter? Denizens?”

“The word does have an apt connotation for the Banking Clan,” Tech mutters. He gives Hunter another look, this one says that he’s no more excited about the prospect than Hunter has been.

Their mission brief had been a strange one. It wasn’t their usual brand of run-and-gun from the sound of things, but it was important to all the right people, and they needed guaranteed success. “Go to Scipio, meet the point of contact, establish the responsible party, recover the stolen data.” It was more or less all they had been told.

Hunter knows his frown is getting deeper, sinking into the lines on his face -- he can feel it pulling at his bandana, and he raises a hand to scrub it away.

“Who is this contact anyway?” asks Crosshair. “You never said.”

“Because I wasn’t told a name. We’re to meet with the, and I quote, ‘Principal Trades Specialist for the InterGalactic Banking Clan.’”

“Trades specialist?” Crosshair plucks his toothpick from between his teeth and for a moment, it takes Hunter longer than he would like to decipher the look on the man’s face. He doesn’t look unhappy...he looks intrigued. Crosshair replaces the toothpick, then says, “Sounds like a fancy way of saying ‘corporate spy.’”

“Head corporate spy,” Tech says, “If he’s - “

“She, from what I’m told,” corrects Hunter. His frown has yet to go anywhere, so he lets it stay, his hand falling to his lap.

Tech nods. “If she is based here on Scipio, we’re dealing with someone who needs to be watched closely. Some important players are based on this planet.”

Crosshair folds his arms. “Did the spy part give it away, Tech?”

“The Banking Clan part, actually,” Tech replies dryly, “We’ve dealt with spies before. The IGBC is something different. It is...new territory.”

“We’ve also dealt with new territory before.” At this, Hunter hears them all shift, their quick heartbeats settling into a familiar, all’s-well rhythm. His, too, follows. Just in time, it would seem, for the comms to squawk at them as the Marauder banks left and begins its final descent to the landing pad. He stands from the co-pilots seat, the faint tilt of the floor beneath him a familiar calm before the inevitable storm. He looks to Wrecker, who shakes his head, and then offers a grin.

“Might be fun. Never clobbered bad guys with snowballs before.”

There’s a snort from Tech and despite himself, Hunter smiles.

**************************************

Ten minutes later, they are suited up and disembarking into a cloud of snow flurries and ice crystals. The Banking Clan’s guards are as heavily armored as some of the Separatist patrols Hunter’s encountered. He scowls beneath his helmet. This should be a job for Jedi -- if the Jedi weren’t all dispatched to the war front.

Soldiers...they don’t deal with these sorts of people. Not well and not effectively. Too much bad blood between the Republic and profiteers like these.

He motions at his brothers to close ranks, their familiar presences a comforting reminder that this isn’t anything new, not really. It’s a mission like any other.

As the frosted cloud clears ahead of them, the guards, in their gilt armor and insulated cloaks, make way, too much way, Hunter thinks, for the clearance to be for a group of Republic troopers.

Then he sees her.

Half camouflaged by the swirling winds and clad in half a dozen shades of gray and silver, her shoulders draped in white fur, she stands waiting for them, her hands clasped serenely in front of her. She could be a diplomat, a Jedi even, if not for the gleam in her eye. It’s a cold thing, sharper and as frostbitten as this frozen world itself.

He’s not the only one to have noticed. Beside him, Hunter hears Crosshair draw in an appreciative breath so quiet no one without incredible senses would notice it. In his periphery, he catches an almost imperceptible twitch of Tech’s helmet as his brother spares him a questioning glance.

When the woman speaks, her voice is crisp, professional. “Clone Force 99, welcome.” She does not smile, but her eyes track to each of them, lingering too long, as though somehow looking past the armor to the men beneath. She introduces herself with a name that sounds too soft for the title she wears. Then, she gives them a crystalline smile. “But you may call me Trader, if you please.”

“Trader?” It is Wrecker who asks the question, finally distracted from the snow and ice. “Sounds like…”

Another smile, this one not quite as cool as the first. Amused, Hunter thinks, though how benign that amusement is, he can’t tell, and it makes his skin itch beneath his blacks. “Like traitor?” she hums. “I suppose it does, doesn’t it?”

She steps aside and gestures at them to follow. “With me, gentlemen. First, we’ve a meeting. Afterwards, we will take a tram to the vaults, then from there, speeders to the site of the incident.”

“‘Incident’ is an awful clean way to say ‘bloody heist,’” says Hunter as he moves to follow. Her gaze slides to him, her stride never slowing. Shoulder to shoulder with the woman, he has the uncomfortable instinct to slow his steps, to lag behind, as though if he isn’t careful, a blade might slide between his ribs on a blink. He pushes aside the urge, then asks, “How many people were lost?”

“Enough,” she replies. “One could even say too many.”

“But not you?”

“Must someone say something for you to believe they think it?”

Behind him, Crosshair snorts, but does not comment. Hunter lets the statement slide, though the itch he’d felt earlier is heating to a burn now. Together, she leads them through a set of gleaming durasteel doors into a foyer as stark as it is grand.

“Proceed through those doors.” She crooks a finger to their left. “Senator Amidala has requested a meeting in...eighteen minutes. I will join you shortly.”

Wrecker whistles, the sound too sharp to come from beneath his helmet, and Hunter glances back to see that the man has removed it, his one good eye roving the pristine interior. With a sigh, Hunter follows suit. It’s not exactly warm here, but out from the planet’s whipping winds, it’s close enough that even he can fool his sensitive skin into enjoying it. Soon, they are all unmasked. The woman - Trader - lingers long enough to observe them.

Her expression is...unreadable. There is no twinkle of bemusement in her eyes, not the first twitch of surprise. Normally, when the helmets come off, it gets at least some sort of reaction, gives him some kind of measure.

Now, the only read Hunter gets is the fact that he can’t get a read on her -- and that, he doesn’t like. There’s no trusting people who have become so numb.

Her gaze slips between Crosshair and Tech, where it lingers on the latter for seconds longer than it had the rest of them. Something in her frigid eyes warms, the ice of her expression cracking just enough that she might be pleased by what she sees. And Tech...for all his usual detachment, has no datapad to bury his nose in now, and he notices.

Hunter thinks the woman lets him notice.

His brother stands a little straighter, eyes flicking nervously to Hunter behind his goggles. Stumped, for lack of a better word. For once, flat out puzzled.

Then, without a word, Trader looks back to Hunter and inclines her head. “Stay warm, gentlemen. I will see you soon.”

She is gone behind a pair of adjacent doors without another word.

No sooner do they watch the durasteel whisper shut, than does Wrecker drive his arm into Tech’s side with a chuckle. Tech winces with a hiss and waves the man away.

“Heh, she likes you.”

“I hoped it was my imagination.” Crosshair’s lip curls, his eyes narrowing until he looks away, and Hunter wonders if they’ve been reflected back at him through the shine of Tech’s goggles.

Tech runs a hand over the back of his head. “What do you think, Hunter?”

“I think she’s Banking Clan, through and through. We’re not among friends here.”

“If we let her alone with Tech, things might get friendlier -”

“Wrecker.”

Hunter scowls. Another voice has echoed his own and he looks to see Crosshair, arms folded, rocking back on a foot to glare at the wampa-sized man.

Tech clears his throat. “Perhaps we should wait in the briefing room?”

His heart rate, harder to hear away from the tight confines of the Marauder, sounds schoolboy quick and Hunter wishes, not for the first time, that his brother was more inclined to find company in their off-duty hours than he was. Pretty faces were fine - Hunter himself was inclined to enjoy them - but something about the mask this one wore was dangerous.

Wrecker’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. “Did she say Senator Amidala was waiting?”

“She did. The commander warned us the Senate was at play here.”

“That’s not our usual playground though, is it?” Crosshair is still scowling, his arms folded more tightly now than they had been. All that characteristic suspicion exacerbated by annoyance that has set in and won’t leave him. It makes his eyes hard, his narrow features sharpened and cold beneath the glare of sunlight on durasteel.

Hunter shakes his head. “It’s not, but I feel better knowing Amidala’s behind us on this.”

“That makes one of us,” says Crosshair.

“Two,” Tech interrupts, his voice crisp; back to himself, Hunter realizes, his relief warm down to his fingertips, until he isn’t sure why he’d been worried in the first place.

“Three! I like Amidala.”

“We know, Wrecker.” Tech’s smile is gentle, even as he rolls his eyes. “The poster by your bed speaks for itself.”

Hunter’s gaze slides to his remaining brother, the smile that had spread turning crooked, then fading. “Crosshair?”

It’s always been an unsettling characteristic of Crosshair’s that his eyes, as brown as all of theirs, manage to be so very cold when the mood hits him. The look in them is not unlike what he had witnessed in the woman.

The observation tightens Hunter’s throat and he swallows it, turning away, and hopes not to notice it again.

#bad batch #star wars #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #multichapter #part one #the bad batch #bad batch tech #bad batch crosshair #decidedly not proofread #shitty art by me #blame no one else

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miraculousares · 3 years

Text

Reflexes

A quick fic inspired by this gif set

Over the last three years of being Ladybug, Marinette had changed in several ways. The two most notable to those around her were both physical. One, she was buff. Like, she could beat Kim at wrestling kind of buff. When she wore bikinis to the beach with her friends, they'd all stare at her abs for a moment. Alya constantly asked her how she had gotten so ripped but never got a straight answer. It's not like Marinette could exactly say that she had gotten strong by fighting villains all day.

The other thing that had become most noticeable was her fighting skills. Few of her friends ever witnessed anything as fighting wasn't a super common civilian issue, but Alya saw her take down a mugger with one hand. Nobody really believed her when she told people about it - "Oh, sweet little Marinette couldn't hurt a fly," they often said - but she still made a note not to startle her or get on her bad side.

One of the most problematic changes that she'd made, though, was her fighting instincts. While it came in handy during fights with akumas, she often found herself judo-flipping her partner, Chat Noir, when he snuck up on her. The worst part was that he never learned to give her some warning, so it wasn't an uncommon occurrence to accidentally throw her best friend off of roofs. Of course, he was always okay. Not only did he have his staff and super-agility, but he'd learned to expect it. That only made her feel more guilty.

~ o n e d a y ~

Ladybug leaned against the chimney of one of the several rooftops of Paris. She was looking down at her yoyo's screen, catching up on some fan emails, while she waited for her partner. Suddenly, she felt the sudden presence of someone behind her, a hand reaching toward her. Instinctively, she grabbed the wrist and slammed the attacker down on the ground in front of her. She kept the arm in her grasp and put a foot on the person's chest to hold them down. The laughter that followed registered before the face did. She immediately let go and took her foot off of the blonde and held down a hand to help him up. Once he was standing again, he worked to control his laughter.

"Stupid cat, I've told you over and over again not to sneak up on me like that! You know that I react like that to being startled," she grumbled, closing up her yoyo and attaching it to her hip.

"I know, I know. But it's kinda funny," he wiped a tear from his eye.

"It won't be so funny when you dull my reflexes and I get my miraculous stolen by a villain," she retorted, pushing him playfully but sternly on the shoulder.

"My lady, you could never be dull, not even your reflexes." His eyes shone with adoration and she rolled her eyes. She had to admit that his flirtiness had gotten a lot sweeter in the past few months as they got to know each other deeper and deeper.

"Yeah, whatever, kitty. Are you ready to go on patrol?"

"With you? Always."

The two leaped from the rooftop and began scanning the streets of Paris for any akumas or citizens in need of help. They helped an elderly woman gather the groceries that had fallen through a hole in her bag and helped prevent a traffic collision. As always, they stopped by the bench where Mr. Ramier sat with his pigeons and chatted with him, bringing him comfort. The man had gone through a lot of trauma, having been akumatized over 50 times. Finally, the sun began to set and they decided to call it a night.

Marinette stretched and yawned, extremely tired. As soon as they'd gotten home from patrol, they got an akuma alert and had stayed up until nearly 5 am fighting.

"I don't know how I'm gonna make it through the day on only two hours of sleep," Marinette commented as she messily pulled her hair into her signature pigtails.

"You've got this, Marinette! I know you can do it!" Her kwami pressed against her cheek in a hug and the girl felt energized just from the affection from the small creature.

"Thanks, Tikki," she smiled. Then she opened her bag for her to fly into and headed for school.

"Hey, girl!" Alya called from across the courtyard. She was standing near the stairs talking to Nino. Marinette managed to jog over there and greeted her friends.

"Oh man, you look terrible," Nino commented. Alya jabbed him in the side. "I mean, you seem tired. You okay, dude?"

Marinette nodded. "Yeah, the noise from the akuma last night kept me up," she fibbed.

"Oh that's right, it was right over by the bakery, wasn't it? Did you see that villain though? Hawkmoth is really stepping up his game!" Alya continued to talk about the night's battle, giving Marinette a chance to zone out for a moment since she didn't need a rundown of the battle she'd fought. Suddenly, she felt a hand grab her shoulder. She jumped and her instincts took over. She grabbed the wrist of the person behind her before they could even tighten their grip and threw them with a slam onto the ground a few feet in front of her. Then, she processed what had just happened and who she had just thrown. She rushed over to him and offered a hand to help him up.

"Oh my god! ARE YOU SORRY? I mean- I'm okay! I mean... uh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay, Adrien?" He stood up and stared at her in shock.

"I told you! I told you she was a damn ninja! Mylene owes me $10," Alya celebrated. But neither of the pair was paying any attention to her. Marinette was too lost trying to decipher Adrien's gaze and why he had yet to let go of her hand. The bell rang and students filtered out of the courtyard and into classrooms and eventually, the two were alone.

"I- ah, Adrien?" Marinette stammered, her face still a bright red but her thoughts more clouded by confusion than romance.

"I guess your reflexes haven't dulled yet," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. Marinette paused for a second, trying to figure out why the phrase sounded so familiar before it hit her.

"It won't be so funny when you dull my reflexes and I get my miraculous stolen by a villain."

"My lady, you could never be dull, not even your reflexes."

She felt her knees give out and she fell to the ground. Adrien quickly moved to kneel down beside her. She just stared at the blonde for a while, her eyes wide and brain moving at a thousand miles per minute.

"Chat... Chat Noir?" She finally pushed the words out of her lips, though they were a struggle. It felt impossible. Adrien was so different from Chat Noir. But, when she thought about it, it all made sense. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug.

"It's really you, buganette," he whispered into her hair, returning the embrace.

"My kitty."

#ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #mlb #fanfic #ladynoir #adrienette #ladynoir fic #adreinette fic

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dcforts · 3 years

Text

[week 4: selfie together]

1.7k, post-canon, non canon compliant.

Three days to impact (moving out with Cas and a bunch of hunter nerds settling into the bunker to set up the Network), and Dean was still elbow deep in messy drawers, sorting through his stuff in one of the research rooms. He couldn’t believe he had managed to hoard that much crap when he spent there not more than six months every year.

Sam had already taken care of most of it and thrown away a lot of junk when he had moved away with Eileen a year or so ago, so Dean had thought that he would be packed in less than a day with what was left. He was wrong.

He was tackling a bunch of phones and chargers all tangled up together, trying to figure out which ones were still working. Between him and Sam they had probably gone through a hundred or so phones, without counting the burners, their dad’s and those of other hunters, passed on after their deaths.

You had to keep them on, check the messages, write down the contacts – for a long time it was the only way to keep the network going and to make sure that no call for help would ever go unanswered.

Hopefully the Network, with Charlie fancy digital system and stolen tech from the Brits, would make things a lot easier. The bunker would become the hunter HQ that it was always meant to be. And Sam and Dean would still go there from time to time, but it would become more like a workplace than an actual home.

Magazines apparently said you had to keep them separated and all that. So, they were trying.

He wasn’t even halfway done when he found his old phone. It was not too ancient or anything and he used to like it just fine, but for Christmas Claire and the girls had gotten him a new one (“not for work!!” said the note attached to it) so he had just dumped it in here.

It had no SIM card, but there were some police contacts (useful) and the Candy Crush app (not useful). He went on to check the gallery and was surprised to find still some pictures in it.

He snorted, seeing one of the last taken – Sam, drunk on Christmas Day, a paper crown askew on his head, trying to focus enough to play Jenga with someone who was out of the shot. Dean didn’t remember who it was anymore. Sam had the most incredible face on.

Oh, there were pictures from when they went to visit Garth! He had taken them at Frontier Stables in Frederic and Dean and Gertie had possibly been equally excited about riding a horse. There were a bunch of pictures of that day, including one Garth had taken of him where he looked like an absolute dork.

Wow, they must have been at least a year or so older, he had totally forgotten about them. Now, he couldn’t just put the phone down and resume his work. He debated with himself (very briefly) if he could afford a break or not and then flopped down on the floor covered in cardboard boxes to look through the rest of the gallery.

Most of the pictures were cases related, articles and crime scenes, then a bunch of landscapes, an amazing looking burger from that joint in Texas.

There was one with Cas that he had taken one night. Dean’s face was on the foreground, on the left, and he was making a funny face, his index finger to his lips. The red couch was visible behind his shoulders and Cas was by his side, his face turned towards the television screen and lighted by it.

They had been cooped up in Dean’s cave for nearly four hours and all that time Sam was freaking out because he didn’t know where they were and he couldn’t find them. When Dean had checked his phone, he had found fourteen missed calls and a bunch of texts. He had sent him that picture back and written shh it's movie night.

Sam had come bursting through the door two seconds later and bitched at him for fifteen minutes for having his phone on silent and then stayed and watched Back to the Future III with them.

This was before he and Cas even got together – well, officially at least.

It felt like so long ago, back when they were all: fingers brushing, intense gazing, losing track of time when alone together. They were so clueless.

It had sorted itself out though. A couple of weeks after that, Dean had fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder and Cas had spent the rest of the night holding him and he had done that every night since.

Dean smiled and scrolled down, back in time.

More photos on the road, book pages, his car against a pretty sunset. Then a group selfie that they sent to Jody for her birthday. Sam and Eileen were still living at the bunker then and Sam was holding the phone, on account of having three feet long arms. They were standing in the kitchen, Eileen right next to him, under his other arm and Dean next to Eileen.

Cas had appeared on the door as they were getting in position so Sam he had told him to hurry up, get in the frame and he had come to stand next to Dean, stiff like a statue. Sam had said, a little closer, so Dean had slung an arm around his neck and pulled him towards him.

Right when Sam had been about to snap it, Cas had grabbed Dean’s hand, that was dangling over his shoulder. So of course, in the picture Dean looked like a total idiot, with his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted in surprise. He had even stopped breathing a little and Cas next to him had the audacity to look totally oblivious. Dean zoomed in on his face and cackled at himself. God, and what was up with that haircut he had, did he even look at himself in the mirror.

He went on.

A few rows below there was another selfie. It was just him this time and it was terrible, the sunlight making the picture look all wrong, like there was a filter on it. It was a vertical shot that showed just about his face and shoulders.

It had been early in the morning, he was bleary-eyed and there was a little wrinkle in between his eyebrows because he had been in the car waiting for Sam to come back with their coffee for twenty minutes.

Cas had texted him out of the blue, Can you send me a picture of you? and Dean had snapped it and sent it without thinking and then he had written, what do you need it for and Cas had written back, I just miss you. Dean had almost dropped his phone, then put it away and not looked at it until late that night. Yeah, it hadn’t been one of his best moments.

Finally he had managed to pull out the conversation again. He had typed and deleted miss you too and same and same, man about a thousand times and then ended up writing your turn now.

He remembered that Cas had been quick to reply with an even worse shot than the one he had sent. Some blurry picture he had taken under a streetlight, his face wearing an intense expression, as if he needed to focus to tap once on a screen. Still, Dean had looked at it for an hour before he had gone to sleep. What a sap.

Thinking of that photo reminded him of another one. He wondered if? It took a while to find it, but it was there, almost at the end of the gallery, right after a picture of Jody in a ridiculous sun hat from when they all went to the beach for the weekend.

It was there. Their first selfie together. He snorted out loud.

He had been pacing in the map room, cursing at his phone that was stuck with the camera open. He was trying everything and it just wouldn’t close.

Cas had come look over his shoulder while Dean had been furiously tapping, and that was when the screen had frozen and flashed and the result of that was a picture of the two of them from the most unflattering angle, frowning down at the phone. Two half faces, Dean on the right, Cas on the left. Dean thought it was hilarious.

Cas had said, “I think you took a picture,” because he was a great help as usual and Dean had said, “Yeah, no shit Cas,” and eventually had to restart the phone to make it work again.

He couldn’t believe that had happened more than two years ago.

“I’m done with the inventory of the herbs. Are you done in here?” said Cas, poking his head in from the hallway. Dean very obviously wasn’t done, but he was still smiling, so Cas said, “What is it?” and came to crouch beside him to peer at his phone and the infamous selfie, “Why did we take this?”

Dean laughed, “We didn’t. My phone was acting up.”

"And you kept it?"

"Yeah, of course I kept it," Dean said, tilting his phone away, as if Cas would jump him to delete it.

Cas had other priorities. He kissed his temple.

"Okay," he said amused, then, "Do you need help? Charlie is coming over in an hour to set up the - cables."

There were no cables. Cas clearly didn’t know what he was talking about, but Dean had no idea of what Charlie was supposed to do either, so.

"No, just - wait, let's take a picture," he said, grabbing his sleeve before he could get up. Cas settled once again next to him and Dean opened the camera and held his phone up, then got his other arm around Cas’ shoulders.

The light was not great, like anywhere else in the bunker and they looked exhausted after a day's work but still, not a bad sight, if Dean could say so himself.

He focused on Cas on the screen, the little smile on his lips.

He grinned. He was gonna spend the rest of his life with that face, he thought. Jesus.

"Dean?" Cas called, after another moment of nothing.

"Alright, alright," he said and snapped the picture.

@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES

#deancassummerprompts21 #deancas #deancas ficlet #fwf #as in finale? what finale?#i couldnt decide on what idea to focus on so i kept them all #incredibly on time for once #i just didn't want to edit it too much cause i like it????#yeah i know weird #it was fun #my writing

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arandompostarchive · 3 years

Text

Inure - Ch. 3

SAVED WORK

Summary: To some, The Specter is a serial killer. To some, a hero. But to everyone, you were entirely a mystery. You had no history, just a list of victims a mile long. No matter how many people searched your name, they could find anything. If only they had the spelling right. Now, you’ve come across some unfortunate information that drives you out of your usual shadows and into the path of the Avengers. Including two of the more reclusive members of the team. And it’s hard to pick only one of them.

***

You had finally showed up on the doorstep of a long awaited target. You had gotten the tip from a morally questionable FBI agent who really needed a break. Apparently, this target had been leading quite the operation.

Managing drug rings, human trafficking, and murder. Not to mention the amount of people she had killed on her own. Even that sounded like your usual case. A major criminal who you got to take out. Just your average job. Until you looked into her a bit more.

She didn’t just murder. She tortured. All of her victims had gone through days of torture, maybe even weeks. Apparently, even forensics investigators weren’t sure exactly how long these people had to suffer. It made you sick.

“Violet.” You said, rounding the corner. Unlike most of your targets, she had an office of her own. You had caught her at work late, one of the last people there. You didn’t mind people being in the building. There wouldn’t be any gunshots to hear. Maybe a scream or two.

“Yes? Can I help you?” You walked into the room. It was neatly decorated. The token and artifacts around the room were no doubt extremely expensive and probably stolen. Her accent stood out. It was heavy, though her words were still clear. She was certainly European, though you couldn’t remember what country and couldn’t place it from sound alone. “I have things to do so if you wouldn’t mind hurrying?” You walked a bit quicker, trying to avoid her yelling. You didn’t want her making that much noise just yet, it might attract unwanted attention.

You stepped into her office, walking toward her desk. The room smelled like lavender, a candle or two rested on side tables around the room. The smell was heavy, almost nauseating.

“What sort of outfit is that supposed to be? Are you one dressing up?” She gestured to your suit. It was less fancy than most suits you’d seen. Black with a few red accents. It made it easier to blend in and the hood and mask over your mouth helped keep your identity secret. There was a small filter on the side of the mask though, to help you breathe and disguise your voice when you spoke. Not that anyone would recognise you. In fact, you didn’t care much about people knowing your name, but if your face was plastered everywhere you’d never be able to be in public again.

“That’s not important. What is important is you, Ms. Wagner.” You said, your eyes focused on her. Your eyes were clear under the hood as you looked up at her. You were calm. You’d done jobs like this a million times, she wasn’t special. Though, you always appreciated time to exercise your powers. They were destructive and dangerous, so you only used them on the worst of the worst. Those people got locked up in a prison or mental institution, but as long as you were alive, they couldn’t be helped.

“What the hell do you want? Say it quick then get out.” She was short tempered, that was for sure.

“Alright then. You used to work for Hydra, then you got too much for them to handle. You torture and kill, you did this in your old home too. And now, you’ve moved countries to start all over. Not to mention the drug rings you’re tied to,” You said, your voice calm and steady. That was always the most terrifying part for them. You were so collected, sure of yourself. You knew they weren’t going anywhere. And the second they heard your mellow voice, they knew it too.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?! Accusing me of things like that.” She remarked, standing from the large leather chair she sat on. She was clearly nervous though, the slight shake in her voice gave it away. “Get the hell out. Now.” She pointed toward the door. You didn’t move. “I said now. Can’t you hear, bitch?” She said, this time crossing her arms. “I’ll call security.” She said. It wasn’t an empty threat, you could tell, but you weren’t worried.

They wouldn’t get here in time anyway.

You focused on her. Her mind. What she was thinking, what she felt, anything about her. Then you heard it.

“Who does she think she is? March in here like she owns the place. Pathetic.”

Her thoughts. You focused harder. This time on her fears. Everything she regretted, everything she hated, things she was scared of. You found every last one of the monsters in her closet. And then you made them real.

She looked left and right, probably hallucinating something awful. You could never completely see what you created, unless it was an illusion, but you could usually guess what was happening based on what they said.

“Mother?” She asked. She was only staring at a wall, a painting of flowers hung on it along with other paintings she had collected. The look on her face was horrified. You wondered what the story was there.

It was an ability you’d had since you were young, though it was much weaker before you ‘died’. Now, it was one of your most useful skills.

“Stop! Dear god, stop, please. Fuck. Please!” She said. There were tears forming in her eyes already and her voice was cracking. She looked up at you. “You! What did you do to me? What the hell did you do?!” She continued yelling at you but eventually her words became jumbled, the occasional scream cutting in. She’d glance from side to side occasionally before squeezing her eyes shut and looking down. They always acted like that. Strong, determined to stop you, then reduced to nothing but mumbling husks.

You focused on yourself now, this time disguising yourself with an illusion. Another woman walked into the office. Her skirt was short, though professional and you could see a red collared sweater tied around her hips. You’d left the door half open, her screams could be heard down the hallway, so it wasn’t a huge surprise to see someone else come in.

“Miss Wagner?” The woman said. She looked like a college intern, twenty years old at maximum. “Oh my god.” She walked toward the desk until she spotted the broken woman. Violet’s artificial tan didn’t help how pale her face had become. Her legs had given out and now her arms were struggling to support her as she sat on the ground, tears running down her face. She was mumbling things about her mother, father, and ‘the children’, which you suspected were the ones she tortured. Hm. Maybe she did feel some guilt about that. She’d glance back to where you stood. You made sure she could see you, though the intern was oblivious to your presence.

“Miss Wagner? Miss Wagner? Are you alright?” The girl asked, clearly unsure what to do. Violet didn’t respond. She continued staring down at the floor, mumbling and sweating. “Violet?” The girl tried using the woman’s first name instead. She flinched back like she was expecting some huge outburst. Her employees must be treated poorly as well.

“I-I…” the girl paused. It seemed like she didn’t want to help the crying woman on the floor. You figured Violet wasn’t a very nice boss. The girl shook her head a bit, standing up. She took a deep breath before speaking with confidence, “I’m going to call an ambulance. I’ll be back, I promise.” She ran off, back to her desk presumably to make the call. You nodded, appreciating her morals to do the right thing for an awful person. Sadly, you didn’t live by the same rules. You could hear her talking to someone as you made your way over to Violet.

“Awe, darling.” You lifted up her chin with your fingers. You met her eyes. They were filled with pure terror and they kept glancing over your shoulder. You laughed at her. The ways her eyes seemed unable to focus and how clammy her face felt.

“Please…” She started. “I can’t live like this, at least kill me. I understand. I’ve learned. Is that what you want? Learning?” You shook your head. Of course she tries now. Now that you’re torturing her like she once did to others and now she wants to ‘learn her lesson’?

“No. That’s not what I want. I want you to rot somewhere. And maybe someone out there, someone much nicer than me, will take pity. And kill you.” Your hand left her chin and she was left, crying out for as long as the strain in her voice would let her.

***

The next few days consisted of mostly theorizing with the team. Besides that, you and Loki had your own two person ‘book club’ and you learned about some new weapons with Bucky. He had an appreciation for the development in weaponry over the past decades and you didn’t mind learning with him. It also turned out the two of them were friends, so the three of you sometimes had lunch together, though you preferred having one on one time with either of them.

The rest of the team was anxious to find the new SPECTR machine as soon as possible and get you out of their house, not that you could blame them. A very small part of you didn’t want it to end that quickly though. You hadn’t had a real home since the 40’s and before you died you spent all your time in a military camp or in a science lab. That, and you had real friends, well, as close to ‘real friends’ as you’d had in decades. Of course, it helped that they were both extremely attractive, but hey. No one could blame you for that train of thought.

Most of the team still wasn’t happy to have you with them. Though it felt bad to be on the outside, you were used to it. If you had it your way, you never would’ve come there at all, but there were lives on the line and you really needed immunity.

“Everything alright?” Bucky asked as he adjusted the tape over his hands. The two of you had tried out sparing since you could take one hell of a hit so he was free to use his metal arm on you. He had even consented to letting you study it for an hour or two. The two of you got along well and both he and Loki had moved up from the position of ‘not-enemy’ to ‘associate’, though it wasn’t much of a leap. You were hardly ready to trust them, it had only been a few days.

“Just fine. Whenever you’re ready, Barnes.” You said, tossing aside your sweatshirt as you stood across from Bucky. You readied your stance and waited for him to say the word.

“Go.” You took a step forward but Bucky rushed toward you, taking a swing with his metal arm. You knew he appreciated an opponent who could take a hit from a weapon like that, though it took some convincing for him to go all out. You were certain he still wasn’t using 100% of his strength, but it was a start. You ducked, sliding next to him before getting up on one knee and taking a jab at his leg. He stumbled a bit, but stayed standing. Although it wasn’t as effective as you hoped, it gave you time to stand without interruption.

The second he turned to face you, you punched him in the chest, sending him back a bit. He stepped forward and swung his leg into your side, making you stumble too. You kept your hand out to help you balance. You lowered yourself and swiped under his legs. He tripped, but caught himself with his flesh arm. You stood up, jumping back.

He stood again, rushing toward you, metal fist raised. You caught his punch and you could feel the sting against your hand. You were definitely going to have a bruise or two after this. You threw his hand aside, setting him off balance and kicked into his side. He landed on his stomach with a small thud and you kept your foot against his back and kneeled down, arm held against the back of his neck.

“Not bad.” He said, you stood and helped him up.

“Same to you.” You nodded as a small sign of respect. “I’m going to take a shower, I’ll need it before the rest of your group calls some sort of meeting.” You rolled your eyes and Bucky nodded. You could tell he didn’t really like you making fun of his ‘team’, but he never said much. It made you feel a bit bad, but on the other hand, the do-gooders were about as annoying as it gets.

The elevator felt slower than normal, though it was probably just the uncomfortable feeling of sweat on your skin. You stepped out onto your floor. You shared it with Clint and Natasha, probably so they could keep an eye on you. You didn’t mind too much, Clint wasn’t too bad and you had a certain amount of respect for Natasha. She used to have a similar career to you after all. She’d made her way onto your radar for a while, though there were bigger fish to fry and SHIELD was already on her tail. Still, you’d much rather be alone.

You were about to open the door leading to your room when you sensed something was off. Your abilities were helpful in your line of work. Sensing other people had become a skill of yours and right now, something was wrong.

You were on high alert, though you knew it was probably just a team member. You opened the door slowly, prepared to fight if need be. Instead, Natasha sat on your couch, cleaning some of her guns.

The weapons didn’t bother you too much. They were all disassembled for cleaning, the magazines sitting on the table, completely empty. You were sure she’d done that part on purpose, just so you’d know she wasn’t here for a fight, but she’d fight back if need be.

You walked often to your makeshift kitchen and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Whiskey was more your thing, but you’d make do with what you had. You poured a full glass, not caring much for how you were ‘supposed’ to pour it, Natasha was silent the whole time, waiting for you to come over to her.

You moved toward the couch and sat next to her, waiting for her to talk.

“Good to see you again.” She said, not looking away from her weapons. You smiled, taking a large sip of your drink. It burned a bit in your throat, though it wasn’t anything new.

“I’m glad you cleaned up your act.” You said, not offering her any greeting. You could see her smile.

“Why did you let me go that day?” She asked, this time looking up at you. She looked genuinely curious. She didn’t waste any time getting to the point, huh?

“You were finally on the right path. After spending so long killing who you were told to, Clint got you where you were supposed to be.”

She shook her head, not quite understanding. “I was about to kill him. That target, I was going to kill him, I did kill him, and you walked away and left him with me. Why.”

You relaxed against the couch, realizing your shower would have to wait a little longer. “He deserved it. SHIELD was right to send you after him, his death saved lives. I was just making sure you were staying on task. And staying on the right side of the tracks. So to speak.” You took another long sip, hoping you’d feel the effects sooner rather than later.

“You were watching me?” She asked. You were a bit surprised. Natasha was a talented assassin, someone capable and good at protecting herself. Though you doubted that she would know it was you, you did think she’d figure out that someone was watching her. It gave you a small confidence boost.

“I watch a lot of people, Natasha. I like making sure that people in powerful positions really want what’s best for society. Sometimes, they become a target.” You took another gulp of your drink, slightly anxious to finish it as quickly as possible. “Like that Stark.” Natasha began putting a few of her guns back together and into a small black bag next to her.

“Stark was a target?”

You shook your head. “No, but he was on my watch list. His dad wasn’t my favorite guy and for a while he made some rather destructive weapons. I had to make sure he wouldn’t turn into some power-crazed nut job.”

Natasha laughed a bit, “Yeah, pretty sure he did that anyway.” You laughed. Making fun of a Stark was something you did with Peggy. It felt familiar. Sitting down with ‘the other woman on the team’ and having a chat about your friends. Familiar, but not the same.

“Tell me, if I hadn’t been doing the right thing, if I had let him go or left him alive, would you have killed me?” You didn’t pause, you knew your answer.

“Without a second thought.” You took another sip, this one longer than your previous ones. Natasha nodded, understanding. Of all the people in the tower, she was probably the one who would understand most.

She finished up cleaning another gun before Friday’s voice was heard in your room. Great.

“Spectr, Miss Romanoff, you’re wanted in the meeting room. There’s been a robbery.”

You downed the rest of your drink, ignoring the burn in your throat. Natasha gave you a slight side glance, probably worried for your health. Not that it was a real concern for you anymore.

“Uh… do you guys usually answer robberies?” You asked, setting down the glass. Natasha grabbed her bag, bringing it with her out of the room.

“No, there’s something else to this.” You nodded, accepting her answer. You internally groaned at the feeling of sweat still on you. At this point, you’d even settle for a five minute shower. You ran to your room quickly, pulling off the tank top you were wearing and grabbing a t-shirt. At least you wouldn’t have to wear a soaked shirt. It was just you and Natasha in the elevator in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t a situation you wanted to be in.

The room was almost completely full, though Wanda and Vision were right behind you. You took a seat toward the end of the table next to Steve. You were sure they put you there just in case someone needed to knock you out in a worst case scenario, though you didn’t care.

Steve set down a few papers just as Wanda sat down.

“Alright, everyone’s here.” He pulled his seat closer to the table. “There was a robbery earlier today.”

“What, did some kid swipe a candy bar? How is this our problem.” Tony asked. He was wearing sunglasses despite being indoors. Though the normal assumption would be that he just came inside, you somehow doubted that.

“Not exactly. The focus is what was stolen. It was at a nearby museum, the owners themselves weren’t sure what it was since it didn’t have any sort of identification. Just that it was World War II memorabilia.”

“Oh I see, someone took your old helmet?” Tony said, interrupting again. Your eyes narrowed. You were getting annoyed with his constant comments, though the rest of the group seemed unbothered. That, or they had grown used to his obnoxious personality. You saw Loki’s face shift though, so he was probably feeling similar emotions to yours.

“The owners said it was part of an unfinished project, we think it might be a piece of Project SPECTR.” A few eyes turned toward you, including Steve’s. “Do you recognize this?” He asked, setting a photo down in front of you. It was most certainly a piece of your machinery.

“It’s what we used to stabilize our core. I built it forever ago just tinkering with supplies, no blueprints. It’s one of a kind. I doubt I could remake it myself.”

“Well, that explains why it was robbed.” Natasha said, just loud enough for the few people around her to hear. You were seated next to Loki on the end of the table. Bucky was across from you and avoiding your eye-contact, which is what he usually did during meetings.

“So, what now?” A man asked. You now knew him as Sam, or ‘The Falcon’, the other bird-themed hero.

“We find anything else we can.” You said, choosing to look at Steve. It felt odd talking to a room, so you tried to focus on one person instead. You were used to creating plans by yourself, not brainstorming with a group. “I left plenty of materials and blueprints behind. I never got a chance to examine why it malfunctioned, but I’m sure a good percent of the original machine is usable.”

“So, where is it?” Clint asked, contributing to the discussion.

“Well, it’s been almost 70 years so I have no idea. Didn’t have a reason to keep track of all that junk.” Steve nodded, though some of the group sighed out loud.

“Let’s check the site and see what else turns up. We hardly need the whole group for this, though.”

***

Steve had sent a group of only a few people. Natasha, who was acting as the temporary leader. Loki, who could use magic to help track down people with any evidence left behind. Steve had been against sending Loki since he was technically still confined to the compound with the exception of missions. Natasha however argued that this was a mission and that Loki would be a useful team member. Of course, she was right, so he was along with the group.

He had also sent Clint and Bucky along, more to act as guards while you, Loki, and Nat looked around the area. The police had done their job and found any evidence left behind, though Loki was trying to use magic to find anything else. So far, no luck.

The group of you were talking to one of Fury’s remaining agents at the site. SHIELD may have disbanded, but Fury still had quite a few people on his side. Some of which apparently still helped him out now and then. It was like a much smaller version of SHIELD.

“Best we got is some DNA evidence. We matched it in our system, according to the evidence, he was one of us, back when we were active.”

You were a bit confused. “An agent?” Natasha asked, sharing your confusion. You masked it better than her though, it was probably because she was more familiar with the former agent in front of you than you were.

The woman nodded, showing you her screen, a picture of an average looking 30-something year old guy looking rather bored in the picture.. “Jackson Hastings. Odd thing is, he went missing on a mission a while ago. Hasn’t been seen since.” Natasha took the tablet screen from her and you looked over her shoulder.

“Holy shit.” The group looked at you.

“You know him?” Natasha asked curiously.

“He was one of my targets.” You said, sure of yourself. He was a corrupt member of SHIELD. It was before SHIELD completely dismantled. You couldn’t prove that he was connected to Hydra in any way, though you had your suspicions.

“You’re sure?” She asked and you nodded in response. “Let’s head back, I think this is about as much evidence as we’re getting.” The group agreed and you thanked the woman on your way out.

***

“And you’re positive you targeted this man?” Steve asked, staring you down.

“Very. I don’t forget targets.” Besides, Hastings was a case you would remember. Fury had sent you a file or two himself, not that he’d admit it, including this one. He couldn’t prove Hastings was guilty. He knew you’d kill him if he was, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Hastings had access to files that could end important operations and expose several undercover agents. So, you just ‘happened’ to run into Hastings’ file. Sure enough, he was more than guilty.

“Some of your targets are still alive, right?” Clint asked and you nodded.

“Wait, so you just let some of these guys go? What, were they suddenly innocent?” Tony asked. Though his tone was sarcastic, the question was genuine so you decided to answer.

“Innocent? Hardly. But life holds things much worse than death. Much worse.” The group tried to ignore that statement, though you could see curiosity written over their faces.

“Is he one of them? The alive targets, I mean.” Steve asked, getting back to the topic at hand.

“No, he didn’t deserve punishment that bad. He’s only dead.” Hastings was one of the more straightforward cases. In any court, the way you got your proof wouldn’t be admissible. In fact, you’d probably get arrested too. That’s why you’d turned into judge, jury, and executioner.

“Alright. So, a dead man walks into a museum. Sounds like the set up to a shitty joke.” Tony remarked under his breath, though most of the table was able to hear the comment.

“If you killed him when he went on that mission, then he’s been dead for years. Now, he’s able to steal a highly guarded museum item but leaves behind blood?” Natasha said, posing the question to the group.

“Clearly, it’s not impossible for people to come back from the dead. I mean…” Tony gestured to you, Bucky, Steve, and Loki on your side of the table. Though your situations were wildly different, Stark did have a point. All of you had been labelled ‘dead’ at one point or another.

“Well, our cases are different, don’t you think?” Loki asked, actually contributing to the conversation. You were certain that was the first time you had heard him speak in a meeting. “The Sergeant, the Captain and I were never really dead in the first place.” You heard Thor grumble something on Loki’s other side, though you were unable to make out his words.

“I’m definitely an exception,” You continued, “but it took me about 50 years and a huge malfunctioning healing machine. Considering the fact that he’s trying to build SPECTR, I doubt he died the same way.” You concluded landing the group, once again, on ground zero.

“Okay, so no more zombies. What’s going on then? You sure you killed him?” Tony said, the last part directed at you.

“Certain. His head was very much detached.” You didn’t share too many of the details since the group never seemed to like that, but you had to slip in the occasional dark joke. Ask a psychopathic serial killer to join your team and you’re inviting in murder-based comedy.

“Alright. Any other ideas?” Tony asked, slightly disturbed.

“What if we have a shapeshifter? A dead man is a good disguise for a robbery, no?” Wanda asked in her accent. Her voice was pretty and the accent certainly helped. You wanted her to read something to you while you intently listened on, enjoying the sound. You did your best to stay focused though and thought over her question. The other scientists of the room looked like they were doing the same. Finally, you found a bit of a flaw.

“Down to the molecular level? Even after the material has left his body? Is that possible?” You questioned. A shapeshifting person was incredible on it’s own, now they can manipulate their form even when not connected to the DNA. A fascinating person indeed. In any other situation, you’d be itching to meet them. Maybe study them for a few hours. But this didn’t seem like the kind of guy who just wanted to have a chat.

Clint shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder.”

He did have a point. After all, you were sitting between a superhuman soldier who had supposedly died 70 years ago and a Norse god, things had changed since the 40s. Not to mention the fact that you were essentially a psychic zombie.

“So, what do we do now? Wait for the next robbery? If it is a shapeshifter, which is only a theory by the way, we have no way of finding anyone.”

Steve looked around, seeing if anyone had any ideas. When no one spoke up, he sighed. “Then I guess we wait.”

***

You walked out of the meeting with way more questions than you’d hoped to have. You made your way upstairs and finally took a decent shower and sat down with a proper glass of whiskey. You weren’t even sure if you’d drank water while you were at the tower. Not that you really needed it.

The TV was playing some new show you weren’t familiar with. You didn’t get any of the ‘comedic’ references, nor did you understand the plot, but you were too lazy to search for something else.

There was a soft knock on your door. You groaned a bit, not wanting to answer.

“What do you want?” You yelled, loud enough so the person on the other side could hear you from your couch.

“It’s me.” You recognized the accent and sighed, getting up without bothering to pause the TV. You opened the door, waving the person in and sitting back down, taking another long sip of your drink.

“I’m fairly certain drinking that much is bad for you.” Loki said in a joking manner. He didn’t get to do that too often. Everyone assumed there was some malintent behind the joke.

“It’s not exactly gonna kill me.” You sat back, finally grabbing the remote to find something more interesting.

“Still, I can’t imagine it being good for you. Maybe try something else?” He suggested calmly.

You rolled your eyes a bit. He may have been more fun than the other caped crusaders, but he was hardly close enough to give you health advice.

“What do you want.” You didn’t look at him.

He sighed, accepting that he wasn’t going to get a better answer than that. “You said that life holds things worse than death.”

When he didn’t continue, you responded. “Yeah. And?”

“What did you mean?”

You didn’t really want to have this conversation. The team already thought you were horrifying, talking about your abilities certainly wouldn’t help.

“Sometimes it’s better to just die than live in torture, that’s what I mean.” It wasn’t exactly an answer, but it was sort of true. That’s close enough, right?

He considered this. “So the people you leave alive, they’re worse than the dead ones?” You nodded.

“Yup. Are we done with this conversation now? I’ve got 70 years worth of movies to watch.” You flipped through more channels to find something tolerable.

Loki looked like he had something else to say, you were certain there was something else. “Yes, that’s fine.” He stood up, walking slowly. Though you were sure why, you thought it was because he was having some sort of inner debate.

He turned around and opened his mouth, but you spoke first. “Yes, you can stay. Grab some chips while you’re up though, I’ll find something decent.” He smiled a bit. He never really asked to stay, he just waited to be invited. You didn’t really mind, he was good company. And quiet for the most part.

For once, you didn’t mind spending extra time with someone.

#loki x reader #loki #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #loki x reader x bucky #inure #saved work #fanfic

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hoodharlow · 4 years

Text

Realizations

AN: This is a prequel to El Cumpleañero and it’s also based on a something I asked @kindahoping4forever . Quick thank you to @cherryxwildflower and @karajaynetoday for letting me run ideas by them, ilysm. And a fat shout out to @d-oaks for beta reading and editing

Requested?: No

Warnings: None, mayyyyybe angst

Word Count:

Calum slowly placed his arm around Claudia. He let out a quiet sigh when she didn’t move away from him. They were in line at the movie theater for a showing of ‘The Goonies’, which they both wanted to see.

“Your leg is vibrating.” Claudia told him. She took a step aside.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled. He fished out his phone and saw that Ashton was calling him. “Hey.”

“Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.” Ashton said through the phone.

“Fucking hell.” He rubbed the top of his nose. He was supposed to hang out with Ashton since KayKay was going to be gone for the next couple of weeks, and he needed company. He glanced over to Claudia, who was typing away on her phone. “I completely forgot and made plans with Claudia. We’re at the movies if you want to join us.”

“You’re with Radio Girl? I thought you already fucked her?”

“I’m gonna take this real quick.” He told Claudia. She nodded and went back to texting. He got out of line and returned to the call. “We’re just friends.”

“Isn’t that what you said about—”

“Claudia’s different. I don’t know how to describe it, but you’d get it if you actually talked to her and not called her Radio Girl.” Calum said defensively. “I’m just looking out for you, you know. I don’t want to put you back together again.” Ashton sighed.

“And you won't, mate.” Calum reassured him.

“Fine, go enjoy your date.”

“It’s not a date.” Calum said into the phone, but Ashton had hung up. He sighed and walked back to Claudia. She was putting her wallet away.

“Everything good?” She asked him.

“Yeah.”

“I got the tickets.” Calum made a face at her. "What?" She giggled handing him his ticket. At the top of the ticket it said 'STUDENT'. Calum chuckled to himself, but his smile dropped when Claudia said,"It's not like this is a date— I mean not that we would go on one. We’re friends.”

"I'll get the snacks." Calum offered solemnly.

"Okay."

They wandered into the theater. Since the movie started in an hour, they decided to kill time in the arcade. Claudia dragged him into a photo booth where they spent a good half hour. Claudia had to sit on his lap because Calum took up most of the space in the booth. They squished their faces together to fit in the frame, testing out every filter that was offered to them.

After a few rounds of Dance Dance Revolution, they waited in line for concessions. Calum rested his chin on Claudia's shoulder while she read the menu. She wanted a cherry slushie and popcorn.

"Next," one of the workers waved them over.

Claudia leaned back on his chest. She closed her eyes just as Calum wrapped an arm over her, keeping her close. She liked how she felt in his arms. It felt right being like this with him.

The past few weeks that they've been hanging out, she started getting feelings for him. He's one of the most ambitious, generous, kind, funny and humble people she's ever met. He treats everyone with the highest level of kindness and never makes anyone feel bad about themselves. But she's not going to risk her friendship over some stupid feelings that could go away.

"And for your girlfriend?" She managed to hear the worker ask.

"Oh, I'm not his girlfriend."

"We're not dating." They both said at the same time.

"Oh, sorry," They blushed and ran the order to another worker.

Calum and Claudia stepped aside and waited for their order. This time they stood apart. They realised they felt something they didn't want the other to know… yet.

***

“Are you wearing Ashton’s cologne?” she whispered as the lights dimmed.

“Yeah.” He chuckled with her. He had stolen the cologne a few weeks ago at a party he took her to. They’d been dancing the whole night and ended up crashing with the whole group because Ashton didn’t want them to drive home late. When they woke up so he could take her home, he found the cologne in one of the guest bathrooms. She bumped into him and said that he smelt good. Since then, it’s all he wears.

"I’m gonna move this." She told him a few minutes later. She pushed up the arm rest and put the popcorn tub between them. They were in one of the luxury theaters that had couches instead of the regular seats. "That way the popcorn is between us.

As the movie progressed, Calum stretched his leg over to Claudia's seat, so she was laying on him. They shared soft smiles and awkward giggles once the movie ended. Claudia pushed herself off him and got on her feet. Calum fixed his pants, making sure she didn't notice the number she did to him.

When they exited the theater and walked over to his car, it started to pour. Claudia was only in a long sleeve turtleneck. Calum pulled her under a building, keeping her out of the rain.

They were chest to chest. Their awkward giggles sounded heavy in anticipation. Calum placed one of his hands on the wall, next to her head. The other rested on her hip, his thumb rubbing circles on the exposed skin on her stomach. He noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra.

The rain and the cold weather had caused her nipples to erect. Calum felt them poke his chest, and he liked to think he had some effect on her. He leaned forward slightly. This was probably his only chance to show her how he felt about her.

Bright lights landed on their faces. "Alright kids, break it up. Go make out in a room and not in public." the security guard told them.

Calum dropped his shoulders in defeat. Wordlessly, he pushed off Claudia and reached for her hand. After a few feet, he slipped off his jacket and put it over Claudia's head to keep the rain off her.

The heavy leather fell on her shoulders halting her mind from spiralling at the fact that Calum was going to kiss her.

"Wait, no." Claudia said. She reached to take off his jackets. "You're gonna get sick." "You seemed cold." He nodded at her nipples. Claudia crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed that he saw the effect he had on her. "Plus, I don't get sick."

***

Claudia grabbed her grocery bag from the backseat. Calum called off movie night because he got sick, so she took it upon herself to come over and make him some sopita. She would have brought Giuseppe's, but they didn't have his favorite soup.

She checked her bag, making sure she had everything for the soup. She went to the back and grabbed her blanket. It was a giant black and white San Marcos blanket with tigers. She also brought vaporub.

She walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Calum opened the door and looked a mess. His bright tan from spending over a month in Australia had faded. His eyes and nose were bright red with congestion and his overall sunshine self had become a broody dark cloud.

“I don’t get sick, my ass.” Claudia greeted him. She pushed passed him and went straight to the living room. She set down the giant blanket. Duke trotted over to her and gently headbutted her for some head scratches.

“I told you I’m—” He couldn’t even finish a sentence before having a coughing fit. She rolled her eyes and pushed him on the couch.

“Take off your shirt." She told him. Rummaging through her bag, she sat next to him.

"At least buy me dinner first." He barely managed to say before having another fit of coughs.

Claudia glared at him before he obliged. She uncapped the Vicks container and swiped a decent size on her hands.

"Aver," she said, pulling his arm covering his chest. "This is good for you."

"No."

"I'm going to sit on you.”

"You won't."

Claudia sat on his stomach. She pinned his arms above his head and generously applied vapuru all over his chest. She moved a bit lower and reached for his shirt. She helped him put it on.

Calum wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her chest. He let out a soft hum when he felt her scratch his head. He looked up at her when she pushed him back down. She was close enough that he could just pull her down a bit and ki—

"Hey, I went to Giuseppe's but they had— Am I interrupting?" Ashton quirked up.

"No," they both said. Claudia climbed off Calum.

"I'm gonna get started on the soup, 'scuse me." she said. She grabbed her bag and went to the kitchen. Duke trailed behind her.

Ashton waited a bit before speaking up. "What is she doing here? I thought you were sick."

"I am. She's making me soup." Calum said defensively. He knew Ashton had opinions about new people he hung out with.

"Is that what the kids call it these days?" Ashton chuckled. He sat on the opposite side of the couch where Calum was resting.

"Ash."

"Cal, I get it. She's cute and someone you normally wouldn't fuck. But I don't know, there's something… off about her."

Calum rolled his eyes and reached for the blanket. It was like hugging Claudia. It reminded him that he needed to ask her for her fabric softener. The one he used started irritating Duke.

He listened to Ashton rant about Claudia. He nitpicked everything that bothered him. Calum suppressed a laugh. He found it ironic that everything Ashton found annoying was something he would do as well. It was something Calum noticed right off the bat as he got to know Claudia.

"... I doubt you're the first rockstar she's trapped with her legs." Ashton concluded.

"Um, the soup is ready." Claudia said, startling both. "I'm gonna go before someone else talks shit about me before they get to know me. And the cookies are going to be ready in a few minutes."

She reached down and grabbed her backpack. Her assigned reading book fell out of her backpack as she fled. Before Calum could get up from the couch and stop her, he heard her car roar to life. He sighed and picked up her book. "Thanks a fucking lot, mate."

***

Claudia sighed; she was nervous. She hadn't seen or talked Calum in over a week, and now she's at his doorstep with a birthday cake. She clicked the heels of her boots in anticipation.

What if he saw her and kicked her out right then and there? She'd been ignoring his messages and sent every call to voicemail.

Mostly out of embarrassment. She just left and let Ashton create this whole image of her to him. Part of her trusted that Calum wouldn't go off of what he said. The other told her to run for the hills.

Michael opened the door. He let out an excited laugh when he saw the cake. "Fuck yeah! We're getting some fucking good cake." He took the cake and led Claudia to the kitchen. "Someone cancel the Costco cake order."

Claudia rummaged through her bag and grabbed the doggie treats she baked for Moose, Southy, Petunia and Duke.

"Here," She told Michael, handing him two baggies. “These are for Miss Moose and for Southy."

"Thanks, they loved the ones you made last time." He beamed.

"Oh and congrats to you and Crystal on your engagement."

"Thank you. I still can't wrap my head around the fact she said yes."

"How could she not? You're like one of the coolest dudes I know."

"Pizza's here!" Ashton announced. Him and Luke walked in carrying stacks of pizza boxes.

Claudia tensed up at hearing his voice. She was still pissed at him. He had no right to talk about her like that. Especially to Calum. He probably thinks the worst about her now. She knew how much Calum valued and respected Ashton's opinion. He's his big brother after all.

Claudia and Ashton made eye contact. Their gaze held the most unsettling energy. Claudia was ready to run for the hills and hide under a rock. Michael and Luke glanced at each other. Calum told them about the mess Ashton made, so they booked it and busied themselves with setting up a makeshift bar and beer pong stations.

"Can we talk?" Ashton asked solemnly. She knew that tone. It was the same tone her brothers and her dad used with any guy that would take her out when she was in high school. Whether it was on a simple movie to prom. They were ready to scare the guy off.

"Sure." She shrugged. She sat down on the stool in front of her. Ashton did the same.

Nothing happened in the first few seconds. They both sat in silence. Claudia played with a stray string on the sleeve of her dress. She slowly clicked the heels of her boots waiting for something, anything.

Ashton took a deep breath and finally spoke. “I’m sorry about the other—”

“You don’t have to apologize. You already have your opinion on me.” She cut him off. "I couldn’t give a rat's ass what you think of me, but you have no right to talk about me the way you did to Cal. I'm a fucking virgin for fucks sake! I'm not going around 'trapping rockstars with my legs.'"

"You're right," he sighed. He massaged the top of his nose. "I just don't want to piece him back together again. He doesn't deserve that."

"Of course he doesn't. I promise you that I would never do anything to hurt him. He's my friend." She held out her pinky finger out to him. "Pinky."

Ashton swallowed a snarky remark and wrapped his pinky around her. "I really am sorry for saying that about you."

"Long forgotten. The pinky promise was a fresh start."

***

Post Malone bounced off the walls. Claudia had her back against Calum's chest as she moved her hips to the music. Calum gripped her hips, following her movements. Kehlani's verse made its way out of the speakers. Claudia turned around and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Calum leaned his forehead against hers. They both smiled at each other. Calum whispered silly shit in her ear making her toss back in laughter. He held onto her, keeping her from falling. It was like they were in their own little bubble.

But bubbles eventually had to pop.

"Claudia, can you come to the bathroom with me?" Sierra asked her.

"Yeah." She leaned into Calum. "I'll meet you at the table where Ash and Luke are.”

"Here," He pocketed his keys and handed them to her. "Use my bathroom."

"Thanks."

Calum made sure that they made it up the stairs before going to their table. Michael had taken a break and sat with Luke and Ash earlier. Now they all sported the same grin on their faces, inching to make a comment. They all saw how the two were dancing.

He reached for a Modelo from their cooler and uncapped it. He took a long drink, waiting for their remarks and jokes.

"Out with it." Calum told them.

"I'm gonna go." Michael and Luke said at the same time instead.

"Beer pong when the girls come back." Luke challenged Calum. He nodded and Luke walked off to set up a table. Michael followed him, but he went back to his DJ booth.

Calum took another sip waiting for Ashton to say something. Michael had told him that he saw Ashton and Claudia talk while they were setting up for the party.

"Claudia and I had a talk earlier today." Ashton said.

"So I heard." Calum nodded.

"I apologized to her and we're good. But I want to apologize to you too." He took a quick sip of his drink. "I'm sorry for not trusting your judgment. You were right. Claudia's good person with even greater intentions."

"Well, I wasn't expecting that." Calum awkwardly chuckled. "Uh, apology accepted I guess."

"One question though."

"What's up?”

"Why haven't you asked her out? It's fucking obvious to the world and their nana that both of you have feelings for each other."

"She broke up with her boyfriend a few months ago. I don't wanna ask her out and potentially fuck up a good friendship."

Ashton thought back to what Claudia accidentally spilled to him earlier. He just nodded and said. "You'll know when the right time is."

Calum nodded. He scanned the place looking for Claudia and Sierra. They were talking to Luke, laughing at something he said. She felt his gaze on her, so she walked over to him.

"Luke said you challenged him to beer pong. I thought you sucked?"

"I didn't fucking challenge him, he challenged me." He got up and stalked off to Luke. He mumbled something to Luke, making him laugh.

Claudia watched them argue. Calum held two fingers and pointed at himself, then at her. Luke pointed at Sierra. They both nodded.

"Now it looks like now he did challenge him." Ashton told Claudia.

Claudia shook her in disappointment. "Ya me jodi."

Taglist: @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @cherryxwildflower @myloverboyash @idontneedanyone @findingliam-o @5-secondsofcolor @spicycal @sexgodashton @sunshinebabycal @another-lonely-heart

#calum hood imagine #calum hood one shot #calum hood blurb #calum hood angst #calum hood fluff #calum hood oneshot #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fan fic #calum hood fan fiction #El Novio series

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tagsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

From @Fallenfurther

to @vegetacide

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

A night to remember

The crackle of snapping wood filled the air as John threw yet another chunk of driftwood onto the fire. Embers flew up towards the darkening sky, swirling on the gentle sea breeze. The smell of the sea competed with the smoke when Alan inhaled, but that was okay with him. His eyes were on his fingers as he scrapped the toasted marshmallow on his prong onto a graham cracker. A smile crossed his lips as he turned it upside down and onto the chocolate that he’d placed on top a second cracker. Squashing the sandwich between the fingers he took a bite. The sweet crunchy treat hit the spot and he devoured it hungrily, sucking off the bits of marshmallow that had stuck to his fingers, before reaching out for more supplies.

“I’d be careful getting that close to Gordon, Penelope. You might find you’ll never get a s’more!” Virgil joked, as he toasted two marshmallows at once.

Laughter rippled around the circle, as Lady Penelope settled down in the sand beside Gordon and allowed him to drape the offered blanket over her shoulder. She pulled it in closer, as Gordon wrapped the other half around himself. The two lovebirds, as Grandma called them, smiled contently at each other as Penelope rested her head on Gordon’s shoulder. Winters on Tracy Island were rarely cold, but they often involved late nights around a campfire when there was enforced downtime. It was a family affair, everyone coming down to the beach, to spend the evening in each other’s company. Alan had memories of it happening before Dad disappeared, though he’d only been present for some of them. They had stopped for over a year after Dad had disappeared, but as they grieved and learnt to continue without him, they started to occur again. It had been a way of bonding, remembering, and forgetting the troubles of the world. This was the first enforced downtime since Dad’s rescue that they were able do one, and his brothers were eager to take Dad down to the beach. So here they were, nine years since the last one, all older, wise and yet they were still the same family. Even though it still felt weird to Alan, having Dad around, it was okay. Everyone he cared for, except Brains who rarely joined them on the beach, was here.

“Or he’ll let one rip like he did to me last time!” Scott chuckled before raising his beer to his lips.

“Hey! That was so not last time, it was at least a year before that, and you’d just stolen the last marshmallow.”

Alan giggled at the memory. Scott had indeed taken the last marshmallow, and Gordon had sidled over and given Scott a side hug, in an attempt to relieve their brother of his freshly made s’more. Instead, Scott had pulled Gordon into a big tight hug and eaten the treat over Gordon’s shoulder, getting crumbs down the Squid’s shirt. Gordon had wriggled intensely, trying to free himself from their brother, which only prompted Scott to hold on longer, even after the s’more had been devoured. An angry and frustrated Squid had subsequently let off the loudest fart, not only prompting Scott to release him but also for evacuation of the log Scott, Kayo and John had all been perched on. Alan had cried laughing, and Kayo had stared daggers after Gordon’s retreating, chuckling figure.

“Don’t remind me of the obnoxious smell. To this day, you still haven’t told me what you’d eaten that day.” John stated, in the way only he could, while entirely fixated on the careful construction of his own sweet treat.

“My bet is still on a rotten celery crunch bar.” Virgil piped in, having just passed one of his two s’mores to Grandma as he grabbed a beer from the cooler behind her.

“Remind me never to go in Thunderbird Four with you again. The filth alone makes the craft smell without you adding to it.”

Kayo chipped in; her tone entirely serious as a small shiver rocked her body. She hadn’t been there for that campfire as she had been off the island trying to track down her Uncle. There had been so many small leads that led to dead ends, but they had all needed investigating, just in case. Alan glanced in her direction where she was sitting cross-legged to the right of Virgil, her beer half-buried but upright in the sand. Scott and Virgil were leaning against a small bench they had carried down and turned on its side. They both appeared relaxed, leaning back with a beer in one hand and marshmallow topped prong in the other.

“I should hope Gordon knows how to treat his machine with respect by now. It is a rescue vehicle and should be in pristine condition, ready for a callout. Although, I could ask Brains to add extra air filters to the inventory if such foul smells are a common thing.”

The deep voice of his father still surprised Alan and always seemed to demand the attention of the room. It was something Alan was still getting used to hearing. This would be their first Christmas together as a complete family. His brothers would always say Mum was missing, and they were right, but Alan didn’t remember a Christmas with her. It had always been the seven of them for him; Grandma, Dad, his brothers, and him. His Dad was currently sitting on a blanket next to Grandma, who had one hand on his arm, almost as a way of keeping him there, and her s’more in the other. She had changed, in a good way, since Dad had come home. She pestered them less and chased after his father more. Dad always got first pick of her cooking creations, her excuse being he needed to make up for lost time, and Alan was not going to complain about it. The fewer of Grandma’s cookies placed under his nose the better.

“There is no smell in Thunderbird Four and she is perfectly clean and ready for duty.” Gordon proclaimed.

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I do a quick inspection first thing in the morning?” Dad countered.

The sheepish look that crossed Gordon’s face briefly told the real story, though it was Penelope that tried to save his brother from the mess he’d gotten himself in.

“That will not be necessary, Jeff. I was in Thunderbird Four earlier and gave it the once over. I can confirm that it meets all the required standards and is ready for immediate deployment.”

“Sure you did.” Scott grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

Heat rose in Alan’s cheeks as Penelope shot Scott a glance that radiated pure distaste for his vulgar mind. She managed to glare in the most ladylike way, but Scott just laughed. Alan just tried to get the thought out his mind. He did not want to know what his brother and Penelope did in their spare time; he was simply happy that they were happy.

“I do remember you getting yourself into awkward situations as a teenager.”

The sly grin on the space monitor’s face had Scott glaring a challenge at him. Scott had never been that open about his teenage years to Alan, though he had heard a few stories that had been told around the campfire. He’d also heard a few second hand from Gordon who remembered that time better or had eavesdropped on their older brothers’ conversations.

“Don’t even go there.”

“I was only thinking of the time you got stuck in that tree trying to retrieve the model plane Alan had crashed into it. That woman really didn’t appreciate you hanging from the branches.”

John’s voice was dripping innocence as he lent back on his elbow. Scott shook his head.

“I was worried when she called her husband, and so glad that he saw the funny side.”

“I remember that. The poor woman was distraught, despite her husband’s reassurances. She wanted to get the police involved. Thankfully he said was a waste of time because you were still technically a minor, it really was just a misunderstanding, and you were only in the tree for the plane. I had you apologise at the time as well as write an apology letter that went with the hamper I sent over.”

Scott groaned as Dad relayed the facts, his head falling into his hand.

“How could I be so stupid?”

Scott had indeed gone up the tree to fetch the remote-control plane, which Alan had accidently got stuck in its branches. Alan had told Scott the wind had taken it, but he’d actually been trying to show off to Gordon by doing some tricks. Only he messed them up and sent the plane crashing into the top of a tree. He’d tried to climb the tree himself to get it down, but it was impossible as Gordon refused to help him. In fact, Gordon had laughed and chuckled the entire time, especially when Alan had to go up to Scott and his girlfriend and disturb their make-out session. Scott hadn’t been happy but had reluctantly gone up the tree to retrieve the plane. Unfortunately, a branch had snapped while Scott was up there, and he’d lost his footing. He’d ending up hanging upside right in the line of sight of the woman’s bedroom window. Scott’s relationship hadn’t lasted long after that either. His girlfriend had posted a running commentary of Scott’s ‘heroics’ on social media, including photos of the husband rescuing him, and she refused to take them down until a week later when Dad got involved. Scott had been upset by the incident and apparently some of his friends hadn’t been kind to him about it either. Alan had felt terribly guilty, knowing it was all his fault, but when he admitted it to Scott he was rewarded with a hug. Scott told him not to worry and was glad that he was no longer with such a horrible girl. They had spent the rest of that evening playing videogames together, his big brother trying to show of his skills and failing spectacularly.

“At least she got to eat her hamper. I remember quite distinctly receiving a lovely chocolate hamper that I never got to enjoy.”

Grandma’s voice was full of jest as everyone turned towards Gordon, who just shrugged awkwardly beneath the blanket.

“I was young, hungry and it was chocolate. What was I meant to do?”

“Gordon Tracy! How could you be so mean to your Grandmother? I hope you replaced it.”

Alan sniggered along with his brothers as Penelope berated Gordon for his actions. There was a grin on Parker’s face, who was observing the couple intently over the rim of his beer. As her ever faithful companion, he always had Lady Penelope’s back. A little bark came from Sherbet, who had woken up from the nap he’d been having on Parker’s discarded jumper. There had been a grumble from the man about the fact that he’d only put it down for a second before the dog had claimed it. Alan hadn’t quite caught all the words, but it had sounded along the lines of ‘mangy mutt’. Penelope opened the blanket to the pug and allowed him to wriggle in and curl up on Gordon’s lap. Gordon gave Sherbet a scratch behind the ears as the dog settled down with a yawn.

“Was that not the Christmas that Virgil got stranded at his friend’s ranch by the massive snowstorm?”

John shifted as he spoke, leaning back to snatch a chocolate bar and beer from the open cool box. The beer he passed to the man in question, who accepted it grateful. It was his father that answered John.

“I believe it was. Mum and I went out on the tractor, as we had an old snowplough attachment, to some poor folk who’d gotten caught just a few farms over, so we ended up heading over and picking Virgil up too. It did mean we were out longer than expected.”

“Giving Gordon time to eat all the chocolate while under my watch! I caught him trying to make the hot chocolate, but I didn’t realise it was Grandma’s when I took over to stop him making any more mess on the hob. I got grounded because of him.”

Scott recounted with a sign. There was a clatter of glass as Scott dumped his and Virgil’s empties in the allocated recycling bag, before continuing.

“Thankfully, that little hill was technically on our property, so I could still go sledging with everyone the next day. I remember the snow being so deep we had to carry Alan and we made a family of snowmen near the house.”

“I remember that,” Virgil interjected, “You and I raced the sledges while John judged who won. I had Gordon with me, and you shared yours with Alan.”

“And they both fought us for control. How many times did we almost hit each other?”

“Too many. I had to roll us off more than once, especially when Gordon had us going straight towards that big tree. Though I think Alan took it a step further when he tried to take you both off by steering you into the fence.”

His eldest two brothers were chuckling at the shared memory. Alan had a few memories of snowy winters in Kansas but had no idea if he remembered that one. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t tell if it was that day or another similar sledging day. They all seemed to merge into one in his head. He could only separate a few out as specific years thanks so unique events. Like Gordon’s bright yellow and orange wool hat that he got for Christmas only to lose it two months later, and the last winter before moving to the island as half the house was packed away and they had all enjoyed the snow for the last time together. There had been one Thanksgiving and Christmas on the island with Dad before the accident, so this would be the second. It felt weird to Alan. In a way, moving to the island was the start of his life without Dad. He had been at boarding school for most of the time and was only home-schooled after they had lost Dad.

“Don’t forget the time Gordon aimed for me.”

There was a smile on John’s face and a glint in his eye that let Alan know there were no hard feelings, and no one had been hurt.

“Though I think my favourite was when Alan dragged Dad onto the sledge and demanded he be taken to space.”

Alan’s ears pricked up at his name as a deep chuckle rumbled from his father.

“There was barely enough room for Alan once I’d gotten on that sledge, but we made it work. You managed to slip between my knees and yelled ‘To the moon!’ as we were pushed off. You were so disappointed when the ‘rocket sled’ got to the bottom and hadn’t launched into space.”

There were smiles on everyone’s faces while Alan’s cheeks reddened. His Dad’s blue eyes were on him, and Alan swore there were tears in them. He didn’t remember that day, but he did remember looking up to his astronaut father. Alan had loved the time Dad had made for him, when they would sit together, and Dad would recount his stories of space. He also remembered his Dad getting busier, and that time becoming less, as Dad started to set up International Rescue. John had filled in, telling Alan of the stars, while Scott, when on leave from the Air Force, told him of the thrill of flying in planes and going superfast. However, for Alan, there was nothing faster or cooler than a rocket.

“Remember Alan’s first Christmas when we were decorating the tree with Mum?”

Scott asked the group, though his eyes were on Virgil, obviously expecting him to have the clearest memory.

“Yeah. Mum was trying to keep Gordon from running around and breaking everything while we were emptying the boxes of decorations. She’d left Alan on the mat with some toys thinking he’d be happy and safe there.”

“He’d been oddly quiet at the time when you think back.” Scott slipped in, “We wanted to get the lights on the tree, only to find Alan had managed to roll over to them and was lying on his belly happily chewing on them.”

“Mum had rushed over, and Alan had screamed his lungs out when she’d managed to pry the light from his mouth.”

“He had refused to let go of them as well, to the point that we almost didn’t have lights on the Christmas tree. Mum managed to coax the wire through his little fingers, though we all spent the next five minutes trying to find a suitable substitute to stop Alan from crying. John then had to check over the lights, but Alan was too young to do any real damage, but Gordon managed to scatter baubles everywhere in the meantime.”

Alan watched his brothers gleefully relay the story between them. There was a hollow feeling in his chest at the mention of Mum and him. He’d been told how much she’d loved and adored him, but this was the first time this story had ever been told. Not that there were many to tell. His brothers had been young so didn’t always remember things and Dad; well, he’d always struggled to tell stories about Mum. It’d gotten better recently, but there still weren’t many of him and her. A hand fell on Alan’s shoulder and he turned, half expecting Scott to be there. He had to blink when it was his father, who lowered himself onto the sand beside him. The similarities between Scott and Dad were striking and Alan felt guilty for not thinking of his father first. It was no longer Scott’s responsibility to worry after him now. The hand slid along his back and pulled him into a side hug.

“You okay, son?” His father whispered into his ear.

Alan nodded, his head brushing against this father’s shoulder. There was no way Alan could express how he felt, especially not here and now, but the warmth that was seeping through from his father helped. It was new and it was different, but he had his Dad again. A Dad who was trying hard to fit back in and get to know his sons again. His father was being careful about not getting in the way or treading on their toes. Maybe Dad felt the same concerns that he did. Maybe next time they gamed together Alan would bring it up. He wondered if any of his brothers had asked how Dad was coping. He bet Grandma had and was paying close attention to their interactions. His father’s hand rubbed the top of Alan’s arm, bringing him from his thoughts and Alan shifted closer to the astronaut.

“Talking about Christmas lights, I remember a December morning when a certain someone woke up strapped to the bed by a large tangle of lights. Fancy reminding me of how that came about Alan?”

There was a sparkle of mischief in his father’s blue eyes as he peered down at Alan, who gave the man a big grin back in return. Alan remembered that morning well, especially how hard it was to not giggle as he carefully wrapped those lights around his brother’s bed.

“You mean the December Scott was been a really moody teenager and didn’t want to spend the day decorating the house with his family? Apparently, his girlfriend was more fun and a lot less annoying than us, and that he’d rather spend the day with her.”

Alan enjoyed taking the lead on the storytelling, especially when he got a satisfying groan from Scott, who appeared to have forgotten the events of that day until now. Alan’s body rocked as his father chuckled.

“Gordon and I only wanted to help cheer you up and fill you with the same festive cheer we had. The night before, we collected up every string of lights we could find and hid them in my room, before setting our alarm clocks for seven am. We snuck into your room, quietly unravelled the lights, then we each started wrapping them around you and the bed. We wrapped them tight enough to stop you from getting out. Our PJs were covered in dust from wriggling under your bed, but we managed, and we even found an extension cord and plugged some of them in. Your room lit up with some many colours and cheerful flashing lights, it was the most festive thing we’d seen that year. You almost woke up too, trying to turn over. We snapped a few pictures, turned off the lights and your alarm before we snuck back out to my room where we fell on the bed laughing. Your angry cry of “GORDON!!” had been the loudest in a long while, though you weren’t happy when it took so long to free you. You ended up missing the time with your girlfriend. Dad told us not to cut the lights unless we were prepared to buy new ones, which we weren’t, and you couldn’t afford new lights as well as a present for you girlfriend. We did get to spend the day decorating the house together, so the prank worked!”

“Leanne refused to wait for me saying if I really cared about her, I would be on time. She dumped me four days later for a guy two years older. At least I hadn’t brought the present yet, so I didn’t waste my money.”

There was a little bitterness in Scott’s voice when he mentioned her moving on so fast. If Alan remembered rightly, they had been dating for almost a year until that point, though it must not have been going as well as Scott thought considering how quickly she replaced him. Bet she wished she’d made it work now he was the commander of International Rescue, though for all he knew she could still be bragging about it. Gordon had insinuated on many occasions to Alan that not all the business trips their brother took were all strictly business, though the fact that Scott often returned stressed and with more ‘urgent’ paperwork made Alan doubt Gordon’s claims.

“That was the year you all ganged up on your father in that snowball fight, practically making him a snowman! You all came back inside red in the face, damp, and shivering. I had to get out so many extra blankets and make so much hot chocolate to get you warm again.”

“But you do make the best hot chocolate, Mum.”

“Seconded!” Scott cheered, raising his bottle to the sky.

The stories and drinks continued to be passed around the fire, which John packed high with the last of the dry driftwood. The stories were now from more recent times, tales from the past eight years without Dad. The gentle rocking from his Dad’s chuckles reassured Alan, who offered his own versions into the mix. When goosepimples covered his arms and legs, Grandma wrapped a blanket around him and Dad. Even on a tropical island the evenings were cool, especially when you are still in shorts and a t-shirt. Alan’s head was comfortable against his father and he started to fight his eyelids that kept trying to close. It was a battle he lost.

******

When his eyes flickered open again, the fire was dying. Alan was still beneath the blanket with his father’s arm firmly around him. He yawned as he rolled his stiff shoulders. Blinking, he took in his family who still circled the fire. John and Grandma were cuddled up in a thick patchwork blanket, while the legs of Scott, Virgil and Kayo were cover by a striped one, as they all lent against the bench. Lady Penelope had fallen asleep in Gordon’s arms, though they had acquired a second blanket from somewhere. Parker was still standing in the background, his reclaimed jumper now on, and there was a bucket of water in his hands.

“Shall I h’extinguish the flames now, Mr Tracy?”

“Please do, Parker.”

The fire hissed out, sending steam into the night sky. Stars were scattered above them, and Alan’s eyes were drawn to the familiar constellations. With the fire out the cold started to creep in, and his family started to move, yawn, and stretch. With practiced movements, everyone started to collect their belongings and rubbish, shaking sand off everything and heading towards the path. John and Grandma held coolers, Virgil and Scott took each side of their bench, and Alan grabbed the rubbish bag as Kayo grabbed the recycling. Gordon coaxed Sherbet off his lap before sweeping Penelope into his arms and carrying her away. Sherbet and Parker, bucket still in hand, followed close behind them. As Alan started up the cliff path his Dad’s arm returned to his shoulder. He was staring up at the stars though Alan couldn’t place which constellation he was gazing at.

“It’s good to see these stars again. Did I ever tell you about all the nights Lee and I would stargaze on Alfie? There was the observation deck with this massive glass window in the ceiling, and we’d lie beneath it….”

Alan smiled, remembering the story well, but wanting to hear it again. There was something special about the way his Dad told it.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020 #alan tracy #Gordon Tracy #Lady Penelope #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #kayo kyrano #parker

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theangrycomet · 3 years

Text

The Der Sonne Scandal (Modern!TangledtheSeries Timeline in the D-Crew AU)

This is Rough, Lengthy, and up to change.

But some people seemed interested in my interpretation of Modern Tangled so here we go.

From SFIT’s perspective, Varian never came back after Winter break (when his dad was trapped in amber and he was put under house arrest)

SFPD found nothing, and Corona PD claimed to find nothing as well.

BH6 found the Alchemist at Sycorax of all placings stealing BioChips. These don’t exactly match his previous thefts of tools and supplies for demolition.

He gets them to leave them alone by revealing he’s figured out at least half their identities after trapping them.

“Nice try, Professor Le’mone, but I think you’ll my sticky balls are a little bit different than yours,” the Alchemist knocked a knuckle against the hardening crystal around her shoes as she froze.

“How did you-” She started, eyes flicking bac

“Simple really.” He shrugged as he flipped the canister of biochips in the air. Despite the filter, his voice dripped with smugness as he turned to Captain Magnet. “After all, it’s all about looking for a new angle, isn’t it Dr. Hamada?”

Hiro blanched as his words were thrown back at his face, or maybe it was because of the hardening goo begginning to constrict his breastplate.

“Once I realized that Mighty Max here was nothing more than Baymax Prime in a set of Carbon Fiber underpants, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots.”

But, he reassures them that after that night they’ll never deal with the Alchemist again, and that so long as they leave him alone their Secret Identities are safe.

Baymax, having scanned him during his time at Hiro’s classes, confirms that not only that the Alchemist Hiro and Honey Lemon’s missing student, but that he’s also suffering from various injuries, malnutrition, dehydration, and sleep deprivation. Additionally, he seems to be showing the symptoms of depression and accute anxiety.

Professor Granville was made aware of the discovery immediately, and she provided the address, commenting that the Corona Police Department had been refusing to work with either her of Chief Cruz when it came to investigating Varian’s disappearance.

By the time they were able to locate Corona [Corona’s one of those places in between planes that kind of shifts locations around] he’d already lost the Battle of Old Corona and had been thrown in prison without so much as a thought of trial.

They come in to find the Ritter Farm trashed and destroyed, black rocks and destroyed robots littering the fields where buildings weren’t collected together in decimated states.

Wasabi freaks out when he finds a racoon. Honey Lemon recognizes it as Varian’s.

Gogo’s with Wasabi on the whole don’t touch that thing.

Ruddiger sadly curled up around a pair of goggles, and from their he leads them to the Ritter home. When they reach the house, they find it raided and most things of value either destroyed or stolen, from a slashed family portrait to overturned furniture.

Eventually the Raccoon gets them to Varian’s lab, which is a mess of burnt’s notes and bashed in equipment with a tarp hastily thrown over something large in the center of the room.

They all screamed a little at Quirin’s corpse encased in amber. They find one of the Missing Beta-maxes (the test round of Baymaxes sent to hospitals) destroyed from where it had been dutifully assessing Quirin’s health.

Hiro removes the chip when Fred found a secret compartment in one of the walls. Inside’s a note and a flashdrive.

If you’re smart enough to find this maybe you can get him out- Varian

BH6 leaves when they here people coming, and they get a glimpse of the Secret Police sent to silence Varian coming back for said flashdrive.

The flashdrive contains his science log from the start of him first experimenting with Rapunzel’s hair and the Rocks to his explanation of his last ditch attempt to free his dad using her hair to cut the amber.

There’s 18 months worth of footage showing Varian’s attempts and gradual breakdown as he questions everything he thought he knew.

It was deeply upsetting to watch for BH6, especially for Hiro, as this hit a little close to home for him.

There are also several pieces of footage of Varian hiding from the Secret Police seen earlier as they raid his home for something called the Demanitus Hardrive.

Meanwhile, as they’r analyzing this footage and trying to locate him, Varian is currently in prison facing solitary confinement only broken up by extensive interogation, to which he only responds to his demands for a lawyer and his basic human rights met.

Their interogation methods get increasingly worse to inhumane as he refuses to tell them what he knows about the black rocks and who he told about them. King Frederick, as this was a personal matter considering Varian endanger his precious baby girl and wife, demands answers from him, to which Varian replies with a bloody spit to the face.

More citizens of Old Corona, who were and continued to have been screwed over by King Frederick’s system are arrested fro protesting against the system. New Corona doesn’t particularly care as the rocks stopped before hitting the city.

It takes BH6 3 months of intensive scanning, working with the SFPD, spreading the word, and making some of Varian’s vidoe’s viral to get people’s attention that the source of the black rock problem cutting across the country is known, to finally locate Varian.

He’s found half dead in a solitary confinement cell with Ruddiger (who somehow got in).

Varian’s immediately hospitalized and so starts the grand exposure of the lies of Frederick Der Sonne.

They find out about 2 decades worth of injustice. Imprisonment with out trial. Arrests with out cause. The upperclass getting off with a slap on the wrist for a crime that would have someone of lowerclass served 10 years for. Petty thieves arrested for lifetime imprisonment. The highest percentage of prisoner mortality rate in the state.

It’s insane.

They also find large amounts of money exchanged that simply disappears. Only two of the city’s businesses (Monty’s Sweet Shoppe and Xavier’s Smithery) have regularly paid their bills, most having claims or excuses written down instead.

The numerous fairs and festivals are revealed to be not only their sole source of income, but a cover up for MANY illegal business trades.

Additionally, most of Old Corona (which is pretty much separate from New Corona excluding that they both have Senator Der Sonne in charge, are imprisoned or homeless despite NUMEROUS promises of aid

The Detention center’s are filled to the brim with people who are treated like rats.

This quickly becomes National News and the Country is horrified that this has been happening.

San Fransokyo Police Force works with a bunch of other local citie’s PD’s to arrest the entire (excluding Max and Cassandra who are off on their adventure with Rapunzel) Corona Police department as well as Frederick.

The Investigation runs for nearly 9 months before everything is settled for court. It’s another 6 months in court before everything is settled.

Varian wakes up in the hospital and is immediately sent into a panic, completely paranoid and distrustful of everybody.

Between Granville and BH6, he surprisingly left alone from interviews as to what happened to him as he recovers.

Despite numerous attempts, none of Rapunzel’s party came to be witnesses for Frederick. Rapunzel, dubbed it as not her problem right now (thinking that this was about Varian’s arrest) and decided not to tell anyone about it because they were already stressing about the rocks themselves.

Rapunzel and Co have quite the S*** storm waiting for them once they get home.

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bigmultifandomgirl · 4 years

Text

Master and the Mute Kylo Ren x reader - Chapter Two

Chapter One Chapter Three

YOUR POV

As you had spent more time on the Finlizer you slowly forgot your frustrating first morning. You had delved deep into whatever assignment was given to you and thankfully Hux had deemed it appropriate to give you more solo tasks than ones where a team was involved. He had also not engaged with you on a face to face basis which you were also extremely grateful for, you had a feeling that he resented you for causing him to be put in his place by Kylo Ren, which you understood but did not relish in.

Today was similar to how the last couple of days had passed, you had been assigned to fix a row of lighting panels that had kept malfunctioning leaving corridors in darkness apart from the subtle red glow that came from all the wiring and little red bulbs on motherboards that were lined beneath the flooring. For some reason you were really beginning to struggle, it was as if every night you would leave having made some amount of progress and then you would return the next morning to find what felt like a completely different set of wires in front of you. It was endlessly frustrating as you knew that your skills were more advanced but for some reason you just could not figure it out, you rubbed your face with frustration as you looked down at the unscrewed panels and offending wires before you.

You just could not find it in you to focus, you had a sneaky suspicion why, he had been creeping into your thoughts at night and you had been waking abruptly in the night. It was unexplainable. You had fully recovered from your encounter with the dark caped master of the force, but that did not stop your curiosity. Why could he hear you? What did it all mean? Would he do anything about it? You had heard that when a master of the force was reading your thoughts you could feel it and apparently it was shockingly painful, so why hadn't you felt anything at all? Was he trying to read your mind? If so, you had no idea his motives in doing so, you were just a mute engineer - so far down the food chain from him that it was actually laughable that he would even look in your direction.

The wires hummed as you began disconnecting certain ones and inspecting them for damage.

I wonder what else he heard from my mind? Your blood chilled as you realised that he may know things about you that not a soul on this earth knows, about your accident and your poor late parents. Could he see images in your mind? Relive memories as you thought about them? You thought to a couple of days after the accident when you first were able to stand up from the comfortable bed from which that lovely old woman had nursed you. You were completely naked as some of your skin was still sizzling in places where the explosion had burned you. You stared at your marred flesh, burns covered a large surface of your legs and arms, a lot of your torso had managed to escape the fire, but you disliked it for other reasons. Then there were the scars. Debris had been flung in all directions, as your father had similarly been an engineer there was lots of scrap metal lying around the house as he was always building something it seemed. There was always a new idea in his head that he decided to pursue on a whim. Unfortunately for you it meant your skin had been split open in many areas. Most notably your neck, there was the main scar, the deepest, the one that had stolen your ability to speak. One end started on the left side of your neck and slanted down it to where your neck met your shoulders and down to the top of your right breast. The second largest scar crossed the first near your collar bone and travelled down your arm, ending in the middle of your forearm. The third and ugliest in your eyes started on your lower left cheek, it was barely on your face but the bubbling flesh made sure it was noticed, it travelled down your neck and ended a little after it had collided with the first scar. Those were the three main scars where the flesh was raised and red, they always looked angry and as if you were boiling from the inside out. Your body was decorated with lots of smaller white scars where debris has impaled you, not as deep as the angry three but deep enough that it left a mark on you.. You remember falling to your knees and sobbing, you were unrecognisable to yourself. You were ugly, marred and alone in the world.

A small shock shot through your fingers from an exposed wire which broke you from your thoughts. Finally! This may have been causing the malfunctioning, you smiled smugly as you felt accomplished having found the fault now you could just fix it and move onto the next assignment. You reached behind you and into your tool box to find some new wire coverings, you quickly replaced the faulty covering and replaced the panel over the wires.

Satisfied with a problem finally solved, you ticked off the assignment on your data pad and decided to sit and wait for the notification of your next assignment come through while you took a break.

Pulling a flask out, your poured yourself some coffee. This was not a luxury provided by the First Order on their ships, it was something you had brought from the planet you were working on. The warm and rich taste calmed down your mind from the emotional tangent it had been on. There was no way Kylo would be able to hear you all the time, he surely has to be close for this strange connection to just transmit all your thoughts into his head. That must be why h you had not seen him in the two weeks since your first meeting. You did not know but you assumed it must be very agitating to have someone else's stream of thought filtered in with your own, especially the thoughts of a mute girl who basically has no filter as she has never had to watch her mouth/ edit her thoughts and feelings.

You let out a mute chuckle at the thought of your benign wonderings intertwined with the thoughts of the most powerful and important man in the universe.

Slowly, you felt the silence in the corridors get heavier. These corridors had been empty in the days that you had been working. These corridors were not central to the ship so even though it was strange it did not bother you. But the soft thudding of heavy boots echoing off the walls did. Who in the hell was that? Quickly, you checked your data pad to see if there was a new assignment yet so that you could move on and would not have to run into whoever those boots belonged to. For some reason your intuition did not think that it would be a harmless stromtrooper that would just walk by and completely ignore your existence. You hastily put your mug of coffee by your feet and started to gather the rest of you tools into the toolbox and then placing the toolbox into the bag that you slung over your shoulder as the footsteps got closer and louder. Your lovely smooth silence was being disturbed and so your mood had instantly been dampened despite the mug of heaven you retrieved from the floor. You stopped to realise that your years of isolation due to being mute had made you hate interacting with people. Your stomach wobbled with your little laugh at how absurd you were when the boots rounded the corner and your breath got stuck in your throat again.

Him.

He was taking long strides towards you, mask obscuring his face, he was a predator who was stalking his prey and all you could to was stare and admire how powerful he looked with his cape billowing elegantly behind him. You realised that he was definitely close enough to hear you now so you tried your best to push him out of your thoughts and instead focused on the dark brown liquid in your mug. His steps continued towards you and you began to feel his presence.

Silence again was restored and you felt yourself relax even though now he was stood right in front of you. You were not sure what he wanted and even less sure if you were willing to find out.

"Are you afraid of me?" The mechanical voice asks and you raise your eyes to stare into his helmet where his eyes would be. What colour are they? You wondered and then snapped back to thinking about the cooling coffee in your hands.

"All you have to do is think the answer, I can hear all your thoughts. Ever since you arrived on this ship I've heard you and I cannot understand why, and yes it is extremely frustrating. Do you have a connection to the force? Are we related? Did you know about our bond?"

Your mind stilled with no effort after his bombardment of questions: a connection to the force, related a BOND?? You sobered yourself up and looked back into the helmet.

I have no idea, you answered. No-one has ever heard my thoughts, I have no-one, I am pretty sure we are not related Prince and a bond are you mad? You and I? A Master of the force, a Prince, a Knight and a stupid mute? You must be insane. You sneered and the silence from Kylo's helmet made you more uneasy by the second, you realised the mistake you had made and reminded yourself of who you were actually talking to.

A sigh came from the helmet in front of you. He was hesitant. You felt it, it was unmistakeable.

"That's fine we'll figure that out later. Are. You. Afraid. Of. Me?" he spoke quickly and then offered the question much slower. More deliberate. This was the most important question to him and the one you had evaded successfully until this moment.

Were you afraid of him? His helmet did not help that was for sure. The whole mask and cape get up was powerful and almost demanded respect and fear from anyone who was to gaze upon it.

There was a small hiss and a click from above you and a loud clang as something heavy hit the ground near your feet.

"Don't forget that I can hear everything you are saying even if you are not aiming it at me." his raw voice mumbled. No longer edited or amplified by the voice modulator, his voice was as smooth has honey and as deep as a wealthy man's pocket and as rich as chocolate you had once tried from a trader. You almost swooned at the sound of his voice addressing you, it gave you courage.

"Look at me and tell me if you are afraid."

You obediently raised your eyes to gaze upon his face. He was human much to your surprise, you were convinced he was some type of monster the way he powerfully commanded his armies and the way he ruthlessly disposed of his enemies as if they were nothing but annoying flies buzzing around him. The first thing you noticed was his dark locks which framed his face handsomely and curled in such a way that you fought the urge to reach up and run your fingers through them. Somehow you knew that Kylo would not have been too happy with such a familiar act. You had heard that very few people saw him without the helmet and so you understood that this was a strange occurrence for him. You quickly moved onto his strong aquiline nose, it made his whole face look strong and confident as his e=height enabled him to look down it upon anyone who he wished to make feel small. Then there were his eyes, the deepest brown that you had ever seen, but as you looked into his eyes you realised that he was doing the same to you which made you feel uncomfortable and so you swiftly moved your gaze further down to his lips which were plump and pink, you were almost envious of how beautiful he was. It was almost scary that this was the face that all the storied said had committed atrocious acts that would remain in people’s nightmares for decades to come.

He was handsome, intimidating but handsome. You were not afraid of the man who stood before you.

No. You thought as you finally raised your eyes to meet his own again.

You observed what you thought was a small smile grace his pretty lips but it was gone too quickly for you to be definite about its existence. You waited patiently for what he was going to do next, still looking into his eyes steadily.

“I need to know about our connection before it becomes too much of a distraction from my duties. Then I'll decide what to do with you."

Fear struck through you like lightening at his words and you worked hard to not let him notice where your mind was going.

Your thoughts were broken when the large man bent down and picked his helmet off the floor and placed it back on his head, you secretly hated that you could no longer see his soft locks of hair or his deep eyes which seemed to stun you still every time they met yours. You let out a soft sigh and watched him to see what he would do next after fiddling with the latches on his helmet.

"Where do you stay?"

You weren't sure exactly how to explain where you were staying as you still relied heavily on the data pad map to manoeuvre around the ship. I can take you there? You offered as it was the only way you could see of effectively letting him know where you were staying, after all you were not going to say no to him, he was a great commander. As you had said before, you were practically at the bottom of the food chain, a small helpless creature and he, he was at the top a predator who was powerful and dangerous. There was no point in denying him anything if you valued your life.

He gave a small nod to you and so you turned and reached for your data pad from out of your bag and brought up the map, you thought it may be quicker if he saw it and led you there, after all this was his ship and you were still getting lost in it every day. You turned to face his stoic helmet again and raised your hand to him which held the data pad, he responded by gently taking it from your hands, his leather-covered fingers brushing yours in the exchange which sent shivers down your spine which you prayed he didn't notice. He scanned over the data pad screen, made a tiny nod and handed it back to you.

"Follow" he commanded and you were not about to disobey the demanding modulated voice.

He started his long strides down the corridor and you were left to follow, he did not look back to check, he just assumed you would be there. You had to jog slightly to keep up with his long strides but he did not seem to notice, your heart was thumping harder in your chest as you realised he was going to see your living quarters. They really were not much. You had unpacked what little you owned and had decorated the walls with pictures of your favourite places. Nothing sentimental of your parents was left after the explosion and so all you were left with were memories and because there were no other people in your life the pictures were all landscapes, you didn't mind but were worried about what he would think about you when he saw them. I mean he could hear your thoughts but you weren't sure if he could see images that you conjured or feel emotions that overtook you. This uncertainty reminded you that he was only a few strides ahead of you and you quickly got your thoughts in line and made you mind blank. simply concentrating on the walls of the halls, trying to pull out any distinct feature that you had seen before. Trying to commit this ship to memory was a hard task.

He stopped in front of a corridor full of doors and you passed him and went straight to yours, smoothly putting in the pass code which allowed you to enter. You could feel his presence behind you as you did so, when the door slid open you stepped inside and then made way for Kylo to make his way in behind you.

You silently watched as he surveyed your room, you could not tell his reaction as his face was still covered by the helmet until you saw him reach up and heard the hiss and the lick of it releasing his head. He turned his piercing gaze to you and your heard almost stopped. He took steps towards you and you breath hitched as you were yet again stunned by his beauty, suddenly it was too hot where you stood but you were paralyzed where you stood - you were sure he was not even using the force on you. All you could do was watch his body as it moved towards you, you imagined how powerful his body was underneath all the layers of armour, you couldn't help but wonder what it looked like, what it would feel like under your fingers. You had never been paid this much attention to by a man and it was making you forget how to act. You were sure that your face was flushed which would tell Kylo all he needed to know if he hadn't already heard.

He was ight in front of you, warm breath fanning your face until he dipped his head by your ear. His breath down your neck made you shake and you felt one of his hands on your arm steady you as he nipped at you ear and you very almost fell.

"I did hear it my darling." he whispered lowly into your ear.

And then he was gone, a smug smirk on his lips as he clicked his helmet back on. He turned his head as he was in your doorway.

"I'll be back for you tomorrow." he promised and with a swish of cape he disappeared down the corridor. It was all you could do to fall on your bed and try and catch your breath, that small encounter was enough to arouse you and it scared you how readily you reacted to him.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING <3. I have had such good response fom part one in only a few days, other pieces of my writing have not been reacted to as well, so thank you so much it means a lot to me. Here is part two, longer and hopefully better :) Feedback is appreciated. Love you all, stay safe xx

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bijvoorbeeldja · 4 years

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hide-and-seek

Prompt for you! Younger Sander and Robbe and the guys play hide and seek, then they had a kiss. They only remember this in a few years. Please, Jealous!Sander.

Here she is, @mysteriousforests! Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it. <3

.................

It was how they spent most of their weekends during summer break from school — swimming at the local pool to fend off the heat during the day, then tagging along with their parents to the Driesen’s house in the evenings, where the adults gathered to gab and let the kids play. The group was pretty much the same then as it was now — minus Aaron and Zoe, who hadn’t moved to town until the group was in high school. Back then, Robbe’s hair was longer, Jens and Jana weren’t together yet, and Sander was still a brunette.

Now that they’d finished dinner, their parents were talking in the living room over glasses of wine, and the group knew it would be a while before they’d be dragged home to their own houses, so they invented games to fill the time. Their favorite was hide-and-seek, and in Sander’s big house, there were plenty of good hiding places.

That night, Jens was counting, covering his eyes with both hands as he recited numbers up to 100 while the rest of them hid. Robbe took off, scouring the rooms for the tucked-away crevices of the house to hide in.

Behind the curtains? No, too obvious. The kitchen cabinet? Someone was probably already there. He tiptoed quietly but quickly, trying to put distance between himself and Jen’s voice. As he passed doors in the hallway, he heard Amber’s hushed giggling as she positioned herself underneath a bed, and Moyo and Jana fighting over a hiding spot behind a potted plant. Robbe smiled at them, continuing on towards the end of the hall. He knew Jens was likely close to coming after them, so he needed to find a space, fast.

Then, he was being pulled sideways, a soft hand clutching his elbow to rein him in. Suddenly, he was in the upstairs coat closet, bundles of jackets settling on top of his head as he ducked and stumbled into the space next to another someone.

“Shhh,” motioning a finger to his lips, Sander was crouched there, so close that Robbe could smell him.

“This is the best hiding spot in the house,” Sander whispered, his breath tickling Robbe’s cheeks. “I didn’t want you to get caught.”

Robbe was trying to catch his breath, calm his racing heart at the unexpected touch and sudden closeness. For a moment, Sander still held his arm in his grasp. It was a soft, warm touch that made Robbe’s breath shallow.

Even though they’d been friends since their infancy, being with Sander had always made Robbe feel a little unnerved, for reasons he didn’t fully understand. Sander was two years older, vastly cooler and funnier than Robbe ever could be. Confident. Creative. Handsome.

Robbe would never admit it, but he’d always tried to tame his own messy tresses into submission when he got ready in the morning, an attempt to look at least a little like the cool, older boy. He often caught himself staring at the Sander when he wasn’t looking. But he couldn’t let himself think about Sander. It wasn’t what he was supposed to do. Just as Moyo and Jens were already starting to notice girls at their school, Robbe was supposed to, too.

Crouching closely together, Robbe listened to Sander’s steady breathing, forcing down the wave of nervous flutters in his stomach. He was sure Sander could hear how loudly his heart was beating. But luckily, that was muffled by the sound of Jen’s heavy footsteps, reaching the stop of the stairs.

“Here I come!” He yelled out. “I am going to find you all so fast!”

Sander scooted backwards, farther into the closet, pulling Robbe with him. He chuckled softly, the sound barely audible as he tangled himself further behind a layer of coats and scarves on hangers. He gently pulled one aside, uncovering his face as he turned his head slightly to look over at Robbe.

Robbe smiled, barely noticing Jen’s voice calling out down the hall, muffled by the fabric in front of him. He bit his lip, not wanting to be found, to have a few more stolen moments here, hidden with Sander.

A slight blush crept to Robbe’s cheeks as Sander continued to stare at him, his gaze unwavering. Only a small filter of light trickled in underneath the door, but Robbe could still seen the bright green of Sander’s eyes, nearly staring through him. He watched Sander’s eyes flick almost imperceptibly across his face, stopping for only a half-second on his lips.

Then, almost in slow motion, Sander was leaning in, his breath mixing with Robbe’s as he gently placed his lips on Robbe’s. Robbe felt Sander’s hand gently lift to grasp onto Robbe’s wrist before sliding down to his hand, two fingers tangling with his as he held them softly. Robbe’s heart stopped, his brain unable to form a coherent thought.

For a second, they remained there, lips touching. Then, there were loud footsteps outside the door, dangerously close, and Sander pulled away suddenly. Robbe was frozen, trying to process. He felt unable to breath.

Then suddenly, flooded flooded their faces as they blinked back the brightness.

“Aha!” Jens yelled, whipping the door open. “Found you two!

…………

Five years had passed, and the group dynamics had changed.

Jens and Jana had just begun dating, a natural extension of the relationship of the group. They just worked together. Robbe had finally cut his hair, a “birthday present” for Jens. Sander they hadn’t seen regularly for a year or so. He’d transferred to an art school and showed up off-and-on at their group gatherings, most recently appearing at Moyo’s house party with a head of bleached blonde hair and a leather jacket. The boys had playfully teased him, mocking his new artsy persona, but Robbe knew it was because they were all secretly jealous. He was attracting girls left and right.

But now, they saw him less and less, as he naturally fell in with the social circles from his new school. It made Robbe weirdly disappointed, and not just because their group had changed over the years. He missed seeing Sander. He missed his silly jokes, his Bowie shirts, the croques he made for the two of them at midnight, those nights they slept over at Jens and everyone else was asleep before them. His missed sitting on the counter, watching Sander flip the sandwiches, deep in a passioned conversation about the street art he loved around Antwerp. Robbe loved hearing him talk. He swore he could listen to him forever.

Occasionally, Sander would call Robbe out of the blue, asking how he was, catching up on the missed time between them. Robbe waited for these calls desperately, eager to hear his voice, his laugh, to hear him insist that Robbe was in fact, not yet ready for the Advanced Bowie playlist.

But those calls were infrequent now and it left a humiliating ache inside of Robbe that he tried to ignore. He carried on with Jens and Moyo, the self-proclaimed Broerrs.

Near the end of that summer, the group had gathered, surprising Robbe with a birthday party at the beach house. A frequent haunt for the group of friends, they spent the days playing paintball among the dunes and deepening their tans. At night, they had bonfires and talked long into the night about their futures. They never wanted those nights to end.

Now, older, they returned to the beach, celebrating their last days before the new school year. A bonfire swelled on the sand and Jens and Jana sat close, feeding each other marshmallows. Robbe and Moyo talked, laughing about their earlier soccer game. Suddenly, Jens called out, mumbling with a mouth still full of marshmallow.

“There you are, man! I wasn’t sure you were coming!”

Robbe turned and saw Sander, illuminated by the light of the fire, coming towards them with a smile.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sander replied. “There was a holdup at home. But I wasn’t going to miss Robbe’s big celebration!”

Reaching him, Sander slapped a hand on Robbe’s shoulder, making warmth flood to his cheeks. Learning down, he whispered with featherlight breath in Robbe’s ear.

“It’s good to see you, Robbe.”

Robbe nodded and smiled back at him, quickly lifting the bottle of his drink to his lips to distract himself from being exposed by a further blush. Seeing Sander again after all this time made his stomach twist, an electricity flooding his every nerve. He hated how the blonde boy held such power over him.

Sander joined them, claiming the chair next to Robbe. He lifted his hands to the fire, turning them slightly to warm them. It had been months since he’d seen Sander in person, and within that short time, he could notice visible changes in Sander. He was taller somehow, his height extending the lean, taut stretch of muscle along his arms and legs. A deeper summer tan blanketed his skin. Dark color played at his roots, and the messy tresses of his hair glowed white in the fire. It was at this moment that Sander looked up at Robbe, as if he could read his thoughts. Swallowing in embarrassment, Robbe looked down immediately, busying himself again with his bottle.

“How’s your fancy art school, Sander?” Moyo asked, talking across Robbe.

Sander laughed. “It’s all good, man. You should consider it. You know what they say about art chicks.”

“Ahhh, yeah,” Moyo said, nodding. “I like those alternative chicks, man. Does your school have a take-your-friend-to-school day?”

Sander laughed again, but Robbe just felt sick. Thinking of Sander together with an equally good-looking girl at his school made him physically ill.

“That’s bold of you, Moyo,” Jens spoke across the bonfire, taking another bite from the marshmallow in Jana’s outstretched hand. “To even think one of those girls would be into you.”

“Shut up, man,” Moyo said, waving him off. “I’ve been getting girls since middle school. Way before you. No offense, Jana.”

Jana just laughed, nodding. “He’s not wrong,” she said to Jens, teasingly. “You’re lucky you even got me.”

Jens nipped at her cheek, then her neck, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Let’s be honest, though,” Jens said. “Sander was the only one of us who had game in middle school.”

“Oh, stop,” Sander said, waving off embers from the air around him. “I was scared of girls. I still am!” He laughed. “Plus, you guys know I only hung out with you in those days. I always looked forward to those weekends at my place.”

“Dude, yes!” Moyo said, slapping a knee. “Those were the days. Playing games way past our bedtimes, sneaking sweets from your ginormous kitchen, watching our parents get so drunk that by the end of the night they were singing karaoke.”

Robbe laughed at this, memories suddenly coming back to him. He really had missed those moments, nights when things were so much easier, so much less complicated than now.

“I’ll never ever forget my mom’s rendition of ‘Jij Bent Van Mij,’” Jana said, groaning. She shook her head, as if trying to mentally erase the memory.

“Dude!” Jens said, sitting up now. “Do you remember those epic games of hide and seek we used to play? “

“Oh, yeah!” Sander said, nodding as his mouth widened in a smile. “I forgot about that!”

“If I remember correctly, I was the best at finding you losers,” Jens said cockily.

“Oh, please,” Sander said, rolling his eyes. “Robbe and I always found the best hiding spot and kept you guys looking for hours.”

The memories that had faded by time were now coloring in Robbe’s mind, forming concrete edges and fully-fleshed sequences.

Hiding with Sander, a small space. Jens heavy footsteps in the hallway. Surrounded by fabric. Coats. Then...in a warm, heart-stopping flash, it came back to him.

The kiss.

That one night, Robbe and Sander had kissed.

Trying to level his now labored breath, Robbe strained to remember. They had kissed. They had been young. And so close, close enough that Sander in a breath could lean over and touch his lips to Robbe’s. It had lasted only a second, half a second. But the memory burned into him like it had just happened. How had Robbe forgotten?

Or had Robbe manufactured that memory in his mind?

“Well, I’m calling it a night,” Moyo said, suddenly standing beside them. “I have to grab the double bed before Jens and Jana try to claim it and keep us up all night.” He laughed as Jens glared at him, hastily picking Jana up off his lap and grabbing her hand to sprint after Moyo. With laughter and yells, they were gone.

Now, deep waves of nerve were swelling within Robbe as he sat alone with Sander, the crackling of the bonfire filling the silence.

Robbe twisted the bottle in his hands, trying to grasp at a word, any words to say to Sander, who was smiling to himself.

Then, he turned to Robbe, pulling himself closer so that his knee was touching Robbe’s. Robbe looked up at him, watching Sander’s green eyes meet his.

“You’re not going to bed yet, right?” he asked with a smile. “I still need to give you your birthday present.”

Robbe could only shake his head, his throat dry. Sander stared back at the fire, still smiling.

“Want to take a walk?” he said, leaning in closer now. “I heard sea air prevents hangovers,” he laughed as he cocked a head at Robbe’s now-empty bottle.

Robbe laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I could use some non-smoky air.” Leaving his bottle on the ground next to his chair, he stood and followed Sander as he headed toward the sound of the waves.

…

Hearing Sander ramble on again was like water to Robbe’s thirsty soul. He never wanted him to stop.

But at the same time, he had to speak. If he didn’t ask, he thought he would explode. So when Sander paused, taking in the waves, he cleared his throat.

“So, uh,” Robbe said, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. “Remember when we were talking with the other guys about those nights at your house?”

“Yeah,” Sander said, turning back to him and nodding. “What about it?”

“Well, about hide-and-seek...do you remember actually playing? With everyone?”

Sander smiled, but his voice was serious. “Yeah. I always looked forward to it. You guys were my first real friends in Antwerp.”

“Those were some of my favorite nights,” Robbe admitted, remembering. “And I guess...I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay,” Sander said. “What?”

Robbe already regretted mentioning anything. This conversation could only end in humiliation, and Sander would likely never talk to him again.

But Sander was looking at him, waiting with a clear sense of eagerness, almost appearing to read Robbe’s mind.

“I just…” Robbe hesitated. He felt so stupid.

Sander stopped now, grabbing Robbe’s arm. “What, Robbe? You can ask me anything”

Robbe took a deep breath, trying to meet Sander’s gaze. He felt his hands shaking slightly.

“Well, I was just wondering if you remember...us hiding together. In that coat closet in your upstairs hall?”

Sander looked down, his mouth widening in a shy smile.

“A coat closet,” he said quietly. “Yeah, yeah, I think I do remember that. Why?”

“Did you...did we…” Robbe struggled, trying to speak with a level voice.

“Kiss?” Sander said suddenly, looking up at Robbe. He was biting his lip, hiding a smile.

“Yeah,” said Robbe, exhaling in relief now that it was spoken out loud, settling in the space between them. “When we were talking, I had this suddenly clear memory of that moment...and I was just wondering...if I had imagined it.”

“For so long after that moment I thought it was a dream,” Sander said, laughing. “Especially since I was too much of a scaredy-cat to bring it up to you again. I don’t even know how I had the guts to do it in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” Robbe asked.

“Seriously, Robbe?” Sander said, eyes widening as he laughed. “You had to know that I had the biggest crush on you back then?”

Robbe’s stomach dropped, attempting to configure Sander’s words in his mind in a way that made sense.

“Well, clearly by the look on your face,” Sander said, smiling again, “you had no idea. Which is actually hilarious because I was not subtle about it.”

“You’re joking, Sander…” Robbe said, finally able to speak.

Sander turned his whole body to Robbe, face serious now. In a gentleness that didn’t match his firm stare, he spoke.

“I always liked you Robbe,” Sander said. “It wasn’t long after we came out of that closet that I...came out of the closet.” He smiled briefly at his joke before continuing.

Robbe could barely keep his jaw from dropping. Even if he hadn’t imagined their adolescent kiss, he was sure he had to be imagining this now.

“Yeah, I was obviously scared you didn’t reciprocate my feelings, so I didn’t dare to bring it up. Even when I thought you might….like me back….you were so close with Jens that it made me insanely jealous. I knew he was your best friend and I figured before long you two would realize your feelings for each other. I couldn’t stand it.” Sander smiled weakly to himself, kicking some sand at his feet. Robbe could’ve sworn there was a light blush creeping up on his cheeks. “I’ve always wanted you, Robbe.”

Robbe couldn’t speak and it was a moment before Sander spoke up again, suddenly grabbing his arm.

“But hey, look,” he said, firmly now. “Please don’t think you have to say anything. Honestly, we have to bring this up again. You’ll always be my friend no matter what. And I hate...that we haven’t been able to spend time together lately. ….Hopefully now you still want to!” He laughed, but there was a strain in his voice. A nervousness. Vulnerability.

Robbe just looked at him.

“Robbe,” Sander said again. “Damnit, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m so stupid. Please just forget it.”

He turned to start walking back up the beach, but Robbe grabbed his arm before he could escape the closeness.

“I don’t want to forget it, Sander,” he said, his voice only capable of a near-whisper.

“What?” Sander said, turning back to him and closing the distance. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Robbe said, louder now, “that I don’t want to forget it. Our kiss...or this conversation.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled Sander closer, intertwining their fingers together. Sander’s eyebrows rose, but only for a second before he squeezed his palm to Robbe’s.

“Do you know how long I’ve liked you Sander?” Robbe said, hoping he could finsh before his nerves gave out. “I’ll tell you it was long before that closet.”

Sander laughed, his eyes looking wide and misty as Robbe stared deep into them. “Are you messing me, Robin?”

“Oh,” Robbe groaned, extracting his hands from Sander’s to cover his face in embarrassment. “Only you call me that and I wish you wouldn’t.”

He felt Sander’s breath against his hands as Sander gently pulled his hands away and replaced the touch with his palms cupped against his cheeks.

“You’re my Robin,” Sander whispered, ever closer now. “Should we go find another closet, or…?”

“I’m not going back into the closet,” Robbe said, laughing. “But I will take that kiss, if you’re offering. You know, as a second birthday gift. I mean, I haven’t forgotten that you still owe me a real one.”

“Oh, I’m definitely offering a kiss,” Sander said, laughing. “I’m offering on your birthday. And the day after your birthday, and the day after that.” Then, Sander was kissing him.

And even if that first kiss had been a dream, Robbe couldn’t have dreamt a kiss as good as this one. Lips and breath fitting together, Sander pulled Robbe closer, tangling his hands into his hair, losing himself completely in him.

“Aaaaand the day after that,” Sander said, following his words with another kiss before pulling away.

“And the day after that.” Robbe’s eyes fluttered, whining at Sander’s teasing. “That okay with you, Robin?”

“That’s okay with me.” He smiled into Sander’s next kiss.

Better than a dream.

#wtfock #wtfock fanfic #wtfic #sobbe fanfic #robbe x sander #childhood AU

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gypsydanger01 · 4 years

Text

THE STORM - Part two

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x Reader

A/N: This is still part of the build-up, the Reader and Noir won’t meet until the next part in the series!!

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and the au part of this story’s plot line.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Posting new chapters every Wednesday and Friday!

Secret obsession

A week or so had passed after the gala, and Black Noir could say he knew her. Truthfully, he’d already gathered all her biographical data that same night, but it did take at least a week for him to learn most of her quirks and mannerisms.

In the quiet stillness of the night, he had moved down various hallways, concealed in the long shadows he often called home. He’d caught her name while listening in on her co-worker’s conversation. Vought kept detailed files on the family history, relationships, affiliations and political inclinations of its employees, so it would be possible to discern possible threats to the company. This made it easier for them to catch moles and informants. Now this made his search extremely simple.

Taking her file, he had retired to his living quarters and spread the documents out. What had immediately caught his attention, was how thick her file was, how many subsections it contained. It was at least four times bigger than the surrounding folders. And so, reading through her profile, Black Noir got carried away. She was beyond interesting and he quickly realized Vought hadn’t entirely figured her out. The long dark hours of night rushed by.

...

“Good morning, Sarah,” her good friend and co-worker glanced over, a wide smile stamped on her face.

She smiled, “Hey Martha, how’s it going?”

The young woman sauntered over with Sarah’s usual order of coffee. Leaning on her desk, she watched her remove her coat. “Well, I’m alright. How are you?”

Confused, she sent her a questioning look.

“Let me elaborate,” Martha paused for emphasis, “did you meet someone?”

Sarah stood still for a moment and shook her head. “No.”

Martha stared closely at her, and after detecting no lie, walked back over to her own desk. Braving the chaos of telemarketers and publicists in the office, she called over to her, “Well, Ms. Burns, get ready for quite the surprise.”

Still confused and tired of Martha’s antics, the woman brushed it off and finally sat down. Slipping her glasses on, she powered on her computer. It was time to begin another day on the job.

But not even two minutes later, everyone’s work in the office was interrupted. A team of people walked in carrying a great amount of flowers. The man at the head of the line called out, “Ms. Burns?”

Shocked, the woman in question timidly raised her hand, “Here.”

Once they’d pinpointed her workspace, they walked over. With great order and coordination, they placed the bouquets around her. One bouquet in a beautifully molded vase was delicately placed on her desk.

Once they were satisfied with the way they’d arranged the lot of lilies, the same man who’d called her name wished her a good day. They left as quickly as they’d come. She was still sitting there, looking around at the flowers. Oriental lilies. Her favorites.

Sarah soon realized how quiet the room was, compared to the usual busy and boisterous attitudes of her co-workers. There was whispering, sure, but mostly everyone was trying to gauge her reaction. She reached out to the bouquet on her desk. A white tag was tied to a stem. From B.N.

Martha came back over. “The front desk called up saying there was a flower delivery for you right before you clocked in. Didn’t know they meant the whole flower store.”

She took in her friend’s reaction before proceeding, “So, do you know who they’re from? Because it sure looks like you left a lasting impression.”

Sarah looked up at her bewildered and slipped off her glasses. “I didn’t meet anyone, Martha. I spent the weekend holed up at home studying... you know I have exams coming up.”

“Well, then you’ve got yourself a secret admirer,” she confirmed excitedly. “These are some nice flowers, girl.”

She answered distractedly, “I know.” Her mind was running through possible matches for the mysterious B.N. She came up empty-handed.

Slowly, people went back to the projects they’d been working on. Martha, too, went back to her desk with the promise of eating lunch together.

Only Sarah was too distracted to get any real work done. Try as she might, her eyes kept flitting over to the white tag sitting daintily amid the flowers.

Black Noir watched her every chance he got. He knew it wasn’t right. He knew it could be chalked up as stalking. In fact, it was stalking. But he did it anyway.

Every waking minute, his mind was consumed by thoughts of Sarah Burns.

He took particular care in learning her habits and routine. He made sure she made it to the office every morning and back home safely every night. While she slept, he stayed perched outside in the shadows as a secret guardian. A psychotic, silent and secretly obsessed guardian. He’d never let anything happen to her. In little time, he felt closer to the young woman than to anyone else in his life. He’d never cared like this, and this new feeling utterly consumed him with worry and a need to protect.

He wanted to fulfill her every desire. More than anything, he wanted to simply sit by her and breathe in her presence, once more. Maybe somebody as radiant as her could save a being as dull as him.

One day, he followed her to the lost-and-found board in the right wing of the building. Sarah had gone to report a missing earring, one of the dangling pair she had worn the night of the gala. As she left, she greeted him with a soft smile. He’d tensed and soon relaxed at the sound of her voice. She’d talked to him. He simply nodded, almost imperceptibly, but her smile had widened, nonetheless.

Two days later, he’d leave a small package on her doorstep. He’d stolen it from a prominent jewelry store in the city the night before as a substitute for the ones she had lost. They weren’t the exact same earrings, but they were a close match. When she opened the box, she was speechless... and slightly uneasy. The same two letters were printed on a pristine white tag. B.N.

She spent the evening wondering who this mysterious person could be. He, or she as Martha had pointed out, knew where she worked and lived. She was flattered, really. And yet, she couldn’t help but worry.

That night she checked her locks twice before falling asleep on her couch.

Many other gifts followed those first flowers and earrings. There were two tickets to the first showing of a Broadway musical that Black Noir had bought when he discovered this passion of hers. More flowers were brought up to her work desk as well as her home. Always signed as B.N.

In fact, it was starting to drive her insane. Did she have a stalker? Was it actually just a timid co-worker who didn’t know how to approach you? Little did she know, he was both.

She had her mind set on it being someone who worked at Vought, but still, she couldn’t be sure. Black Noir could read the uncertainty in her stance every time she found a gift; he wondered if this was the wrong way to approach her. Nevertheless, he had no other way of contacting her. This was his indirect way of showing his attachment, this intense sense of belonging he felt towards her. And in turn, he felt that Sarah was his to protect and watch over.

As the days went on, Sarah grew anxious, and fear began to filter into her thoughts. Was this a scare tactic? Shouldn’t they be sending threats instead of gifts? Did Vought know who she really is? Was someone tailing her?

While Black Noir had caught onto the inconsistencies in her file, he had yet to figure out her identity. And he surely hadn’t been appointed by Vought to watch her. No, this was all voluntary. In less than a week, Sarah Burns had become his secret obsession.

PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

Giulia

#the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #black noir #fanfiction #requests are open #the boys season #the boys season 2

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stahlop · 4 years

Text

Making a Memory (5/?)

Well, here we are. Chapter 5. This chapter was a beast to write. Hopefully, you'll be satisfied with the answers this chapter provides.

Thanks again to my betas, @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite. I thought they were going to hack this chapter with a machete. Turns out, they wanted me to add a bit more. So that was amazing to hear.

Check out the banner artwork by @gingerchangeling. There is also artwork by @mariakov81 at the end of this chapter.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1 2 3 4

Ao3

Defeating Gideon had been surprisingly easy, if Emma called sacrificing herself and hoping to God and any other gods that were around that her sacrifice meant she would get to live her Happy Beginning with her family and new husband, despite having just been stabbed in the gut. And thank goodness it was True Love’s Kiss worthy, because Emma really hadn’t wanted to die. And considering that was the final battle, she felt it was the least scary out of everything they’d had to face in the past. The Black Fairy just preened and monologued most of the time, while Gideon had his heart stolen, so she couldn’t blame him for him wanting to kill her (she had immediately asked Belle to put a protection spell on his heart, like Regina had with Henry and she had with Hook after their hearts had been taken, which Belle readily agreed to).

But now life was… well it was normal. And normal was not something Emma Swan-Jones (yes, she was hyphenating) had seen in the past few years. And it was... strange. It was strange living a perfectly normal life with Captain Hook as her husband, who insisted on using the iPad to find healthy recipes for dinner since he knew she would eat Pop Tarts or bear claws for breakfast and Granny’s for lunch. It was weird seeing him just lounging about in sleep pants on the weekends when they weren’t working (thankfully, David still worked weekends for them so they could have time for themselves along with the actual Three Musketeers spread throughout the week, who made pretty good deputies), or taking her and Henry out on the Jolly Roger to go fishing, or any other number of domestic fantasies she’d once had about idyllic life in Maine. What wasn’t strange was after a year of domestic bliss when the stick had shown the words ‘pregnant’ and she hadn’t freaked out about it whatsoever.

Because there hadn’t been any danger in over a year, which was the longest the town had gone since she’d arrived. Nothing, nada, zero, zip, zilch. Just some bad dreams which was to be expected after everything they’d gone through in such a short amount of time. And which had made her and Killian a little more carefree. It wasn’t as if they were getting any younger. She was pushing 32 and Killian was… well, they’d agreed he’d be 36 according to the paperwork Regina had magically made for him. Killian hadn’t taken kindly to being on the closer end of 40, but Emma had insisted that it just made him more worldly, and if they did ever venture outside of Storybrooke, he could freely talk about things he had done in context with his age. And now parenthood was going to be part of that.

“When does it get to the good stuff?” Hope huffed, interrupting Henry’s reading of the epilogue of his book. They were sitting in a tent in the woods only a few miles from where Henry was going to meet their parents later that day. Alice seemed to be having the time of her life, completely enthralled with the sequel to her favorite book, which seemed to be the real life account and love story of their parents and the defeat of multiple villains, until the final battle happened three years after Henry brought her to town. She’d read it the entire drive to the campsite and Hope had discovered she was a very enthusiastic reader. She constantly yelled or gasped or cried at something that happened in the book. Hope had gotten a chance to read much of it last night and the rest when the sunlight filtered into their tent that morning. She’d always been an early riser, unlike her mother and Henry. Hope had to admit it had been a fun adventure tale, (although the first few chapters chronicling the first year Emma had been in the town of Storybrooke had been pretty boring and in the last few chapter everyone seemed wildly out of character), but she wasn’t sure if she actually believed this was a true account of anything, like Alice and Henry did. Henry had insisted that he read the final chapter to them together, so they could understand what had happened.

“Not every chapter needs to be action packed or full of chase scenes.” Henry admonished her. “Besides, don’t you want to hear about what happened after your parents' Happy Beginning?” Alice clapped giddily while Hope rolled her eyes. Henry had always been a bit dramatic growing up, but Hope still couldn’t wrap her head around this whole fairytale business Henry was trying to sell her.

Killian was ecstatic to learn he was going to be a father. Although, after everything he’d been through, the thought of having a child was a little daunting. He’d never imagined he would ever become a father. Of course, he and Milah had discussed it, but having a baby while being a pirate would never have worked. Once she had died he’d never even considered it until he met Emma. And now it had finally come to pass that he was being given the opportunity to become a father. He already knew having a child would be the greatest adventure he’d have in his life.

Of course, when the ultrasound indicated they were not only having a girl, but two of them, Killian’s head went a little fuzzy and he had to sit down with his head between his legs so he wouldn’t pass out (Emma had teased him about it for days after and brought it up to everyone they came across).

Twins!

They were having twins. When he’d finally got his head on straight he picked Emma up in his arms (again reminding her he’d carried rum barrels bigger than her) and twirled her around. He was excited, so excited. Not only was he going to get the chance to be a father, but he’d get to do it twice in one go! His dreams quickly became consumed by little girls with his hair and Emma’s eyes, or Emma’s hair and his eyes. They’d be sailing, play sword fighting, drawing, all the things he wanted to teach them. They quickly agreed on names for the two girls. Alice for his mother and Hope because of everything they had gone through and the hope that had gotten them through. Emma had insisted that they use the names Cleo and Margaret for middle names, to honor two influential women in her life. So, from then on, Baby A became Alice Margaret, and Baby B was Hope Cleo. For the next few months everything was complete bliss.

When Emma hit her third trimester, her mother, knowing that twins could come early, insisted on hosting Emma a baby shower. Emma agreed on the condition that it was a small affair. No grand balls or carnivals like she was wont to do. And so, on a sweltering hot day in early September, Emma entered Granny’s which had been closed down just for them, to find a large group of women waiting for her. Snow had stayed true to her word and not invited the whole town. Emma was relieved to see many familiar faces, including Ruby and Dorothy who had used the ruby slippers to come to the event, Belle who had brought a two-year-old baby Gideon with her (even though it still freaked Emma out slightly that this tiny child had once tried to kill her), Ashley and Aurora with their broods (they had both added one more child over the past few years), Elsa and Anna, and even Mulan had made the trip, though her girlfriend, Merida, had refused the invitation, Emma couldn’t blame her since she’d only known Emma when she was dark.

Things had been going great. Regina had made her lasagna, much to Granny’s chagrin. Zelena was even giving helpful tips despite Emma having sped up her pregnancy (she reminded Emma that she had done midwifery research when she’d first come to town). It was nice that everyone in town was actually getting along despite the terrifying last few years. Emma really shouldn’t have been surprised when it all went to hell.

Alice gasped so loudly that Hope actually jumped from her seated position on the tent. Her heart had immediately started pounding in her chest.

“Geez, Alice!” Hope said perturbed. “Lighten up. It’s just a story.”

“It’s not just a story.” Alice argued. “We’re reading about our mother. If anything, you should be the one more concerned as you got to actually grow up with her.” She sniffled as her anger gave way to tears. Hope almost wanted to roll her eyes, but she knew how strongly Alice felt about this all being real. Hope still wasn’t sure what Henry’s endgame was here, but she did know that she and Alice were sisters. She knew that with every fiber of her being. But Snow White and Prince Charming were their grandparents? The Evil Queen had cast a spell to bring them all to their land to get her happy ending? Their mother was married to Captain Hook (considering Alice knew her father had a false hand, she seemed quite surprised that’s who their father turned out to be), a former villain turned hero? It all seemed a bit much. She hoped there would be a simpler explanation somewhere down the road, but she was determined to let Henry play out his little fantasy for the time being until he brought their parents to them later that day.

“I’m sorry.” Hope sighed, placating Alice. “Please continue, Henry.”

A swirl of golden smoke appeared in front of them. Emma immediately went on the defensive, a ball of white light forming in her hand. She could see Regina conjuring a fireball at the strange plume of smoke and out of the corner of her eye she saw Granny duck behind the counter for her crossbow.

As the figure in the smoke came into view, Emma took in the mass of dark curls framing an olive face from under a black hood. The woman had big eyes with heavy lids and red lips that almost put Ruby’s to shame. Her burgundy gown seemed out of place for the modern town of Storybrooke, in that it looked like it belonged more in Camelot than even the Enchanted Forest. It was trimmed in the exact same shade of gold that her swirl of smoke had been. Emma realized she’d been staring too long at the woman who had just crashed her baby shower, but she had the overwhelming sensation thrumming through her body that she knew this woman somehow.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Emma growled at the woman who had made no attempt to do anything after her grand entrance. The room had gone impossibly quiet. Even the children who had attended with their mothers weren’t making a peep. Granny still stood behind the counter, crossbow in hand, but she too wasn’t making any comments. Regina still had a fireball ready to go, it’s fire crackling at her fingertips, but nothing else happened.

“I’ve slowed down time.” The woman said with a deep voice, one that seemed as soothing as a lullaby, but chilled Emma to the bone. The voice seemed familiar to her as well, although she couldn’t recall from where. “They can’t perceive what we are doing right now, but that’s why they’re not responding to me and only you know what’s going on.” The woman smirked at her. Emma had the impression she was supposed to be impressed.

She wasn’t.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time.” Emma said, using all her strength to pull her hand back, a ball of magic swirling within. Her other hand instinctively went over her stomach to shield her children. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Oh, my sweet dear.” The woman said in what Emma assumed was supposed to be a motherly tone. It sounded sweet and calming, but Emma could hear the evil lurking underneath. “Haven’t your dreams told you why I’m here yet?”

A cold chill ran down Emma’s spine as she realized how she knew this woman. She’d been in her dreams! Floating above her, the woman would chase her through the streets of Storybrooke threatening to take something from her. Something that would…. make the woman stronger, if she recalled the dream correctly.. Emma had dismissed it as an anxiety dream; the woman representing any number of villains that could spring up and ruin her happiness. But here she was, in the flesh, and already Emma had failed to protect anyone around her.

“You asked why I was here.” The woman said, her voice suddenly going from calm and soothing to cold and calculating. It now sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Emma’s ears and she couldn’t suppress another shiver that ran down her body. The woman gave a simpering smile at her. It made Emma sick to her stomach. She still had her magic at the ready though. She was not giving this woman an inch.

“My name is Gothel…”

“Like from Rapunzel?” Emma spoke without even thinking. Gothel turned to her slightly frazzled from Emma’s outburst, but schooled her features back to the smile that creeped Emma out to no end.

“I have never bartered a child for greens, nor kept one in my tower. Nor have I kept a child in my tower to keep my youth.” She said menacingly, her face pinched. “Yes, I have done my research into what your realm thinks of me.” Gothel’s features changed back to look like a woman who would dote on a child rather than hold one against their will. “I am simply an ordinary elemental witch. Content to commune with the four elements and let them use me for what they need.”

Emma did not miss what she had said.

“And what do the elements need?” Emma was quickly losing her patience. And she had to pee. Two babies didn’t leave a lot of room for her bladder.

Gothel smiled at her. “I knew you’d understand.” She practically purred. “It’s not what they need, Emma dear, but what they have told me. Some very disturbing things they have told me, and unfortunately for you, it means that your children are a danger to me.” Her blue-gray eyes flashed almost black. She slowly made her way up behind Emma and spoke directly into her ear. “This is not a warning, this is an absolute truth. Enjoy what little time you and your children will have together, because I will not let the whispers come true.” And with that Gothel poofed out of the diner in her golden smoke.

Immediately, the patrons of the party sprang back to life, almost speeding up comically. Everyone looked around for whomever had come from the golden smoke, but all they saw was Emma crumpling to the ground holding her stomach and sobbing.

Alice gasped as Henry read the last part and grabbed Hope’s hand, as if the move would comfort her as well. Hope was in no need of comforting. She just wanted to get to the end of the story so she could understand. The story was taking place in early September and Hope knew they were born in late September so there was no suspense if this was supposed to be about their birth. She knew her mother was alive and well, so she knew nothing bad was going to happen to her. This all just seemed... redundant.

She could see Henry staring at her, gauging her reaction. Alice seemed close to tears and Hope couldn’t understand why. She’d never even met her mother.

“So what is this evil supposed to represent, an almost miscarriage? We were born, so obviously everything is okay.” She rolled her eyes at both Henry’s eagerness and Alice’s sadness.

“Wow!” said Henry with a shocked expression that then turned into a smile. “You really are just like mom. She didn’t believe me either.” He looked back down at the book, preparing to continue reading. “Don’t worry, the interesting part is coming up.”

Being at the hospital, not knowing what was happening to her or her babies was the scariest thing Emma had ever faced in her life. And that was saying a lot considering everything she’d faced. But she wouldn’t know how to even look at Killian if they lost their girls. The men had gone out on the Jolly Roger during the party, taking a pleasure cruise, so to speak, so Regina had to poof out to them to let them know what had happened. Killian came rushing into her room, and grabbed her hand, and a fresh wave of tears spilled down her face.

The barrage of questions came from his lips immediately. “Are you okay? Are the babies okay? What did the doctor say? What happened? Is there a new villain? Are you okay?” It actually made Emma’s heart sing, the level of concern he had for her.

“I think I’m okay, same with the babies. Whale just assessed me to make sure I had nothing external wrong. We’re going to do an ultrasound to make sure the babies are good.” She paused for a moment, dragging his hand to her cheek, something that always soothed her. “It seems there is a new villain in town. Her name is Gothel.” He quirked an eyebrow since she had shown him Tangled. Gothel had not been anyone he’d ever come across in his travels, so they’d figured she’d been made up for the story. “She said our babies are a danger to her and she won’t let whatever is supposed to happen, happen. She said this wasn’t a warning. Just the truth.” Her voice started to waiver again.

Killian pressed a kiss to her forehead as she let the tears fall again. How many times was she going to put him through this? How many times was there going to be danger that he could do nothing to prevent from happening? But instead of comforting her some more or telling her everything would be okay like he was prone to do, he stood up, his body vibrating with anger, his hand pulled away and fisted on his jeans.

“I’m going to talk to the Blue Fairy.” He said suddenly. “After Whale tells us that the girls are alright, because they are going to be alright, Swan. This...Gothel... wouldn’t have told you that they’d be a danger to her if they weren’t going to be okay. This was a scare tactic. An intimidation. And I will not have my family worried about some impending doom. We’ve come too far for this to happen now.” Emma reached for his hook and pulled him toward her.

“Just stay with me for now. We’ll worry about this when we know everything is alright.”

But according to the Blue Fairy it wasn’t alright.

“Well, she’s definitely more than an elemental witch.” Emma and Killian stood in the Blue Fairy’s office, which was covered with large tomes, smaller books, and even a few scrolls.

“So you’ve heard of her then?” Killian asked darkly.

“Yes and no. She goes by many names, Gothel being one of them. Gothel actually means godmother and being an elemental witch means she’s most likely descended from a forest nymph or dryad. Possibly even from Gaia herself.” Emma saw Killian immediately get a worried look on his face.

“I take it Gaia is bad?” Emma asked, suddenly feeling the weight of not finishing high school or going to college coming back to rear its ugly head at her. Killian grimaced and she could see him thinking of the best way to tell her what she was not understanding.

“Gaia means earth in Greek.” He stated plainly. It didn’t take Emma nearly as long to figure out what that meant as she thought it would.

“Wait! You think Gothel is descended from Mother Earth?” she exclaimed.

“I think she’s exactly who she says she is,” the Blue Fairy said before Emma could spiral out. “But I think she’s a lot more powerful than she’s letting on.” She paused and gave a sigh before continuing on. “I found a prophecy in an old book. Probably as old as me. I think it’s the prophecy that Gothel is alluding to, but I need to study it first before I decide if it actually pertains to you. I don’t want to mislead you or give you false hope or false terror if it’s not the correct one.”

Emma wanted to rip the paper out of the Blue Fairy’s to read what it said. She could feel Killian tense up next to her, most likely thinking the same thing. But she calmed herself. How many times had she ‘jumped to conclusions’ before examining all the evidence first? It was one of her biggest flaws when she first started sheriffing and she wasn’t going to start doing it again. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

“Okay.” Emma said, squeezing Killian’s hand to let him know that they needed to let the Blue Fairy do her job. “We’ll trust your judgement. Just let us know as soon as possible so we can come up with some sort of a plan. In the meantime,” Emma said, turning toward Killian. “I’ll put a protection spell around our house, the bug, and the sheriff station.” She turned back to the Blue Fairy. “Do you know of any protection spells we can use on ourselves or the twins?”

The Blue Fairy shook her head. “Unfortunately, protection spells can only protect objects and people within them. And you know from personal experience that they aren’t one-hundred percent effective.” The Blue Fairy said. Emma nodded, remembering her experience with Regina and her mother, Cora, in Gold’s shop years ago.

“Here.” The Blue Fairy said, conjuring up some chalk and pressing it into her hands. “This might help. It’s infused with fairy dust. It may look like glittery chalk, but it’ll have a little more kick to it than a spell and regular chalk.” Emma squeezed it and mouthed a silent ‘thanks’ to the Blue Fairy. Killian gave a slight bow.

“Thank you Lady Blue.” he said before they turned and left.

Hope was about to scream into her pillow. She checked her watch, noting that there was another hour before Henry had to leave to meet her mother and Alice’s father. She wondered if this epilogue would ever get to the point. She still had no clue why she and Alice had been separated and why their ‘parents’ didn’t remember each other. This whole thing was getting more and more absurd by the moment. Now Gothel had been brought into it? She remembered seeing that movie as a kid and not really thinking that Gothel had been a subpar villain compared to some of the other Disney villains out there. She knew in the real version the witch had no purpose for taking the baby except in trade. But in Henry’s version it was seeming like she had no real connection except for a random prophecy. Now she felt like they were veering into Harry Potter territory.

Henry must have sensed her frustration, again, because he paused his reading to stare at her. “I promise, Hope, this will all make sense soon,” was all he said before diving back into the book.

Emma and Killian spent the next few weeks in fear. The twins weren’t due until mid-October and they had no idea if Gothel would come around again. Both Emma and Killian, plus the Blue Fairy, Regina, Gold and David had been trying to figure out where Gothel had come from and how she had gotten into Storybrooke. Once they realized that the waters that came from the well were the same waters in Lake Nostos, Tiny had managed to take some of the burned beans he’d saved from years ago and restore them. They now had plenty of beans to make portals to go all over the realms again, but they were highly regulated by David, Snow, and Regina. People in Storybrooke could travel by portal, but, as far as anyone in town knew, no one from any other realm could travel to them. Usually someone from Storybrooke took a portal to the other realm, gave them a bean and took another portal home. They didn’t want beans falling into the wrong hands and becoming a black market trade item again. Of course, there always seemed to be beans regardless. But, there were only a few select people who knew about Storybrooke. How in the world would Gothel know about them and how in the world would she find them?

While everyone else was working on the Gothel problem, Killian had discovered online that some really rare phenomena were going to be happening in the night sky. “There a Harvest Moon tonight!” he yelled animatedly. “I wonder if it will be orange like a true Harvest Moon or red like the Blood Moon?” Emma loved when he got passionate about astronomy, the man who was once guided by the stars. “It’s also a Super Moon,” He said almost in a teacher-like voice, “because it’s so close to your realm. And….” he paused for what Emma assumed he felt was an even more amazing discovery “It’s also a lunar eclipse!” Killian grinned widely. “Even in my hundreds of years, Swan, I’ve never seen anything like this!”. Emma could only hope that she’d be able to stay awake for it.

Killian had just started cooking an early dinner so they could just gaze at the night sky when the first contraction hit.

“Are you okay, Emma?” Killian dropped the mixing spoon and ran over to her.

“I…I think I just had a contraction.” Emma was concerned. The babies weren’t due for another month, but she also knew twins could come early.

“Do we need to head to the hospital?” Killian asked, clearly nervous and concerned.

“No.” She said, kissing him on the cheek. “Water hasn’t even broken yet. Let’s have dinner. Lord knows they won’t let me eat in the hospital while I’m in labor.” Emma was surprised at how calm she was over this. Considering the last time she’d given birth she’d been chained to the bed and not even taken a look at Henry, she was feeling very empowered. Being in charge of her pregnancy the way she wanted to be had a way of doing that. They sat down to eat for their last meal as a family of two (Henry was at Regina’s, but they’d both be at the hospital when they felt it was time to go), when the contractions started ramping up.

“I think it’s time to head to the hospital.” Emma said. Killian grabbed the go bag that they’d packed and headed to his old Jeep Cherokee they’d bought on a trip to Boston.

“That’s what kind of car Papa drives!” Alice exclaimed, interrupting Henry just as the tension was getting good.

Henry smiled at her. Hope was feeling something akin to anticipation. She felt like they were finally getting somewhere in the story with their impending births. She knew that had to reveal something.

“Are you alright, Hope?” Henry asked, concerned. “You’ve been really quiet.”

“I just want to finish the book!” She said through gritted teeth. She really needed to know how this pertained to them, and all of Alice’s disruptions were starting to grate on her nerves.

Henry nodded at her and Alice and continued.

Alice Margaret Swan-Jones arrived at 9:07 on September 27th, 2015. The lights flickered around the hospital on Emma’s final push. Whale had been concerned (once Alice had been bundled up and placed in Emma’s arms) that it could have been Gothel, but Emma assured him that it was most likely her magic, and that the same thing had happened when Henry was born, only she hadn’t been aware it was her magic at the time.

There was a perfect view of the eclipse from the window in their room. Emma and Killian watched as the almost blood red moon traveled across the sky and then disappeared when it was caught in the Earth’s shadow. Emma was glad she had this rare occurrence, plus her new daughter to keep her mind busy while she waited for her other daughter to make her appearance. Hope seemed to be taking her time, and it was making Emma nervous. She knew she could ask Killian to invite Henry and her parents and any other number of people who were anxiously awaiting updates into her room to meet Alcie, but she really wanted to wait until both babies were out. Whale had also started talking about a c-section if Hope didn’t make her presence known soon, as twins usually were born within minutes of each other, not hours. Right as the moon started to peak out from the shadow of the Earth, a huge contraction hit Emma again. It seemed Hope was finally ready.

Hope Cleo Swan-Jones was welcomed into the world at 12:27 on September 28th, 2015. Emma and Killian were astounded when they realized that their girls were born on separate days, but they were just thrilled that they were safe and healthy. Emma had almost hoped her relatives and friends had gone home instead of waiting around, but they were all there, ready to see the newest additions to the Swan-Jones clan.

Henry insisted he be the first to see his new sisters, followed by Snow and David. Even Regina was permitted to hold them, something Emma could see she cherished, being allowed to be part of their family. It was almost three in the morning by the time everyone started to filter out and the Blue Fairy arrived, a look of despair written on her face.

“What is it?” Killian immediately asked. He had Alice in his arms and hugged her protectively.

“The prophecy is as I feared.” She looked down at the floor, almost as if the prophecy she suspected belonged to them was her fault.

“How can you be sure?” Emma asked. She had been drowsy just a few seconds ago, but now it was if caffeine had been put into her IV drip.

The Blue Fairy pulled out a thin piece of parchment from thin air and handed it to them. It was written in an elegant script, something Emma would associate more with a love letter rather than a prophecy.

When the moon becomes red with blood,

And darkness covers the land

Two will be born.

One ere the witching hour and one hind

To conquer nature’s sinister conjurer

By separation will make stronger

And reconciled on the day and night the true harvest moon meets.

Emma read through it several times, not quite understanding. Her mind was swimming from the events of the day and that adrenaline jolt she’d just had was now coming down. She was desperate to know and understand, but she just couldn’t focus at the moment.

“Killian, take Hope.” And she immediately passed out.

“Is it over?” Hope wondered, thinking that was an odd place to end the epilogue.

“Almost.” said Henry, but before continuing on he asked, “Did you understand the prophecy?”

Hope thought about it. “The moon becoming red with blood and the darkness is obviously the Harvest Moon and lunar eclipse,” she said.

“And the witching hour is usually midnight.” Alice interjected. “So it’s saying one would be born before midnight and the other after, just like we were.” But I’m not sure about the rest.” Alice frowned.

“Well then.” Henry said, noting that there were only a few pages left until the book was finished. “Let’s see what we can find out.”

Emma awoke to sunlight streaming in her window and Killian and the Blue Fairy deep in a whispered conversation. At first she was confused about why the Blue Fairy was in their bedroom, but as her arm hit the guard rail of her bed, she remembered that she’d given birth to the twins that night. She quickly turned to see the girls both sleeping soundly in their bassinets to the side of her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ah! There’s the happy little mother!” Killian whispered loudly and got up to kiss her on the forehead.

“What have you learned?” Emma asked, keen to understand the prophecy and how to defeat Gothel.

“Well, we know this prophecy pertains to us because it mentions the twins and the fact that they’d be born last night on either side of the eclipse during the Harvest Moon. All that business in the sky last night was apparently a welcoming celebration for them.” Killian joked halfheartedly.

Emma shook her head to clear away the last vestiges of sleep that clung to her.

“May I see the prophecy, please?” She asked, holding out her hand for the parchment. The Blue Fairy handed it to her. Both she and Killian tried to say something about it, but Emma put out her hand to stop them. She needed to look at the prophecy and come to her own conclusions before she heard what they had to say.

“Okay. I understand that the first half pertains to our girls, but what about the second half? Nature’s sinister conjurer seems to be a fancy way of saying Gothel. Being separated from something makes her stronger? And what does it mean by a true Harvest Moon?”

Killian stepped forward and took the prophecy back from Emma’s hand. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out, love. The Blue Fairy and I have already hypothesized what it could mean. But, don’t forget, prophecies don’t necessarily mean what you think they mean.” He placed the prophecy down on the side table and took a picture of it with his phone so they could study it more later.

“So what do you hypothesize then?” Emma asked curiously. Her brain was still too muddled to even guess at what the second half could mean.

“Well,” the Blue Fairy began, “judging from her cryptic message at your shower, we think that she thinks your twins can do some damage to her, or vanquish her in some way. Nobody seems to have heard of her in any other realm that I’ve been able to reach out to. And the only Gothel people know of here is the Rapunzel fairy tale, which, from all accounts, seems to have been completely made up and not based in any truth.”

It didn’t make any sense to Emma. Why would a seemingly low-level witch, that didn’t seem to have made any sort of name for herself in either the good or evil camp, want to hurt her children? Why would a prophecy be written about her children defeating this unknown witch, who by all accounts hadn’t done anything to anyone yet?

Yet.

“Have you looked into other prophecies that might pertain to Gothel? Anything about an elemental witch or nature’s sinister conjurer like our prophecy calls her? Maybe she hasn’t turned evil yet. Or maybe this whole thing leads her to turning evil.” Emma said, letting her thoughts take over.

“A self-fulfilling prophecy you mean?” Killian asked. Emma could see his mind working. “Like that Oedipus Rex fellow who killed his own father and married his mother?” Emma laughed at one of the few outside of fairy tale literary references she actually recognized. She was about to say something when a loud wail pierced the air.

“Looks like one of our little ladies has awoken from her slumber.” Killian said, walking over to the bassinet and picking up Alice, who was practically eating her fist.

“She’s hungry.” Emma said, holding out her arms for Killian to put Alice in. The Blue Fairy rose and told them she’d look into other prophecies that might pertain to Gothel. Emma got Alice all ready to nurse when another wail was heard.

“Ready to try and change a diaper?” A nurse said, entering the room. Emma laughed at the horror-stricken look upon Killian’s face.

Hope let out a deep sigh. This epilogue was getting them nowhere, and it was too long. Hadn’t anyone ever told Henry that the epilogue should wrap things up and not bore the reader? But Henry wasn’t paying attention to her, nor was Alice. They were totally engrossed in the story that Henry was reading. Hope checked her watch and noticed that Henry would need to leave in half an hour. She really hoped the story would be finished by then, though that seemed impossible at this rate.

It was two years before Gothel made herself known again.

Two years in which the twins learned to crawl, and walk, and talk, and gained teeth, and grew hair, and had their own little personalities.

Two years in which Snow insisted on getting as many pictures of the girls as possible in matching outfits that she insisted on buying for them.

Two years of Henry writing down every small story that happened and filling books as the author.

Two years of silence in which Gothel was almost forgotten.

Almost.

It was a month after the twins turned two that the Blue Fairy started hearing whispers from the Enchanted Forest about a new evil that had taken root. Just small things at first, nothing she even felt was necessary to tell Emma and Killian about. A spark that ignited a forest fire, but no casualties. Spells that seemed to have gone wrong leading to bad weather, or higher or lower tides that affected the lands. But then, the reports escalated to the decimating of crops, the killing of livestock, the burning of entire forests. It seemed the ‘elemental’ witch was using the elements to drive out the citizens of what she was now calling ‘her’ forest.

Emma had started having nightmares about her daughters being taken away from her, or trapped in a tower that she couldn’t reach. The worst were the dreams where she and Killian and the twins were separated and she couldn’t find them all to put their family back together. She would cling to Killian crying while he stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, reminding her that they were safe, while showing her their sleeping girls in their cribs through the baby monitor.

After one such night, Emma and Killian were rudely awoken by a pounding on their front door. This immediately set the twins off, which is why Emma was very rude when she flung the door open.

“WHAT THE….” she started, but then saw the Blue Fairy standing before her looking as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. Her clothes were wrinkled, her eyes had purple circles around them, and her usually neat and tidy hair looked like she’d stuck her fingers in an electrical socket.

“I’ve figured it out.” She said, not waiting for an invitation into the house, but just barging in and heading to the kitchen table.

Emma looked perplexed as Killian came in holding both girls on either side of him. He handed Hope to Emma while he put Alice in her high chair.

“Figured out the prophecy?” Killian asked, gathering items to make breakfast for them all.

The Blue Fairy nodded.“Everything! Who Gothel is. Why she’s after you. Why we haven’t been able to find anything about her previously!” Emma barely remembered to place Hope in her high chair before sitting down, her mind whirling.

“I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out why and how she came to you two years ago, when she was unknown to anyone. It didn’t make any sense. Even the prophecy I found was written by a seer only a few months before Gothel came to you. And then there was only recent happenings that suggested that Gothel was fairly new, so I went to the Enchanted Forest and consulted with an Oracle.” She paused, Emma inferred, to collect her thoughts.

“The Gothel that came to see you was much more powerful than the Gothel that is currently trying to terrorize the Enchanted Forest. She was able to cross realms and slow down time. Not even Regina or the Dark One at the heights of their power could do something like that. Rumplestiltskin had to get Regina to curse the entire Enchanted Forest in order to cross realms. Gothel, at this point and time does not have the capability to do this.” Hope banged on her tray, startling them all.

“You’re saying at this point and time.” Killian said as he cracked eggs for breakfast. Emma had to admire how he could stay so domestic while being told about someone who was trying to harm their children. “I’m assuming that’s not just for dramatic effect.”

“You would be correct. The Gothel that visited you came from the future. That child she bartered for in her story? Used to make the same kind of time traveling spell Zelena attempted to do. According to the Oracle, she’s been studying up on you and your family ever since she came into possession of the prophecy and figured out who was going to destroy her. It seems she’ll become quite the vicious ruler, even worse than Regina, if that’s possible. She’s trying to recover the land of her foremothers by ridding it of all humans. It seems our theory about her being a descendent of Gaia is true and she’s reclaiming Gaia’s land for all elemental witches because we have destroyed it too much for her liking.”

Emma tried to wrap her head around what the Blue Fairy was telling her. A very sizable foe had traveled back in time for the express purpose of warning her that her daughters were a threat and that she would be coming after them because of a prophecy. She knew she must be missing something, because she was feeling very much like Harry Potter learning about why Voldemort had attacked him as a baby, but having not understood that he fulfilled the prophecy just by going after Harry. Had Gothel shown her hand by warning them?

“So, what does all this mean?” Killian asked, bringing over a bowl of scrambled eggs to the table on top of plates for everyone. He scooped some onto the girls trays and then plated some for himself and Emma, the Blue Fairy shaking her head when he offered her some.

“It means she’s going to try and separate us all at some point, according to the prophecy.” Emma said matter-of-factly.

A grim mood settled over them, the twins too young to understand happily eating their eggs with their hands.

The Blue Fairy bid them farewell and promised she’d do more research into how to avoid the prophecy, but Emma knew that prophecies were usually unavoidable, but could often be circumvented to a degree.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

It was the next day when Gothel came back. Emma, Regina, and the Blue Fairy used all the magic they could to keep her at bay, but her magic was much too strong. She had all four elements on her side to work with, and their magic was not enough to defeat the original source of magic.

After weeks of Gothel beating the town down with rainstorms, hurricanes, carnivorous plants, and almost anything else from nature that could be thrown at them, it was Regina who finally had the idea for them to leave Storybrooke. Gothel’s magic wouldn’t work outside of the town. Emma was adamant that they stay and fight. She couldn’t leave the people that she loved to fight this witch without her. But even her parents begged her to get out of town after weeks of Gothel attacking them. They’d holed up in Regina’s crypt, protected by blood magic, the one type of magic Gothel didn’t seem to be able to break. But because of the high price blood magic required, they couldn’t use it to protect the whole town.

“It’s the only way, Emma,” Snow and David pleaded with her. “We can let you know when we’ve defeated her or figured out how you and the girls can defeat her. Please.” Snow was crying into Emma’s shoulder. Seeing how much her parents were scared for her finally got her to change her mind. She and Killian packed up all they could into her tiny, yellow bug and into Killian’s Jeep. They would head out of town the next morning. Henry insisted on coming with them, much to Regina’s chagrin. But he was 17 and wanted to see more of the world and help protect his little sisters.

Emma was reminded of their goodbyes at the town line when Pan had cursed the town and she and Henry had to leave while everyone went back to the Enchanted Forest. Only this time, she had her husband and children with her, and the Snow Queen’s Scroll to get them back in when the threat of Gothel was gone. She would still be able to talk to her family and friends on the phone, or even video chat. Everything was going to be okay.

Emma had Hope and Henry waiting in the Bug, while Killian had Alice in his Jeep. They were about to cross the town line when Gothel appeared, floating in front of them. She threw a bolt of her magic below her directly onto the town line stopping them in their tracks, cackling the whole time.

“You think you can run from me and my magic?” She threw her head back in a shriek, her black curls whipping all around her in a black halo.

Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Emma wondered if Gothel had slowed down time again, but she realized it was just the fear of the moment. Emma got out of the car, her magic crackling in her hands.

“This ends now!” Emma said angrily. She was tired of this. Tired of the fear that had hung over them for so long. She just wanted to defeat this bitch and go back to her normal life.

“You wanted to separate yourselves from your family to defeat me, fine! I’ll make sure you are separated from everyone. No one will even remember you were here.” And with that she pulled out a bottle from her dress pocket and uncorked it.

“No one here will remember you and you won’t even remember each other.” The liquid from the bottle had begun to bubble and golden smoke started to pour forth from it. “This whole town will never remember the Swan-Jones family. And you will only know who you leave town with.” Emma’s eyes widened with realization that if they left town she wouldn’t know Killian or Alice, and they wouldn’t know her, Hope, and Henry.

“Emma, Killian, you have to leave!” Regina shouted at them. Snow and David nodded in agreement, tears streaming down their faces. “The prophecy says you’ll defeat her, somehow you’ll figure it out, even without your memories. Now go!”

Emma and Killian looked at each other, both of them now realizing that they would not know each other once they crossed the town line. That their love story would not get a happy ending. And that their twins would both grow up without one of them.

“I love you, Swan.” Killian said from where he stood next to the Jeep, his hand on the handle ready to get back in. “Never forget that.”

Emma nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I love you too. We will have our happy ending.” They smiled at each other, not even having enough time for one last kiss. Emma sat herself in the front seat and the both drove through the golden fog over the town line together.

Emma only vaguely remembered the Jeep that kept up with her most of the way on her trip down to Boston. She was too concerned with how worried Henry seemed to be about their move, probably still reeling from Neal’s death a few weeks prior. She hoped their move to a new place would help him find the peace that he so desperately sought.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

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sociallyawkward--fics · 4 years

Text

Certainly Fucking Feels Like It

Alright!! This is a sequel to this tiny little oneshot I wrote a couple weeks back called I Have Loved You for a Hundred Years (that I didn’t even mean to write in the first place, and I didn’t mean to write this one either but y’all can thank ao3 user MsLalaga, and also while writing this second one I got ideas for a third and fourth one so I’ll just never be free lol, there’s more to come)

Word Count: 4458 words

[ao3 link]

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Geralt expected to be the first one awake the next morning, as usual, but instead when he peeled his eyes open, they were met by a pair of vibrant green irises staring curiously at him over Jaskier’s torso.

“What?” He grunted tiredly, making sure to be quiet enough to wake Jaskier.

Ciri didn’t speak for a few moments. “You… just looked so peaceful. Usually even when meditating, or even sleeping, you look sad or angry.”

Geralt grunted wordlessly and sat up, careful not to jostle Jaskier. “Go back to sleep,” he said softly, reaching over to run a hand through her hair and across her cheek.

She leaned her face into his hand for a moment and pressed an affectionate little peck to the base of his palm before laying back down and cuddling into Jaskier, ashen blonde hair splaying out messily across the abundance of pillows. Geralt sat there for a few minutes until her breathing evened out and just watched the two people who had stolen his heart rest. When he was certain Ciri had fallen back asleep, he carefully slipped out of the bed and quietly padded out of the room.

He forwent his boots or putting on any more layers as he left. He could feel the numerous wards Yennefer had surrounding the building. If someone unsavory or unwanted managed to get in, even his armor wouldn’t save him, then.

Geralt busied himself fixing breakfast for everyone in Yen’s spacious kitchen. It took him a few minutes to orient himself with where everything was, but soon enough he was cooking peacefully and relaxing into the familiar motions he rarely got to use on the Path. He was so focused and relaxed, even, that he actually missed the sound of Yennefer padding in.

“Good morning,” she purred, draping herself at a counter to watch him work.

Geralt stopped himself from jumping or flinching at her unexpected appearance. “Hm.” He grunted.

Out of his peripheral, he saw her roll her eyes. “Come, Geralt. Not even a morning greeting for your old friend?”

Just to be stubborn, he continued to avoid the greeting and moved on with the question he had for her. “Is Ciri going to become immortal and stop ageing through her youth?”

But Yennefer was also nothing if not stubborn. She draped her far-too-fancy nightgown gracefully over the ground and leaned against the counter next to him with her eyebrows raised.

Geralt rolled his eyes and growled out, “Good morning.”

She smiled at him, serene yet teasing. “Magic is a fickle thing,” she responded. “Seeing as it comes from chaos. Magic from love, even moreso. The chaos of love is not something I even will even pretend to understand.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste.

“Yes, we know you dislike that, Yennefer, but we’re talking about more than romantic love, stop making that face. I am not attracted to Roach, and I am certainly not attracted to Cirilla.”

Yennefer sighed as her moment of appreciating her disgust was interrupted. “It’s hard to say,” she said, checking her nails as Geralt began plating the food. “I didn’t sniff her out for traces of magic, I was more preoccupied with your bard and horse. It is possible, yes, that she will halt ageing and forever remain your little teenage daughter. What affect that would have on her, psychologically speaking, I cannot say.”

“Yennefer--”

“But,” she interrupted with a sharp glance. “Tell me, do you love her as much as you do Roach? Or Jaskier? And I mean the same amount, not the same way.”

Geralt resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose as he thought about it. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he had feelings, and Yennefer was asking him what he felt? He wasn’t exactly going to be the king of emotion identification, at this point in time.

“I… think so?”

Yennefer sighed with intense annoyance, but continued. “And how long have you felt this way about her?”

“Since the moment I saw her in the woods,” Geralt said without hesitation. “The moment she looked at me with such trust in her eyes and ran into my arms without a thought otherwise.”

A hint of a smile played at Yennefer’s lips as she turned to grab some drinking glasses from a nearby cupboard. “And tell me, it’s been, oh, a couple months? She’s at an age where children sprout up like beanstalks. Has she grown at all?”

Geralt took a moment to think about it. Jaskier had made a joke the other day about how tall she was getting, but that could have just been his usual teasing. She did seem taller when she hugged him the other day than when she had the first time, though…

“Yes,” Geralt said with uncertainty.

Yennefer helped Geralt carry the dishes of food to her extravagant dining room. “Then she’s probably fine. I’ll check for any magic on her, later, though it may be fuzzy because of her own magic.”

“Elder blood will do that,” Geralt grunted, pouring juice into the cups Yennefer had fetched.

“Now, you tell me something, witcher.”

“Hm?”

“What were they both doing in your room, last night?”

Geralt paused where he was pouring a drink. “Were you spying on us?”

Yennefer waved her hand dismissively with a disarming smile. “Simply checking in on you, you see.”

Geralt hummed and set the pitcher of juice aside. “Ciri had a nightmare.”

“Alright. Why was Jaskier in your room?”

Geralt furrowed his brow and stared at her. “I just said, Ciri had a nightmare.”

Yennefer cocked her head and crossed her legs. “Why didn’t he just take her back to his room to comfort her to sleep? Or her own? She fell asleep just fine without you, otherwise, and it’s not like the fresh sheets would’ve smelled like you. Why did he choose your bed?”

Geralt did not have an answer. Luckily, he did not have to come up with one, as a bright and cheery Ciri and a groggy Jaskier tumbled into the dining room only moments after he started thinking. He only hoped he hadn’t heard any of the conversation beforehand.

Ciri made a beeline for him when she saw and hugged him tight around his waist. Like every time she had hugged him so far, it took him a few seconds of hesitation to get with the program and wrap his arms around her fragile form. She gave him one last tight squeeze before releasing him and skipping over to one of the seats at the table with a fixed plate.

“Thanks for breakfast, Dad,” she chirped, almost unthinkingly.

She didn’t seem to realize what she said, but Geralt certainly wasn’t prepared for the words. He could only have one crisis at a time, dammit. And Yen and Jaskier’s grins directed at him were not helping matters.

Geralt filed that one away to deal with later, and gestured for Jaskier to take a seat. Breakfast was quiet as they devoured food that for once wasn’t heavily salted jerky or a fresh kill roasted half-heartedly over a weak fire in the cold air. Winter was approaching fast, and food was growing scarce, so having a meal like this (and not in an inn, where they had to pay for it) was a refreshing and much-needed change of pace.

About halfway through the meal, Yennefer and Ciri started leaning over their chairs to whisper conspiratorially in each other’s ears, giggling and smiling like children who thought they were getting away with something. Geralt let himself filter the whispers out into background noise instead of eavesdropping, let them have their fun.

“Well, that was a wonderful breakfast,” Jaskier said, far more awake now than he had been before eating. “Thank you, Geralt, for such a wonderful meal! Now, if all of you lovely people would excuse me for several moments, Ciri pulled me out of bed rather abruptly at the smell of good food and I would like to get ready for the day.”

Jaskier rose from the table and trailed from the room, an absent-minded hand dragging across Geralt’s shoulders and neck as he walked past. It was normal for them, and it never met anything before, but for some reason, after last night, the touch felt more, now.

“Geralt?” Ciri asked, startling him out of his thoughts. “Yennefer wanted to take me out to the market today. I was wondering, is that alright?”

Geralt hesitated.

“Oh, come on, Geralt,” Yennefer goaded. “Let her have a girls day, who knows how long it’ll be until I’m able to steal her away for another one.”

“It could be dangerous--”

“I’ll wear my hat!” Ciri blurted. “Or my hood, whatever you want!” She clasped her hands below her chin and gave him the most pitiful look she could muster. “Oh, please, Geralt, please!”

Geralt gave in quickly at that look, ignoring Yennefer’s smug expression. “Alright. But the hat stays on. And you’re not out too long.”

Ciri squealed with excitement and jumped out of her seat to race around the table and wrap her arms around Geralt’s neck. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Geralt couldn’t help the rumble of a chuckle that left his throat at her theatrics. “Go get dressed, Ciri.”

Ciri obediently raced off to do just that. Yennefer turned a smug look on Geralt, like she’d just gotten away with something that Geralt was not going to be happy about.

“No magic,” he said sternly, her look immediately setting him on edge, “unless for self-defense. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Looks like you and the bard will have the whole house to yourselves for a while,” Yennefer said, that self-satisfied look not even bothering to falter. “Perfect to take the time to talk to him about all this.”

Geralt felt his already slow heart stop. Sure, he had told Jaskier last night that they’d discuss it in the morning, but now, in the light of day and not in the private darkness of a bedroom late at night, he suddenly was very against that idea. Plus, hopefully Jaskier had forgotten the whole thing due to the late hour and his heavy eyes.

Yennefer frowned at him. “Stop that. You’re going to talk to him about it.”

Geralt scowled. “Don’t poke through my brain.”

She raised an unimpressed brow. “I don’t have to. I know how you think, and I know that look on your face.” Her face shifted into something a little more understanding. “Look, I understand feelings are exactly easy for you, but the man deserves to know that you’ve accidentally made him immortal and tied your lifelines.”

Geralt sighed. She was right, of course. That didn’t make it any easier.

Yennefer flitted off to ready herself for the day, as well. Geralt went about cleaning the dishes he used as best as he could. Ciri was the first one to come back out into the living spaces of the house, which was both surprising since she was the princess, and also not, considering she didn’t have much and Geralt couldn’t afford to pamper her. Hopefully, Yennefer could get her some nice things, even if it would make travelling a little harder with the heavier load.

Jaskier and Yennefer came back out at the same time, appearances both immaculate. They still somehow found ways to spout insults at each other, but Geralt knew better than to pay them mind, now.

“Come, Ciri,” Yennefer said, eventually extracting herself from the friendly insult-war. “Let’s have our girls’ day.”

Ciri bounced after Yennefer and shot Geralt a smug look, and Geralt immediately knew that she knew. Yennefer gave him a matching look as she herded Ciri out the front door.

“Talk to him,” she said obviously, and the door shut behind them.

“Talk to me about what?” Jaskier asked from behind him.

Geralt, predictably, chickened out. “Would you like more breakfast?” He asked, voice strained. “I think I’m still hungry, as well.” And he fled to the kitchen.

Jaskier followed him, albeit at a slower pace. “You’re avoiding,” he said.

“Jaskier--”

“Geralt, what do we need to talk about?”

“Jaskier--”

“Wait, does this have something to do with how weird you were last night? And you said we’d talk about it to--”

Geralt slammed the bowls and dishes onto Yennefer’s counter, producing a loud bang. His hands were shaking. “Jaskier, please.”

Jaskier stopped. Geralt didn’t plead, or really tend to have any manners at all, so he must have been taking Geralt very seriously at the moment.

“Okay,” he said eventually, after they’d stood frozen in the silence for far too long.

Geralt took a deep breath and nodded, starting to move again. Wordlessly, Jaskier sidled up next to him and helped him prepare the second breakfast that neither of them was really hungry for, but they were going to eat anyway. Jaskier was silent throughout the whole process, which was probably meant to try and let Geralt think, but truly it just set him on edge because Jaskier should never be quiet, let alone silent.

Jaskier took a deep breath as they set their second breakfast on the dining room table. “I don’t mean to set you more on edge, Geralt, I really don’t, but… you’re worrying me.”

Geralt resisted the urge to reach up and fiddle with his medallion.

“I just… You know how… Witchers don’t have emotions.”

Jaskier’s face went stormy. “And how it’s bullshit, yes.”

Geralt’s head jerked back a little in surprise. Whenever it was brought up, Jaskier always seemed discontent with it, but it was always met with a sigh and a teasing remark, never a response this angry.

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at his recoil. “Geralt, come on. I have no doubt that such an idea was created by people who hated and feared people like you, just to make others fear and hate you. I’ve seen you, and unless you’re the most emotional witcher alive, there’s no doubt in my heart that you feel. You’re too kind and good to not, not to mention the way you look at Ciri.”

“But I--”

“I think you’ve just been told so much over the years that you can’t feel, that you’ve started to believe it. I think they hurt you enough and convinced you so hard that you’re the monster, that you actually thought it was true because so many people told you it was and that destroyed you. But I will not stand for that, Geralt of Rivia, no sir.”

Jaskier was panting when he was finished, face pinched in anguish and a little red with anger. He was always so expressive, always let his emotions burn bright and knew how to identify them. Geralt wanted to be able to do that -- was he jealous? Envious? Was there a difference?

He cleared his throat. “I, um, yes. I am coming to understand that, now?”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes and leaned over the table. “Geralt, I know you’re not good with your words, but I am very confused and very worried and I would like you to speak very plainly about whatever the hell is going on.”

“I have feelings.” Geralt said.

“Yes, I’ve known this.”

“And you’re immortal.”

“Yes, very good, I--” Jaskier stopped mid-sentence and his eyes went wide as he sputtered, flinging himself back in his chair. He brought his hands up to his face, fingers splayed, and examined them like they held the secrets to the universe. “I’m sorry, I’m what?” He asked, voice getting shrill.

“Immortal.” Geralt said, internally wincing. He knew this wasn’t going to go well. “So is Roach, apparently.”

Jaskier looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Roach is-- what--I--” His voice went all high pitched and nervous. “How old is Roach?!”

“I stopped keeping track,” Geralt said honestly, his own nerves finally starting to pitch into his voice. “I’ve had her since… well, at least a decade before meeting you, possibly longer. Like I said, I stopped keeping track.”

At his tone of voice, Jaskier seemed to take a moment to collect himself. He took a few deep breaths before looking up, voice and expression far more calm. Geralt would’ve been inclined to think Jaskier was lying for his sake, it wouldn’t have been the first time, but he even smelled calmer, so Geralt believed him.

“So I guess it wasn’t my skincare that kept me looking so good for so long,” Jaskier said with a wry smile.

Geralt released some of the tension from his shoulders and let a huff of breath. Jaskier lit up, clearly (correctly) assuming that it was laughter.

Jaskier took another deep breath and let it out on a humming sigh and his scent started to pick up his usual honey-sweet happiness again. “Well, it’s a bit of a shock, but I can certainly work with this. Gives me more time for my music, more time with you and Ciri. Think of all the ballads I can complete, I’ll become the best bard in the continent with all my study! And I can continue to travel because my bones will never grow old and frail! Geralt, this is quite the blessing!”

Geralt smiled and he finally felt settled enough to start eating the second breakfast he had really only made to keep his hands busy. Jaskier started eating, too, but continued his constant run of dialogue between mouthfuls. Everything was fine again. Until--

“Wait,” Jaskier said, setting his fork down and staring at Geralt in confusion. “How did this even happen? How are Roach and I immortal? And what does this have to do with you having feelings?”

Geralt nearly choked. Which, of course, just seemed to make Jaskier more anxious.

“I, uh, it’s-- It’s an interesting story, actually.” He managed after a minute or two of searching for words.

“Geralt.” Jaskier said warningly, taking a page out of his book.

Geralt sighed, his shoulders drooping even as the walls around his heart came up. He shut himself away, prepared for rejection. Somehow, rejection hadn’t even been on his mind until he actually had to confront the words he was about to say.

“Turns out,” Geralt said slowly, feeling out the words in his mouth, “since I can feel. Turns out that I-- I--” Geralt cut himself off with a frustrated breath.

Jaskier stood from his place at the table across from Geralt, and somewhere deep inside himself where there still lived a hurt and confused child, Geralt was certain he was going to leave him there and never come back. But Jaskier simply walked around the table to take the seat next to him, scooting it close enough that their bodies pressed together, and grabbing Geralt’s hands lightly in his own so that Geralt could pull away if he wanted.

“Tell me,” he whispered, eyes filled with patience and something Geralt couldn’t place. “Please?”

Geralt took a deep breath. “I love you.”

Jaskier froze next to him. “What?”

Geralt was sure he felt something in his chest shatter and he felt the strange urge to apologize. And then to make things worse, Jaskier started giggling. Then he started laughing fully, having the gall to lean into Geralt and hold Geralt’s hands close to his chest while having that kind of reaction. Geralt tried to tug his hands back, but Jaskier tightened his grip.

“No, no, dear heart,” Jaskier said, scooting his chair impossibly closer. “I’m not laughing at you, cross my heart. Darling, I’m laughing from relief. Very silly, I know, but my choices were either laugh or cry and I figured this one would worry you less, so I just--”

It was Geralt’s turn to say, “What?”

One of Jaskier’s hands released his and came up to cup Geralt’s face, turn his gaze towards him. Geralt couldn’t help but lean into the touch, just like Ciri had done to him that morning (he resisted the urge to kiss Jaskier’s palm), and Jaskier smiled wider at the motion.

“Of course I love you, too, you oaf. Twenty-two years of following you around like a heartsick puppy and you never picked that up?”

Geralt’s voice came out strangled, “I--no!”

Jaskier giggled again. “I should’ve been more obvious and forward with it, knowing you, I suppose.” Then his brow furrowed. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me, or Roach for that matter, being immortal.”

Geralt groaned and buried his head in his hands for a moment. When he looked up again, Jaskier was giving him the most besotted look, and he had to look away again in fear he would keel over from the sheer adoration in his gaze.

“Yennefer says that my love for the two of you is… so intense that it became infused with magic. My love has tied our lifelines together, so you’ll both live as long as I do, exempting any fatal wounds.”

Geralt risked looking over at him, and Jaskier looked positively giddy. Geralt almost had to look away again, but Jaskier started moving again and he couldn’t bring himself to. Jaskier swung himself into Geralt’s lap, straddling him on the chair so that they faced each other, and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist on instinct to keep him from falling.

Jaskier brought one hand away from his neck to poke at Geralt’s chest smugly, a grin forming to match. “You love me,” he bragged. “You love me so damn much that your love did fucking magic so that we’d be together forever.”

“Yes,” Geralt said, grateful that witchers couldn’t blush.

“You love me.” Jaskier said, playing with inflections. “You love me. You love me. You love me.”

Despite still being mortally embarrassed, Geralt grinned at him. “Would you like me to say it again?” He teased.

Jaskier lit up more, because somehow that was possible when he was already shining brighter than the sun. “Oh, absolutely.”

Geralt’s smile softened. “I love you.” It seemed like the words got easier to say every time.

Jaskier melted against him with a sigh.

“I love you.”

He earned a kiss to his jaw.

“I love you.”

A kiss to the cheek.

“I love you.”

To the temple.

“I love you.”

To the forehead.

“I love you.”

His nose.

“I love you.”

His chin.

Jaskier pulled back again and gave him a look so filled with love that Geralt’s mouth went dry. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

He barely managed to get the words out before Geralt’s lips connected with his. Jaskier made a surprised sound, but quickly melted into Geralt with a contented sigh. One of Jaskier’s hands slid up to tangle with his hair and Geralt groaned against his lips. His own hands splayed against the expanse of Jaskier’s back and pulled him impossibly closer.

They kissed gently for long minutes before Geralt pulled up as it started to grow more and more heated. He wanted to bask in the soft moment awhile longer, if he was able, and Jaskier seemed to have no complaints. He simply rested his forehead against Geralt’s, smiling gently as they shared their breaths.

“How long?” Jaskier eventually asked, voice so soft that if Geralt wasn’t a witcher, he wasn’t sure he would’ve heard, even with their proximity to each other.

“I don’t know,” Geralt murmured truthfully. “How long has it been since you’ve noticed yourself aging?”

At that Jaskier actually pulled back, brow furrowing. His eyes darted around the room as he searched his own thoughts and Geralt waited patiently. It took a few minutes, but Jaskier finally cocked his head and squinted a little.

“Maybe early twenties? It’s hard to pinpoint, you know? You don’t change much as you start growing into adulthood.” Then he paused, turning a fake glare on Geralt (and he only knew it was fake because that honey-sweet smell wasn’t soured by anything rancid). “You mean to tell me we could’ve been doing this for decades already? Melitele’s tits Geralt, have you any clue how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?!”

Geralt smirked. “How long?” He rumbled, mostly teasing.

“Since the moment I saw you in that damn tavern in Posada.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Granted, I fell in lust before I fell in love. I fell in infatuation with you later that day, during our little scuffle with the elves--”

“It wasn’t a scuffle, we were tied at their mercy--”

“But,” Jaskier continued, giving Geralt a pointed look and a flick to the chest for interrupting him, “I fell in love with you a little more slowly. It was the small things, really. I was totally gone on you before I was twenty, though.”

Geralt smiled again. “Good to know.”

“Now,” Jaskier said. “I’m beyond ready for every wonderful thing this new relationship status is going to bring, but let me tell you, the thing I want to do most right now is to hold you and be held with you and lazily makeout in bed for hours without it going anywhere. Possibly also nap together. And whisper sweet nothings.”

Geralt chuckled. “Is that so?”

He rose from his chair and Jaskier yelped and grabbed tighter around his neck. He giggled as Geralt helped him wrap his legs around Geralt’s hips and gave him another kiss on the cheek in return. Carrying him bridal-style was probably more romantic, but Geralt never claimed to be a romantic. He gripped Jaskier by his thighs and carried him back to his -- their -- temporary room tossing Jaskier on the bed.

Jaskier grinned as he bounced before shucking off his doublet and boots and crawling up to the pillows at the headboard. Geralt followed quickly after him, suddenly glad he hadn’t bothered making himself presentable because it would’ve just delayed him getting his hands and lips back on Jaskier.

The first thing Jaskier did was reach up and tug the leather band out of his hair, the parts he usually had pulled up falling loose to frame his face. Jaskier stuck his tongue out playfully as he shook Geralt's hair out, making it fluffy and fly-away. In revenge, Geralt scrubbed a hand against Jaskier’s hair and laughed at the yelp he produced at the treatment, shoving Geralt’s hand away.

And then Jaskier pulled him down to the bed and wrapped himself around his body. Geralt, in turn, wrapped himself tightly around Jaskier. They couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began, and it was perfect.

“It’s not fair how much I love you,” Jaskier murmured against his lips.

“How unreasonable,” Geralt teased.

And they kissed. And kissed again. And again, and again, and again, and Geralt was certain he would absolutely never get sick of kissing Jaskier, no matter how much he was bound to demand it.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher fanfic #geraskier fanfic #immortal jaskier #my writing #power of love series

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