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butwhyduh · 3 years

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Getting tall

Summary: Damian finally hits his growth spurts and the fam have opinions. Some damijon, timkon, jaytemis, and dickori mentioned.

Damian was an adorable tiny murder baby when he first showed up at the manor. Like a feral kitten. Short end of normal growth at 10 years old and thin too, Dr Leslie found. Make sure he eats 3 square meals and snacks when he wants and he’ll be just fine. Alfred had made it his mission, as he had done for both Jason and Tim, to put weight on Damian.

The first family member he outgrew was Cass. She reached over to ruffle his hair only to reach up above her head rather than below it. She didn’t mind. 5’4 isn’t very tall. She’d just have to remember that the next time they spar. Height wasn’t an important factor to her.

It was a few months later that Damian hit a massive growth spurt and grew 4 inches. He passed by 5’6 Stephanie.

“Hey little dude. What are they puttin in your food, miracle grow?” She asked when she noted how tall he was and how big his feet had gotten. Damian was a bit like the giant puppies all gangly. Alfred was adjusting the Robin costume monthly after Damian rushed to put it on for patrol one day and every time he raised his arms he felt his stomach show. Clothes were constantly being bought that met his newest height increase. The Kents were very appreciative of the barely worn clothing Jon got as Damian went through another pair.

“I’m perfectly normal in growth,” he said pulling on the hem of his shirt that was growing shorter by the day. Stephanie eyed him but left it. Tim hated the height jokes they would make when everyone started passing him in height. Nowadays Tim just rolled his eyes and deferred all short jokes to Bart who Damian was now taller than. Bart didn’t care at all because he was short but he was also at least top 3 faster people ever so who cares right?

For a very short time, Damian was taller than Jon. He liked that. Jon thought it was pretty funny.

“D, I’m going to be taller. My dad and mom are both taller than yours. I’ll be taller in the end,” Jon said with a grin before Damian pushed him off the roof. Jon giggled and stared at Damian with obvious heart eyes. The kid was definitely smitten.

Tim was half an inch taller. He didn’t acknowledge it in any way. But it wasn’t surprising. His mother was tiny, his father lower end of average, and Tim probably skipped too many meals with working during an important growth phase while he was becoming Robin. 5’8.5 is a perfectly normal height for a man. He had an easier time with stealth.

Bruce watched as his son grew more handsome and taller everyday. He recognized things he hadn’t taken the time to see with Dick or Jason and had missed completely with Tim. Aftershave, cologne, and deodorant budget went up exponentially and Damian was barred from bringing any of his shoes in the house and his Robin uniform had to double washed occasionally. He spent far longer in the bathroom doing his hair and agonizing over any spot on his face.

Bruce even once caught Damian do the lean on the doorframe while talking to someone they like when Jon visited once. He had to give the worst birds and bees talk of all time. Bruce also noted how Damian had Talia’s nose and his lip curled the same way hers did when he smiled. He stretched when walking to the breakfast table the same way Dick did.

Damian didn’t get another true growth spurt for 2 years. There was plenty of jokes that he jumped up to his height and didn’t move again. Jon was once again taller than Damian. Alfred was ready this time with the massive amount of food the 15 year old could put away and panels in his costume for easier adjustments.

Talia smiled proudly at her son as he grew taller than her. He was turning out handsome like his father but kept her feature and in her mind, that was the perfect combo. She never told Damian because she didn’t him to grow arrogant.

Dick didn’t notice it right away. He was so busy with Bludhaven and the Titans that he didn’t notice Damian had gotten a full inch taller than him. He only realized when him and Damian practiced a complex move that required a taller and shorter partner while training. They paired up as they always did and the maneuver completely fell apart. Dick was mentally putting together why it failed when Damian walked over and it clicked. Little D was not so little anymore.

“You’re taller than me,” he said brightly. Damian immediately grinned.

“So now you’re little D,” Damian said back. Dick laughed at that one.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I can throw you around like a tilt-a-whirl,” Dick warned. Of course, that’s exactly what happened the next time they sparred when Damian tried to use his height advantage.

“I can beat Jason so don’t think you can beat me just by being bigger,” Dick said standing over Damian who rolled his eyes.

Dick had no problem with Damian getting taller. It was his own height he had a complicated relationship with. See, Dick grew up as an acrobat. Being tall is a disadvantage. More weight to swing, more body to move. And his father had told him growing up that almost every Grayson man has been 5’8. It’s a legacy as strong as flying above the circus crowd.

And so when at 15, Dick was very distraught with the fact that he hadn’t stopped growing at 5’8. It felt like a part of his history and family legacy had died. He wasn’t one of the 5’8 Grayson men. He never told anyone beside Kori, late at night where she told him she loved him tall or small. She had already far outpaced Dick and was on her way to being 6’4.

Duke and Alfred and Damian were the same height for a short while. Duke would joke that he could just wear the Robin’s costume since they were the same size. Damian would threaten to disembowel him if he touched it and that made Duke laugh even more.

When he grew taller Duke once again joked with Damian calling him a not so jolly green giant and Alfred considered his nutrition attempt a complete success. Damian went from a tiny kid to a tall strong young man.

Damian and Jon were practically the same size for a while. Jon barely bent his neck to rest his chin on Damian’s shoulder as his partner worked on a complex mechanical part. Then Jon hit another growth spurt to end in his final height of 6’2, same as Bruce and his father. Damian enjoyed having a taller boyfriend for a while but would never say anything. High school dances were nice.

Bruce could see Damian getting taller and stronger and was practically grown. Dr Leslie warned Bruce that growth could continue until Damian was in his early 20s and he could end up a quite tall young man or stop tomorrow.

Jason liked being the tallest and biggest in the family. He had an entire inch in height on Bruce and was at least 20 lbs heavier. He was built like tank. When Jason had died at 15, he was terrifyingly thin. Alfred had tried his best but Jason had suffered malnutrition and hunger from practically birth. He was short and thin and Dr Leslie had told Bruce he probably always would be. And so when Jason came back to life a giant 6’3 and over 200 lbs, it was a shock. It took him forever to accept his size as anything more than an amour to create fear in his enemies. The first time he had accidentally scared a woman walking in the street at night, Jason had hated that he was so big. But within his family, it had become a source of pride. He was certainly taller than Dick and Alfred and even Bruce.

So when he visited Cass’s birthday party and Jason stood next to Damian and realized that the kid was taller than him, he was a little shocked. Damian had reached his final height of 6’4.

“When the hell did you get so big?” Jason asked while cake was being served. Dick nosed in the conversation.

“Little D is taller than you now,” he said with a teasing grin at Jason.

“And yet you insist on calling me Little D,” Damian said with an eye roll.

“I call him Big D,” Jon said with a smile. Dick blanched and Jason coughed out an awkward laugh.

“Good for you, bro,” he said patting Damian on the back. Jon blushed at the sudden understanding.

“No! I mean- he’s taller than me. I didn’t mean- uh,” Jon stuttered. Damian grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away from his brothers who were laughing.

“It’s weird you know,” Jason admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“The fact that he is dating Jon?”

“No, they’ve been together forever. That he’s taller than me,” Jason said.

“Are you- does it bother you that you aren’t the tallest?” Dick asked with a gleeful smile.

“No,” Jason said abruptly.

“It could be like how I learned my little brother was bigger than me,” Dick teased. “All of a sudden you were just massive. My tiny little brother was this big dude. Good thing I’m comfortable with my masculinity.”

“Your girlfriend is like 6 inches taller than you. If that isn’t emasculating then there’s nothing I could do,” Jason answered.

“Yeah, she’s always been taller than me,” Dick said with a fond smile. “You can’t talk with the Amazon you’ve been hanging with.” He pushed Jason’s shoulder with a grin.

“We’re just friends-I guess,” Jason said uncomfortable. “That’s not the same-“

“Well at least Tim will always be our little brother,” Dick changed the subject but mentally noted Jason’s reaction to the mention of Artemis.

“Yeah, he’ll always be a shrimp,” Jason agreed.

“Honestly fuck you both,” Tim said from across the room. With Kon standing next to him he certainly looked tiny.

“Hey, it’s my birthday and I am the shortest and I can still kick all of your butts,” Cassandra reminded them both and they laughed but neither corrected her because they knew she was right.

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

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Remedy | JJK x Reader | 💜☁️🔞🤖

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Android!AU, Android!Jungkook, AI!Jungkook

Warnings: mentions of war, PTSD, Panic attack, confused!Koo, soft reader, like my god I just wanna put her in my pocket and keep her safe, aka that’s what Koo wants to do, protective!Koo, praise kink, unprotected sex but izz fine Kookoo can’t knock her up anyways, soft sex, it’s very soft ngl, there’s a bird, some sad Koo, kook cries here and there, comfort and rehabilitation

Summary: JJK, Or J-Jungkook097 was a tactical fighter-type Android, used in modern war as a simple weapon and nothing more. Now retired after serious injuries, he has to adjust to modern life outside the war zone or he’ll get scrapped; and that’s where you come in, a rare human being ready to take on that challenge.

"Ah, what a waste, really." A worker says, looking the body of the Android over. "You sure you don't want him?" He asks, and the older worker shakes his head.

"I can't let him around my kids by himself, and I don't want him to snap around my wife either. He's not suited for my home and family." He says, looking the male robot over, before he pulls out his phone. "I think I know someone who just might take him." He says, hurriedly texting, before he gets a call back.

"Huh. Is he factory reset, or still running?" You ask, as Seokjin connects cords to the back of the android's neck.

"We tried to have him reset himself, but there's been problems." He explains. "He told us he did already, but that can't be true since he'd need a command to do it- his model isn't equipped with those AI options. Maybe his memory overloaded and deleted stuff as a survival protocol, we don't know. He's a military model, after all, they didn't let us see his original save data- they just downloaded it and went their way, leaving him for us to dismantle if he couldn't reset him properly for a new system." He says, as you type in some stuff, before viewing the screen you hold in your hand.

"So he's technically still running on his original warzone-system?" You ask Jin, and he nods, sighing. You furrow your brows, and the older male looks over at your tablet to see what you're looking at. "Are you sure? This is.. his AI settings are all set to.. look at this; companionable, friendly, all his settings are set to a companion-android, not a fighter type." You mumble, confused by this.

"Wait no no no that wasn't like that when I last looked at him." Jin says, taking the tablet from you as he types in some stuff. "Huh. This is weird." He says, showing you something. "Look at the protocol."

You do. "Huh." You say, looking at the last line of code.

Last change made by: JJK_OSADMIN

"He changed his own system." You say, and Jin is standing up now.

"I'm taking him with me, I can't let him-" He starts, but you do as well, placing your hands ontop of the Androids chest as if you're guarding him.

"NO! I already signed, I own him- Jin, I have to look into this- and he's set to friendly, he won't get hostile that easily." You try to reassure him, and he sighs after a while, taking his jacket from the chair close by.

"Keep me updated." He says, as he leaves you be.

The Android still sitting limply on your chair.

"Alright JJK. Time to wake up." You say, closing the small panel before you sit in front of him, waiting for his system to run the commands you had typed in before unplugging him. It takes a moment, but there's movement after that; his body slowly starting to sit properly, muscles moving into place, and system running it's diagnostics to detect any change in hard- or software made. It marks down his eyes, the small patches of skin re-made, and that his body-liquids had been replaced.

He feels good.

His eyes open slowly, iris moving and focusing in Various degrees before they meet your form. "Hello." He simply says. "Are you my new owner?" He asks, and you nod, expecting that question. He's not been factory reset, which means even though his memory was scattered, and his system had been changed, he was still aware of everything vital. He nods, before he looks around. "I'm now supposed to run on the companion protocol, correct?" He asks, and you shrug. He's confused, as you suddenly smile at him.

"I don't know." You tell him. "Companion, Individual- what would you like?" You ask, knowing it will bring his current system to it's limits. He's not made to make decisions like that, and you think it's quite endearing to see him suddenly think like that.

"I.. choose?" He mumbles, before he looks at you seriously. "I'd like to be given a small time frame to properly research before I come to a conclusion." He says, and your eyes widen.

You look at him, still friendly as ever. "So, you want to figure out what you want first?" You ask, and he nods, a bit hesitantly. "Okay. Just tell me when you've made up your mind then." You say, and he nods.

"What are my daily tasks?" He asks, and you shrug again. "This is frustrating." He says, and you laugh at that.

It's weird to hear it. But he notes it down as a positive response from you.

"Just don't burn the house down while trying to cook or something." You joke, and he seems to take it seriously.

"Why would I set your home aflame while attempting to cook? I'm not even capable of either task.." He says, and you get up, grinning.

"Don't worry so much. Just properly charge for now- we'll see what's gonna happen as it happens." You say.

He nods.

Jungkook knows that around 75% of fatal accidents occur in a mere household. He also knows, that a regular home is the safest place to live. Yet there he was, on the floor, holding his ears as an attempt to block out the sound of his nightmares. "Jungkook?" You ask, as you turn off the microwave. He's still shaking as you sit down in front of him, close- but not touching, unknowing if he would react to that negatively or not. "Can you hear me?" You ask, and he hesitantly retracts his hands from his ears, letting the sound in again. The beeping of the microwave is now gone, only the soft ticking of your clock on the wall and the buzzing of your fridge remain. "I'm sorry that scared you." You say, smiling apologetically as he shakes his head, face serious. His eyes move frantically as they glow an orange hue, showing his system status.

"No, I should apologize." He says. "I don't know why I displayed this reaction to a mere household object." He admits, and you open the microwave to take out your meal, before sitting down on the kitchen floor. "You shouldn't do that- the tiles are very cold-" He starts, but you wave him off.

"Its fine. Both." You say. "You're probably still confusing some sounds and things with your past use as a warzone model. So it's normal- your system has to adapt. You have to adapt." You say. "We all need some time to heal after what you've been through." You say.

He sits quietly after those words, watching you as he goes through his research on you. You're a very unusual individual, displaying a lot of behaviors he hasn't seen before. You take care of everything with a sense of care that makes him come to the conclusion that you're probably treating the machines and robots like living beings. Such as the oldschool robot-dog that he's seen under your living room table. It's currently charging, but he's seen you interact with it- genuinely displaying happiness and excitement at the very basic AI of the pet-robot that's missing a leg.

Its broken, just like him. But you're taking care of it, just like you take care of him.

You're very caring with him, too. He's seen you search for skin patches that match his color almost perfectly, even though they were more expensive than the usual models found in stores. You apologize for 'hurting' him, even though it's sometimes nescessary to repair him. You ask him about opinions, and let him roam around freely around the house.

You're a very friendly person.

And he, unknown to you, starts to create new files inside his system.

You're not there when he wakes up the next day.

He scans the house for any movement, but there is none that would lead him to the conclusion that you're there. There's no sign of you, and he becomes frantic, suddenly.

If his system would've worked properly like it should have, he would've remembered that you had told him yesterday that you would make a small trip to the local grocery store around the corner. But his system isn't working properly, already displaying several scenarios of you getting hurt, or vanishing, or leaving him alone.

He’d seen it before, so many times, hell; he’d been the reason of so many deaths in the first place and it never bothered him. So why was his internal system going absolute haywire at the mere idea of something happening to you? It was to be expected really- with how fragile you are, mentally and physically, it was bound to happen at some point. So why, if he knew it deep down already, did it make his pulse race and his skin feel weird?

You’d told him to stay home, but there was no way he’d be able to let you out of his sight. Because no, there were no emotions involved; they’d been restricted for him at the beginning after all, he was simply looking out for you. Probably a bug, maybe his system thought you were someone to be protected, a new mission to keep him occupied, that was probably it. It wasn’t because you had been so sweet with him, it wasn’t because of how gently you were in correcting him whenever he did something bad, it wasn’t because you were an absolute divine being in his eyes.

“Kook?” You said, an almost painful huff of breath escaping you when he crashed into you, holding you, his arms squeezing you a bit and his face burying itself into the crook of your neck, every sense drinking you in, saving the proof that you were okay, you were real, you were completely fine. “I-“ you started, and his eyes ripped open, suddenly realizing that he may be hurting you. As if burned he reacted, hands hovering over your shoulders as he looked you over.

“I apologize, I’m so sorry, does it hurt bad-“ he spoke hurriedly, eyes already glazing over with tears he didn’t even knew he could shed. Why did he suddenly feel so upset? His entire system was overloading, tears finally flowing and disrupting his sight so badly that he didn’t see your face anymore; sending him into panic even more. “I’m sorry- I’m-“ he pressed out, but there was nothing working anymore it seemed.

Only a few minutes later did he slowly come back to his senses, first thing he noticed being the way you held his body close, softly speaking to him while you were petting his head. It was such a weird sensation, yet it somehow soothed his mind back, as he realized that you were both on the ground. He was way too heavy, why were you doing that? But when he tried to get up, you held him tightly. “Take a Moment, Jungkook. You’re okay, I’m okay, just a breathe, yeah?” You said, and he nodded. “Let’s go back inside then yeah?” You softly said, and he nodded.

“But you need to buy groceries. We don’t have sufficient stock of-“ he started, but you giggled, the sound something he knew he liked. He didn’t quite know what to think of his newly found preferences for things, but he simply let it happen for now.

Because liking you could never be a mistake, he decided.

He calls out for you one day, his hands holding something you can't see yet. His eyes are wide open, his optics moving around frantically as he calls again. "Creator, please!" He calls, as you finally spot him, walking over as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Please- I don't know what to do. She flew against our window and probably has a concussion- you can help her, right?" He says, and you don't get curious as to why he immediately knows the birds gender and diagnosis; he can scan the tiny body, after all.

"Ah, come into the kitchen." You say, and he follows quickly, still delicately holding the tiny body in his palm, careful not to drop it. "Lets put her in a box and a nice quiet place, yeah? She'll recover on her own probably." You reassure him as he watches you place her in an old box without a lid. "Put her where you found her, okay? That way she'll know her way back easier." You tell him, and he nods, determined, as he walks back towards where he had found the bird.

Jungkook, in a way, was slowly changing nowadays.

He was a curious being, always eager to learn about the most mundane things. True to his purpose he picked up on things very easily; learning how to draw and paint very quickly. He had recently gotten interested in a video game you used to play before your work took over your time- and you loved seeing him have genuine fun with it.

He wasn't doing things anymore because they were asked of him. Or because they were an order.

He was developing hobbies, you'd noticed.

Of course you kept Jin updated about all of these things, and he had been happy to learn that his reboot was going well- joking around that he was glad he hadn't killed you in your sleep yet. And while, at first, you were quite wary of him walking around the apartment, nowadays, you couldn't imagine Jungkook even hurting a fly.

Just like with that tiny bird.

He was a gentle soul, simply a bit clumsy sometimes- apologizing over and over after breaking your alarm clock once, the alarm setting off another one of his 'episodes'- moments of flashbacks he got from his past purpose in war. You had reassured him and had let him watch as you fixed it again, praising him along when he gave you the right tools.

Praise. That was something he seeked as well.

And it wasn't just that he wanted aknowledgement of his own achievements. It was more your attention that he wanted. He wanted to be around you whenever possible, even sometimes dancing around the topic of maybe sharing a bed one day- but he had also been wary of hurting you in your sleep, by rolling over or something alike.

Always so thoughtful.

But he would be able to hold you that day; when you had complained about being tired, he had suggested a nap to you. Instantly taking on that chance, you laid down, rolling over as he was still on the couch with you, already having laid down prior. He was unsure at first where to put his hands, until he decided to just go for the common human way of affection; holding you close.

And he made a note inside his system, that he truly deeply enjoyed the feeling.

He finds you on the couch, crying, after an argument on the phone. That in itself isn't the issue he's having, however- it's the sudden wave of protectiveness rolling over him, drowning his senses as he walks over to you, his orange glowing eyes now scanning your form. "What did he do?" He asks, knowing that it was a former partner of yours, constantly calling you asking for money. It's a bad habit of yours that you can't seem to say no; and now that you did for once, he had bitten your ear off with bad remarks and names you'd rather not repeat. "I'll hurt him, just say the word. He needs to feel the same pain you do-" He's shaking a little, you can see it now; his hands unsure where to place themselves, his eyes watching over you, his breathing a little faster. He starts again, and you put a hand on his shoulder to stop his words.

“Jungkook no, he didn’t hurt me in like, a physical way.” You tried to explain, tears now forgotten as you try to calm the Android on your couch down- still absolutely terrified by your state. “I’m gonna be fine.” You say, but he doesn’t seem convinced. Or is it something else?

“But why am I hurting?” He asks suddenly, and your eyes widen. Well, why was he? Technically he was capable of understanding emotions, that wasn’t shocking. What was confusing to you however was just how he was able to share your pain. And it was obvious he did; the way his eyes glistened and his body shivered, overwhelmed by whatever was happening. “Why does it hurt to see you hurt?” He almost whispers, lost with the situation.

Jungkook was indeed a very weird android- you’ve noticed that long ago already. He was emotional, sometimes moody, and slowly began to develop an actual personality the more he was living with you.

Something his model shouldn’t be capable of.

And maybe that should scare you- maybe that should worry you, maybe you should call up support for answers, but you don’t. You do what’s best for yourself and what you think is best for him in that moment; you lean forward, and wrap your arms around him. And it doesn’t feel at all like an android you’re hugging in that moment, because an android wouldn’t cry with you. An android wouldn’t hold you like this, wouldn’t tremble in your hold like this. It makes it easy to forget that Jungkook isn’t human.

And that in itself is absolutely dangerous.

Somehow, his system had bypassed the blockade to his emotional capacities.

He had noticed it ever since you had been out to restock groceries by yourself, but he had been a little unsure back then. He now knows, for sure, that something had happened.

It was confusing, to say the least.

So many things were somehow suddenly starting to fall into place for him; his favoritism to being close to you, or his system failing whenever you weren't nearby. It also makes sense that he's standing right in front of your bedroom door that night, knocking as you open it. He feels a weird sense of protectiveness seeing you tired and vulnerable like that, and he sits down on the side of the bed where you join him. "Is everything okay?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

Nothing is okay, everything is confusing, and he's unsure what to quite think of all of this. "I feel.. confused. Scared. There's.. fear, in me, boiling up and interrupting my thoughts." He explains, and you nod.

"Feeling is scary, huh?" You ask, as he looks at you.

"How do you do it?" He asks, and you lean your head a bit to the side in question. "There's.. so much of it. How do you.. separate it, keep it in order? Its all over the place, and it's.. so distracting. Its so overwhelming- I can't seem to calm down." He mumbles, serious face turning frustrated as his fingers play with the fabric of his pants.

"We don't." You say. He looks at you for a moment, before you continue. "We just.. let it run through us, I guess. If you don't, it'll make you sick after a while. " You say, and he looks at you.

"But.." He starts. "I fear I might start to display reactions a male android model isn't supposed to openly display." He almost whispers.

"You don't have to openly do it." You reassure him, placing a hand on his shoulder, before moving a bit, body facing him as you open your arms. "It's just me; and I won't judge. You can be whoever you want with me, Jungkook." You say, and he lays down next to you in your arms, momentarily enjoying the quietness and closeness of the affectionate gesture.

"There are no bad feelings, Jungkook." You tell him, and he listens, as he lets them run through him, just like you told him. The sadness, the comfort of your body against his, the.. adoration he feels towards you. Everything, even though it hurts him, physically, something he only ever thought was a artistic way of describing emotions. "There are only wrong actions." You say. "If you feel the need to cry, cry. If you're angry, scream, shout, or find something to channel that into. But if you bottle it up-" You say, "they will lead to mistakes. They will bring pain, and they will bring remorse."

His voice is strained as he talks. "But how do I know when to act on them, and when not to?" He says, and you chuckle.

"You'll learn, Jungkook." You reassure him. "You'll learn."

And he nods against your shoulder, before you can feel him shake a little less, quiet sobs racking through his body until his exhausted body falls asleep to charge.

"Remarkable." Jin comments, as he watches the lines and lines of codes. "He has started to self-code his own system. He's quite literally learning." He says. "All by himself. This is amazing." He says, before he disconnects Jungkook.

"He's still a bit jumpy sometimes, and the microwave is still his worst enemy-" You say, as Jungkook reboots again, eyes slowly focusing as they start to glow again. "But he really is amazing." You say, and Jungkook beams at that, proudly smiling.

It's rare for an android to display such emotions, and he's still often very much void of any clear visual feedback in terms of facial expressions- but he's learning, and he's evolving, growing, in a way. Seokjin closes the panel on the back of Jungkooks neck, as the android stands up to walk closer to you. "Jungkook." Jin says, and the android turns towards the young man. "Do you look after her well?" He asks, and Jungkook nods. "Make sure she stays hydrated during the day, yeah? I highly doubt she's told you she struggles with that." He says, and you whine, as Jungkooks head whips around, eyes scanning your body as he furrows his brows.

"Creator, you need to drink at least 2.5 Liters of water per day. It's vital for your health, which is already very delicate." He says, and you glare at Jin for telling him anything about that.

"I'm fine- and also, please don't call me creator. I'm not anything like that." You say, picking up the walking puppy-robot as Jungkook nods.

"What should I call you then?" He asks, and Jin perks up.

"Call her baby!"

"Jin NO-!"

"No matter what she tells you-" Jin says, holding Jungkooks shoulders as he looks at him seriously. "She likes it." He says, and Jungkook, serious as ever, nods, noting it down, as you groan.

"I hate you both!" You say, and Jungkooks eyes widen.

"You.." He says, voice almost not heard over the laugh of Jin. "Hate me?" He asks, and you immediately regret your words. Jungkook still hasn't figured out sarcasm yet- the entire concept still a little too complicated for his system to grasp, so you walk closer to him, holding his cheeks in your hands.

"No no no, I don't, I could never-" You promise him, as he nods with already glossy eyes. "I just said it as a joke, okay?" You say, and he nods again, biting his lip a little before Jin clears his throat.

"I'll head off now." He says, already putting on his coat. "Thank you for letting me see him- it's really amazing to see him grow like that." He says, and you nod, giving him a short hug before he leaves.

And for some reason, Jungkook feels jealous, watching you so close to him.

Jungkook is in love with you.

He's come to that conclusion all by himself, and he's proud of it, but he's also very unsure about it. He has done a lot of research, scanned every source he could find and validate; and he has found a new interest in activities humans do in relationships to show their partner love and affection. He's not stupid, he knows what intimacy is, and is also aware that he's capable of doing these things with you; but he's also a little unsure, if you'd want that.

After all, there's nothing he could give you.

So one night, he stands in front of your door again, knocking, as you open it.

"Do you think.." He starts. "I'm capable of love?" He asks, and you look at him. "Because I think.. no, I am very sure I love you." He admits, and you get up, but there's no stopping him. "I don't know what it's like for you, but I have observed my newfound emotions, and there's a pattern I've detected; whenever I'm with you, around you, whenever you give me attention, or when you touch me, theres always the same emotions involved; there's this need to take care of you, to keep you safe, to be close." He rambles, and you listen to him as he talks, walking closer to you as his hands find your shoulders. "There's this.. urge, to partake in human intimacy with you. I want to.. show affection the common way, like kissing you, or holding you, things like that." Your cheeks grow a little red. "But I don't know if you are experiencing the same things. My research shows that.. that we could only do these things, if it's the same for you." He says, and then, almost as if hes whispering. "Is it?" He asks, and you struggle to answer. "Do you.. feel the same.?" He asks again, waiting for you to say anything at all.

You stay silent.

Its a sunday when a letter arrives at your home.

When you open it, there's several papers inside; Jungkooks personality tests, official papers that make it possible for him to leave on his own. When he reads them, he's serious, as he watches you smile at him.

"Jungkook, this is great, isn't it?" You say, trying hard to not let it show that you dread letting go of him. "You can finally get an apartment- maybe make something out of your talents, and earn a living. You're free to go now." You say, biting the inside of your cheek as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"But.." He starts, softly. "I'm yours." He states, and you shake your head, swallowing hard.

"Jungkook no.. you're you. No one owns you anymore." You say, and he suddenly shakes his head, throwing the papers in the kitchen sink as he walks towards you, his hands on your shoulders.

He looks at you, serious, as his optics focus on you. "You were the one who told me that every machine should be treated with respect." He states, as you look away from him, his hands shaking you a little as he tries to get your attention back on him. "You said even we androids have souls." He says.

"I did, but-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"And if we do, if we really do-" He speaks, his hands now holding your head, his face drenched in desperation. "Than it belongs to you." He states, and your eyes widen. "It's yours." He repeats. "If having it for myself means I have to leave you, I don't want it."

"I don't.. want to take advantage of you, Jungkook." You say. "You're.. everything is still new to you, I don't want you to regret this-" You start, and he leans down.

"I won't. I've run every possible scan I could, calculated every possible outcome, you know I can't lie to you. I could never regret this.." He says, as he leans down a little. "Can I..?" He asks, and you smile, jumping over your own shadow in a way, as you give him a nod. "I.. can you.. say it?" He asks. "Just once?"

You take his hands in yours, as you lean closer. "I love you, Jungkook." You say, and he gasps, his systems going absolute haywire in the best ways possible. He's again filled with emotions, but this time, they don't hurt; they make him feel light, as if he weighs nothing, they make him close his eyes because suddenly even the slightest light is too bright for his optics.

"Again." He asks, and you comply.

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

He sighs, as his lips finally meet yours.

There's no magical fireworks or anything like that- but Jungkook decides that he doesn't need these things. The feeling itself, the emotions flooding his body are enough to outshine any beauty of reality itself. There's nothing he could ever compare to this, he decides.

He's unsure if Androids have instincts, but in that moment, for the first time, he doesn't care. This seems to be one of those situations to let his emotions run through him, lead him, show him what to do, he decides. His hands roam over your skin, ears catching every sound you make as he moves on autopilot it seems. He's letting go, he's finally doing something he really wants.

And it's all thanks to you- you've given him the chance to be himself.

You've given him the gift of feeling loved, as he finally comes as close to you as lovers ever could; entering you carefully, senses on high alert as he feels your walls around his length. He had been unsure of why pleasure seemed to be described as fun and intimate, but now he can relate to these claims fully. He's so full of love, so overwhelmed, that he simply rests his forehead on your naked shoulder, eyes closed as he simply lets himself feel. He doesn't care about his whines and groans, only focusing on you and your body, on the feedback every muscle sends to his systems, enjoying the way you make him feel.

Its truly magical, he notices.

He doesn't even notice his nor your orgasm at all, but it doesn't matter.

Because at the end of the night, he finally holds you close. Not like before, but this time, as lovers.

"I've given her exactly 0.26 milliliters of a 1 to 1 water and fruit sugar mixture every day at appropriate times." Jungkook seriously tells the vet, as he looks at the bird on the metal table.

"I see. Good job." He praises, before looking at you. "A warzone-type?" He asks, and you nod. "Barely noticable. I have one too, that's how I knew." He comments, before he turns to Jungkook again. "I'd say the bird simply likes your company, Jungkook. She just want's to stay with you That's why she comes back." He explains.

"Like me and Baby?" He asks, and you giggle at the nickname Jungkook keeps using.

"Yes, like you and her." Namjoon says, utterly entertained by you and Jungkook. "So I'd say let her be around. She's perfectly healthy, otherwise." He says, and Jungkook turns around, box in hand, as he smiles.

It's quiet that evening, sun slowly setting and drenching the walls of your shared apartment in a golden glow. Jungkook watches your sleeping form, leaned against him on the couch, as he simply remembers all of the things he's experienced because of you.

He truly is a machine capable of love.

Because you taught him how.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #Android Jungkook #robot Jungkook #bts reactions

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viperbarnes · 3 years

Text

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: tttb

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Note

🥺 Hi!

Can I have a little fake dating Geraskier? With a side of kisses to prove they're together? That maybe turn into a real make out session later? Because the idiots love each other but have no braincells?

🥺💗🥺💗💗🥺💗🥺

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVELY!! 💖💖💖 This is also on AO3. ________

Jaskier pouted at Geralt as he rested his chin on his arms. Geralt glowered at him and took a long sip of his ale. They’d been arguing for a good half an hour already but Jaskier still wasn’t ready to give in. He jutted out his bottom lip and gazed up at the witcher. He understood why Geralt was hesitant. The last banquet they’d been to together had not exactly ended well but this one was delightfully free of royalty and as long as Geralt didn’t feel the need to call the Law of Surprise… then it would be fine.

“No,” Geralt grumbled. Jaskier let out a long sigh and tilted his head.

“Come on…”

“No!”

“Come on!” Jaskier whined.

“I’m not being your bodyguard,” Geralt insisted. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Jaskier winked at the witcher as he bit his lip. “Looking at you like what?”

Geralt grunted.

“So… you’ll come to the banquet to protect me,” Jaskier sang as he sat up and sipped his wine. “but not as my bodyguard?”

Geralt furrowed his brow and hummed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Well you still refuse to use the term friend so that won’t work. You’ll have to be my plus one!” He laughed at his own joke, ignoring the spike in his heartbeat.

Just a joke, Jask.

Geralt hummed and tilted his head. “Alright.”

Jaskier choked on his drink, spraying red wine all over the table. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said alright.”

Jaskier whimpered incoherently, his heart was in his throat. “Geralt.”

“When I act as your bodyguard people try to hire me as a mercenary. I’m a witcher. I kill monsters not people,” Geralt muttered. “Just tell them I’m your husband or something, should stop the cuckolds too.”

Jaskier let out a long shaky breath. Geralt meant they would pretend to be dating. Of course he meant as an act. Jaskier’s traitorous heart had just began to hope that just maybe his love for the witcher would be requited. Shattered hope was surely one of the cruelest emotions in the universe; a shining star that becomes a black hole.

Jaskier snorted and flicked his fringe from his eyes. “You are a terrible actor, witcher. It will never work.”

Geralt smirked. “Oh yeah?”

Jaskier felt a buzz of excitement. The thrill of performance was addictive and it never got old. Jaskier was sure he’d be performing until he was old and grey. “No one will ever believe it.”

Geralt hummed and stood up, picking up his swords. Jaskier followed Geralt’s movement across the tavern with his eyes, still a little stunned by the turn of events. How the fuck was he supposed to pretend he was in love with Geralt without revealing that he was, in fact, actually in love with Geralt?

He groaned and thumped his head down on the table. He should just not go. It wasn’t worth the embarrassment, and it wasn’t even a royal court. He should just tell Geralt not to bother.

Oh but he was weak. A whole evening living out his dreams. How could he say no?

He allowed himself a moment to ogle Geralt’s sinfully round arse whilst the witcher wasn’t looking in his direction, sighing wistfully. He wondered if he would be allowed to squeeze it tonight. It had been far too long since he’d had the chance to massage Geralt and his lovely bottom.

He licked his lips and then scurried after Geralt as the witcher headed upstairs. Geralt didn’t acknowledge him as they entered their shared room. Jaskier jumped onto his bed and crossed his legs whilst he watched Geralt adjust the straps on his armour.

“You’re not wearing that tonight,” He said with a tilt of his head.

Geralt glanced over his shoulder with an exasperated look. “Why not?”

“My husband would not be wearing worn out armour to a banquet. Honestly, if you must wear armour on all occasions at least acquire some ceremonial armour or something! Something that hasn’t been covered in monster guts,” Jaskier waved his hand in the Geralt’s general direction.

“Your husband is a witcher and needs to wear appropriate clothing,” Geralt shot back, raising his eyebrow.

Jaskier glared and scooted to the edge of the bed, “My husband would know that he isn’t going tonight as a witcher or a bodyguard, so doesn’t need to wear bloodied armour.”

“It’s not bloody.”

“Stop being facetious!” Jaskier snapped stalked over to glare at Geralt. His nose pressed right up into the witcher’s space and he gripped Geralt’s shoulder.

“I’m not.”

Jaskier poked him in the chest. “You are. You know I’m right now take. it. off!”

“My husband is a bossy little shit,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier eventually managed to convince Geralt that a shopping trip was in order. The witcher scowled the whole time but Jaskier noticed the small flicker of a smile when they found a rather lovely new set of armour. It was a dark navy blue with black leather panels and would look rather dashing on Geralt. Jaskier just had to persuade him that it was for special occasions only. It would be a tragedy if this got ruined by griffin claws or selkimore guts. It had been too expensive for that. ___________

Jaskier’s lute was tuned and ready.

It was show time.

“Come on, darling,” Jaskier cooed as he linked his arm through Geralt’s.

Geralt grunted but let Jaskier lead the way. Jaskier smiled sweetly as he greeted his fellow musicians for the evening. He would be leading the troupe for the night’s festivities but he’d played with a couple of them before. They were a good bunch.

“And this is my husband,” He sang and gazed up at Geralt with the adoration that he usually had to hide. “Geralt of Rivia.”

Essi laughed gaily and put her hands on her hips. “Husband? Since when?”

Jaskier let out a nervous laugh. “Oh umm…well, Geralt?”

Geralt hummed. “We were hand-fasted this winter. It was a quick engagement. Jaskier hadn’t noticed I’d been trying to court him for years, too busy buttering his biscuit elsewhere.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped before he remembered he had to stay in character. “Ah yes. A beautiful ceremony,” He squeaked. “The mountains are just sublime in the winter.”

“Hmm. It was a dream come true,” Geralt added.

“For both of us,” Jaskier agreed, smiling dopily up at Geralt.

Oh gods, he could see it all so clearly. He’d never been to the witcher’s keep but he could feel the cold mountain air on his face. He could see the puffs of breath escaping Geralt’s lips as he said his vows, eyes shining with love. He wondered what the witcher would wear for such an occasion, perhaps his new armour, or a thick dark winter cloak. The sunlight would be glittering on the snowy mountain peaks as they kissed for the first time as husbands.

Jaskier blushed and chewed on his lip, suddenly unable to meet his witcher’s gaze. It was too much. He wanted this to be real.

Fuck.

Essi narrowed her eyes and glared between the two of them, her long blonde hair falling in front of her face. “Bullshit,” She said. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

Jaskier huffed. “And why not?”

“You’re oblivious Jaskier, but not that much. You’ve been pining over Geralt for years. You would have noticed if Geralt was trying to court you.” Essi cross her arms in front of her chest.

Geralt snorted. “You would think.”

Jaskier gasped and put his hands on his hips to mirror Essi, finally letting go of Geralt’s arm. “I’ll have you know that Geralt didn’t notice my pining either.”

“I did.”

Jaskier glared up at him. “You didn’t say anything, husband,” He said pointedly. “ergo you didn’t notice.”

“We’re married now, husband,” Geralt replied in the same tone. “Let’s not fight.”

Essi still wasn’t convinced. A mischievous smile danced on her lips and Jaskier’s heart sank. He knew exactly what she was going to say before the words left her lips. “Prove it.”

“What?” He snapped.

“You’re not wearing rings, I don’t believe you’re married, or even together. Melitele knows why you would be pretending though.”

Jaskier groaned. “We’re not going to…”

His words were muffled by Geralt’s lips on his. Geralt’s hands cupped either side of his face and his lute fell off his shoulders. Jaskier moaned softly and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, kissing Geralt back in the way he’d always wished he could. If this was to be his only kiss with Geralt then he was bloody well going to make the most of it. Geralt’s hands slid into his hair as the kiss deepened. Jaskier whimpered against Geralt’s lips and he ran in his hands down Geralt’s back to grip his arse.

Geralt chuckled. “Behave, love.”

Jaskier opened his eyes and nipped at Geralt’s bottom lip. “Never, dearest.”

Geralt hummed and slid his hands to Jaskier’s lower back before dipping him towards the floor. Jaskier let out a surprised squeak before Geralt’s lips were on his. He melted into the kiss as Geralt pulled him back up to his feet.

Jaskier pouted as they parted, his lips chasing Geralt for one last peck. Geralt laughed softly and stroked a thumb along his cheek. His golden eyes bore down into Jaskier’s with such open affection that he felt weak at the knees.

“I love you,” Jaskier whispered, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. It was the only time he’d be allowed to say it out loud.

Fuck why did it hurt so much?

“Ok, alright, I get it. You’re married.” Essi snorted.

Both Geralt and Jaskier spun round to face her. Jaskier blushed, he’d forgotten his friend was there. “Yeah,” He muttered. “I. I need some air. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with you,” Geralt suggested.

“No!”

Geralt frowned but nodded. Jaskier was surely imagining the disappointment in the witcher’s eyes.

“I won’t be long,” He muttered and then fled to the courtyard with his lute on his back.

The cold night air was blissful as he burst through the doors. It was too hot in the hall. Geralt was too much. He was supposed to be a terrible actor. Jaskier had seen Geralt’s acting and it was really not good but for some reason, for a few moments, Jaskier had been utterly convinced.

“Get a grip, Jask,” He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at the stars. “There was no wedding. It’s just an act. He doesn’t love you. Stop acting like a fool!”

He paced outside for a few minutes, fingers dancing on his lute strap. “He doesn’t love you,” He kept repeating the words. Each time was like a dagger in his heart but he prayed to all the gods that his heart would finally get the fucking message. “He will never love you.”

“Who told you that?”

Jaskier tripped up and barely managed to stay on his feet as his eyes found Geralt. The witcher was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked… amused?

The fucker.

“Well it’s fucking obvious isn’t it?” Jaskier snapped with a wide wave of his hands.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Yes!” He paused. “Isn’t it?”

Geralt pushed off the wall and stalked towards Jaskier. Jaskier couldn’t help but stumble back. His heart was too fragile he wasn’t ready to face Geralt, not yet. Blasted witcher was getting his hopes up again. He whimpered as Geralt took his hand and brought his wrist up to his lips.

“No,” Geralt insisted.

“Oh.”

“Hmm.” Geralt turned Jaskier’s hand over and brushed a kiss against his knuckles. “At first I thought you knew. The new boots, sharing whatever I’d hunted, the necklace…” Geralt trailed off.

“Oh,” Jaskier said again, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just thought… yay presents?”

Oh gods, he’d been an idiot.

“And then when I bought you the dagger last summer?” Geralt asked with a tilt of his head. “You just smiled and said thank you. Not even a kiss on the cheek. I knew then you had no idea. I’ve seen your dalliances, knew you weren’t bothered by propriety.”

Jaskier groaned and buried his face in Geralt’s chest. “I’ve been an idiot.”

“Mhmm.”

“I just thought you were sick of defending me all the time!”

Geralt snorted. “There’s that too.”

“So… the dagger?” Jaskier asked quietly. He was a former noble. He knew the significance of jewelled daggers as a courting gift, but he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“I was asking you to marry me.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned. “Seriously, fuck it all. How did I not see? I’m supposed to be a bard!”

Geralt’s finger tilted his chin up and he pouted up at the witcher. “So you see, it’s not impossible.”

Jaskier smiled weakly and then laughed as he remembered, “That’s why you agreed to be my plus one!”

Geralt nodded. “You were joking but,” he shrugged “why not?”

“You knew I loved you!” Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek.

“I hoped.”

“Can I kiss you?” Jaskier asked quietly. “For real this time.”

Geralt smirked and brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “Was real last time.”

“Geralt!” He whined.

“You can kiss me.”

And so he did.

That winter they were married at Kaer Morhen and it was everything that Jaskier had imagined and more. ______ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose

#the witcher #geraskier #fake dating #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geraskier fanfic #wolfie's witcher writing #electricrituals

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years

Text

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 rewatch thoughts

- mayfeld does hear when the droid talks to him the first time, you can see him pretending not to like he hopes he’ll just go away haha. I also guess he’s had a lot of time to think, picking apart pieces of the large fascist machine he used to be a part of and going over everything he clearly regrets

- hahaha fennec and boba are in the back intensely keeping watch the entire time they’re on the prison planet. I suppose a good two thirds of this crew is uuuuh extremely wanted by the new republic lol

- the thing din’s voice does at the end when he says “but you still know your imperial clearances and protocols. don’t you.” is beyond fucking words, it sends a chill right through me

1) din fiddling with that panel; I think he’s phenomenally nervous behind the helmet here, that’s the sort of keeping his hands busy he does when he’s anxious and 2) why the hell does boba have this many chairs instead of like space for cargo haha does he throw bounty hunter parties in here or what

- ngl boba correctly guessing at a glance what sort of ore they’re mining and informing everyone in his sardonic deadpan voice is Big Sexy

I love how he and fennec are standing together when they’re both present in these opening scenes too, first at the very back when they’re keeping a lookout:

and then in the foreground while they discuss the scan

it’s a nice subtle way to get across that they already have a dynamic, they’re somewhat used to working together as a unit at this point. (she’s also looking over at him when she asks what they might be mining in there, like she’s mostly asking his opinion instead of opening it to the floor. they’re talking the mission out between them before din enters the conversation)

- the inside of slave 1 when the ship’s moving makes me a little bit motion sick, I really love seeing it but I hope we don’t stay in here too often haha

- aaaw the small weary sigh din gives upon realizing none of his bros can go with mayfeld. I’m sorry about basically your entire life buddy

the awkward way din adjusts the helmet like he’s trying to get used to the way it feels ;______;

- ah the distinct implication that mayfeld is needling din about this because he’s actually feeling super uncomfortable being back in empire gear and he needs to transfer that discomfort over onto someone else so he won’t have to feel through it... very psychologically understandable and such a fucking piece of shit asshole character trait to give in to haha

- din’s level of side eye is so epic you can see it straight through the helmet fhaskjfhd

- neat detail: din’s head turns slightly toward mayfeld when he calls mandalorians a ‘race’. (it’s sort of cool that we as the audience know why that bothers him, but mayfeld probably didn’t even pick up on it). also shows that mayfeld doesn’t actually quite understand what he’s talking about, even when he makes decent points he’s caught up in his own myopic nihilistic point of view. ‘we’re all the same’ ------> ‘everyone’s secretly as shitty as me deep down’. (which also betrays a lot of self loathing, since we see later he does have the capacity to NOT be that shitty when he chooses to. rick famuyiwa manages to get a LOT of really interesting nuanced stuff into this character in two short episodes, that’s super impressive)

the bright sunny look on mayfeld’s face when din finally gives in and takes the bait tho fsajdkfhasj he’s awful but that’s very funny

- rip all these excellent dudes who really only wanted to accomplish the noble goal of ruining the empire’s entire day and didn’t know they were also trying to blow up My Dad Who Does Not Deserve Any Of This, it’s honestly just really sad that there’s no moment to talk that out

well at least they blew up the entire refinery on their way out, I’m sure that’s the way they would have wanted their memories honored lol

- the comedy beat of din running out of ammo for the first time ever and the music briefly cutting out for it is so so good for me

hahahaha din seems to actually take a moment to be a little aghast at that dude who ends up crushed under the treads of the tank thing, he’s just sort of staring for a few seconds too long and that’s how pirate nr 2 takes him by surprise and shatters his shoulder armour

- I feel a bit bad -- two of the ‘pirates’ try to hold on to each other for balance and then din punches them apart and off the tank :( I mean it’s not like he could just let them murderate him either but like. ouch I’m guessing this one might haunt him for a while for several reasons huh

(the sequence is actually this guy, let’s call him pirate 3, swings the spear at din and misses, instead hitting his buddy who’s trying to get to his feet, then looks horrified and grabs for him to make sure he doesn’t fall off, and then... mando’s forehead happens to them haha)

- poor fennec and cara just running up that hill while everything’s on fire, they must be wondering what the FUCK is going on (at least cara knows that things blowing up is a sure sign din djarin is in the middle there somewhere)

- everything about carano in real life aside for one second -- I do like that we get this contrast in build between our main female characters of the episode and the way their costume designs enhance it

- awwww the little gesture din does with his hand after he removes it from mayfeld’s chest after stopping him from leaving, it’s just so... sweet. it’s a little bit appeal, a little bit reassurance, it just lightens/softens the tone of what he says a bit (he has quite a lot of like... not conciliatory mannerisms exactly, but small touches here and there that are there to communicate that he’s not angry/aggressive or trying to be a dick about it even when he’s emphatic. I keep wondering how much that is just him being him and how much is him being practiced at settling other people’s hot tempers)

- this shot is just... genius

it’s din seen entirely from the outside, with nothing of what we’ve learned to recognize as him for almost two seasons now in view -- not even his face, which we have at least a tenuous fledgling attachment to from before. it’s like we get introduced to him almost as if anew again and again in this episode, just like he’s getting introduced to new aspects of himself and what he’s willing to do and having to struggle to find ways to have that fit with who he is. his discomfort and stress is our discomfort and stress. it’s so interesting

- I can’t stop cackling at this moment even in all the tension -- you only get a sliver of din’s profile but you can feel the sheer MURDER radiating off him sdhfasjk

- aaaaaaaagh the way you get a whole different view of din’s habitual impassiveness when you can actually see his face... the way he keeps appealing to mayfeld ‘just don’t make more trouble, just shut up’, the way he goes completely silent and watchful and frozen..... those are all really obvious trauma responses, and it leads you to wonder how often he touches into that even when he’s in his element, when he’s got the full armour on. hmngh my heart

- ‘the believer’ is such a galaxy brain title for this episode, because it could be referring to either of the three men around this table or all of them at once. (and crucially the only person whose beliefs aren’t in a living, breathing state of adapting to the world around them is the empire officer, with his horrific inhuman ideology. mayfeld thinks he believes in nothing, and proves himself explosively wrong by the end of the episode, and it’s redeeming for him in some capacity. din is facing a more internal dilemma of different parts of his (and his culture’s) beliefs/values clashing and having to decide which one’s more important, to his identity and to how to exist in the world as a person (and love for the baby wins out supremely in the end. of course it does Y_____Y). the empire dude only sees the same sterile fascist world at the end of his shit rainbow that he’s clearly always done, even when faced with proof that it’s untenable. (I mean he wouldn’t give a fuck that it’s immoral because he’s y’know evil, but he’s not even fazed by the fact that the empire provably FAILED, and failed so quickly) his belief is a dead and deadening thing to contrast the others. man when this show goes off with the themes it goes OFF haha)

- love the triumphant heroic mando music kicking in as we’re finally getting to pick off imps, love that for us

- din’s protective instincts at work again, he helps mayfeld to his feet and makes sure he’s safely on board before going further in himself ;_______;

- fennec’s professional approval at mayfeld’s shot hahaha. well I guess he was supposed to be a sharpshooter back in the day huh

I do Not think she likes mayfeld even after all that, though, the withering look she sends him on her way past... should have killed him stone dead on the spot

- seeing din back in the armour is like a physical relief, I can breathe again haha

- tfw you catch yourself thinking ‘at least when all this is over we can go back to the razor crest and everything will be normal again’ and then you rEMEMBER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #honestly I could add a lot more of my boba thirst in this lol (idk din is always Dad not Daddy to me but boba's Doing something for me haha)

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un-beel-ievable · 4 years

Text

The Demon Brothers react to MC receiving unsolicited and objectifying comments.

Author’s note: Please do not repost!! If you like my writing, please leave a like and a comment (and follow me to see similar content in the future :D)!

_____

Lucifer ☕:

• It happens so quickly —mere seconds after you've finished speaking, in fact. There's a blinding flash of light, and the minute that it takes for your eyes to adjust to the effervescent glow causes you to miss the exact moment when two pairs of raven hued wings begin to unfurl from Lucifer's shoulder blades and lower back. By the time your vision returns, dark coloured horns have sprouted from the archdemon's locks. It appears that your recountment of the incident has pushed the brother who was usually the best at maintaining his composure past the point of controlling his temper.

• How dare they. How dare they direct such crude and obscene comments at anyone, and how dare they do so without the receiving party's consent. And of all the people to commit such an offence towards, how dare they demonstrate such behaviour towards the Morning Star's chosen one.

• Anyone who had the gall to show you such disrespect had best be ready to pay the price. Diavolo have mercy on their souls, because Lucifer certainly wasn't going to show them any.

Mammon 💳:

• Sympathetic. He's been in your shoes, after all. Modeling for Majolish means that he's received his fair share of unsolicited objectification from fans, especially when he rejects their advances. His usual tactic is to ignore such remarks —time was money, after all, and while those good-for-nothing may have had the time to waste on making unwanted comments, Mammon certainly didn't. Still, as much as the second born tried to act as he took such remarks in his stride, there were still times where these 'harmless' words bothered him greatly. So when you recount the events of the day to him in a quiet voice, the boisterous facade that he usually puts up fades and gives way to reveal the softer side of his personality. The one that he reserves only for you.

• "Just this once, 'kay? Not just any human gets to hug the GREAT Mammon...so don't be gettin' any ideas!"

• Becomes incredibly protective of you, even more so than usual. Any Denizen who is foolish enough to take a pass at you is going to have to deal with the consequences of their actions.

Leviathan 🎮:

• It's a rare occurrence for him to be on the receiving end of such comments himself, but he does watch an outrageous amount of voice actor panels. And in every single one there's always that one asshole who's making objectifying comments about the actors and throwing unsolicited remarks their way. It outraged him. Those voice actors put their heart and soul into creating quality content for their audiences, and this was how they were getting repaid? What made things worse was that some of these idiots not only thought that such actions were acceptable, but that they should be taken as compliments. How dimwitted did you have to have to be to make such an assumption? Even Mammon wasn't that dense.

• When he learns that his favourite voice actors weren't the only ones that were on the receiving end of such comments, he gets even angrier.

• If those assholes thought that they were going to get away with it scot free, they were mistaken. Even though everyone thought of him as just an useless otaku, Levi was still the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy and the Avatar of Envy —one of the most powerful demons in all of the Devildom. No one, no one was messing with his player two.

Satan 📚:

• Has the most subdued initial reaction of all the brothers. He's quiet, too quiet; if you mistook his silence for being unfeeling towards your situation, no one would blame you. But the truth is your recountment of the events that had occurred had lit a spark of fury in him, one that quickly grew into an enraged inferno that blazed through his veins and consumed every fiber of his being —he's only being as quiet as he is because he's trying to restrain himself. He doesn't want to scare you.

• The imbeciles that had dared to make such degrading and unwanted comments towards you certainly were no where close to being in Satan's good books now. The Avatar of Wrath is sorely tempted to track down the disgusting creatures responsible for your discomfort and make them pay for their actions right there and then, but when he registers the expression you're wearing he decides that justice can wait just a little longer to be delivered. You needed him right now.

• Pulls you into a warm embrace and runs his palm soothingly down the length of your spine. If you're feeling up to entertaining his inquiries, he has two questions that need answering: who were they and where could he find them?

• The people foolish enough to make such remarks to you disappear without a trace the next day, never to be seen in any of the three realms again.

Asmodeus 💋:

• Asmo is no stranger to both making and receiving comments that are a little more sensual than the norm. Despite his instinctive need to flirt with everyone and everything that moves, however, he's the Avatar of Lust, not the Avatar of Disrespect. He knows where and when to draw a line with his remarks. If Asmo does go too far with his flirting, he takes it upon himself to back off immediately, take responsibility for his actions and/or words, and apologise. Taking the boundaries of others into consideration is incredibly important to him, and he doesn't tolerate anyone with the inability to treat others with basic decency and respect.

• Makes Lucifer give the two of you a day off; he wants to give you a day that's dedicated to you and solely you. The day's itinerary is left up to you. Asmo is willing to go along with whatever it is you feel like doing, be it staying home and watching DevilTube together or a night out on the town. What the both of you ultimately spend the day doing isn't important, Asmo's endgame is to demonstrate to you how you deserve to be treated.

Beelzebub 🍔:

• Stares at you with eyes round with disbelief. This pure cinnamon roll just cannot wrap his head around the idea of someone treating you in such a manner. You weren't an object to be toyed with, you were a person. A sentient being —no, an ethereal creature— with thoughts and feelings. Surely everyone knew that a human as special and irreplaceable as you had to be treated with the utmost respect; why would anyone say such things to you? To make matters worse, they didn't even apologise to you after learning that such words made you uncomfortable. What in Hell's Fire did they mean by asking you to "learn to take it as a compliment"? That wasn't a compliment in any of the three realms, that was harassment.

• The hailstorm of emotions that swirl in your eyes causes his heart to ache. Unsure of how else to comfort you, he offers you something that never fails to make him feel better —food. He brings you an abundance of your favourite snacks and desserts. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate. It's not much, but giving you food is the only thing that he can think of doing for you at the moment. He takes one of your hands in his as you tuck into the snacks that he's brought you and promises that no one will ever show you such disrespect ever again. Anyone who dared to would have to get through him first.

Belphegor 🛏:

• Perhaps you should have waited until Belphie had woken up from his afternoon nap before attempting to inform him of the events that had occurred, instead of trying to tell him before he dozed off. The Avatar of Sloth is incredibly drowsy and pretty out of it as he nods along to the sound of your voice, in a half hearted way that makes you wonder if he's even listening to you or if he's merely allowing your words to wash over him. When you've finished speaking, he pats your head gently and turns to his bed, more than ready for a trip to Dreamland. The second his head hits his pillow however, the words that you'd been trying to cram into his sleep addled mind suddenly hit him like a train. Well, he's certainly awake now.

• A wave of guilt washed over him. You had needed him then, and he wasn't there to shield you from those imbeciles. And you needed him now, but he was falling asleep before your eyes as you spoke.

• As an apology, he takes you into his arms and holds you against his chest in a warm embrace. He buries his face in your hair and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, reminding you that you were so much more than what those assholes made you out to be. That you weren't an object to be toyed with, you were a person...a human. His human.

#obey me #obey me game #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #obey me shall we date headcanons #obey me reader insert #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #Obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #@un-beel-ievable #headcanons #reader insert

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snippy-tano · 4 years

Text

Falling

Pairing: Jesse x Reader

Summary: Jesse is constantly bothering you while you work to tease and flirt, is it just teasing, or is it maybe something more?

Warnings: None

Jesse had always been annoying.

From the moment you joined the GAR and were assigned to the 501st, he’d wedged himself in your business and refused to budge. Considering your job was looking after and repairing the Resolute, you were always in a different part of the ship every day. Because of this, you’d gotten to know troopers from all areas. They were always friendly, nice, and kind to you. Some of them were a little flirty (looking at you Fives), but it was clear that it was all in good fun, the way friend’s teased each other.

But Jesse was different.

He was always able to track you down somehow and made it his personal mission to annoy the hell out of you. You honestly had no idea how he found so much free time, but he did and he used that free time to constantly trail after you with teasing and flirty remarks that always hit a little too close to home.

You were attracted to him. It was hard not to be. But it did drive you crazy, which is probably why Jesse liked to hang around you so much. He just knew that he made you feel that way and loved to cause havoc. You’d always wondered what it would be like to actually be with him, but squashed the notion just as quickly. He was teasing and flirting because it was fun for him, not because he had any personal stake in the matter. It was a game to him and you’d be damned if you lost this stupid game to him.

That being said, considering his track record, you weren’t surprised when you were repairing one of the control panels near the lower decks and Jesse once again had managed to find you. You knew it was him the moment you heard footsteps approaching you. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction and kept yourself tucked in the vent where the panel was, the ladder solid beneath your feet.

You heard Jesse whistle from outside the vent. “I gotta say (Y/N), this is a lovely view.”

You groaned and let your head rest against the cool vent. “Kriff off Jesse, I’m actually working, unlike you.”

“Ouch.” Jesse said as you went back to adjusting the panel’s levels. “You wound me, cyare.”

You rolled your eyes before sliding your upper body out of the vent. You blinked at the bright lights before fixing your eyes on a smirking Jesse standing at the base of your ladder.

“One of these days you’re going to tell me what that means.” You stated and he shook his head with an annoyingly cute smirk on his face.

“My lips are sealed, cyare.” He dragged out the last word and you huffed in annoyance.

The first time Jesse had called you that, you had asked Kix what it had meant. The medic had sighed and told you he wasn’t getting involved, that Jesse would tell you when he was ready. Which of course had only made you want to know more. Except every trooper you asked refused to give up the meaning. It pissed you off, which only spurred Jesse to use it as often as he could.

The kriffing bastard.

“Whatever. I’ve got work to do. Which you never seem to be doing. Does Captain Rex know you’re slacking off?” You said, grabbing another tool from your belt.

“Rex has been a little busy recently. Besides, I’d rather watch you work.” He said and you shot him a glare.

Without thinking, you grabbed a wrench out of your toolbelt and threw it at his head. He dodged, the wrench hitting his shoulder. Your small victory was short lived.

You felt the ladder wobble moments before it slipped off of the wall, taking you with it. In an ill attempt to catch yourself, you made a grab for the edge of the vent, but you had too much momentum and your fingers slipped.

Your eyes squeezed shut, fully expecting to hit the ground, hard.

But you didn’t hit the ground. A pair of arms that definitely hadn’t been there before had managed to grab a hold of you, one arm snaked around your back and the other tucked under your knees. Instinctively, you grabbed onto them and held on.

The ladder clattered to the floor and you held your breath as it finally settled. Once you’d gathered up enough courage, you opened your eyes. Jesse’s face was much closer than you had originally thought and your heart thumped in your chest. Being that close to him was intoxicating in a way you hadn’t expected. Subconsciously, you tighten your grip around his shoulders.

Jesse was looking at you with a mischievous look in his eyes. “I think you just-” he paused, like he was holding for dramatic effect, “-fell for me.”

You clenched your jaw and forced the blush down. “Put me down.”

“Oh I don’t know, I kind of like our current predicament.” Jesse was behaving way too smugly for your liking. And he was enjoying it far too much.

Someone had to knock him down a peg.

The good news you were definitely in the perfect situation to mess with him. Two could play at his game. And you liked your odds much better.

You smiled sweetly and his face fell slightly, not expecting that. “Well, I guess we’ll have to make the most of it then.”

Which is arguably when all of the stupid ideas transferred from him and into you. Without letting yourself think about what you were doing, you moved your arms and gripped the sides of his face and dragged him closer, kissing him with everything you had. He gasped into your mouth, but you didn’t let up. You turned your head ever so slightly and a jolt of electricity shot through you when Jesse groaned into your lips.

His arms tightened around you and you really didn’t mind just how closely you were pressed together. And as much as you were enjoying the feeling of his lips moving against yours (because you definitely were), you needed to remember why you’d kissed him in the first place.

You pulled back, your eyes opening as Jesse chased after your lips with his own. More than anything, you wanted to kiss him again. After getting a taste of what it was like, you never wanted to stop ever again.

But you were excited to mess with him for once. With as enthusiastic as Jesse had been, you didn’t doubt that you’d get another chance.

His eyes slowly opened and you bit your lip at the look of want in his eyes, one that was directed right at you. You gave him another sweet smile before pushing hard against his chest. He was still pretty dazed, so he fumbled, giving you enough room to drop out of his arms.

Jesse braced himself against the wall and his eyes flickered up to you, his whole face radiating nothing but confusion.

“Thanks Jesse.” You start to move backwards and could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“But-” Jesse stuttered and you bit your lip to keep from smiling. You turned around, walking backwards down the hallway. “Maybe if you can catch me, I’ll let you kiss me again.”

His gaze snapped to you, his eyes darkening. You’d be lying if you said that his look didn’t do things to your insides.

“Oh it is on cyare.” Jesse pushed off the wall and you turned and bolted.

The startled looks of the troopers you passed as your laughter bounced off the walls with Jesse right on your heels was definitely worth every terse argument and snappy conversation between the two of you. You’d never felt freer and the warmth that a certain trooper had caused had yet to dim; in fact, you were pretty sure it was growing with every second.

Jesse may have started out as an annoyance, someone who slowed you down. But he was far from that now (well, he still annoyed you, but at least now you knew an excellent way to shut him up).

(And if the time you spent shut up in a supply closet with him immediately after he’d caught you was any inclination, he seemed to enjoy the new change between the two of you as well)

#the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #tcw #sw:tcw #jesse x reader #arc trooper jesse x reader #trooper jesse x reader #jesse/reader #jesse x you #reader insert #jesse x y/n #clone x reader

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generalfoolish · 4 years

Text

Oscar Isaac Week, Day 1: Favorite Character

Title: I’ll Always Wait For You

Fandom: Triple Frontier (2019)

Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia

Rating: General

Word Count: 1450

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend just showed up out of the blue with a bombshell. You’ve loved him, and waited for him to come home to you, but now you’re not sure how to be there for him.

A/N: ***Repost because my first attempt at formatting was nonexistent. Anyway: my addition to Oscar Isaac Week, Day One. I think Santi is one of my favorites because I need him to be okay. I can easily see him sinking into a depressive episode because of what happened, and while I really hope he went to see his lady in the islands, here is a little Drabble of him coming back to a past love. We love a trope here!

The first knock wakes you. It’s heavy, just short of pounding. In your dream, the knocks rattled your teeth. You woke just before the rattles knocked the teeth out, you’re worst recurring dream. The second knock jolts you to your senses. You were groggy, still mostly asleep, waiting for your eyes to adjust, and the second knock pumps you with purpose. Adrenaline, actually, but it got your feet moving anyway. Without thinking, without wondering why a burglar would knock, without stopping, you grab the old pistol from your bedside table.

An old gift, something you didn’t want to keep, but didn’t have the heart to throw out. You shook your head; it wasn’t even loaded. In any case, you keep moving. Some resilient and urgent move in your head, screaming at you to move your ass faster. Get down the stairs, it demands. Your eyes are barely adjusted to the dark, but you know your house pretty well. You take the stairs faster than you should, but your feet hit plush carpet each step. You look across your open floor plan, the blinds leaking little light in from the street, just enough to see that nothing is amiss. You sigh, droop your arms a little. Your adrenaline is ebbing, and you’re getting a headache. You almost laugh at your ridiculous response, when the third knock comes. It sounds like a heaving slap against the door panel, and you almost drop your gun in shock.

Scrambling, you cross the space between the stair landing and the door. On tiptoe, you peer through the peephole, not sure what to expect. Never did you expect him. Santiago Garcia. It was dark in your doorway, and it had been years. But you were sure. As sure of anything.

You threw the door open, and then your energy fizzled. You couldn’t form any words, especially not the right ones. Not the ones that had died on your lips the last time he had left. Not the ones he should have known. Not the right ones that could have kept him from going. Instead, you search him. His face, his frame, his features, and you drink it all in. He looks tired. Not just tired from a flight, or because of the late hour, but bone tired. Everything you want to say to him, scream at him, stays in your chest. All you can do is let him in.

“Sorry for the time, I—uuh—just landed.” He tells you, stepping inside. He only has a duffel bag, and you wonder why he’s bothered coming to see you at all. You snag your lip harshly between your teeth to keep the biting words at bay. You wince when the familiar metallic taste floods your mouth and loosen your hold. A self-inflicted split lip is worse than him leaving, again, you tell yourself. Instead, you decide to ask a reasonable question.

“Santiago, what are you doing here?” You ask, shutting the front door, and facing him.

“Well, I just landed. I’m just back from South America.” He reasons, a hand resting on the back of his neck, a small smile playing on his lips. You stare him down, urging him on. He doesn’t continue.

“Santi, 2 in the morning isn’t a great time to play games. I meant here, literally here. My house.” He exhales deeply, and a nervous grin spreads on his face.

“You said the door was always open, and you, uhm, kept that old service pistol I gave you.” He motioned to the gun hanging loosely in your hand, and you closed your eyes.

“I haven’t seen you in years.” You remind him, and you realize you still can hardly make him out. Neither of you had flipped a switch. You put the gun down on the entryway table and grabbed his upper arm. “But, if you’re here, you may as well be comfortable. Shoes off in here, who knows what you’re tracking in those old boots. Give me the bag and meet me down the hall in the kitchen. I’ll get you some tea, and if you’re hungry I have some leftovers from dinner.” You ticked off and grabbed his bag. You climbed back up the stairs and headed to the guest room. You paused as you set the bag down. You didn’t know why he was here, but you were already hoping he’d stay for a little while. Maybe long enough to move to your bed, you thought, feeling the blush creep up your neck. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done with him before, but him coming in at such a late hour felt too intimate, too personal, after so long.

You shook your head to clear your worsening thoughts. You padded back down the steps, following your own familiar path to the kitchen, where he was already sitting at one of the counter stools. In the harsh lighting of the kitchen, you could see his graying hair and his shoulder’s slumped inwardly.

“Chamomile?” You ask, walking past him, and perking him up. He was still sporting a nervous smile, one that didn’t quite meet his weary eyes. He shook his head.

“I can’t believe you still drink that stuff.” He said, laughing gently. The sound filled the space, and you grinned back.

“Right! I forgot how much you hated it. Uhm, hang on. Let me think…I have a beer? Whiskey? Water?” You ticked off, trying not to think too hard about what he liked.

“Water is perfect, pollito.” You grab a cup from the shelf, and angle it under the water dispenser.

“Don’t call me that.” You warn as you sit the cup in front of him. He grins slyly, and drinks deeply. When you were dating, he had no limit of annoying pet names for you, and pollito had been his favorite.

“Okay, I’ve been hospitable enough, Santi. You have to explain. Give me something.”

“Well, I’m done.” You quirked an eyebrow but didn’t speak. He had been done with the Army, and then joined spec ops. He had been done with that, and then left for South America. You had been done with that particular game for too long to fall for it again. Santiago was a lot of things, and restless was one. Done, for him, simply meant moving to the next job. So, you waited, as you had for all those long years before, you waited for him to explain.

“The last job was bad.” You were going to say something snarky, something about how they were all bad, but then you saw his face drain of color. You saw his waterline start to flood, and you reached across the counter and took his hands. You offered him a small smile, but he was lost in his thoughts, too far to reach. You rubbed circles on his hands as you waited for him. You might kick yourself later, but you knew in your heart that you had always been waiting for him.

“It was Tom, he couldn’t…he wouldn’t let it go. He…he’s dead, now. And it’s my fault, mi vida. If I had just left it alone. I couldn’t let it go.” You felt him tense under your hands, and you swallowed a soft gasp. Tom had been one of Santiago’s closest friends. Their team was more like a family to them, and to lose one must have shattered them all. Your mind flickered to the other boys, and you hoped they were well. You had lost them when you had lost Santi. Another regret for the lost love.

“Shhh, Santi, it wasn’t your fault. Tom agreed to the job, whatever it was, sometimes these things don’t go to plan. He knew the risks.” You stopped short of outright blaming Tom, you didn’t really know the story, but your hackles rose to protect Santi from his own thoughts. He would spiral if he held onto his self-blame. He turned his dark eyes on you, and you withstood the storm forming in them. You weren’t sure who he was anymore. You wanted him to be the same, your Santi. He had been peppering pet names in, and you hadn’t missed the subtle glances. But, this man before you, he had seen and been through hell, you were sure of it. You just didn’t know how much of him made it out.

“You don’t hate me?” His usually commanding voice came out in a harsh whisper, one filled with so much yearning that it almost made you gasp again.

“Of course not, Santiago. I could never hate you.” He smiled and curled his hand up into yours. Whatever happened next, at least you had each other.

#santiago pope garcia #Santiago garcia #santiago #repost because my format was trash #oscarisaacweek

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cherrywoes · 3 years

Text

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem!reader x oc)

xi. kosame.

— light rain.

YOU BROKE INTO THE archives. While it had been an, admittedly, half-assed effort on your part to keep Shion’s suspicions off of you, it was also to snoop for Ayako’s origins right under his nose under the pretense you were looking for something about your father’s side of the family. But as you had returned to your room, not even bothering to check in on Sayaka once Gojo and his students had left, you quickly realized you wouldn’t ever be powerful enough to block off Shion while you were conscious—not without time, and it was time you didn’t have. Itadori Yuuji, now alive, as you could sense his presence like a beacon in your mind even without Shion’s power now, could easily be killed at any moment without a word of warning. With your first idea out the window, you quickly settled into another one: diversion.

What are you hoping to find? Shion was curious as you nestled Ayako against your chest, her sling tight and secure over your shoulders. A fresh sprout of hair had cropped up on her head in the thirty minutes or so that had passed, indicative of Shion’s spell breaking further, or his meddling—you couldn’t be sure which. It was dark and looked to be silky and healthy, besides, which you counted as a blessing in disguise. A clue about who he is?

“Not really.” You pressed your lips together into a tight line, glancing down at your yukata. It wouldn’t be much if you couldn’t maneuver around freely without getting caught. You weren’t allowed in the archives, much less the restricted section, you knew that much, being a Shiraishi. Much of your history was kept behind high level seals that Shion could work through easily, but not without disturbing them completely. You had to be quick and blend in—all of which your yukata was decidedly not. “I want a name, maybe. Or even a hint why he was chosen. You know as well as I do that they don’t choose donors lightly.”

Of course. But why do you wish to know? He pressed. You never wanted to before.

“I never had the ability to before. Now I do.” You checked Ayako once more and found her gazing up at you with dark eyes, gums working over her tiny knuckles, seeming a little calm, if not bored. “Right. Can you change me into something more—”

You didn’t even have to finish your sentence before you were changed into something else. Your yukata vanished in a flurry of mint green smoke and in its place was a sleek, form fitting cotton catsuit that was as black as the night. He had even turned Ayako’s sling into the same dark fabric, but as you looked a little closer, you could just barely pick out moving clouds in the background, so it was not entirely black. But it would do well enough for what you were about to do, you reasoned, and wiggled your toes. You only wore socks to smother your footfalls, but you had no doubt you could be picked out if someone had sensitive enough hearing.

“Thanks.” You adjusted the high neck of the catsuit when it itched against your skin. It was likely as comfortable as you were going to get and you didn’t intend to stay in it long. You needed to get in, get the books, and get out—if you even found them at all. “Is there anyone nearby?”

A few. He paused. Only one near the archives. You could easily slip through the second room and cut through the paper paneling to get in. I can handle the seals after that.

Easier said that done, you thought glumly. The archives were on the middle floor of an entirely different building and you weren’t sure you were up to leaping across the admittedly old roofing of ancient buildings just yet. You certainly didn’t want to risk going through the front door, though, so your only choice was to take a walk across the eaves and grapple across. That would be the easy part; they weren’t far apart in distance. The hard part would be getting back across after you had tripped the seals getting through them. It would send every awake sorcerer in your direction and you didn’t have a lot of time to get back into your room because Sayaka was right down the hall, and you knew she would be there in a heartbeat if she was notified.

“I hope you’re right about that.” You shuffled your feet and pried open the window of your bedroom. The pathway outside was clear of people and you cautiously stuck your leg out over the sill, balancing your weight and stepping out onto the other side. The tiling threatened to slip out from under you, as old as it was, and you realized this was going to be much harder than it had been in your head. Falling from ten feet or so was fine, but getting back upstairs without anyone noticing would be a… challenge. In a whisper, you asked,”How stable is this roof?”

Keep going, Shion replied, indicating you didn’t want to know.

You swallowed and made your way to the side eaves, eyeing the jumping distance between your building and the bottom level of the archives building. You were most likely going to need a running start; below was a soft patch of shrubbery for you to fall on, but you didn’t doubt you would alert someone if you fell from that height. As if to make matters worse, a light rain began to drizzle down upon you, slicking the roof and making you even more unsteady.

“Just great,” you mumbled to yourself, taking a few steps back to ready yourself. You steadied Ayako on your chest, shifting all of your weight to the heels of your feet, and took a deep breath. “Shion, if I fall, you’ll catch me, right?”

You needn’t ask. He sounded amused that you did, if anything. I’d go now, if you’re ready, before the rain gets worse.

You didn’t need a second thought. You ran and leapt across, eyes fixed on the rooftop that grew steadily closer, and you felt your stomach roll as it looked like you might not make it. But when your feet touched down, you sighed in relief, taking a brief moment to steady yourself—and also deal with the slight panic creeping up in your chest. You were actually doing this, something that could get you executed faster than you could blink. But it was a risk you had to take. You couldn’t dawdle like you had been anymore.

After a few seconds, you began to get to work on the window. It was unlocked, to your surprise, and you shimmied it open with ease. The wood protested, swollen from rain and humidity, and when you finally got it open, the pane cracked from the lack of pressure keeping it stable. That was fine; no one would notice a tiny little crack. You slipped through and shut it behind you, just to make sure no one noticed, and examined the halls before you.

Books upon books were laid on shelves to the roof. You could pick out a few titles as you walked past, some of them on jujutsu techniques and others on the Zen’in family history (you were sorely tempted to pick one out, but refrained) and even a couple about curses. A lot of it was stuff you didn’t understand, so you kept going, peering down over the railing and spotting a head of long dark green hair trailing down below. Your heart dropped in your chest as you recognized Maki Zen’in on sight; she didn’t know who you were, but you knew of her. Your mother had been all too keen on airing out the Zen’in dirty laundry before she passed, and Maki had been the key concept in many of her stories. She had found it all too ironic, of course, and you could recognize her even without a photo.

Keep going, Shion urged, snapping you out of your thoughts. She hasn’t noticed yet. Let’s find the books and get out. They should be on the third floor.

Third floor—and you were on the second. You looked around for a staircase and found one in the corner opposite the one you stood in, but it was right over Maki’s head, where she could likely hear every creak and protest of wood above her.

You have to be kidding me, you thought to Shion petulantly, sliding your feet across the wood to minimize your weight on the boards. Maki seemed none the wiser as you made your way towards the staircase, flipping through a book you couldn’t make out the title of from your distance. A board creaked under your weight, right as you were a few feet from the staircase, and you waited for her to yell out or come charging up the opposite set of stairs, but she never did. You waited a few moments, and then you continued, inching your way up the steps and avoiding resting your weight on the railing.

Good. They should be in the shelves in the back. Be careful. Maki will have clear sight of you if she turns around.

You felt a bead of sweat drip down your forehead. If she turned around, you would be dead, literally and figuratively, but mostly literally. You had to be careful; even an exaggerated move of your arms would alert her to your presence. You crept your way over to the back bookcase, eyes flicking over the golden ‘restricted’ etched in kanji on a gold plate. You didn’t feel any seals and assumed Shion had already dealt with them, and approached the books hesitantly, searching for ‘Shiraishi’ or anything close to it.

Luckily, you spotted them on the second to bottom shelf. The spines were black and the writing was almost impossible to make out, but you could make out the kanji well enough and carefully slid them out of their places. Shion produced a bag from thin air, another risk in your plan, and you silently placed them inside, picking out every title you thought would be relevant. You had gotten maybe seven or eight generations of Shiraishi history when you heard Maki shift and begin heading up the second floor staircase. You froze, your way out quickly vanishing before your eyes, and you began putting books in the bag at random. Your eyes caught on a glimmering silver kanji, a slim book hidden right in the back; strange, as it was almost hidden from view, like someone didn’t want it found.

[Name], we need to go. Shion warned as Maki drew closer to the third floor staircase, pausing to peer out the window at the rain. Now.

You yanked the book out of its place. You weren’t sure what it was for, but it had caught your eye for some reason and you were loathe to let it go. You added it to your collection and Shion took it from you, likely teleporting it back to your room. Smaller, physical objects were much easier for him to work with than people; he had said you would likely end up somewhere in limbo if he had tried, and you didn’t want to risk that. You headed towards the third floor window, trying to stay out of Maki’s line of sight, and reached for the latch.

Locked.

Cursing in your head, you looked for another window, catching sight of one on the opposite side of where you were leading up to the fourth floor. You might be able to get to it if you were fast enough, but she was going up the stairs two at a time and you barely had time to dart out of view and crouch behind a bookcase in a corner where she couldn’t see. It was dark and obscured you well enough, but if she even glanced your way she would likely make out your face and eyes from the moonlight filtering through the window.

Be very quiet. Shion watched with you as Maki strode close to your hiding place, fingers dragging over the spines contemplatively. You squeezed your eyes shut when her footfalls landed mere feet from you, pausing right at the end of the bookcase. Don’t move. Keep your breaths shallow and through your nose.

You tried listening to him, you really did, but all you could hear in the back of your head was the sound of your head being lopped off for being caught. It wasn’t as if you were oblivious to the reality of what would happen to you; you were quite aware, but it had never settled in as it was now, when you were a hair’s breadth from being discovered. Shion tried to soothe you, but your nerves were too bad; you felt your hands shaking and your knees locking up. You were regretting ever doing this, but now it was too late; you were never reaching that window even in your dreams. You had to go back down, and the staircase was a no-go.

You were going to have to jump the railings.

Risky. Shion warned.

I don’t have any other choice. Maki trailed past your hiding spot. You didn’t have enough room to inch past her and go over the rails without her noticing. I’m not getting to that window and I don’t have enough time. Someone’s likely noticed the seals are down; they’re probably on their way and Sayaka will be in my room shortly.

Shion was quiet. He knew you were right.

You held Ayako close to your chest and stepped out of the shadows. Maki was just heading up the staircase to the fourth floor, still well in your line of sight, but it was a chance you had to take. The fourth floor was the last floor; she’d double back and regroup on the bottom floor afterwards. You had to be fast; so when you vaulted over the railing and caught the second floor’s rail with your hands, you almost thought, for a second, that you had missed it.

Go. She’s doubling back! Shion sounded urgent, and when you got yourself and Ayako over the rail, a splintering crack echoed through the building. The rail cracked under your hands, the wood old and dry rotted, and you watched some of it crumble between your fingers. Maki paused—and then she started running. [Name], go!

You bolted for the window, uncaring if she heard you or not. You reached for the latch, intending to rip it open and leap across the gap before she had time to get to the second floor, but your fingers met resistance.

She’d locked it.

We don’t have time to force it. You paced, eyeing the staircase and the third floor’s level as Maki headed down. I have to take the door.

Go for it. Shion hissed, pushing you with air. You complied, vaulting over the railing and landing on the bottom floor with a solid thump. Pain rocketed up the soles of your feet, your shins, and knees, even your spine, but you stumbled through it, eyes catching on the door.

Maki thundered down the stairs behind you and you pushed the doors open, darting into the shrubbery and vanishing into the night, only light rain left in your wake.

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years

Text

xisuma doesn’t smooth over a server glitch fast enough. the others have to save him from the consequences.

in this fic, i play loosely with minecraft mechanics to create angst. very loosely. don’t think too much about ‘em. you can also date how long i’ve spent on this by the projects they’re working on.

featuring: being an admin gives you a connection to the server, xisuma has a less than stellar day, angst/comfort, zed is an ender hybrid, false & tango are minor admins, getting stuck in blocks is not a fun experience, the hermits care a lot about each other.

warnings: sensory deprivation, starvation, suffocation, its a death loop babyyy, a fair amount of panic, fighting code, glitches, helplessness, it’s pretty whumpy before the comfort. let me know if something’s missing here.

also on ao3. link in replies.

Xisuma sighs as the sun beats down on him. It's barely let up, even on the outskirts of the jungle. He enjoys the brief stints in the shadow of the giant quartz walls. Even then, waves of heat come off them. All of the structures in his base are a heat trap. Clearing out several layers of dirt and stone is a necessity he should've left for another day. With a click, he tugs his helmet off his head. The humidity outside is worse than his filtered air. He tucks the helmet under his arm, pushing sweat slicked hair from his face.

He's made good progress levelling this arena space. He leaves his helmet on his bed and heads to the temporary storage chests. They're filling up quickly, he notices, as he starts emptying his inventory into them. Except, something's broken. The stacks of blocks aren't all moving. He tries a few times before sighing, ruffling his hair. When he turns to the area he's been mining, it's still empty. It's been a long time since they've had desync this bad. He's not even sure when it started.

Stepping gently across the stone, he can feel the heat rising from them. He'll rollback the world and then he'll relax by Keralis's river. The farm is delightfully cool. Anything will be better than this oppressive heat.

He's almost reached his bed when something takes hold in his chest and pulls.

He stumbles forward with a gasp. Of course, the server decides to fix itself this time. He forces his feet forward, trying to reach his helmet so he can smooth things over. He only makes it two steps until his eyes are forced shut as the server reloads. For a split second, all he feels is the chill of the void as chunks reload around him.

He opens his eyes to darkness. It feels like he's suspended in space, unable to move. There's a suffocating pressure around him. Though it's with shallow breaths, he can still breathe. Did something go wrong? He blinks hard. All of his limbs are accounted for, he's certainly present. Even when he's working in the void there are still particles around him. His attempt to raise his arm fails, finding it impossible to open his back up admin panel. His helmet is- where even is his helmet?

His breath hitches, a feeling of panic escaping his controlled calm. He feels like he can't breathe. He can't move. He's trapped in his own body.

What's happening?

[MumboJumbo] anybody else just experience some major desync?

[Keralis1] Oh, is that what that was?

[Zedaph] I had nearly finished my redstone! All of that work, gone!

[FalseSymmetry] didn't you notice you weren't actually... losing anything from your inventory?

[Tango] he was probably too caught up in his supposed mastery

[FalseSymmetry] everybody okay though?

[Grian] all good here!

[Zedaph] Only my pride's wounded.

False looks down at the bedrock layer at her base. Like half an hour spent placing glass, all gone to waste. She groans, closing her chat as it pings away. Sure, she can rib Zedaph, but that doesn't change the fact she just did the exact same thing. She kicks off the sidewalk, gliding to the bedrock layer. She can feel the cold of the void float up with specks of grey.

"Good going, False," she murmurs. Some patches of glass survived. It's almost worse, that's going to be so much less satisfying to fill in. She takes her goggles off, tugging her hair loose to tie it in a low ponytail. Usually Xisuma gives them a warning before the server resets like that. It always messes up her hair, leaves it floaty and static.

She adjusts her goggles on her head, opening the player menu. Xisuma's currently online. She checks chat. He hasn't said anything. She considers it strange, but it's not unusual. Maybe he's been at a farm and isn't AFKing. She types out a private message, sending it across to him.

[FalseSymmetry to Xisuma] hey x, server blipped, might need to check it when you get back.

She'll see if he returns her message. She's got glass to place.

Iskall looks through his in-progress sorting system with a frown. It's broken somewhere. The stupid server reload has glitched it out and he can't find how. He's checked the redstone, he's checked the hoppers and he's checked the chests! Which means it's glitched. Either Xisuma reloads the chunk for him, or he's going to have to tear it down.

Actually, he'll probably have to tear it down anyway. Reloading the chunk will only roll it back.

At least he's not the only person who's redstone has been ruined. The thought brings some comfort. If he has to be miserable, somebody else should be too. He opens his communicator, checking who's around at the moment. That might take his mind off it.

He notices that Xisuma's online. Their admin has been quiet in chat since the reload. Maybe there's something going on behind the scenes he's having to sort out. He'll reach out to Mumbo and Grian, but first, he sends a message X's way.

[iskall85 to Xisuma] hey is everything alright? nothing broke?

[iskall85 to Xisuma] don't forget you can reach out to us if you need help.

He has no idea how much time has passed. Usually he's connected intrinsically to the server. It helps him keep track of the world, dig out any errors or mishaps - sometimes before his suit alerts him. It's essential for his job in order to keep things running smoothly. The server is always there, at the edges of his consciousness.

In this nothing, he can't even keep track of his internal clock. Perhaps it's his own panic, but the code he tries to reach out to feels fuzzy. It feels like it's glitching, sending shooting pains through his head if he focuses too hard. He couldn't take a guess how long he's been trapped. His breathing still comes too fast and shallow, ignoring his attempts to calm down.

He's completely helpless here. And he doesn't even know where here is.

Tango stares up at the stars on his ceiling. He checks his inventory again, counting aloud. He flicks it off with a frown. Yeah, he's definitely missing some. It's not a massive deal, Impulse will be happy to help out. But if he's having problems then some of the other hermits might be. Perhaps they fell and despawned in the reload. Either way.

"Tangoooooo!" The cry is accompanied by several rockets, something hitting the ground and the sound of damage. He chuckles, stepping away as Zed soars over the edge, stumbling forward with a flutter of his elytra. Tango straightens him up with his free hand.

"No, I'm not doing your redstone for you." Zedaph gasps, dusting off his jeans. He bounces up with a grin.

"You really think I'd come all this way for that?" Zed questions.

"So why have you come all the way here?"

"I'm bored," Zed replies. "And it still stings too much to do my redstone again." Tango laughs, opening up his chat. Xisuma's online, though Tango doesn't expect an immediate response.

"How do you feel about some wither grinding?" He types a message to Xisuma, Zedaph attempting to peer over his shoulder.

"Mmm, I don't see why not."

[Tango to Xisuma] Hey, seem to have lost some stars when the server reset

[Tango to Xisuma] might wanna check nothing important got eaten.

"Right, let's go."

Keralis hums, staring at the plot he was about to start building on. The area has been a bit... Funny. He'll break and replace a block, only to have it switch again. He might have to work on another area until it sorts itself out. His attempts at working here started after the reload, so he doesn't know if that caused it. He's not been able to spot Xisuma nearby either. He's been online, but Keralis hasn't spotted him in chat for a while.

He sighs as he watches the last blocks he placed switch back as if nothing happened. Crossing his arms, he examines the area. He wonders how big this is. Definitely more than one chunk. His new house is going to have to wait. He was excited to show Xisuma around, too.

With a glance at the sky, he realises it's late afternoon. He yawns, stretching his back out. Perhaps it'll be best to settle in his office and work on some future designs. He'll drop a message in chat first, in case this is affecting anyone else. It might give him an excuse to hunt down Shishwamy. He always feels guilty bothering him about things. Their admin takes far too much responsibility on his shoulders. They’re all adults. Keralis wishes he’d ask for help sometimes.

[Keralis1] Has anyone else been having glitchy blocks?

[iskall85] some of my redstone is broken but it's no biggie

[Tango] lost some of my nether stars with the reload but it's been fine since.

[FalseSymmetry] been placing glass without any problems since the reset

[MumboJumbo] I haven't had any problems either.

[Keralis1] A bunch of chunks around our bases are glitching

[Keralis1] but it seems like Shishwamy is busy :(

[Grian] well it looks like he just went afk

[iskall85] that answers that lol

His mind is becoming blurry. It's hard to focus on... Anything. He can't tell if it's because he's struggling to breathe, or something further, tugging him down and away. He tries to fight against it but there's nothing he can do to stay present. He can't hear anything, barely even his shallow breaths. He can only feel the consistent pressure on every inch of his body, the wet tears on his cheeks. He tries pulling on every one of his senses, but nothing comes up.

He slips under.

False empties the last of this glass stack, stepping back at a job well done. She smiles, rubbing her aching hands. It's nice to finally work on this part of her base. Even better now it's not going to pick itself up. At least she hopes so. She'll be right annoyed if it happens again. Something's been tingling at the back of her head, though. She wonders if it's because of the reset.

She looks up at the late afternoon sky. That's enough work for today. As she stretches, she can feel each and every ache in her body. She brushes away her hair, already falling loose. Maybe she'll have something nice for dinner. Some steak, potatoes and pumpkin pie. If she has pumpkin, of course. Xisuma was planning to build a pumpkin farm, wasn't he? His traditional pumpkin and melon combination. She chuckles to herself as she pulls out her rockets.

No matter how things change from season to season, there will always be things that don't. Hermits might come and go, but they'll always be her family.

She launches up, shooting through the water barrier. It's fast enough it doesn't stick. She lands gracefully, making her way to the kitchen. She hopes this nudging in her head doesn't get worse. She just wants to enjoy a nice meal. That's all.

"Well, I think we have a plan," Grian declares, grinning from his perch. His legs are crossed, hands resting in his lap.

"I mean, we didn't exactly need a plan to fix our redstone," Mumbo replies, slouched in his chair the way he only ever does in front of them. Iskall chuckles, resting his hands behind his head. They've really helped take his mind off the broken redstone. Mumbo had a similar problem, so tomorrow they'll meet up again and attempt some fixes.

"Always helps," Iskall says, shrugging. "Especially when one of us spends so much time in the Nether depths, now." Grian laughs, his legs kicking.

"Hey, I'm doing good work out there!" Mumbo yawns, looking between them.

"Well I don't know about you two, but I'm exhausted."

"Food then sleep?" Grian suggests. Iskall nods. It's been a long day.

It's dark as Zedaph and Tango return from The End. Zedaph yawns, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. Tango rubs the side of his own hair. Something's been bothering him, but he can't tell what. Like there's something just not... Right. Zedaph is chatting beside him, a bounce in his step. It's like he doesn't feel it at all.

"Do you want to have dinner together?" Zed asks, twirling his sword by his side. They've repaired their tools, done everything properly. It's been a hard day's work, but they've achieved a lot, even with the setback.

"Yeah, dinner sounds good." He looks at the night sky, squinting his eyes. Zedaph tilts his head at him. The purple eyes are concerned, particles floating up in his worry.

"Tango, are you okay? You seem... Off." Tango sighs, waving Zedaph's worry away.

"Something's nagging me. It's not a big deal." Zedaph's still frowning, but the particles die down.

"Let's just get you something to eat, yeah?" Tango nods, leaning into Zedaph when he squeezes his shoulder.

"Sounds good to me."

Keralis watches the night sky overhead. He's sat in the doorway to his office, a blanket around his shoulders. The stars are always a beautiful sight. It's the perfect way to relax after such a, hm, busy day. Not busy in a conventional sense, no, but still busy. His specially commissioned noteblock song plays in the background, a perfect accompaniment in the peaceful night. He thinks it's strange how the stars always seem the same no matter what world they're in. Maybe he should ask Xisuma about it in the future.

He pops up his screens open. Xisuma is still afk. He misses seeing his neighbour out and about. Xisuma often spends time at his farms, it's nothing new. But Keralis enjoys saying hello to him! Especially after missing well... Years of his life. He tries not to think about that.

With a sigh, he lies against the doorway. Time for bed soon. He laughs at the sound of Bubbles' voice in his head. His communicator beeps and he glances over to it.

Huh. That's interesting.

Xisuma is thrown into full consciousness. His stomach is still cramping with phantom hunger. He opens his eyes and finds...

Black.

No, no, he died. He died. Why has he respawned here? He chokes on his sob, realising no air is entering his lungs. His cheeks are still wet with tears, more leaking out as he gasps at nothing. His lungs burn, unable to take the shallow breaths he needs to. Would it even help? He wants to curl up, clutch at the growing pain in his chest. But he can't move an inch. Heaviness sinks into his limbs and head.

He wakes again in the same place. He doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry. There's not enough air for him to scream, anyway.

[Xisuma starved to death]

[MumboJumbo] X?? mate?

[Tango] X?

[FalseSymmetry] do we need to get your stuff?

[Keralis1] I'm by his base.

[Tango] he's not afk anymore

[Grian] x???????

[iskall85] maybe he's getting his stuff rn

[Keralis1] Shishwammmmyyyyyyy

[MumboJumbo] starving isn't a nice way to go

[Zedaph] It really isn't.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[iskall85] oh no

[FalseSymmetry] x???? im going over

[Keralis1] so am i

[Tango] this isn't right, this really isn't right

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Grian] what's going on???

False shimmies back into her elytra, reaching for the one jacket potato that finished cooking. So much for having a sit-down meal. She rubs her head, pushing away the fear that has something to do with this. Her communicator continues beeping as she grabs her rockets. She runs to the entrance, kicking off and launching into the air.

"We should go and help," Iskall decides, already picking up his armour.

"Thought you'd never say." Mumbo straps his elytra on, grabbing a spare shulker box and an ender chest. Grian nods with a seriousness that doesn't fit on his face.

"Let's go."

"We're going?" Zed asks. He's already stuffing food into his mouth. Tango rubs his temples, nodding. He takes the elytra that's thrusted into his hand.

"Yeah. We're definitely going." He watches the particles floating off Zed in waves, glowing the same purple as his pupils. Tango presses his eyes shut against another spike of pain as their communicators beep. "C'mon."

Keralis scrabbles until he balances on the tower roof. He's searched each one and not found X anywhere. Tapping his foot, he meddles with his communicator to turn some settings on. He has no minor admin powers - that he has to leave to False and Tango - but he can at least try this.

"Ah-hah!" He grins as hitboxes light up beneath him, hopefully a better clue where his currently red coloured friend may be. He scans the towers closely, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. There are a few mobs, especially as night sets in. Then he sees Xisuma's new build.

He has to take a step back at the sight. The chunks look- a mess. The outline of the blocks are overlapped or flickering. It hurts to look at. Blocks aren't meant to highlight like that. He glides across the treetops. It not only covers the area he was trying to work earlier but spreads into Xisuma's current build. Yeah that's- that's bad. That's not good. His communicator has continued to beep with messages as he searched. He goes to read it, and spots different colours in the mess. The red of an eyeline. He stands on his toes, leaning off the leaves. The outline flickers in and out, accompanied by a beep.

He thinks he's found X.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Keralis1] he's in his new build!

[Keralis1] I think I can see him in the ground

[Keralis1] it is very very broken

[FalseSymmetry] tango? you on your way?

[Tango] as we speak

[Tango] been a long time since we've had to use these powers

[FalseSymmetry] not long enough

Tango and Zedaph are the first to land by Keralis's side. They kick up loose powder from the road, taking in the massive structure in front of them. Tango's shoulders raise, cringing at the sight.

"That's definitely broken," he agrees, his eyes twisting as they focus.

"And Xisuma's in the middle of it?" Zedaph looks at Keralis. He nods, usually big eyes sharply focused. He points beyond the walls.

"You can just see his name tag. I think the glitched blocks have got him stuck. I tried to build there earlier but nothing would stay." Tango presses his lips together in thought as False lands. They nod to each other in acknowledgement.

"How long does it take until the blocks pop back?"

Keralis hums, tapping his chin before answering, "About ten seconds, I think."

"That's not going to be enough time to reach him," Zed says. "Can't you just teleport him?" He looks at Tango and False. Tango opens his console menu, typing something in. Zed can tell the answer before Tango says it.

"What ideas do we have?" Keralis asks. "We can't just leave him there!"

"Of course not!" Tango replies, sounding shocked at the suggestion. "We just- need a plan." False nods.

"We're not as powerful as X," she explains, "Together we should be able to roll back these chunks but- I have no idea what that would mean for Xisuma. We don't really work with player code." She brushes her hair back. The conversation is paused as the trio of Grian, Iskall and Mumbo land beside them. The three slot in, listening as they're caught up.

"There has to be something that's making him spawn there." Iskall points out, his hand held towards the structure. False searches through the control panel, whilst Keralis and Tango simply examine the messed up blocks.

"He has a bed in there," Tango answers. False taps where Xisuma's spawn is tied to on her screen.

"Since the blocks are glitched, it must mean the bed isn't like... Registering them. Since they don't fully exist." She thinks about it carefully, putting the pieces together as she explains.

"So if we break the bed, he'll respawn at the world spawn?" Grian suggests.

"But how do we get down there?" Mumbo turns to look. It's pretty far down in the ground. They'd have to move quick to get near where Xisuma is.

"There's a few of us." Iskall waves at the gathered group. "I say with enough TNT and manpower, we could do it."

"Wait-" Zedaph holds his hand up, "-Get me close enough and I can teleport in there, get the bed. Less blocks to destroy."

"Zed." Tango turns to him, glaring at the blond. "That's a stupid idea, don't you get how dangerous that is-"

"Xisuma is stuck in a death loop, Tango!" Zed cuts in, raising his voice. The others fall silent, not sure how to handle this exchange. "Sure, I might die a bit! That's nothing compared to what Xisuma's currently experiencing."

"TNT will destroy a fair amount, but it already puts us on a time limit," Grian adds, a sideways agreement.

"I'm willing to do it. Either we reach the bed, or I teleport in." Zed says it with finality. The others don't argue. False checks his spawn point. Zedaph will respawn back in his cave, safe and sound. Even if it goes wrong, it'll be recoverable.

"We need to be ready to roll back the chunks," False says, focusing on Tango. "If I have this headache for much longer I'm going to go insane." Tango smiles tiredly.

"Fine. Let's try this." He shrugs. "I don't think we have a better idea."

"Well, come on! Let's go!" Keralis claps, placing an ender chest. Tango sighs, typing in a command.

"I think I'm allowed this time," he says, a stack of TNT appearing in his hand.

"And other times?" Grian asks. Even through the teasing, they can hear the fear in his voice.

"Don't push it."

There's noises. He blinks his eyes open into the unending darkness. He tries to focus past his burning chest and the weight of his body. There's... Definitely noises up above him. It sounds like explosions. The space he's stuck in shakes slightly. After another lapse, he gasps back to life in the same position. He wants to scream, tell somebody he's down here. This opportunity might not come again.

Then he feels a sharp stab of pain. Something is there, near him. Everything hurts and he still can't breathe. For a moment, he thinks he hears the trill of an Enderman. His tired mind can't figure out how as he runs out of air.

He wakes up to a chill. He slightly opens his eyes, spotting yellow sand as he falls, blacking out.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Zedaph suffocated]

[Grian] have we done it?

[Keralis1] he's at worldspawn! got him!

[iskall85] YES!!!

[Zedaph] Oh thank goodness I don't want to do that again

[World reloaded]

[Tango] Z, you okay?

[Zedaph] I'm good. Bring my stuff? I'm going to worldspawn

[FalseSymmetry] will do

"Keralis!" Zedaph's elytra beats as he lands, feet digging into the sand. "Is he okay?" Keralis nods. Xisuma's head is resting in his lap. The admin's eyes are closed as he breathes slowly. His expression is relaxed. It's a good sight to see. The spawn island is lit up well, but Keralis keeps his eye on the surrounding oceans.

"He's sleeping," Keralis says, messing with strands of brown hair. "I don't think I'm strong enough to move him on my own." Zedaph drops onto the sand next to them, crossing his legs. There are still bright particles floating off him, his eyes fully purple. "What about you, Zee?" Zedaph seems to notice Keralis's focus, ducking away to hide his eyes.

"Um, not the best. That kind of sucked. But, it worked, and that's what matters!"

"Make sure you look after yourself, too," Keralis tells him. "Fighting the server's code isn't easy." Zedaph laughs, resting on his hands.

"Can say that again. Forgot we have anti-enderman griefing." Keralis cringes, realising why Zed looks so much like he might collapse. It'll pass, but it's never fun to go against programming like that. The architech trio arrives next. All of them look relieved to see the three on the island.

"Oh, Zedaph, I have your stuff." Mumbo starts emptying it out, the few things Zedaph couldn't fit in an ender chest. Zedaph smiles, tugging his helmet on and feeling a lot more comfortable. He tries not to meet anybody's eyes.

"Tango and False will be on their way. They're just checking everything's good," Grian tells them, hands moving quickly as he talks.

"Should we try moving X somewhere safer?" Iskall suggests. "The shopping district isn't that far."

"If you're willing to boat him." Keralis is firm. "I don't want him dropped in the ocean."

"I swear nothing will happen to him under our watch." Grian puts his hand on his heart. Iskall and Mumbo nod in agreement.

"It'll be the safest boat journey on the server." Iskall's hands are on his hips. Keralis tilts his head up.

"Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes, if anything happens to my Shishwamy, I will not hold back." The architechs look suitably threatened.

"Can I boat with someone?" Zedaph asks. "I nearly crashed so many times flying over here."

"Hop in the back of mine!" Iskall calls, placing one in the water. Grian plucks Xisuma into his arms, carrying him to the edge of the water. He sets the admin in the boat before climbing in himself. Keralis checks him over before nodding and allowing Grian to keep him.

"I've told the others to meet us there," Mumbo says. "I'm going to fly across and see where's best to bunker down. I think we could all use some sleep."

Zedaph looks at the moon hanging overhead, "Yeah, I think we could."

[MumboJumbo] we're heading to the shopping district.

[FalseSymmetry] thats a good plan

[MumboJumbo] any idea who's shop we could stay in?

[FalseSymmetry] my dimension shop is pretty empty

[FalseSymmetry] plenty of room for some beds. pretty warm.

[Tango] we'll get it set up for you

[MumboJumbo] ok. ill protect the others

[Keralis1] so will I.

The first thing Xisuma picks up on is the talking. He stays still, trying to tell if his brain is playing tricks on him after so long in the nothing. His body is like a rock. He's barely able to move. His lungs still ache and it takes some conscious effort to continue breathing. He blinks his eyes open, wincing at bright lights. Light. There's light. He rolls forward, a sob leaving his lips before he can catch it.

"Xisuma, hey, hey." The voice is soft, casting a shadow over him. Xisuma forces his eyes open now the worst of the brightness is blocked out. Keralis is crouching in front of the bed. His fingers gently brush across Xisuma's cheek. For once, Xisuma doesn't feel the dried tears that had become his constant. "You're okay, you're safe. We got you." Xisuma takes a shaking breath in, squeezing his arms to feel the pressure of his own touch.

"Do you want your helmet?" He flits to look at False. The mere sight of his helmet is overwhelming. He reaches out and wraps it close to his chest. Keralis laughs gently, scratching through Xisuma's hair. The admin sighs, his eyes slipping closed once more.

"There you go." He can hear the smile in Keralis's voice. "We've got you, right here." The sound of movement. Cracking his eyes open reveals False sitting in front of the bed, weaving her hand into Xisuma's. He squeezes it gently.

"You're in my shop, in the shopping district," she tells him. "It's past midnight. You're completely safe here. We've got things sorted, there's nothing you need to worry about." A tear slips from his eye. Keralis wipes it away.

"What happened?" He can't make his voice louder than a whisper, and even that hurts.

"Something went wrong with the world reload," False tells him. He can trust her not to sugarcoat things. "We all had a few bugs, but the chunks around you glitched out badly. Created a bunch of like... Invisible blocks, but they were visible, if you get what I mean? They weren't fully there. Ugh, Tango's better at all this technical stuff." Xisuma tries to peer around for him, but the light still hurts if he looks for too long.

"You were stuck in a bunch of them," Keralis finishes. "We didn't realise until you starved and got stuck in a death loop. I'm really sorry, Xisuma."

"We broke your bed to get you out. Well, Zedaph did. The others got him close enough then Tango and I fixed the area. It's all sorted." Xisuma forces his sluggish brain to put the pieces together. He didn't dream up that enderman sound. That was-

"He's over there, sleeping. Tango's with him." Keralis points at a bed nearby. Tango's back blocks any sight of their part Ender friend, but Xisuma can see purple particles floating into the air. A concerning amount of them.

"What did Zed do?" He asks, the vice around his lungs tightening in concern.

"Um," Keralis answers, False looking at him. "He mentioned fighting the anti-enderman griefing code? So I think he picked the bed up." Xisuma's stomach drops. He tries to push himself up but collapses onto his back again.

"Hey, X, careful," False warns. Her voice is stern but Xisuma shakes his head.

"No- I-" He shuts his eyes, fighting off disorientation. "The server's going to keep fighting him. I've got to reset it." False helps him sit up, but she still watches him with concern. He picks up his helmet, pulling it on and relaxing slightly as all the displays flicker to life. Now when he looks at Zedaph he can see the extent of the damage. His very code seems to be fighting itself. "Help me up?"

False gets an arm around his chest. He ends up leaning his weight against her to stand, his legs shaking. She's firm, grip only tightening to accommodate his need. Keralis hovers nearby, ready to jump in if he has to. They take slow steps across the room. Xisuma strains to see under the light, but the tint of his helmet helps. He can see the architechs sat nearby, watching without any attempt at discretion.

Tango looks up as they approach. Xisuma can see the resignation on his face.

"This isn't going to fix itself, is it?" He asks. His hand in clasped tightly in Zedaph's, whose usually bright expression is twisted in pain. His skin is all too pale, black freckles spreading into larger patches across his face. He doesn't open his eyes, not even as Tango moves so Xisuma can sit down. The grip on each other's hand remains tight.

"I need to reset the code that's attacking him," Xisuma explains. His words have a tired slur he can't quite hide. "I'm gonna write an exception, I can't believe I haven't already just- not right now. Don't wanna do it wrong."

"Xisuma, it's okay." Tango smiles, pinched but genuine. "I'm sorry you need to do this." Xisuma shakes his head.

"It's nobody's fault," False says, "Do what you need to do, X. Then you're going back to bed." Keralis hums in agreement. Xisuma laughs softly as the command screens in his helmet boot up.

He zones out the others around him, leaning on Keralis's shoulder when his friend perches beside him. He scrolls through information as he brings up Zedaph's data on one screen. With one eye on it, he unlocks the data packs, searching through them. He gives voice instructions with his microphone muted to the outside world. Finding the pack he needs, he disables it and checks Zedaph's data. It looks like his code is straightening out again. Thank goodness. He makes sure all activity is deactivated before he turns the pack back on.

"That should do it," he mumbles, before realising his microphone is still off. He reactivates it before repeating himself.

"Maybe you should teach us a bit more sometime," False squeezes his shoulder, helping him up. Xisuma slings his arm over False with a nod. That would be good.

"Thank you, X." Tango smiles. He rubs his thumb across Zedaph's hand. The ender hybrid has relaxed, face slack. It looks like he's properly sleeping now. Xisuma can finally rest.

"Come on. Don't you fall asleep here, I don't want to carry you across." Xisuma hums, too tired to commit to any words. Before he knows it, he's sitting down on the comfortable bed again.

"Shishwam, lemme get your helmet." Xisuma nods, tilting his head up so Keralis can unlatch it and bring it off. His head rolls onto his shoulder the moment it's gone. Keralis giggles, ruffling his hair. "Come on, sleepy time." False lies him down, his helmet tucked safely in his arms. Keralis's hand slips into his. Xisuma shuts his eyes, before blinking them open again.

"Stay?" He asks, too tired to worry about being needy. He doesn't want to be alone in that darkness again.

"Of course," False replies.

"We're not going anywhere," Keralis adds. Xisuma smiles at them both, eyes slipping closed. The darkness is manageable with his friends by his side.

"Don't you dare wake them up," False hisses, watching as Grian and Iskall play with redstone. The morning sun is beginning to shine through the cracks in the windows. She's exhausted, having only caught a quick nap. Keralis is asleep next to Xisuma, sitting on the floor with his head resting on the bed. Tango's slid into bed beside Zedaph, holding him close to his chest. Mumbo's dead to the world across the room.

"We won't!" Grian calls, trying to figure out the game he could make out of this mechanic. Iskall has a Statues book open, an armour stand sat in front of a piston.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if the two people who have done this with armour stands were helping," Iskall points out, flicking through the pages.

"We're fine, it's part of the adventure!" Grian watches as the piston shoots the armour stand across the room. False smiles, leaning back against the bed. Some of the other hermits have been coming online with the early morning. Thankfully, they don't seem to know about everything that went down yesterday. It's best things are quiet for Xisuma whilst he rests. She's sure he’ll tell them about it. She'll make sure he does.

As the sun grows higher with the dawn, she dozes off again. Grian is yawning, him and Iskall only catching a few hours of sleep. He's still buzzing with activity. He'll crash later, easy enough.

It's to this quiet atmosphere that Xisuma wakes up. Iskall and Grian are still experimenting. Grian’s laughter rings out as the armour stand bounces in the air. The beat of the piston is monotonous, but they're nearly falling over each other at the sight. Xisuma watches with a soft smile, eyes barely opened.

"It we got one on top, do you think it would-" Grian holds his hand up, demonstrating an armour stand shaking up and down aggressively. Iskall chuckles, shaking his head.

"It's only the morning, we don't need to break physics yet."

"It's for science," Grian protests. He sounds breathless, half-delirious with his need for sleep.

"Please don't make me do work," Xisuma whispers, all too aware of the sleeping hermits around him. Grian perks up, Iskall turning to him with a grin.

"'Suma!" Iskall calls. Xisuma smiles at both of them, making no attempt to move. He's comfortable here and he doesn't want to wake his friends.

"Exy-Suma!" Grian slides across, leaving a gap from the sleeping hermits. Iskall stands by his side, resting his hand on Grian's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" Xisuma wraps his arm tighter around his helmet.

"Not the best, my friend," he answers honestly. "But I'm certainly better than before."

"Well, we'll just have to make that even better then." Grian is committed to the cause now. He's going to make Xisuma's day.

"You don't have to rush back into things," Iskall says, offering a smile. "I'm sure we can handle ourselves today."

"I don't think I'm getting out of this bed anytime soon." Xisuma looks down at Keralis, dark hair brushing Xisuma's chest plate. False is asleep slouched in the chair beside him. Even without being able to see the other occupants of the room, he can still tell they're sleeping. "Feels a bit weird not going for a jog at this time, though."

"I'm sure your legs won't wither away after one morning, X," Iskall jokes. "Be lazy like the rest of us." Grian grins.

"We could always play some mini-games later, too!" Xisuma laughs, stretching as much as he can without shifting Keralis. He's beginning to regret sleeping in his armour, but it's too late now.

The three chat with each other, Xisuma offering advice now he's awake. They're gradually building up a system to launch the armour stand across the room. Sure, they'll have to clean it all up later, but it passes the time and it makes them laugh. Hearing Xisuma laughing is good for all three of them, despite the roughness reminding them of last night's ordeal. It's safe to say that nobody envies Xisuma's experience.

The three jump at a strange, shrill noise, until the realisation kicks in. Zed is sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Hair is falling into his face, ruffled from sleep. Tango remains slumped against him. He even rolls into the warmth Zedaph leaves behind. It takes a few seconds until the hybrid notices his audience. Zedaph jumps, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, hi, sorry! Forgot I wasn't alone." His eyes are glowing brightly in the morning light. He looks down at the arm lazily clinging to his waist. "This oaf is used to it."

"No, no, you're okay," Xisuma tells him. False is stirring beside him, blinking to life, but Keralis remains out. "How are you feeling?" Zedaph taps his chin, resting his finger on his lip.

"Pretty well-rested, actually." Then his attention turns to Xisuma. "What about you? I should be asking you that question!" Xisuma laughs, flexing his fingers against his helmet.

"I'm okay. Taking it easy." He tilts his head towards Grian and Iskall. "Whether I like it or not, it seems."

"Too right," False agrees, yawning. "T'others can handle admin duties for today. You're ours."

"Is that a threat?"

"We can make it one!" Iskall tells him, his voice a lot more cheerful than the implication of his words. "We just need a good leash-"

"Oh absolutely not! Don't you dare!" Keralis pokes his head up next to him, trying to tune into the conversation. Zedaph laughs from across the room. He's tugging a bleary Tango to rest on his shoulder so he can wrap the blanket around them both.

"Oh come on, X, it'll be fun!" Grian wraps his arms around Iskall's shoulders. Xisuma shakes his head.

"You two are terrible. Absolutely terrible. Goodness me."

"I'm sure X will agree to take a day off willingly," False says, sounding far too threatening as she rubs sleep from her eyes.

"I already agreed. No leash required!"

"Why are we talking about leashes?" Keralis finally asks, looking more confused than anything. They break down into laughter.

[Grian] hello everyone

[iskall85] HALLO!

[iskall85] we are stealing your admin for the day!

[Grian] yeah he's ours.

[falsesymmetry] x had a rough night so he's having a day off

[falsesymmetry] so if any admins besides tango, x and i could step up please?

[cubfan135] yeah I'm on it.

[joehillssays] of course, and send our well wishes to our dear admin!

[Xisuma] your dear admin thanks you :-)

[Xisuma] please try not to break anything

[Etho] have a fun day lol

[joehillssays] don't make us lock you out of your screens, x!

[Keralis1] Nothing will get past us.

[iskall85] he's been suitably threatened.

[Renthedog] Should uh... We be concerned?

[Grian] about x-i-sooma finally getting a break?

[falsesymmetry] he's in safe hands. promise.

"Should we get this day started?" Tango asks. Grian is about to answer, only to yawn. He covers his mouth, face turning red.

"Another hour of sleep first?" False suggests. They look around the room, everyone in varying states of awareness.

"It never hurt anyone." Iskall shoves Mumbo over, fitting into bed beside him. "See y'all in an hour." Keralis smiles at Xisuma. He bumps their heads together.

"You deserve a break without being traumatised first, you know that Shishwamy?" He checks. Xisuma laughs, pressing their foreheads together.

"Yeah, I know." He leans back. "And I think I've got some good friends to remind me." False pats his back, getting comfortable enough to doze off again.

"And don't you forget it." Xisuma looks around the room. The architechs are fighting over the bed, Tango and Zedaph curled back up on theirs. He smiles, the fear from last night already on its way to being a distant memory.

"Don't think I can."

#hermitcraft #xisuma #falsesymmetry #keralis #grian #iskall85 #tangotek #zedaph #feel like mumbo's role is too minor to tag him lmao #my writing #this fic took so loooong #but i wanted to get it done #more brain space for my other projects

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elwenyere · 4 years

Text

A Very Small Grease Fire (and Other Human Disasters)

(Thanksgiving ficlet for the Stony and Avengers fam; also on AO3)

The Avengers didn’t have the best track record with Thanksgiving. The first time the dinner had ended in disaster, it had been Steve’s fault. One rainy fall Sunday, just months after the Battle of New York, Steve had been picking at a bowl of mint-chip ice cream, feeling tired of getting looks of sympathy about the holidays and absolutely exhausted by feeling sorry for himself. If Bruce and Clint hadn’t chosen that particular afternoon to ask him whether there was anything special he wanted for Thanksgiving – raising the question with just enough gentleness to make Steve’s jaw tighten – he probably would have said, “I’m a sweet potatoes guy” and left it at that.

Instead, Steve had been seized by a spirit of mischief. Putting on his most morose poker face, he had proceeded to invent a series of Depression-era dishes, from “Hoover Rolls” to “Poor Man’s Potatoes,” the recipes for which he concocted out of the blandest ingredients he could imagine. By the time he was in the process of describing his third Crisco-based dessert, Steve was sure he had gone far enough to reveal the joke; but Bruce and Clint had continued nodding encouragingly and jotting down notes.

The results had been borderline inedible. And even though the sight of Tony doubled over with laughter when Steve finally fessed up had thawed out a part of his heart he hadn’t even known was still on ice, the experience of eating a holiday dinner in which half the dishes tasted like over-starched socks forced even Steve to admit that the prank had been a bit of a Pyrrhic victory.

The second time…well, Steve would have said the second time was his fault too – though he supposed the rest of the team would blame the extremists who tried to kidnap the governor. Clint had just started basting the turkey when the “Assemble” alarm went off, and the team had to pile in the Quinjet to deal with a hostage situation at the capitol. It should have been an easy job – in and out with plenty of time to take the butter for the piecrust out of the freezer – but then one of the extremists had pulled the pin on a grenade just yards away from a state senator’s eight-year-old son, and four hours later Steve was waking up in the burn unit at Walter Reed hospital with the anguished sound of someone shouting his name still ringing in his ears.

“You fucking idiot,” the same voice had greeted him, and Steve looked up to see Tony sitting by his bed, the lines around his eyes drawn tight over a surgical mask. “You’re supposed to be a tactical genius, and you haven’t learned a single new method for containing explosives since basic training in 1943? I’m going to equip your suit with goddamn ballistic plates.”

“Tony,” Steve managed, feeling a halo of pain radiate up his scalp. “Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?”

Steve thought he saw something mist across Tony’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. The more fully he became aware of his body, the more he noticed the pull of his skin cells contracting in uneven loops around the burns on his torso, and it was taking a considerable amount of energy to keep Tony’s face in focus.

“Everybody’s fine but you, Steve,” Tony assured him. “And the doctors said you should be able to move to the general floor in a few hours. So shut those baby blues and let the serum do its job, because there’s a whole team of keyed-up superheroes waiting to see you, and they’re emptying the hospital vending machines fast enough to cause a run on the Frito-Lay factory.”

Steve had drifted in and out of consciousness for a while after that, finally waking up long enough to eat a holiday dinner of contraband take-out, which Natasha had smuggled into the hospital using only Thor’s tendency to knock over delicate instruments and Bruce’s oversized jacket.

“When you sign up to be an Avenger, no one warns you about doing overtime as a falafel mule,” Bruce had mused, leaning back to let Natasha steal a fry off his plate.

“I still think we could have gotten that eighth kebab if you’d been willing to consider pant legs as additional real estate,” she told him.

"You should all be eating stuffing and pumpkin pie,” Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here on Thanksgiving.”

“Listen, Cap,” Clint replied, waving a dolma at him, “if you’re going to apologize for anything, apologize for the purgatory potatoes you tricked me into making last year. At least this year we have food that doesn’t have the texture of fast-drying cement.”

“Those tubers had truly been abandoned by the gods,” Thor agreed solemnly. “But I maintain that the Big Band Banana Pie was actually quite delicious.”

“Just don’t make the third-degree burns and hypovolemic shock a holiday habit, Rogers,” Tony put in. “Some of us are trying to watch our blood pressure.”

Tony had leaned over to adjust the settings on Steve’s bed as he spoke, and by the time he finished, a dull tugging sensation across Steve’s chest had loosened – the pain subsiding almost before Steve could register that it had been bothering him.

So that was why, after two years of throwing wrenches in the Avengers’ Thanksgiving plans, Steve was determined to make sure that year three went off without a hitch. He’d drawn up an elaborate plan for maximizing the utility of the Tower kitchen’s two ovens and seven burners and for optimizing the team’s various culinary skills. The operatives had been briefed the night before, and by 10:30 AM on Thursday, Steve was fluting a pie crust, Bruce was stripping fresh thyme leaves into an herb blend, Clint was whipping up a roux for the mushroom gravy, Thor was mashing potatoes and parsnips in an industrial-strength metal vat, and Natasha was dicing carrots and celery with a speed and precision that felt vaguely unsettling.

After checking the team’s progress against his itinerary, Steve turned to the next task on his own list: bringing Tony Stark his emergency coffee. Bruce had just made a second pot, and Steve poured some into the largest cup he could find: a purple novelty mug, featuring a drawing of the Hulk and the words “You Wouldn’t Like Me Without My Coffee.” He paused to tuck a few biscuits into a napkin (Tony’s relief at sighting fresh coffee sometimes opened up a narrow window during which Steve could feed him breakfast without being noticed), and headed down to the lab.

He found Tony standing with both arms braced against his worktable, designs for what looked like the paneling of Steve’s uniform projected in front of him. Steve cleared his throat, and Tony whirled around, the slump of his shoulders morphing into a graceful lounge by the time he was facing Steve.

“I was just about to come up,” he said. “I have a few finishing touches left here and then I’m all yours, Cap. Give me everything that can survive being the tiniest bit overcooked.”

Steve walked over to put Tony’s coffee on the table and then felt his breath catch in his throat when Tony reached out and took the mug from his hand instead.

“There’s no need,” Steve responded to cover his reaction, flexing the hand that had brushed Tony’s as he let it fall back to his side. “We’ve got the schedule covered for now. I was actually hoping I could talk you into a snack break.”

He waved the napkin of biscuits experimentally.

“Are you cutting me from the Thanksgiving roster, Rogers?” Tony asked. “Just because one time I set a very small grease fire – which I contained almost immediately, by the way.”

“The vase I broke when I sprinted into the kitchen would beg to differ,” Steve smiled. “But it’s not that. I just wanted to do this for you: a big dinner and sitting down with family.”

“For me?” Tony blinked at him. “Why?”

Steve started to cross his arms across his chest before realizing that he would risk crushing the biscuits. He settled for clasping his wrist with his free hand instead, widening his stance slightly and taking a deep breath. Come on, Rogers. Take it on the chin.

“Because I wanted to tell you that I woke up in this century alone,” he said, “and that you were the first person stubborn enough to make sure I wouldn’t stay that way. Now I wake up to a kitchen full of people who tease me about my lists but who know why I need them – who will eat dinner rolls that taste like soggy chalk just to make me feel at home.” He paused. “People who stay by my side for eight straight hours at the hospital.”

Steve looked up and caught Tony’s eyes, his heart rate picking up speed as memories of those same eyes flashed through his mind in quick succession: tearing up with laughter over a plate of cornstarched bananas, pinched with fear over a surgical mask, narrowed in concentration over the remote control for an adjustable bed.

“Romanov has an awfully big mouth for a spy,” Tony said with a rueful smile.

“I think it was a tactical leak,” Steve acknowledged, “to motivate her mark. She knew I needed a push. Because I’ve messed up the past two years, and I needed to tell you: pretty much everything I’m thankful for in my new life is here because of you.”

Tony was staring at him, his eyes darting quickly across Steve’s face as if JARVIS were scanning it for data. Steve held up under the silent scrutiny as long as he could before letting out an explosive breath.

“Anyway, sorry to interrupt you,” he said quickly. “You’ve got work to do, and I’ve got to go make sure everything’s on track upstairs. I’ll uh – I’ll have Bruce come get you when dinner’s ready.”

He started to make an about face toward the door, but Tony caught his arm and held him in place.

“Give a guy a goddamn minute, Steve,” he said softly. “I’m having to do a major cognitive reboot over here. It takes a while for the operating system to come back online. Just…sit down? Let me show you the new flame retardants I’m adding to your uniform.”

Steve complied. And as he watched Tony run through the specs, gulping coffee and nibbling absently at the biscuits, he realized that he knew what Tony was saying even before Tony finally spoke the words: “I’m thankful every time you wake up.”

#stony #stevetony #stony fic #festive ficlets #avengers as family #idiots in love #they're human disasters your honor #this got out of hand #and personally I blame every single character in this Tower #happy thanksgiving #stony fam

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

Horror Show {Tate Langdon x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2991 Summary: You didn’t anticipate that the new house would come with a new roommate.

The first thing that you thought of when you saw the house was that it was definitely not normal. You’d taken the tour around LA a couple of times, due to your morbid fascination with crime, and had seen it from the street. But now that you were approaching it, taking step by step, the feeling grew stronger. This was not an ordinary house. Your parents, both busy and insane, didn’t even seem to notice. Or if they did, they said nothing to you about it. Instead, they talked about how they wanted to freshen it up with a new coat of paint. Because that was going to cover the stains of the sins that had occurred inside. Your eyes darted to the window of the room that was certain to be yours, and thought you saw a movement, a sway of the curtains. You stopped, and raised your hand to your forehead to shield your eyes from the bright California sun. Must have just been a bending of light. No one was in your house - right?

“Come on honey,” Your mother said, in her sugary sweet voice. She smiled nervously at the old woman who was standing across the street, smoking dramatically. You could have guessed that she was being kind to protect her reputation rather than care about you.

“What, you don’t want a dramatic entrance?” You asked, brushing her off and walked inside after your father. You didn’t care about the flooring, the wall color, the stairs, the paneling, and all the other things that your parents would want to rework. Your mother quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind her, tutting at your behavior.

“You can start on your room then,” She sniffled.

“Great! I was just waiting for your permission,” You said with a sarcastic grin. Your father didn’t even bother with responding to you, staying out of it like he always had. He probably said about ten words to you so far this year, and you were well into September.

You picked up a box of your clothing which was sitting near the stairs, and started your way up the stairs. As you took each step, you thought you could hear music. It was very faint. So very much so that you weren’t sure if it was coming from your imagination or if you were really hearing it. Either way, you followed where you thought it was coming from, right to the room that was going to be yours.

Nirvana.

Heart Shaped Box? Or was it Smells Like Teen Spirit?

It wasn’t often that you listened to them, though you knew a couple of the more popular songs from rock-themed radio stations. You hummed along and set the box on top of your bed. At least the movers had done their job right, and set up your bed against one of the walls. You looked around and approved of where the dresser was, and your desk. It was perfect - but you just had to make the rest of the room to your taste. Time to bring a bit of Halloween fun to the blue-grey colored walls. Some orange and black paint. Some of your dolls and plushies, that were your weakness. Hey, it was hard to resist things that were so damn cute.

You started to hang your clothes in the closet and put others into your dresser, when you came across a very odd feeling that someone was watching you. You quickly put your underwear into the drawer, keeping your eyes on the mirror that was on your vanity, waiting to see if something was going to move in it. The curtains shifted behind your back. You knew it.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” You said, going to your door and closing it. The last thing you needed was your mother thinking you were talking to yourself, and trying to put you on some designer drugs. “Come on, it’s called the Murder House. There has to be something in here. A ghost, a phantom, a banshee? Bueller?”

“Not quite,” A voice said from behind you. You saw something out of the corner of your eye again. But this time, you were able to follow it until you came across a boy standing in front of your window. Shaggy blonde hair, dark eyes, striped sweater. Not exactly what you were thinking of when you thought about contacting spirits.

“Well, hello,” You said, folding your arms in front of yourself. You had always had an interest in the Supernatural, and thought that you had a few experiences. But nothing like full blown seeing someone in front of you. It had been things like lights flickering, raps on tables, cups moving on their own. This was something else, and you had to admit, you were pleased. “You’re not what I had expected,” You told him.

He walked around your room, taking in the sight of your furnishings. “What were you expecting? Someone in a stupid sheet?”

“That’s not an unjust expectation,” You said with a shrug, feeling a little attacked by this boy. But he couldn’t have been much older than you, if he was at all. Good face for a welcoming committee. “I can’t remember you from the murder tour, though there were a lot of names thrown around. Which one are you?”

“Tate Langdon,” He walked right up to you, not afraid of you in the slightest. You didn’t shrug away or back down from his approach, but rather eyed him cautiously. He put his hand out to you, looking at you with a studying look.

“Would I even be able to touch you? Or would my hand go straight through yours?” You asked, cautiously.

“There’s only one way you’re going to find out,” He challenged you. And you being you, you went for it. His hand was cool to the touch, but it felt human enough. You didn’t go through him like you thought that you would. If he hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was a spirit. You let go of his hand and let your own drop to the side. But then out of nowhere - “BOO.”

You blinked in surprise at his yelling, but you didn’t flinch beyond that. “Excuse me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Now you’re going into ghost-under-the-sheet territory.”

“You’re not scared?” He asked, intrigued.

“Of ghosts? No. I think they’re the most natural thing in the world. A bit strange and unusual to some people, I guess. But they consider me that too.”

“Strange and unusual,” Tate said with a laugh. He shook his head, and then right in front of your eyes, he seemed to disappear. It was a very odd thing to witness, and it did put a chill up your spine at how easy it seemed to be for them.

You went about the rest of your unpacking, but when you found some more of your underwear at the bottom of the box, you looked around suspiciously.

“No peeking in my drawers, ghosties. I’ll know,” You said aloud to yourself, tucking them into the drawer. You closed it up sturdily, thinking that perhaps you heard some laughter. You couldn’t be certain.

“It can’t be Halloween every day dear,” Your mother said, looking at your outfit as you got home from your first day of school. No motherly chit-chat about what it’s like to start at a new school, no ‘how did it go’. Just an instant critique on your mainly black outfit.

“It is for me,” You said, blowing past her to head up the stairs to your room. You slammed the door closed behind you, because as anyone could clearly see, you did not have a very good day. You threw yourself upon the bed, landing face down right on your most comfortable pillow.

“Why?” A disembodied voice came from your room. You were getting adjusted to it. Tate came and went every so often, though you could feel him watching you when he wasn’t there. It was unsettling, especially when you were getting ready for the day, or dressing down before bed.

“High school,” You grumbled into the pillow, not lifting your head. There came a chuckle from the corner of your room, but you didn’t look over.

“Come to the dead side. We don’t need school,” Tate said, popping up beside you, all messy blonde curls and a wide grin. You turned your head over to the other side, death being an uncomfortable topic for you. “I think we went to the same school,” He said, a little quieter this time.

“Oh yeah? Maybe I should ask to see the old yearbooks,” You teased.

“They wouldn’t have put me in there.” He said, stiffly. That got your attention. You pushed yourself up, then sat cross legged on the bed, staring at the seemingly shy boy.

“Why not?” You asked. “I’ve asked not to be put in mine, but they’re forcing me into it. So whatever you did must be-”

“Evil.” He finished the sentence. “I’m sure you can find it all on your laptop. They have everything on there.”

“So that was you that’s been using it while I’ve been busy,” You said, having found it open on more than one occasion. “I thought perhaps it was one of the other ghosties that you claim are around here.”

“There are twenty-four of us,” Tate said, sounding quite bitter about it. “And I’m the only one that you’re ever going to want to talk to.”

“Is there a girl? Because sometimes I feel like I smell perfume. If that’s you, I’m not judging but-”

“It’s me,” A female said, appearing behind Tate.

“Violet,” Tate said, turning around, a look of pure malice on his face. You hadn’t been expecting that. It was more than a little terrifying to see the change in his usually innocent-looking face. “Get out of here.”

“Or what, you’re going to kill me?” The girl said, sarcastically. She looked you over, and her face turned to one of concern. “You’re going to want to be careful in this house, if you’re staying.”

“I’m careful in every house,” You said, looking back at Tate, who still looked furious.

“Really?” Violet said, appearing behind you now, leaning over so her long curtain of hair was on your shoulder. “Then you should know something about your roommate.”

“Shut up!” Tate screamed so hard that you could feel his breath on your face. Your heartbeat was quickening. Something was happening, and it wasn’t going to be good.

“He’s a murderer,” Violet whispered in your ear. “A school shooter. A liar.”

“SHUT UP!” Tate screamed loud enough that it felt like the whole room was quaking. There was a sound of pounding at the door, and then it opened up to reveal your parents, both standing there with red faces, looking about.

“What’s going on?” Your father looked worried, and your mother looked just pissed off. Tate and Violet have entirely disappeared, leaving you here on your own, sitting on your bed, probably looking suspicious as hell.

“What do you mean?” You asked, not facing either of them, but rather right in front of you.

“The yelling? The whole house shaking?” Your father asked. “Did you blow your speakers out or something?”

You were still dealing with the mess of information that you had just gotten from Violet. A murderer. School shooter - that would be a reason why they wouldn’t put him in the yearbook.

“Y/N, Answer your father!” Your mother screeched. You winced at the sound of her voice. God, she was annoying as hell. You’d do anything to make her leave you alone. Even -

Even try to ask a ghost for assistance in scaring them away from you? Scaring the away from the house? You probably should leave, considering that the ghost who seemed the nicest happened to be a school shooter. And who nows what else he had done?

“Stereo system broke,” You lied quickly. “I got it under control, obviously. Do you hear anything anymore? Because I don’t. So bugger off.”

Almost as if by will itself, the door slammed closed in their faces of their own volition. You felt like Matilda for a moment, but then realized that Tate was standing behind the door, looking more sheepish and shy than he had before. “Don’t really want to talk to you right now, either.” You told him, making him look more downcast.

“You have to tell me to go away, those are the rules,” He said, pouting.

“Go away, Tate.”

And he had.

It had been three weeks, and your parents were back up to their old shit. Bugging you endlessly. It seemed like everytime you were actually trying to be productive with school work, they were being noisy right outside of your door.

You’ve finally had it. You snapped your laptop shut and glared at the door, feeling your mood grow blacker and blacker by the second. Your so called family was driving you insane. They were hammering new paneling or something in the wall of the hallway, the banging doing your head in.

You fell onto your back in the bed, eyes rolling up into your head. Madness needed madness. You didn’t want to do this but - “Tate?”

There wasn’t any noise, but the sun that was coming through your windows was suddenly blocked. You opened one eye to see that you were in the shadow of the teenage ghost. “I think I need your help,” You whispered. “Not a shooting obviously but... something to scare them?”

“Why?” He asked, head slightly tilted. “Why would I do you a favor when you just want me to go away?”

“Because you might have fun?” You suggested. “And - and I’m sorry. You can’t really blame me for being a bit surprised and afraid that I’m sharing a room with a murderer. And his former girlfriend.”

“Don’t even mention her, it’s bad enough that we’re stuck here together,” Tate said, folding his arms behind his head.

“Sorry,” You said. You turned your head to look at the closed door again. Your dad was being so loud, it sounded as if he was actually inside of your head rather than outside the door. “How do you guys put up with that? People coming in, changing things around, making a bunch of noise. Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”

“Yes,” Tate said, with a laugh.

“So maybe you’ll help me, then? Just something to scare them off of doing work for a bit. I don’t think-” You bit down on your lip as you prepared to say something that only a crazy person would say. “-I don’t want it to be bad enough that we leave here, you know? I kind of like the spookiness around here. It’s ... charming.”

“No one here is charming,” Tate said, his smile dropping. “Do you want to watch the show?”

“I - no, I think I’ll stay in here. I trust you.”

That was something that evidently wasn’t said to Tate often. He smiled at you, waved his fingers and then disappeared. You stayed in your bedroom, eyes closed to try to avoid the late afternoon sunlight, and waited for chaos to happen.

Sudden screaming came from your mother, shrill and loud, filling the entire house with it’s echoes. And then there was your father’s yell, something that you had never heard before, since he usually let your mother do the yelling. It sounded like pure fear. It made even your blood run cold when you thought about what they were seeing. And just when you thought about going down the stairs, Tate appeared in your room once more, sitting beside you on the bed.

“What did you do?” You breathed, still too afraid to open your eyes. You felt his weight on the bed, especially as he lied back with you. “I asked you not to scare them too much.”

“The vacuum cleaner wanted to suck your moms face off, I couldn’t help it,” He said laughing. You pictured that and giggled a little as well. You finally opened your eyes and moved so that you were facing the laying down Tate, eye to eye. He had a glimmer in those dark eyes of his, and his grin was infectious.

“What are you grinning about?” You asked, reaching up to poke his nose. It wasn’t something that you planned to do, it just kind of happened. A dark look went across his eyes for a second, then went right back to being happy-go-lucky.

“It’s nice not to be alone here anymore,” Tate said. You opened your mouth to point out that he wasn’t alone, there were plenty of ghosts around here, but he stopped you. “I don’t usually talk to anyone else. They’re mostly assholes.”

“Maybe I’m an asshole,” You suggested.

“You’re strange. And unusual. But not an asshole.” With one hand, he moved a piece of hair out of your face, smoothing it back, then lightly grazed your cheek.

“Am I really flirting with a ghost right now?” You asked yourself aloud.

“I can still feel like flesh and blood,” He smirked, making you slap his chest. He was right - he did feel sturdy.

“We’ll see how it goes, day by day, how about that?” You asked, closing your eyes as he caressed your cheek once more.

#Tate Langdon #Tate Langdon x reader #Tate Langdon oneshot #American Horror Story #American Horror Story oneshot #x reader #oneshot #one shot #tatel

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO “At All Costs.”

Sorry I didn’t get this one to you yesterday. it required me to read and listen to a bunch of Apollo 11 transcripts and watch more than a few videos to pretend to know what I was doing. So I hope you like it :)

“Did you know that if Apollo 11 Rocket were to explode, that explosion would have the force equal to a small nuclear weapon?”

Captain Richards turned his head inside the confined suit barely able to see the Admiral where he sat, “Serious?”

“Yeah serious.”

“No, I mean are you really talking about the Saturn V exploding when we are, and I might add, in an exact replica of the Saturn V.”

The man shrugged, though it was a difficult gesture to make out in his massive space suit, “Just making small talk.”

Captain Chavez piped up from his other side, her voice strange and tiny over the absolutely ancient radio setup, “Let's hear it Admiral, give us more Apollo 11 facts.”

Richards groaned though it was all in good fun.

“Up to that point the Saturn V was the most powerful rocket ever created, of course compared to the most powerful space ship ever created, The Omen, it can barely rocket it’s way out of a paper bag, but at the time it was a masterwork of engineering. As tall as a skyscraper it requires 4,578,000 lbs of fuel and 7.5 million pounds of thrust. It is 363 feet tall and weighs around 6.2 million pounds. Oh also the UN president will likely have two speeches already prepared, one if we survive and one if we die horrifically.”

“Why did you have to add the horrific part.” Richards wondered

Chavez laughed from the other side of the rocket.

He really was flying with two absolute psychos.

Chavez adjusted herself in her seat, “Hey, Admiral, is it true you survived the vacuum of space… what does that feel like?”

“Yep 12 seconds or less of pure unadulterated terror, and let me tell you it does not feel great. Ruptured blood vessels, severe dehydration etc etc.”

“Can we please talk about something else?”

The other two laughed at him.

***

“All ready for go, engineering?”

“Not yet, command, still working on it.”

“Just let us know when you are ready. Try to make it quick.”

Jade snorted, “I would rather have late astronauts than dead ones, mission control.” Her bluntness seemed to have shut them up for the moment, and she stepped up to examine the outside of the rocket once again.

It was then that she heard footsteps approaching and turned to see the strange starborn returning with a large blue shape in tow. The Drev was a good two feet taller than she was with carapace the color of a bright blue sports car. It jogged up, large silver/white spear in one hand, “What Can I do.”

She held out the little sample of tape the starborn had taken from the ship, “We found this covering a loose bolt in one of the ship panels. It isn’t heat resistant so it would burn up on exit and cause the panel to tear lose.”

The Drev nodded before she could even finish, “Causing it to go into a spin.”

Jade paused then nodded, “yes.”

“So sabotage.”

“It seems so.”

The Drev didn’t look surprised and just simply nodded, “Do we call off the launch.”

“This is an easy fix, and would have been the easiest way to sabotage the rocket in the first place. Everything else is monitored too heavily and tested too heavily to allow for it, but I am going to need your eyes. I only noticed because of the reflective properties of the tape as compared to the paint. WIth your eyes I might be able to find anything else.”

The Drev nodded and stepped back slightly, her head tilted up as she looked at the rocket. “Give me some time, and I am sure I can find them all. Just name the places where a panel tear will be the most catastrophic, and let me know as those will be the first places I should look.”

Jade nodded glancing back at the mission control building.

Her heart hammered inside her chest. She hadn’t intended for things to go this far, but they had. She was caught up in something she didn’t want to be caught up in.

The Drev handed a camera to the starborn, “Go, and make it quick.”

“Of course your royal highness.” He said, though he didn’t waste time as he grabbed the camera and floated back into the air.

****

“Chairwoman?”

She lifted her head turning to examine one of her assistants as they jogged over to stand next to her. She leaned her head down as he stood to whisper to her, using a dialect in their language which was difficult to read using translation equipment, “The launch has been delayed.”

She lifted her head slightly in mild surprise, “Delayed, why would it be delayed?”

He bowed his head, “It sounds like one of their engineers was slow in finishing up their final check.” he leaned in a little closer, “However, I saw the Saint heading over there just a few minutes ago.”

The chairwoman felt her insides churn with worry and anticipation, “Do you think they found something.”

“They might have, I don’t know.”

“Should we send someone over….”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to play our hand yet. We still have options if things go wrong.”

He nodded his head again and stepped away as one of the humans walked closer, “My apologizes chairwoman, the launch has been delayed a few minutes, but everything should be on track soon.”

She nodded tightly though her insides chured.

“Carry on.” She said, dismissing the human and watching him go after a few moments.

***

“What is taking so long.”

“Madam president, it looks like the engineers haven't finished their final checks yet.”

She tapped her nails against the lectern, “Is there any way to speed them up? They have been working on this for years now.”

\The service member looked a little taken aback stepping away slightly, “I…. well no ma’am if something were to happen during the launch because it was overlooked-”

She cut him off and waved him away as she looked over towards the distant rocket, white against the distant skyline.

Inside she was nervous. Something could go wrong at any minute, and more was likely to go wrong the longer they waited. She had to force herself to take a deep breath though. Things would be fine, they had backup plans in place in case something failed. Everything was going to work out.

Still this was Admiral Vir they were talking about.

***

Eris pushed her way gently through the crowd listening to the voices that flooded in all around her. She didn’t usually like crowds, too many voices all at once, but today they hardly bothered her, and she sifted through them like a machine, coming through their thoughts, looking for anything suspicious, anything she could use, anything she could find. She had been ordered by Conn and Sunny to look for someone who knew something about the outside of the ship, which had been tampered with, and so she did inching closer and closer through the halls and towards mission control. She wanted to know if any of them knew something.

No one looked twice at her as they rushed up and down the halls. But then again every time someone tried to notice her, she would turn their thoughts in a different direction. It was not a trick she used very often, but being half starborn and half human had melded and given her the odd ability to influence people’s thoughts as well. It allowed her to go places she wouldn’t have otherwise been allowed.

She pulled her hoodie closer to the sides of her head and paused outside the door allowing the voices and thoughts to well around her, searching for that one threat d that was out of place. She sensed excitement, nervousness, accomplishment. Every mind she sifted through there was nothing to indicate sabotage. These people were genuinely excited and scared about what they were doing. For many of them it was the most exciting day of their lives feeling much the same way that Adam did about what they were doing. She pulled back from the door frowning.

Well, if she couldn’t get the truth from them, she was going to have to get close to the one person she knew was involved.

The chairwoman would know if there were any other issues, as she was the one who had ordered the sabotage.

Eris turned on her feet and began to run.

“Countdown begins in ten minutes.” She heard over the intercom.

Shit, she hadn’t thought it was going to begin so soon.

Eris raced outside pausing on the edge of the balcony as she stared down at the crowd. With her bad knees, it was going to take her forever to get down those stairs….. Of course there was one option.

She grimaced at the thought, but then reminded herself that it was either that or a dead Adam.

Eris quickly pulled off her hoodie draping it over one arm and feeling the starborn ribbons uncoil and fall down around her back. A few of them were long enough to trail on the ground behind her. The open back of her shirt exposed the ribbons to the sun overhead warming her up and making her feel exhilarated.

She reached down to her belt to engage the gravity field before taking a long, deep breath. Ribbons billowed up around her from behind catching the light of the sun. She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the balcony and then, with the gravity field engaged, she dropped. Her ribbons flared out from behind her, and she was given a sudden strange sensation, and as she played with that sensation she felt herself coasting forward on some unknown power. She floated over the heads of those below, slowly coming down at an angle.

Fingers pointed up at her as she went and she did her best to ignore them as she came to a stop at the edge of the crowd. The people stared at her wide eyed as she gathered up her ribbons and quickly pulled her hoodie back on, ducking into the crowd and elbowing her way through up towards the stage where the chairwoman and the Un president sat.

She was so close.

She could sense.

Eris froze in horror.

***

“That’s it, that’s the last one.”

“Four, seems like a good number, and all on the same panel. If they had put them anywhere else it would have caused suspicion as to why the entire ship tore apart.”

Conn floated down from above and handed off a fistfull of silvered tape.

She reached up to her mic, “mission control you are going for launch, I repeat, you are go for launch.”

The Drev and the Starborn floated after her, joining her in the small jeep as they rolled away from the base of the rocket.

****

“Four minutes and counting we are go for Apollo 11

“Apollo 11's launch operations manager wishes you good luck.”

“ Thank you, we’ll do their memory proud.”

“That’s three minus and 25 seconds in counting. We are still going at this time.”

“T minus 1 minute and 54 ten seconds and counting oxidizer tanks on the second and third stages have pressurized.”

“T minus one minute 35 seconds on the Second Apollo 11 mission flight to remember the first men who stepped foot on the moon.”

“T minus sixty second and counting.”

“Admiral Vir reports that the countdown is going smoothly.”

“Power transfer is complete.”

“All second stage tanks now pressurized.”

“T minus fifteen seconds and counting guidance is internal.”

“12 11 10 9 Ignition sequence starts 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 all engines running.”

A massive wave of fire rolled from the underside of the rocket spilling out onto the ground around it in smoke and flames as the scaffold holding the rocket in place detached against the roaring power of the rocket.

“Liftoff, we have liftoff, Tower clear.”

The rocket spears it’s way into the sky leaving smoke and fire behind it. For a moment it is obscured by smoke before cutting through and piercing the blue canopy of sky above.

***

Adam rocked in his seat pressed backwards by what felt like hundreds of pounds of force against his chest. The rocket vibrated and rolled around him until it was almost impossible to see with his eyes being jarred inside his head. He was mostly defensive, it was, admittedly like nothing he had ever experienced. He was used to smooth transitions in darkfriars and spaceships, but this…., this was something altogether different. His heart hammered as they went higher and higher, the roaring from the fire licking the windows outside clear as they shook their way through the lower and then upper atmosphere. The communications clicked on and off as he kept in contact with ground control below when it was possible, his body rattling a little as he tried to remain steady.

The sky was darkening above him from eggshell blue to that familiar blue black.

“Apollo 11 this is Huston, you are going for staging.”

His hands felt like the bones were going to rattle out of his knuckles. He had never experienced a launch this intense before.

“ll, this is Houston. Roger. You're (0 from the ground at 7 minutes. Level sense arm at 8 plus 17; outboard cut-off at 9 plus Il.”

“Roger.”

They were getting higher.

“Staging, and ignition.”

“Apollo 11, this is Houston. Predicted cut-off at ll plus 42. Over.”

“Shutdown.”

***

The rocket lifted into the sky and she craned her head back to watch it go roaring as it was carried upward on a pillar of flames. Her hand reached down stroking the red folder that lay just under her fingers.

“Tilt nominal.”

She held her breath tight, her chest pounding and watched as it went up and up and up.

No disturbances. Her hands gripped the side of the lectern turning her head to one of the agents who nervously glanced back. She nodded and he rushed away. Her hands were clammy.

“Come on, she muttered.”

***

Chairwoman of the GA kept her eyes locked on the flying deathtrap as it was hauled into the air, come on come on she thought to herself as it rose higher and higher. She turned her head to one of her men who nodded quickly and then rushed off. Smoke filled the valley below them.

***

They had dropped the first stage, and Richards hands were sweaty despite the water wicking gloves under his suit. He was communicating back and forth with mission control when he watched in horror as Admiral Vir cut off communications with ground control. They were in space now and earth was beginning to fold out before them on either side.

“What are you doing.” He hissed in near panic

The Admiral ignored him, keying the coms one more time.

“Red, this is Apollo 11.”

Richards sat in shock as an unknown voice responded over the line, “Is that you in that bucket of bolts cinderella?”

The man’s voice sounded like he was smiling, “yep it’s me, keep your men on standby red, we made it out of atmosphere, but I don’t trust them to let me make it out of orbit.”

“Copy that your highness.”

Richards glanced out the window, watching as a sleek racing jet pulled into formation just outside the window of their rocket. It was so close to them that he could see the silhouette of the driver in the cockpit beyond reminding him that….. Despite the feeling of their rocket. They weren’t as alone as those astronauts had been originally.

The admiral suddenly flipped the mike back

“Apollo 11 this is Huston, DO YOU COPY.”

“Huston this is Apollo 11, sorry comms went out for a second, got them fixed.”

“Roger, don’t scare us like that.”

***

The UN president turned her head down, caught suddenly by the feeling of being watched. Off to her side the Chairwoman was still staring into the sky, but slowly lowered her head as if she felt it too.

She looked down surprised to find a figure staring at them, instead of staring at the rocket. She was humanoid with porcelain white skin and large black eyes.

But the voice that filled the inside of her head was not her own.

“You….. It’s you.”

***

Ten remote operated Rundi drones detached from the space debris and rolled into place around the rocket.

The pilots, sitting safely inside their ships listened to instructions over the line as the chairwoman of the GA whispered.

“Keep Admiral Vir alive at all costs.”

218 notes · View notes

visionsofus · 3 years

Note

Hi! I hope I’m not bothering you but I was wondering if you’ve written Wanda’s first reaction to Vision’s human shimmer before?

hi! you'd never be bothering me! sorry this took a bit for me to get around to - my response ended up being a lot more long winded than I meant! thank you for reaching out with this, at the time I hadn't written anything like that but now I have ~ hope you enjoy 🥰

my inbox is open for anything and everything scarletvision

I just see you

synopsis: Vision hasn't seen Wanda in nearly a year, not since they both decided the danger was too great and they needed to go their separate ways. But he's still her emergency contact, so when Wanda ends up in hospital, Vision is the first to hear. Frantic, he travels to France, desperate to see her safe and harbouring hope that they might yet reconcile.

words: 4,140

read on AO3 here

There was a ringing coming from Vision’s bedroom.

It took a few shrill rings for him to realise that the noise wasn’t coming from inside his own head. Vision had been so wrapped up in his research that he hadn’t resurfaced for hours. It was a jarring thing to do all at once, to leave the carefully regulated interior of his mind and appear back in the physical world once more.

The ringing continued and Vision glanced around, his eyes adjusting quickly. Morning had quickly turned to evening and the pale walls of his room were lit up amber by the sunset.

The source of the sound was quickly discovered in the depths of his wardrobe, hidden within a pocket of a jacket he rarely wore. Vision fished the small flip phone out, anxiously. It had been a gift and the only person who knew its number hadn’t spoken to him in months.

Recalling that telephones only rang for a set time Vision hurriedly answered, lest it run through to the voicemail he’d never had cause to set up.

“Hello?” He said hesitantly, straining his ears to hear the person on the other line. The environment behind sounded busy, he could hear many voices piling on top of one another in chorus.

“Monsieur Maximoff?” The voice on the other side of the phone sounded stern, but unfamiliar. She was also speaking French. Vision did not know anyone who spoke French.

“I’m sorry, who am I speaking to?” Vision asked, fumbling for what to say and desperately grasping at the internet for a French translator. Mr Maximoff? He thought, who on earth was he talking to and how had they come across his number.

“Ah, Anglais.” The voice sounded more distant, as though she were talking to someone else. She returned, this time speaking in English with a heavy French accent. “Am I speaking to Mr Maximoff?”

Vision wasn’t sure what else he could say. “Yes, yes, you are. I’m so sorry, who is this?”

He was just about to trace the caller’s IMEI but the woman at the other end provided him with all the information he needed.

“Bonjour, Mr Maximoff. I am calling from the Toulouse University Hospital,” she said.

“Toulouse,” Vision repeated in astonishment. “Toulouse, France?”

“Yes, Monsieur,” she replied, sounding slightly vexed. “We had a patient brought in earlier tonight and you were listed as her emergency contact. Her condition is stable, but she had a hit to the head. We’ve observed her for a few hours, and she seems fine, but we wanted to advise you of the incident so you might pick her up.”

Vision breath caught in his throat as fear gripped his heart.

“To clarify,” Vision said shakily, “you are speaking of Wanda.”

“Yes.”

“Is she okay?”

He must have sounded rather strangled in his panic for when the woman spoke again her words were measuredly more soothing. “She is perfectly fine, Mr Maximoff. Just a bit shaken up with some light bruising and an abrasion on her forehead. We would like to monitor her overnight and if everything is okay, we can discharge her in the morning. Can you come to the hospital for then?”

“Of course!” Vision said frantically. “I can be there soon.”

She ended the call with a pleasantry in French that he didn’t recognise, but he was already on the move. He thought about leaving the phone behind, but decided it was better to have it near him in case the hospital called again.

Vision’s form blurred as he darted about the room grabbing at bits and pieces, he thought he might need. He wanted to travel light but also didn’t want to be caught unawares. He withdrew the travel bag he kept in his nightstand which contained any identification he needed to appear human. Vision had gotten his driver’s license once he had started making more solo trops and Tony had thought it useful. Vision obviously hadn’t taken the test itself; he was a better driver than any human and a test wasn’t needed to prove that.

He also retrieved his passport and the credit card he seldom needed to use. None of these listed his real identity, mind you. Instead, they displayed his human glamour with his pale skin and a head of sandy blond hair.

There was no way he could travel under his true identity without being clocked by the authorities as operating without the Accords’ instruction. Vision doubted that visiting your ex in hospital counted as noble activities that the United Nations would look favourably upon in the event he was caught. Especially when that ex happened to be an international fugitive.

With his ID secured and slipped safely into the pocket of his jacket, Vision made for the door. He was out of the compound before the building’s AI had the chance to trigger the system and notify Tony that someone had crossed the property line.

Vision had never had cause to test his super speed over such extensive distances. There had always been easier alternatives for travel.

Thankfully, progress went fast. Though it was frustrating having to stop at ever major border or airspace to disappear offline so he couldn’t be identified as a hostile flying object. When he did have secure connection, Vision kept an eye on the news in Toulouse, terrified that Wanda might be discovered. So far, the feed was quiet, and Vision had to rest on the assurance that the woman he had spoken with on the phone had said nothing to indicate she was suspicious of Wanda.

In the end, Vision managed to make it to France in just over two hours, having had to detour over the North Atlantic to avoid some nasty weather. Staying low to the ground and mostly hidden under the cover of night, he risked getting within two miles of the hospital before returning to the ground.

Vision ducked down an alley and took a moment to hide in the shadows. Taking a deep breath, he focused his energy on putting on the shimmer that made him appear human. It slipped into place easily. Straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair, Vision ensured he looked relatively presentable before heading back out onto the streets of Toulouse.

It was an excruciatingly slow walk, but Vision knew he couldn’t risk drawing attention by walking any quicker than a human. Even in the early hours of the morning, Toulouse still had life to it. There were a few too many watchful eyes than he could be comfortable with. Even knowing that no one on this side of the world had seen his human form, it was still difficult to put the fear to rest.

Vision quickened his pace marginally as he reached the hospital’s entrance, figuring it might seem normal enough to hurry given where he was. In his head he reminded himself over and over that this was normal. He was here because he had received a call about his ‘partner’ who had been hospitalised. Vision felt sick even as he thought it.

Inside the brightly lit ground floor was a round desk with bright green letters hanging above that said la réception.Sitting behind the desk were three nurses. Vision caught the attention of the nearest and smiled politely.

“Bonjour,” Vision said, the language sounding strange in his mouth, “je suis ici pour Ms Maximoff.”

The nurse leant forward to catch Vision’s quiet tone. He was hesitant about using the last name ‘Maximoff’ and wondered why on earth Wanda hadn’t given them a false name.

“Ah,” the nurse’s eyes lit up in recognition and she turned to call over her shoulder, “Louise?”

Another nurse came around to the reception and as she rattled off something in French Vision recognised her as the stern woman who had spoken with him on the phone.

“Mr Maximoff?” She said with a welcoming smile.

“Yes,” Vision said hesitantly, “oui.”

“I though you would come by in the morning—”

Vision opened his mouth to provide reasoning for coming so quickly. He had forgotten how difficult it was, having to lie all the time when he was with Wanda.

“—but I understand you must have been very worried. If you would please follow me.”

Vision shut his mouth tightly, perhaps it was better to say less and let them assume more. The nurse turned away and walked down a long corridor to a set of lifts. She called one down and the doors opened with a chime, before gesturing for Vision to get in. As he stepped in, Vision let his hands brush against the control panel and shuddered slightly as he was absorbed into the hospital’s security system. It felt wrong, but it was better than risking someone having recognised Wanda already. Vision scrubbed through the security, uploaded a match of Wanda’s face and proceeded to edit all visual of her from the camera’s history. The system was too limited to even realise what was happening, let alone retaliate.

“Could you please explain what happened?” Vision asked politely as they reached the fourth floor and the elevator doors opened once more.

“I’m afraid I do not know much more than what I told you over the phone,” Louise said. “She was brought in about seven hours ago with a few other patients from a car accident. A vehicle lost control on the motorway and took out several other cars with it. A bit of a mess I am afraid.”

Lousie caught sight of Vision’s horrified face. “Not that Ms Maximoff was badly hurt,” she said hurriedly, “she is perfectly fine, and we will be able to let her out in the morning.”

Vision breathed out shakily as he was led down a brightly lit corridor. “Thank you.”

“Do not worry,” Louise gave Vision a comforting smile and stopped in front of a nondescript door. “You’re welcome to stay until morning though don’t tell anyone that I let you in out of visitor hours. There is a canteen on the ground floor, but it does not open until 7 I am afraid.”

“That’s alright, it won’t be a problem,” Vision said with a smile, eager to get inside the room and out of view of prying eyes. “Thank you for all your help.”

“D’accord,” Louise said her eyes crinkling in another smile and waving her hand, dismissing his thanks genially.

Vision managed to wait until she had retreated down the corridor before steeling himself and letting his human glamour fall. He did not want to see Wanda as anyone but himself.

As Vision erased himself from the corridor, he took the first step into Wanda’s cramped hospital room. The space smelt sterile, even to him and it was so wholly unwelcoming that Vision’s heart seized at the idea of Wanda spending hours here alone.

It seemed she wasn’t as troubled, instead lying sound asleep in the hospital bed. With the bed propped as it was, Wanda’s face was bathed in the light peeking through the blinds as car headlights flew past. Vision peered at her face intently, surveying the damage.

There was a graze across her forehead and a couple of stitches in her chin, but otherwise no other outwards injuries. There was a clipboard attached to the end of the hospital bed and Vision picked it up quietly to assess the doctor’s notes. It was in French, and shorthand at that, but he managed to decipher the words with the aid of his translator. MTBI. A mild traumatic brain injury, Vision thought. He knew it sounded much worse than it was and was comforted by the doctor’s following notes: no further cognitive symptoms, keep overnight, review in morning before discharge.

So there really was nothing else wrong. It was reassuring and he felt much better now that he was standing before Wanda’s sleeping form, her chest rising and falling steadily.

It was only then that Vision realised precisely how long it had been since he had last seen her. 8 months. Three seasons had passed since she had pushed him out of her life for good and he had let her. Wanda had sworn she didn’t want to see him again, and Vision had let it happen. He’d regretted the argument ever since it had happened

Now here he was, her unassuming emergency contact after a car accident. What if it had been something more final, what if that call had been made to deliver more devastating news, what would he have done?

Vision didn’t waste time pursuing such guilty thoughts further, instead going to Wanda’s side and sitting in the chair beside the bed. As he reached out for her hand, laying still atop the scratchy hospital blanket, he knew it was where he was supposed to be. As he took her hand her fingers twitched, registering the contact.

When Vision looked up, Wanda’s eyes were open, if slightly bleary. She blinked slowly in the darkness.

“Vis?” She whispered, her voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.

“Yes,” Vision replied, desperately wishing he could reach out and take her into his arms but knowing it was not his place to do so. Not unless she invited him to.

“It feels like you,” Wanda smiled and closed her eyes again, squeezing his hand. “I wish you were here.”

Vision frowned and wrapped both hands around hers. “I am here.”

Wanda stilled and Vision felt his hands grow warm and the familiar feeling of Wanda’s power. Perhaps just confirming it was him, or maybe it was a more involuntary reaction.

She sat up abruptly. “You shouldn’t be here!” The movement had apparently been too quick for her as Wanda winced and raised a hand to her forehead in pain. Vision jumped to his feet once more and helped her lie back down on her pillows.

“How did you get here?” Wanda asked, now wide awake and staring up at him.

“They called me,” Vision said slowly, trying his best not to distress her further. He thought about moving away from the bed to give her space, but she had grabbed a hold of his wrist and didn’t seem keen on releasing it. After so long without hearing her voice, Vision was content to stay as close as she would allow.

“The accident, was it bad?” He asked.

“Honestly,” Wanda said slowly, “I don’t really remember. It happened so quickly, nothing like a real fight. Just a flash of metal and I was lying on the curb. It barely touched me, but the paramedics insisted I come to the hospital.”

“As they should,” Vision said, unable to keep the distress from his voice. “What if something worse had happened? You really never know with head injuries…”

“Well, I feel fine now,” Wanda said relaxing somewhat amongst the cushions. “Did they tell you when I can leave?”

“In the morning,” Vision replied, “as long as the doctor checks you one last time before you leave.”

Wanda didn’t seem happy at the prospect of having to stay any longer than necessary but at least she didn’t push him to break her out of the hospital.

“I didn’t realise I was still your emergency contact,” Vision said quietly, looking intently at the mattress.

Wanda sighed quietly. “If you’re asking if there’s anyone else, there’s not.”

Vision stiffened. “I wasn’t prying.”

A few moments of silence passed by. “That doesn’t explain why I was listed as Vision Maximoff in your contacts.”

Wanda groaned and finally released his wrist, using her hand to instead cover her face in embarrassment. She sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s just say I was young, hopeful and in love.”

“That wasn’t that long ago,” Vision smiled, half-heartedly trying to joke past the growing discomfort in his chest. He hated that she used the past tense when talking about them.

“Yeah,” Wanda shrugged, “well a lot has changed. Being a fugitive changes things.”

Vision nodded, though he knew he’d never really understand what the last year had been for Wanda. “I hope it does not change everything.” He spoke slowly, afraid of saying something that might make her ask him to leave. “My feelings have not changed.”

Wanda bit her lip but seemed to be fighting off something like a smile. “Mine haven’t either.”

Hearing this made Vision breathe easily for what felt like the first time in months. Despite the circumstances, he was here beside her. Wanda was safe, light bruising aside, and through it all she somehow still loved him.

“I know things will always be complicated, but I hope you’ll think about letting me back into your life again,” Vision said softly, taking Wanda’s hand in his again. “It does not matter in what way or form, as long as I can be near you.”

“I’d like that,” Wanda said, her words barely above a whisper. Her chest shuddered as she yawned, wincing again as she shifted her head.

“You should rest. We can talk in the morning.”

Wanda nodded and let her eyes flutter close.

Vision stayed up for the last few hours of the night, a loyal shadow at Wanda’s side. All the while he counted down the minutes until they could leave and he could see Wanda safely to her house, wherever it was she was staying in Toulouse. It concerned him that Steve and the others probably hadn’t heard about Wanda’s accident, and he hoped they weren’t losing their minds with worry. There was another part of him that thought Wanda might be alone in France, she had always preferred staying in Europe when her small band of fugitives went their separate ways. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

It was foolish for Vision to hope, but he was starting to think the best way for this day to end was with him in Wanda’s bed. Of course, logically he knew they weren’t there yet. Even Wanda’s admission the night before to allow him back in her life felt like enough. But it was difficult to curb 8 months of longing.

As the clock ticked past 6am and the sky began to lighten behind the blinds Vision waited patiently, not wanting to disturb the rest Wanda so clearly needed. She had never been a quiet sleeper, always tossing and turning and mumbling in dreams. Vision was well accustomed with her habits, so it was unnerving to observe her stillness. But her breathing remained steady through until dawn. The only time Wanda had shifted was to roll onto her side, pulling their hands, which had found each other in the night, closer towards her.

Wanda finally woke around 7 and Vision busied himself by pretending to peer out the blinds and observe the street below.

“How are you feeling?” He asked over his shoulder, hearing the sheets rustle as Wanda sat up.

“Better now,” she mumbled. “But ready to get out of this place, I’d rather not risk it with the authorities in France again.”

Vision hated the way that Wanda said again. What had really happened in the months he hadn’t heard from her?

“No need to worry, I’ve removed you from security camera footage and before we leave, I’ll scrub us from the system again.”

Wanda rubbed at her eyes as she slipped out of the hospital bed. “Give me a chance to splash my face and change and we can get going.”

“No rush,” Vision murmured but it felt untrue. There was a rush. Even if he did remove them from the records there was no saying that a member of staff wouldn’t eventually recognise the name Maximoff and tell the authorities. Yes, the sooner they were out of the hospital, the better.

While Wanda was freshening up, Vision gathered her meagre belongings. Her necklaces, rings and phone had been left in a plastic tray on the bedside table. With everything safely in his pockets Vision slipped back into the hospital’s security system. From what he could tell, no alerts had been tripped but then again he didn’t know if the hospital had a specific code for ‘there’s an international fugitive on premises call the police’. Vision knew the hospital was nearly at capacity based on the records he had looked at, so the chances that their faces would stick out of everyone felt unlikely.

Nevertheless, it was better safe than sorry and there was no way they wouldn’t draw attention with him looking as he was. Once again, Vision closed his eyes and visualised his human shimmer, shivering as it fell into place. His skin tickled as his hair fell onto his forehead and Vision reached up to run a hand through it, a mannerism he had never had reason to practice but had seen others perform.

The bathroom door creaked as Wanda closed it behind her. It was a relief to see her out of the hospital gown and in something more Wanda.

“Vis how are you going to—” As she turned and caught sight of him, Wanda’s voice caught in her throat. She brought both hands to her mouth in astonishment.

Vision suddenly grew shy. Of course, Wanda had never seen him like this, of course it would be a shock. Did she even recognise him?

“It’s still me,” Vision said hurriedly, whether for her sake or his he couldn’t be sure. He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck as Wanda’s eyes continued to search his face in disbelief.

“I know,” she finally said, approaching him slowly. “I can tell it’s you.”

Just as she reached him the door to the hospital room slid open and a young woman entered.

“Bonjour,” Vision said hurriedly, taking a few steps back from Wanda and turning his attention to the doctor. Wanda’s eyes remained on Vision right up until the doctor approached her and asked her to do a few simply exercises. When she was sure that motor function was normal, they were told they were free to leave and to go down to the reception to begin the process of checking out. The doctor made Wanda promise to return to the hospital if she began experiencing anything like memory loss or migraines.

With the doctor gone once more, Wanda spun on Vision, getting far closer to him than she had yet. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, frowning.

“This is new.”

Vision nodded against her hand, relishing this one touch that he had spent months dreaming about. “I started working on this as soon as I left…”

He didn’t need to explain more and saw Wanda’s gaze grow shadowed as she presumably recalled their fight. It had been about their safety around each other, it always was. Wanda had been angry about Vision being put at risk around her, and he had been annoyed about the same thing for her. It had been so difficult to hide and meet up every few weeks back then, especially when Vision was so recognisable, and Wanda was being broadcasted around the globe. When Wanda had finally insisted on breaking things off, Vision had agreed. He’d returned to the compound and spent a week perfecting his new human mirage. It was all in the hopes that when she next called him things would be easier. But she hadn’t called.

“Do you have a—” Vision swallowed nervously, “—a preference?”

Wanda tilted her head curiously, “I don’t mind this new glamour, either way it’s you. But I prefer the you you.”

Vision tried to hide his relief as he raised his hand to Wanda’s which was still pressed to his cheek. Her thumb was running curiously circles over his skin. Carefully, cautiously, he took her hand and pressed his mouth to the back of her knuckles. The gesture’s effect was immediate, and Wanda closed her eyes.

“I miss being close to you,” she whispered, as they gravitated closer together. “I could imagine you; I could see you were safe on the news but nothings the same as having you here under my hands.”

Well, she’d had one more assurance than him at least.

It didn’t take much for Vision to pull her closer, hooking an arm around her waist and letting his human glamour fall. She sunk into his embrace, as he had imagined her doing for months and Vision wrapped his arms securely around her.

“Please don’t ask me to leave,” he said, strained.

“Alright,” Wanda said, her voice muffled as she pressed her head into the crook of his neck.

She drew back and took his face in her hands and kissed him. Vision’s legs nearly gave out from underneath him as her mouth moved softly against his own, something he hadn’t let himself dream of doing ever again.

Wanda smiled against his mouth. “We’re sticking together from now on.”

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