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bloodfromthethorn · 2 years ago

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Broken Bones

Falling without any kind of safety net isn't really anyone's idea of a good time. Turns out, landing's worse.

Part twenty-one of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3.

Despite what everyone seemed to believe, Mac couldn’t actually pin down when, precisely, he’d developed his fear of heights. Bozer had always tended to assume it had something to do with that time Donnie had ‘accidentally’ shoved him off the top of the climbing frame in the gym and he’d wound up with a concussion after falling ten feet, but the truth was the fear was much older than that. His earliest memories were hazy and indistinct at the best of times, but he had a vague sense of his mother soothing him when he’d been afraid of the edge of his granddad’s deck. As an adult he could comprehend that the drop was scarcely five feet, but to his tiny child’s frame, it had seemed like miles.

Regardless, the point was that the fear predated any concrete event he could put a name to. Maybe he had fallen as a child, but he didn’t have anyone left to consult about that theory. Instead, he’d chosen to accept long ago that it was simply an innate aspect of his personality that he’d have to deal with. Before he’d become a spy he hadn’t realised he’d have to confront that particular fear quite so often, but such was the price he paid for the life he chose to live.

All of that being said, he’d never quite understood why so many people were intent on telling him that his acrophobia was an irrational fear. Clearly the people saying that had never been dangling off the edge of a third floor balcony by nothing but their fingertips.

“Hang on, hoss, I’m almost to you.”

“Please don’t say ‘hang on’,” he snapped back, strained. His eyes stung with sweat, and he could feel tremors trying to infest overworked muscles, held back only by the absolute knowledge that if he so much as shifted, he’d lose his tentative grip on the iron railings. He’d made a point of not looking down, but the overactive imagination he’d never been able to constrain was more than happy to fill in the blank, gaping void he knew was beneath him.

“Yeah, okay, my bad,” Jack replied, sounding almost as out of breath as his partner. Mac knew that he was racing towards him as fast as he possibly could, but he’d been on the other side of the compound when the blast had nearly thrown Mac clear out of the building. It was going to take him a hot minute to navigate the complicated stairwells and corridors. “Just keep talking to me, alright? Keep me in the loop.”

“Talking- ah- talking’s not all that easy.”

Truthfully, breathing wasn’t all that easy just then. Dangling from his arms as he was meant that he couldn’t properly expand his ribcage without pulling himself up a little every time, and he could already feel the heavy weight of fatigue settling in his muscles. If Jack didn’t show up soon, there was a good chance Mac would pass out from oxygen deprivation before he figured out a way to get back on solid ground.

“I know it’s not. I’m going to be there any minute now, don’t you worry.”

“Mind- mind the-” He struggled, swallowed, ran out of air, and then blinked away the black spots in his vision with determination. He needed help but he’d be damned if he let Jack get hurt trying to save his sorry ass. “Debris,” he hissed.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard the boom, don’t think I didn’t. What have I told you about playing with explosives when I’m not around, huh?” There was a sudden, thoughtful pause. “Do you know if there are any other charges I need to worry about?”

The same, abrupt fear that his partner had just encountered washed through Mac like a wave. He would have slumped in place if he could; as it was, he could do nothing but force himself to breathe. “Don’t think- so. Not sure.”

“Proceed with caution then, I hear you.” From the continued panting Mac could hear over the radio, he’d wager that Jack hadn’t so much as broken stride. He was far too well-trained to not be cautious of walking into what could be a literally-explosive situation, but equally, there wasn’t a chance he was going to leave Mac when he was in so precarious a position.

Instead of wasting the last of his oh-so-precious air participating in an argument he would lose, Mac took the time to try to bolster his fading reserves. His whole body was starting to hurt, but by far the worst was the burning, blazing ache of his hands and shoulders. Every beat of his heart lit them up with fresh pain and he feared that if he faltered even a little, they’d fail him in an instant. Even with a will of iron and an intense desire to not fall off this balcony, thank you very much, he knew that he didn’t have much longer left in him.

In the back of his mind, buried under sheer blind stubbornness and a reckless streak a mile wide, he heard the gentle, persistent call of the ground far beneath him.

“Jack,” he murmured helplessly. There was no breath left in him to put strength in the word; all he could do was whisper it with his final, heaving exhale.

“Mac,” his partner snapped back, but it sounded so distant. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and no amount of blinking rid him of them. In a last ditch effort at getting the leverage he needed to take a breath, he kicked out his legs to find nothing but empty air; the balcony he was clinging to protruded several feet out from the main wall, leaving his entire body entirely disconnected from the structure. He didn’t have strength left in his arms to even try pulling himself up.

Maybe it he’d had a little more leverage, or maybe if the explosion that had knocked him over the railing in the first place hadn’t winded him so badly, or maybe if he’d been just a little bit stronger-

-but no.

His strength was spent. The darkness rose up to claim him like a mother might wrap a child in a warm blanket. The last thing he felt was the cold iron of the railing slipping away from his fingertips.

There was a moment when Jack approached the crumpled body of his partner in which he was certain that he’d failed. Desperation and urgency were both high in his blood but they weren’t enough to stop him skidding to a sharp halt a few metres away, some deep seated part of his mind begging him to pause so he could brace himself for what he was about to discover. A stupid instinct really – there was no amount of time on earth that would be enough to prepare himself for identifying the corpse of the man he’d dedicated the last ten years of his life to.

But it was only a heartbeat. Hiding from the truth wasn’t going to make it hurt any less, and the rest of the team on the radio deserved answers.

He forced himself to take a shaking step forwards, then another, then another, and then all of a sudden he was crashing to his knees besides Mac’s still form. His first observation, unwanted as it might be, was that there was surprisingly little blood for such a long fall. He instantly shut that line of thinking down and reached out with a trembling hand to feel for the pulse point on the side of Mac’s neck.

It was still beating.

The breath rushed out of him in one smooth swoop, so forceful he nearly collapsed in on himself from the sheer relief of it. It was the most he allowed himself; with the next breath, he was back in action.

“Matty,” he snapped, knowing she was listening with baited breath, “Mac’s alive. Get me a medevac right now.”

She breathed out an exclamation of relief that Jack only half listened to, preoccupied as he was with establishing visible injuries without touching Mac. He might still be alive – thank god – but there was no telling what damage had been done by the fall. The one thing they had going for them was that Mac had had the luxury of falling onto reasonably soft ground; two days of solid rain had softened up the bare earth that ringed the entire exterior of the building and while it was hardly a crash mat, they’d be looking at a very different story if it had been concrete.

From what he could see, the kid’s left leg was badly broken, presumably having taken the first impact, and his left arm was, if not broken, then at the very least displaced. It was hard to identify quite how badly, given that Mac was slumped on his side and Jack couldn’t get a good angle on it without moving him, but he definitely wasn’t lying right for his shoulder to still be in one piece. The rasping breathing also paid tribute to what was likely to be more than a few broken ribs. Further up, a gash over his eyebrow revealed where his head had finally hit the ground. Jack could only hope that he’d managed to absorb enough of the shock elsewhere that he hadn’t managed to scramble his brain.

In all, it looked like a textbook example of someone who had been trained how to fall while minimising injury. Trust Mac to pull off efficient aerial manoeuvres while free-falling and barely conscious.

Without evidence of any nasty bleeds, Jack’s attention moved on to assessing Mac’s spine. With careful fingers and several muttered apologies, bitten out through an iron grip on his control, he felt his way down from the base of Mac’s skull, all the way to his tailbone. It wasn’t a wholly reliable technique and he definitely wouldn’t be moving Mac until the EMTs arrived, but he couldn’t deny the soft relief that flooded him when he felt nothing dramatically out of place.

“You don’t get to do this to me, Mac,” he said, wishing he sounded strong instead of small. “You go kaboom, I go kaboom, remember? You’re not allowed to take on any explosions without me.”

If it hadn’t been for the pervasive quiet that had fallen over the grounds, Jack might have missed the sound that followed. It was near silent, more of a wheeze than a voice, and yet he felt it spark something in his chest all the same. In the next instant, he was back beside Mac’s head.

“Hoss?”

With his face pressed awkwardly into the loamy earth, Mac could only open one of his eyes and it still managed to be one of the best things that Jack had ever seen. Far less promising, however, was the bubble of red at the corner of his lips. Dread dropped like a stone in Jack’s gut.

Mac made the sound again, his mouth moving just enough to reveal bloodied teeth and releasing a bead of blood that carved a path down over his cheek. Horrified as he was by the sight, it took Jack a staggeringly long amount of time to realise that Mac was trying to say his name.

“Mac, Jesus, don’t try to talk,” he scolded, reaching out to brush Mac’s hair of out his eyes before he remembered not to touch. “I’m right here, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

A soft whimper escaped Mac. In the dim light, Jack could just make out the glistening in his one visible eye and he felt the pain of it lance through his chest. Tears of his own welled up before he had any chance of stopping them.

“I know it hurts, hoss,” he said, like he had any fucking idea what Mac was feeling. “It’s going to be okay, I promise you.” Throwing caution to the wind in the face of such pain, he finally let his hand come to rest softly on the top of Mac’s head. He didn’t smooth his hair back like he wanted to – there was still just enough caution in him to put that idea to rest – but the physical connection seemed to help bring something in Mac’s brain back online.

He blinked slowly, releasing the tear that had gathered at the corner of his eye, and tried to look up at his partner. Either because he realised how much pain it would cause him to do it or because he genuinely couldn’t, he didn’t make any effort to turn his head. It was better that way, Jack knew, but the sight of it still sent a thrill of fear racing through him.

“Medics are on their way, alright Mac? Just got to hang tight for a few more minutes. We can do that, can’t we? It’s hardly nothing.” That was all well and good for him to say. He wasn’t the one lying there in so much pain he could scarcely breathe. “While we’re waiting, let me get a check on you, alright? Can you blink once for yes and two for no?”

There was a brief pause as Mac apparently mulled that question over, then a slow, performative blink.

Jack tried to smile encouragingly at him, but he knew Mac would be able to see right through him. He was far too panicked to even try hiding it. “That’s great kid. Okay.” With his free hand, he reached over to where Mac’s right arm was lying limply on the ground beside him and very gently squeezed the tip of his thumb. “Can you feel that?”

A single blink. Thank god.

“That’s great news,” he said, not caring that he was repeating himself. With a slight wince of apology, he moved to Mac’s other hand, the one attached to the broken arm, and repeated the same thing. “And now?”

Another blink, accompanied by a tightening of Mac’s features.

“That one hurts more?”

Blink.

“Alright, we expected that. I’m so sorry hoss. You know I have to check.”

Blink.

“Does that hand feel numb at all? Any tingling or pins and needles?”

Two blinks.

Jack grimaced. “This is going to suck, but can you try moving your fingers for me? Just a little?”

Again there was a pause, as Mac struggled to process that request through whatever haze of concussion and agony he was currently working with, then the fingers beside Jack’s hand twitched. It was little more than a spasm, really, but it was everything Jack needed right then. “Okay, hoss, that’s great, you did it. You can relax them again, okay? You did good.”

Mac just watched him in silence. What little Jack could see of his face was carved in deep lines of distress and the blood seeping from his lips hadn’t slowed even once he’d given up on talking. A punctured lung, Jack was willing to bet; that the kid was still breathing at all suggested it was only one of the two, thank fuck, but that was still one too many. There should never be a circumstance where his partner was lying on the ground, broken into a hundred pieces, when Jack hadn’t been there to catch him.

For what felt like the hundredth time, he shook away the thought like a dog shaking off water. Now was not the time for self-recrimination or raging at the universe; he could worry about all that when Mac was whisked off to the inevitable surgical suite.

“Alright, this next one is going to be a bitch,” he warned, steeling himself to do it. “Blink if you can feel this.”

He had to remove his hand from Mac’s head to reach his feet, but he knew that it had to be done. Uncharacteristically, Mac had been wearing combat boots for their infiltration – Jack hadn’t bothered to ask why, but it had probably done a lot to stop his ankles from shattering in the fall so he wasn’t about to protest it – which meant the closest he could actually get to the soles of his feet was halfway up his shin. It wasn’t optimal; once the EMTs got here, they’d have to cut the boots off and do a proper blood flow and sensation check. But, for the moment, sans any cutting tools and deeply unwilling to put Mac through the agony of taking his boots off in the traditional way, he’d settle for digging his nail softly into the meat of Mac’s calf.

This time the wince preceded the blink, sharp enough that his whole body twitched. Going off how Mac instantly froze afterwards, Jack was willing to bet that moving had set off a whole new cacophony of pain.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he blubbered helplessly, shuffling back up to Mac’s head on his knees. He’d never been good at seeing people he cared about in pain, and that went double when it was Mac or Riley. They were his family and he’d do anything to keep them safe; watching them hurt felt like knives beneath his skin. He’d almost say it was a fitting punishment for letting them get injured in the first place if they weren’t the ones suffering.

A couple of strained, rasping breaths later, Mac managed to get his eye back open from its pained squint and blinked twice. Rejecting the apology? Or saying it wasn’t necessary? Jack had no way of establishing which without asking and he wasn’t getting Mac to waste his strength on soothing Jack’s shredded nerves. Instead, he just continued a mumbled litany of assurances and empty promises that help was just around the corner.

With some level of nerve responsiveness established, there was nothing else he could do besides monitor Mac’s condition and report it to the incoming EMTs via Matty. He felt paralysed, unable to do anything to help his partner beyond just being there. That Mac seemed to take some small comfort from his presence did little to make him feel less like a failure.

None of this should have happened. Jack should have been there. If he had been- well, he didn’t know what he could have done, but he would have thought of something. Anything that would have meant Mac didn’t have to go through this.

As distressing as it was to watch Mac fighting to breathe through the agonising pain, watching his blinks get slower and more lethargic as he drifted towards unconsciousness was a hundred times worse. Jack tried to keep him awake as long as he could with one-sided conversation, but there was only so much he could do.

By the time the medevac team was racing across the lawn towards them, Mac’s eye had slipped closed and nothing Jack said could get him to open it again.

After the fall he’d had, the list of Mac’s broken bones was as unsurprising as it was horrifying. The only thing keeping Jack from really losing it was that the fool had somehow managed to protect both his spine and his skull, with both showing bruising but no permanent damage. Elsewhere was… less good.

A dislocated shoulder leading to a snapped humerus. Five broken ribs, two of which had shredded his left lung. A fractured hip. By the time the doctor started listing the injuries to Mac’s legs, it became easier to name the bones that hadn’t been broken.

The headline information was that Mac would live. Assuming his reconstructive surgery went well and his body didn’t decide to reject any of the metal pins currently being used to hold him together, he’d even live well; it would be a hell of a long time before he was up and walking, the doctors said, but they did have hope that he would, indeed, walk. In that regard at least the combat boots had made all the difference. Jack had spent a not inconsiderable amount of time since learning that fact wondering how he could convince Matty to make them required attire for all field agents.

It was that or beat himself up over letting Mac get hurt at all.

Although, then again, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have time for both. Mac’s surgery would take hours and even once he was out, the doctors had indicated they were planning on keeping him sedated for a good while yet. There was already going to be a lot of pain in his future; there was no need to wake him up now to feel the worst of it. The best thing he could do for himself was rest and heal without aggravating any of his numerous injuries.

All Jack had to do was wait. Riley was heading over to join him – no doubt with instructions from Matty to make sure that Jack looked after himself instead of falling to pieces at Mac’s bedside – but her flight wasn’t due in for another few hours yet. Even with the travel time, she’d likely arrive before Mac made it out of the operating theatre.

God. What a fucking mess.

Multiple surgeries and a frankly alarming amount of sedatives meant that Mac didn’t wake up for any meaningful length of time for another week and a half. He’d dozed in and out for several days, but his body had clearly taken control from him and decided that it needed rest to heal. Jack would have worried over it if the doctors hadn’t been so relieved at his constant progress. As much as Mac lying still in a hospital bed sent all kinds of alarm bells ringing in Jack’s head, he couldn’t deny that the rest seemed to be doing him some good.

Riley was a constant source of support. She’d brought her rig with her so she could still be involved in on-going Phoenix operations – which Jack realised belatedly was why Matty was so content to leave them in general peace – but even then she hardly left Jack’s side. As expected, she continually hassled him about sleeping and eating, bullying him into the crappy hospital shower every morning while she took up his regular spot beside Mac. After the trauma he’d been through, neither of them were willing to leave him to wake up alone even once.

Fortunately, they needn’t have worried. After so many brief stirs, staying awake just long enough to acknowledge where he was and that his team was with him, the first time Mac properly woke was a reasonably calm affair. He already recognised the hospital and he had some vague memories of how he got there, though he clearly wasn’t willing to examine them too closely at the moment. Jack, able to remember every second of the whole nightmare in perfect clarity, was all too happy to oblige.

There was the pain of course; even under a hefty dose of morphine, Mac had far too many broken bones to not be feeling something. When Jack had asked him directly about it, he’d brushed it off as minor but there was no hiding the tightness of his eyes or the downward curl of his mouth when he thought no one was looking. In the end, it was almost a relief when he fell back asleep and stayed there for another twelve hours.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t until the following morning when he actually started asking the questions Jack had expected as soon as he was coherent.

“So, what’s the damage?”

He’d waited to ask until Riley was out of the room – on a coffee run – and he pitched it like he wasn’t particularly invested in the answer. To anyone else, his disinterest might have appeared genuine. For Jack, the sharp worry in his eyes was impossible to miss. “You’ve done a real number on yourself, bud,” he admitted quietly. “There’s a lot more metal holding you together than there was a week ago.”

Mac winced a little, even having already known that. “How bad?”

Jack couldn’t hide the grimace that overcame him, then covered it by rubbing at his eyes until he could pull on a suitably relaxed expression. “In a word, bad. But, if you keep your PT appointments and don’t do anything stupid in the next couple of months, the doctors are confident you’ll regain full mobility.”

“Yeah?”

There was so much gentle hope cradled in that word, it seemed to illuminate the air around it. Jack breathed out shakily. “For real, hoss. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“No, I know, I just-” Mac let out a sigh of his own, his eyes momentarily drifting to the ceiling tiles as he gathered himself. “I remember- bits. It’s all pretty foggy but…” He bit his lip. After a strained silence, he finally admitted, “I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

Jack’s hand found Mac’s unbroken one without conscious consideration. A thousand self-recriminations sprung to life in his mind for not being able to do anything to keep that dark, sorrowful look out of his partner’s eyes, but he brushed them all aside in favour of fixing Mac with his sternest look. “Hey, now, none of that,” he scolded gently. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters. All of the what ifs don’t matter when you’re sitting right here breathing and in one piece. Mostly,” he tacked awkwardly on the end when his gaze flitted down to Mac’s numerous casts.

He’d feared the slip might upset him, but he warmed with relief when his partner snorted quietly.

“I’m not gonna lie, this was a bad one,” he said when Mac refocused. “Real bad. You weren’t the only one thinking- Well. Maybe let’s just both agree to never do this again, alright? I don’t think my heart can take it.”

“Deal,” Mac agreed quickly, the smallest of smiles curving his lips.

“The main takeaway is that you’re going to be alright. It’s gonna suck, don’t get me wrong, and I swear to god if I catch you trying to saw off your own cast at any point I am dragging you into medical by your goddamn ear-” Mac snickered again, and the faux irritation Jack had put on dispersed into quiet, simple joy at the sound of it, “But we’re going to be okay. All you need to worry about right now is resting up and healing, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” His eyes were already drooping, fatigue swooping back over him now that the worst of his stress had passed. Shoulders that had been creeping up around his ears in suppressed panic sank back down to leave him slumped casually against his pillows. “Thanks Jack.”

“Don’t mention it.”

With both legs and one of his arms in plaster casts, the wheelchair was an unavoidable necessity, no matter how much Mac scowled at it and insisted he could hobble about with boots and crutches. Already wise to his tricks, none of the medical staff even pretended to humour the suggestion. Jack just muttered darkly at him and, when grouchiness failed, resorted to guilt-tripping Mac with comments about how worried he’d been for his safety.

In all honesty, he was surprised that that tactic worked as long as it did. For an entire week, Jack got to enjoy Mac’s sullen griping about needing to ask for help for the most mundane of tasks; the novelty of the whole experience did help to soften the worst of the transition, but Mac had never been an easy-going patient at the best of times and it wasn’t long before he was glaring into the middle distance every few minutes. Rather than getting himself worked up over his perceived failure over and over again, Jack chose instead to be bemused by his partner’s irritation.

…Which was a tactic that came to an abrupt end when he returned to Mac’s house following a quick trip to the store to find the certified genius sprawled on the hallway floor, his wheelchair all the way in the living room and an overturned end table beside him.

Bright, burning panic flooded Jack’s veins, only to be rapidly snuffed out when he caught Mac’s expression of cowed embarrassment. Instead of racing to his side and fussing over any potential new injuries, Jack sucked in a deep breath, held it while he crossed his arms, and levelled Mac with the most unimpressed expression he could muster.

“I suppose you have a brilliant explanation for this?”

Mac’s face betrayed some level of pain, but blushing as he was it was hard to determine how much was physical and how much was the awareness that he’d just pissed off his partner. “Yes?”

“Care to share what it is?”

“…No?”

Jack sighed, putting his head in his hands for a long moment to wish for strength he didn’t feel. “’Course not. Jesus. Okay, first things first, have you hurt anything?”

He was already ducking down to Mac’s side to check, but Mac’s one working arm was quick to bat him away. “No,” he said more seriously. “Winded myself, but it wasn’t a bad fall.”

“You’ve got about two unbroken bones in your entire body right now hoss, there’s no such thing as a ‘good’ fall.”

“A hundred and eighty-nine, actually,” Mac supplied waspishly, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Oh, you so do not want to get smart with me right now.”

Assured that Mac wasn’t about to either bleed out or break any more bones, Jack crossed the ten feet or so between them and the abandoned wheelchair. He rolled it to Mac’s side and wordlessly started to help hauling him up into it. Cowed by his partner’s frustration and his own embarrassment, Mac let it happen without further comment.

It was only once he was settled back that he forcefully caught Jack’s eye. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I just wanted to grab my headphones from my room and I didn’t want to deal with the chair.”

Just like that, Jack’s anger evaporated. “I know it sucks man, but you’ve gotta take things slow. If you need anything you know I’m happy to get it for you. Waiting an extra ten minutes to listen to some music is a better option than breaking something the docs can’t fix.”

Looking not unlike a child being scolded, Mac’s eyes dropped to his knees. “I know. It was stupid.”

Jack sighed heavily, wishing things could be easy just this once. “It was,” he agreed when he was sure he could speak levelly. “But no harm done, right? Most people say they learn from their mistakes and god knows you don’t make many of them. Maybe you’re just due a refresher course.”

“A refresher course in… waiting for my headphones?”

“I was gonna say ‘accepting help’, but whatever works for you man.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Caving to the impulse, Jack ruffled the kid’s hair fondly and laughed when he got smacked away. “You’re going to be alright bud. Just gonna take a little while. Now, where are these headphones of yours?”

#macgyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #fanfiction #my fanfic #whump of july 2021

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joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh · 2 years ago

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more specifically my situation is that, if you’re a Scottish student in a Scottish college or university there’s a thing you can apply for called SAAS and they’ll just completely cover your tuition for you for free and even give you a free bursary of [however much money] a month while you study your course, right. But because I’ve done three 1st years in a row (failed and resat year 1 of business course at uni, failed games design course at college) SAAS actually rejected me this year for maths at uni. So I have to pay my tuition out of pocket. I opted to split it into monthly payments because I really cannot just lump £1820 out of nowhere all at once, right. But things were still looking grim because I don’t have income at all. So I’ve spent the past bit trying and failing to get jobs all in the leadup to my first payment being due, even have a job interview lined up tomorrow in fact, but like. Things just weren’t looking great. And I hadn’t even told my parents because I was just nervous/worried about how they’d react. My two plans I had for myself were email the uni financial support thing and be like “hey what can I do” and I actually did that and haven’t had a response, and my second option was straight up ask my dad to cover the first monthly payment with the promise I’d pay him back since I am actively job hunting and stuff. Naturally I got cold feet there because scary thing to ask anyone, huh. Ngl I’d half-resigned myself to just not being able to make enough money in time and just having to quit the course, which would’ve sucked but like, at least I’d not suddenly have to make whatever amount of money every month. But where this all came to a head is last night my parents asked when I’m getting my first free bursary payment and even though I was too nervous to bring it up before I don’t really like lying to them either, so I just told them yeah I’m not getting paid. They basically thought the same thing I did - there’s probably no way I’ll be able to pay it and I might just have to leave the course entirely. Felt nice that they finally knew anyway, and it wasn’t weighing on my back. But lo and behold, my mum asked her dad - my granddad - to cover it all for me I suppose. So I just got a lump sum of money from him to pay my tuition. I’m still gonna keep up the job hunting stuff to have both a safety net and also just more money in general and like hey having employment history looks nice. Certainly glad that this means I also have money now and stuff, though in having almost resigned myself to being forced to leave the course I almost feel a bit pressured to do better now. Can’t have all that money my granddad gave me go to waste or something. Though I think that’s partially informed by the shock of seeing £2000 enter my bank account that I didn’t expect to happen at all. I still want to do this course and want to do well in it, so. If I should fail despite that then I’ll just give up on pursuing further education altogether. I don’t think I have any other thoughts on this at the moment.

#7.10.22

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cynicalclassicist · 3 years ago

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TURN BACK

Written by Chris Newton

This isn’t mine but was done by another of the Lockdown writers who very kindly sent it to me.

There it was again: that fluttering, rattling, scuttling noise. It sounded like grasping pincers, snapping mandibles and probing antennae. It felt like something was on her back. For some reason, it was an oddly familiar sensation.

Donna Temple-Noble knew that things had not been right for a while.

Things were fine in her life. After a decade of marriage, both she and Shaun were still very happy and very much in love. They had been determined that their big lottery win wouldn’t change them and, for the most part, it hadn’t. They lived in a ten bedroom mansion Highgate with two acres of land, owned a holiday villa in Spain, and had been able to afford to send Joshua and Ella to an incredibly expensive private school – but otherwise, they still went to watch West Ham every Saturday (albeit in their own executive box), still kept in touch with all their old friends (even Nerys), and eschewed fancy restaurants and glitzy parties in favour of Friday nights in on the sofa watching Love Island and eating Pringles.

But something was wrong with the world. Her high school boyfriend, Mathew Richards, had always been going on about global warming back in the 90s, but as far as Donna had been concerned somebody was always banging on about the end of the world, whether it was the Millennium Bug, or Mayan calendars or Hadron Colliders… But what did that have to do with her life? She could hardly see which type of milk she put in her tea affected the wider world.

But things began to get so bad that even Donna noticed. On her eighty-inch TV, she saw bush fires in Australia, David Attenborough showing the ice caps melting and an ocean filled with plastic. And then the Sontaran virus came – the lockdowns, the curfews, and the restrictions. But not even a global pandemic could prevent the USA from imploding in a civil war. The Zygon president had attempted to form a dictatorship when he lost the election and all hell had broken loose.

Donna knew they were lucky, they were far away from the fighting and they could afford regular deliveries of fresh food, and had a huge garden with their own private swimming pool to occupy them in quarantine. The first lockdown had almost been like a holiday for the Temple-Nobles; the kids cannon balling into the water, Donna and Shaun sunning themselves on loungers, barbeques, cocktails. Their autumn lockdown consisted of bonfires and marshmallows, thick jumpers and flasks of hot chocolate as they told ghost stories on Halloween and twirled sparklers on Bonfire Night. It was almost perfect.

Almost… But not. Because for all the comfort their money could buy them, there was one problem wealth could not solve.

Donna’s Grandfather, Wilf, was now ninety-one. A few years ago, after a fall, had moved into a care home. Donna made sure he received the best care possible, and paid for him to go to a lovely facility just near Hampstead Heath, that way they were practically neighbours. Before the virus, she had visited him every day without fail. His memory had been growing steadily worse; sometimes he called her Sylvia, and occasionally Louise, for some reason, but he never forgot that she was his granddaughter, and more than not greeted her by saying ‘Wahey, here she is! The Little General!’ which had been his nickname for her when she was little.

But since lockdown, she had been unable to visit him. She knew it was for the best, for the safety of her grandfather and for the other residents in the home, but it didn’t change the fact that it felt as though a huge part of her had been ripped away. His dementia had worsened, the staff had told her over the phone, and he had been repeatedly talking about a spaceman in a flying blue box.

She had managed to arrange a videocall with her grandfather, a favour from one of the nurses at the home. She sat waiting for him to answer, full of fear and trepidation. Always wondering which visit would be the one where he failed to recognise her entirely.

“Wahey, here she is! The Little General!” Wilf’s face filled the screen of her phone.

“Hiya Gramps!” Donna’s eyes welled with tears of joy at the sight of her grandfather.

“Blimey, how’d you get inside this little tablet thingy?” he chuckled. “Must be bigger on the inside,” he muttered with a strange, faraway look in his rheumy eyes, as though he were trying to remember something.

“You don’t half come out with some rubbish!” she laughed. “We had a bonfire in the garden on the 5th. You know, jacket potatoes in tin foil, passing round a thermos of tea. Reminded me of the old days, up the hill at your allotment, remember?”

“Mmmm,” he smiled distantly, before his face crumpled in confusion. “’Ere, where’s the Doctor?”

“You’ve already seen the doctor, Gramps. Remember? He put you on those new pills.”

“No, not him. The skinny one. Isn’t he with you? He usually is.”

“Why would he be with me you daft old thing? I’m fit and healthy, thank you very much. Touch wood,” she tapped her head. “Don’t need a doctor.”

“I think you do,” Wilf mumbled. “I think we all do. He’d sort out this bleedin’ virus.”

“They’ll have a vaccine before you know it, Gramps. You’ll be round ours for Christmas dinner, just you wait and see.”

“That’ll be nice,” he grinned. “How’s Lance, then? He alright?”

“Shaun, granddad, I’m married to Shaun. Lance… had to go away.”

“Oh. Well, it’s probably for the best. I never did like him much.”

Donna couldn’t help but chuckle.

“The kids want these flippin’ animatronic Baby Yoda dolls for Christmas,” she changed the subject. “Honestly, it’s Star Wars this, Star Trek that… and that other one. You know, the time travel one? No idea where they get it from, I was never into any of that sci-fi rubbish.”

“Donna…” Wilf cried, a sudden urgency in his voice.

“Yes, Gramps?” she swallowed nervously, it had been a long time since he had called her by her name. “What is it?”

“There’s something on your back.”

The words chilled her, although she had no idea what they meant. She felt her right hand darting involuntarily over her shoulder expecting to feel… what, exactly? Something creeping, crawling, insectoid… she shivered.

“There’s nothing there. Honestly, what are you on about?”

“He was only trying to help, but it’s gone wrong again. It wasn’t a fixed point, you see? It was one of those… Temporal wotsits.”

Donna took a deep breath.

“I think you’re getting mixed up again, Gramps.”

“Hmm?” he looked at her, his eyes full of warmth, kindness and confusion. “So how’s Lance, then? He alright?”

“Yes, Gramps. Lance is fine.”

“Oh, that’s good. I always liked him. Oh, I’ve got to go. The nurse wants her tablet back. When are you coming to see me?”

“As soon as I can, Gramps. I promise. As soon as I can.”

“Well, I’ll look forward to it. Ta-da sweetheart.”

“Bye,” she stifled a tear as the screen became blurry, before Wilf’s face was replaced by a blonde-haired woman.

“Donna Noble!” the stranger grinned irrepressibly

“Oh, hi,” Donna swiftly composed herself. “Are you the nurse? Thanks so much for letting me speak to him…”

“Yeah. Well, I’m a Doctor, actually. Although a lot of people assume I’m a nurse these days. Bit annoying, really. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a nurse, mind! If it’s good enough for Rory Pond, it’s good enough for me.”

The blonde woman was still grinning.

“Oh my god,” Donna’s mouth fell open. “I know you!”

“No! No – that’s not possible!” The Doctor’s face paled.

“I knew I recognised you.”

“Listen to me – you cannot know who I am…”

“You’re Leanne Battersby. From Corrie!”

“What?”

“Ha! Just wait ’til I tell Nerys, she’ll be well jealous.” Donna snorted.

The Doctor harrumphed.

“Leane Batt… Actually, you know what? If it stops your neural receptors from combusting then fine. Fine! Yeah. Leanne Battersby at your service. If you think I’m just an actress from Coronation Street then it’s safe for us to talk. Well, I say safe… safe-ish. By which I mean not very dangerous. Okay, maybe it’s a little bit dangerous. Put it this way: your mind won’t burn, but you might end up forgetting your old mate Susie Mair.”

“Susie Who?”

“Exactly. Anyway, we don’t have long… I need to get back in Wilf’s wardrobe before the Sontarans triangulate my signal. I’m telling you, this has been a long eight months. But your grandfather’s right: there is something on your back. Again. Or maybe for the first time – it all gets a bit wibbley with alternate dimensions. But there’s something on your back, and I’m really sorry, but it hitched a ride on a lottery ticket.”

“What on Earth are you on about?”

“Not on Earth, actually, Shan Shen,” the Doctor said, and then winced. “Oops! Shouldn’t have said that. Might have deleted another scene. Remember that time you were one the phone to Veena in the kitchen and you heard that strange wheezing, groaning sound coming from outside?”

“No?”

“Probably for the best.”

“What’s going on? And why are you in my Granddad’s wardrobe? Do I need to call social services, ’cause don’t think I won’t, blondie!”

“I need you to trust me. What was the name of that TV show where the kid in the blindfold had to be guided through the dungeon by their mates?”

“Knightmare?”

“Yes! That’s the one. I need you to be my Dungoneer. I don’t have a Helmet of Justice so you’ll just have to close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes??”

“I know I’m asking a lot, Donna, but Wilf trusts me, and that’s all I can tell you. But be honest – you know something’s wrong, don’t you? You can feel something digging into your shoulders, can’t you?”

Donna nodded. There was no denying it, and for some inexplicable reason, she felt she could trust this woman, even though the reason seemed distant and out of reach. Donna closed her eyes.

The strange woman on the phone guided her out of the house, past a row of trees and to the telephone box at the end of the road. Funny, Donna thought, she didn’t remember there being a telephone box there. She hadn’t seen a proper one for years.

Following the Doctor’s instructions, Donna pulled the handle and the door creaked open as she stepped inside. Instinctively, she reached out for the mounted payphone, but her fingers met only empty air. Perhaps it wasn’t an operating phone box anymore? It probably housed a defibrillator instead. She was tempted to have a peek and find out.

“Don’t even think about opening your eyes,” the Doctor snapped, somehow reading her thoughts, “if you open your eyes, your brain will hyperpodulate.”

“Hyer-what-you-what? I want you to know I’m taking a lot on faith here, Battersby! And if this is a wind-up, then so help me god...”

Donna’s threat was drowned out the VROOP-VROOPING of ancient engines that at once sounded utterly alien and distantly familiar to her, like hearing a half-remembered nursery rhyme from childhood.

She heard the telephone box door creak open again, and a rush of cold air from outside. Strange, it didn’t feel like the smoky air of the November street she had come from. It felt crisper, fresher. She could hear the merry peal of church bells. There isn’t a church that close to my house, she thought, puzzled.

“You can come out now. Walk forwards but keep your eyes closed for a moment.”

Donna did as she was told. She felt grass beneath her feet as the VROOP-VROOPING resumed and then faded, drowned out by the sound of the bells.

“You can open you eyes now,” the woman on the phone was now stood in front of her, but that was the least surprising thing to Donna.

“But, how…” Donna looked down at herself. “I’m in my wedding dress. I don’t understand?” The two of them were stood by an old lychgate. Donna looked ahead – there was the church where she had married Shaun. Discarded confetti swirled about her ankles. There were guests milling about ahead – there was her grandfather’s friend Minnie Hooper. Minnie the Menace he used to call her! Although Donna was sure she’d heard that Minnie had died recently. Nevertheless, there she was, full of joy and life. And there was Nerys in her hideous peach dress!

“What year is this?” asked Donna.

“2010,” said the Doctor.

“This is my wedding day. How is this even possible?”

“The time differential’s trying to reconcile there being two of you here at the same time. Hence the dress. It’s tricky with parallel universes. Anyway, ‘how’ isn’t important right now. What’s important is that somebody just gave you a lottery ticket as a wedding present.”

“I know, cheapskate.”

“You’re about to win a triple rollover.”

“Yeah, well…”

“The thing is, Donna – the man gave you that ticket – he meant well, but he was meddling with things that shouldn’t have been meddled with. He was young – still in his Time Lord Victorious phase.”

“I don’t understand a single word you’re saying.”

“You know that theory that a butterfly fluttering its wings can cause a hurricane on the other side of the world? Well, time’s like that. Small, trivial things can cause ripples which alter the course of history. The truth is: you didn’t win that money. At least, not originally. You took one look at that ticket and ripped it up. Remember? The first dance at your wedding reception was Can’t Buy Me Love.”

“No… that’s not right,” said Donna. It couldn’t be. She knew that hadn’t happened. Their first dance had been 2 Become 1 by Spice Girls. So why could she remember dancing to The Beatles with Shaun?

“Nobody won the lottery that week – and the next week it was a quadruple rollover! A boy called Michael Finch won it. He was only sixteen. Imagine that! First time he’d ever played. Great kid. A friend of mine met his dad once. Long story. Anyway, I’m sorry Donna, but Michael didn’t spend it on cars and holiday homes and private pools. He invested in the future: green initiatives, healthcare, education… When the Sontarans released their virus, Earth was ready for it. Plus, the United States didn’t have a Zygon for a president. Well, they did actually, but she’s one of the nice ones. But shh, don’t tell anyone.”

“You know what,” said Donna. “I don’t think you really are Leanne Battersby, are you?”

“No.”

“But I do know you, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s… bad? My head hurts…” Donna cupped her forehead in her palm.

“Yes. It’s very bad,” said the Doctor. “But it’s okay. Because if you tear up that lottery ticket and let Michael Finch win it instead, then you’ll change the future and we’ll never have met. Well, not like this anyway.”

“This is crazy. How is any of this possible?”

“My fault, I’m afraid. A long time ago, you had an encounter with a Time Beetle – and this is the gross part, sorry – Time Beetles can lay eggs beneath the hosts’ skin. They lie dormant, sometimes indefinitely, until the host encounters a significant temporal junction – in your case a lottery win that could change the course of human history. You were never supposed to have this life, Donna. You were supposed to tear up the ticket.”

More non-memories were flooding Donna’s mind – the years of living on the breadline in Chiswick, living with the regret of their lost fortune. A bank holiday weekend in Blackpool with the kids, having her fortune told by the strange little woman in the kiosk on the pier… Voicing her regret aloud and wishing she could go back to the day of her wedding and keep that winning ticket.

That couldn’t be right… They never took the kids to Blackpool. Their holidays had been in Cyprus and Malaga, they’d splashed out on luxury round-the-world cruises. But she remembered it so vividly: the rattle of the trams, the glare of the illuminations, the taste of the chips, the seagulls crying overhead.

“But we’ll have nothing. I can’t go back to the way we used to live: hand to mouth, never knowing where next month’s rent is coming from. What about Ella and Josh? They’ll be born with nothing.”

“Donna Temple-Noble, listen to me,” the Doctor gazed at her sternly. “You’ll have everything. You’ll have each other.”

Donna looked back over to the church – there was Wilf! – still spry at eighty and fighting off Minnie’s advances as ever. And there was Shaun – so handsome in his wedding suit! She couldn’t believe how young he looked.

The Doctor was right. Donna thought of how happy they had been during lockdown, not because they were comfortable, but because they had each other. The tweet-a-longs, the virtual gigs, the walks in the woods, the disastrous attempts at baking, standing on their doorstep and clapping for U.N.I.T…. She hadn’t put two and two together until she’d been speaking to her grandfather: but it had been the first time in her married life – the first time as a mother – that she had somehow recaptured that magic of sitting in her grandfather’s allotment with a flask of tea and gazing at the stars.

At the time Donna had felt as though she were longing for adventure, as though the stars held some inexplicable magic, but now she knew that the magic had been right there in the allotment all along. She no longer yearned for adventure, but longed instead to return to those simple days. She never could, of course. Wilf’s star was fading, but her own was rising. She thought back to the old world of financial hardship: rented flats, being plunged into darkness when the electricity meter ran out, payday loans and minimum wage temp jobs. There would be struggles but there would also be magic. There would be stories by candlelight, cartoons and warm milk before bed in the precious few years before Joshua and Ella became moody teenagers. There would be games in the park. There would be home cooked meals, and there would be telly and Pringles on the sofa on Friday nights.

There would be family.

Donna turned to speak to the blonde woman, but the stranger was gone, so she hitched up her wedding dress and hurried over to her husband.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked.

“A friend,” Donna smiled.

“What’s her name?”

“I can’t remember,” she said. It was strange, the name was on the tip of her tongue, but it had gone. She decided it didn’t matter.

“Give us that lottery ticket, will you?” Donna asked. (She had entrusted it into Shaun’s safe keeping. There were still no pockets in wedding dresses.)

“Why, you got a good feeling about it?” he asked, taking it from his pocket and handing it to his bride.

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I have,” said Donna Temple-Noble as she tore up the ticket, and a great weight lifted from her shoulders.

#doctor who lockdown #doctor who #fanfic

2 notes · View notes

hobiwonder · 5 years ago

Text

crazy rich asians | 01

Genre: Chaebol!BTS. maid!reader. Smut, fluff. mild angst.

Pairing: Jin x reader, Jimin x reader, Hoseok x reader, Yoongi x reader. Possible future pairings.

Warnings for this chapter: language. brief mention of oral sex. Kissing !!!

Words: 9k+

Summary: You overhear something you shouldn’t. Now some of the country’s most powerful - and rich - men would do anything to keep you quiet.

a/n: i turned it into a fic as requested!!! ngl…. am worried how people will receive this lol. This will be a short series. no major angst so don’t worry. i hope you guys like it bc i really enjoyed writing it. please let me know what you think n feed my motivation bubble so i dont take months to finish this ajdubejekbfjk.

This was odd. Jin’s eyebrows furrowed – which he was strongly against since premature wrinkles were one of his biggest fears. He was closer to thirty than twenty so his concerns were valid. Jimin almost never visited his childhood home ever since their father got engaged to the secretary – another cliché – a few months ago.

“Hm… what changed your mind little brother.” Jin mutters as he passes the sleek Mercedes that belongs to his younger brother. Nevertheless, he can’t help the sly smirk that fights his muscles and spreads across his porcelain skin. He couldn’t wait to rub it in Jimin’s face that he finally returned when his bank account dried out. Most likely.

The plethora of house staff greeting Jin as he walked along the indoor fountain, trying to acknowledge most of them. They had too many servants and it wasn’t Jin’s fault that he didn’t care about most of them. But it was hard when they all looked so sheepish like they had some wretched secret they were supposed to hide but failed.

“Good Afternoon Sir, what brings you here?” Jin’s long legs are no match for the shorter man who usually took care of everything in the manor so he’s a little breathless as he Jogs besides him.

“To my own house? Where I lived for 20 years?” This really was becoming a strange day.

“A-Ah no sir. I meant no disrespect just wanted to be prepared to accommodate you accordingly.”

“Okay,” This was officially starting to annoy him and the furrow in his forehead was getting deeper. He would not get wrinkles because his servant annoyed him in to it. “Alfred… Anders… Andrew. Whatever your name is, I don’t need to announce my arrival at my own home. On second thought, maybe I should.”

The idea is very appealing as he swirls the thought in his head and it’s enough to make him forget the butler’s calls as he enters Jimin’s private wing. He isn’t surprised though when he already hears faint moans but not of a woman for once. It’s undoubtedly Jimin which is again – peculiar because getting off himself wasn’t something Jimin liked to do if he had ‘several other women ready to do it for me’ if quoting him directly. He guesses there is only one way to find out as he approaches the living area, looking at the back of his head resting on the enormous lounge sofa.

“Well hello there brother!” His tongue doesn’t form anymore words when he can finally see Jimin in his line of view – and his father’s fiancé frantically buttoning her blouse to retain some of her dignity. Jimin on the other hand is taking his sweet time tucking himself inside his slacks – shaking his head in disbelief as if Jin’s caused him immense grief.

“…and Amber.” Jin is no stranger to walking in on his brother – or friends really – indulging in all sorts of debauchery but this – this was quite interesting and to put it simply, messy. “Well, well, well. Did you come back to sleep with our step-mother or actually missed your family, god forbid?”

Jimin is no more rattled than a sloth as he runs his hands through his silky golden hair and smacks Amber’s ass as she’s still fiddling with her blouse. “A bit of both.”

“I-I didn’t know you’d b-be back so quick Jin-ah.” Her pearly white teeth that his father paid way too much for are almost blinding him. Yeah he’s not that bored today to play along with her games so he opts for just a dry smile. This was no surprise to him. Especially when the first person she had a fling with in this household was, well, Jin himself.

“Clearly. Thankfully you know father won’t be home until late. Run along now. I’ve got to catch up with your son.” Okay, that one’s on him. He liked to rub it in her face.

“Step-son.” She’s positively seething and Jin couldn’t be more delighted.

“Ooh. Naughty aren’t you? I knew you were always in a bit of incest.”

Jimin’s snort and Amber’s scoff come at the same time but at least it makes her on her way, heels clicking as she’s strutting away.

“I gave the staff one job and they couldn’t even do that.” Jimin walks towards the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a whiskey at 12 in the afternoon – bringing a smile to his face. He did miss his little brother.

“To keep me from finding Amber swallowing your unborn children?

“Thank fuck for that. I’m not ever going to be ready for kids.”

“Understandable. Considering you are one.” Jin’s shit eating grin makes Jimin pour another glass which he drowns in a second too.

“Please tell me how many ‘kids’ you know who’re worth half a billion dollars?”

Not a trick question.

“Almost all of our friends? Plus, we’re brothers you maggot. And I’m worth more.” His stance widens as he splays his feet out in some sort of power pose.

“What now? You want us sword fighting?” Jimin’s glancing to his crotch before he continues, “I’ll win because somebody didn’t let me finish.” Yes, very evident from the hard tent in his slacks.

“No need to resort to unsanitary methods. Talking will do.” He’s waving his hand in dismissal, watching Jimin taking a seat opposite – absolutely no attempts at hiding his boner. “So, what brings you back? Thought you were up in the Bahamas getting tanned and toned and weren’t due back for a few more weeks?”

“Correct but that was until father announced his surprise engagement.” Jimin is on his third glass of whiskey but looks more sober than a priest.

“Is there anything he does these days that isn’t a surprise? I found out I was moving houses from the real estate agent for god’s sake.” That makes Jimin snort out a laugh.

“Christ. He’s a bastard isn’t he?” Jimin had been in boarding school still when Jin had been effectively moved out of the manor in to a skyscraper penthouse because his father had wanted to ‘relax by himself and no kids’. As if he raised them on his own.

“Yup. Turns out he just needed the house to be snitch-free to fuck his secretary/future step-mom.” Plus he was still going through the divorce with their mother.

“I can understand why.” Jimin’s closing his eyes, heading leaning back again as a sultry smile spreads on his youthful face as if he’s reminiscing an irreplaceable memory. “Amber can make you forget you own name.”

“Right?” Jin is letting his inner, less sophisticated horny teenager alter ego slip through as he agrees with his brother about what a good lay their step-mom is.

“You already tap that?” When Jin just winks in Jimin’s direction, he’s clapping and chuckling like he can’t believe it.

“You’re no better than me brother and please, don’t take that as an insult. No offense at all.”

“None taken.” For a moment Jimin truly feels slightly happier. Looking at his brother and remembering sitting across from him while they talked about everything when they were younger and thought they had a chance at becoming people different than their father or their whole family. He had everything. They both had everything. There wasn’t one thing that either of them lacked or desired. So needless to say, their lives were a little grey and lacked excitement. Money though. That never failed to give him a hard-on.

Seeing his brother also made him happy, sure.

“Remember when we were playing in father’s office that one time he left it unlocked?” Jimin continues when Jin nods slowly, “And remember when we were rummaging through the drawers we found a safe and tried to break into it before Anderson caught us?”

“I knew it! He looked like an Anders.” When Jimin just blankly stares at him he mutters an apology and tells him to continue.

“Anyway. I went back and broke in to the safe.”

“Of course you did,” Jin is rolling his eyes but not finding it surprising that his little brother, ever the inquisitive little cat, went back to do exactly what he was told to notdo.

“No, listen,” Jimin’s eyes are increasingly growing frantic as he shifts forward, abandoning his glass of whiskey and Jin knew that this was something juicy. “There were papers inside the safe. Granddad’s will. I made copies.”

“Wait, you told me there was a bunch of cocaine and ecstasy. Nothing else.” Jimin shrugs once again to ask what was his point.

“And?”

“And you stole the papers but not the drugs? My teenage self hates you so much right now.”

“And that poor bastard should be thankful I looked in to the papers otherwise you would become penniless. Very soon.”

What was Jimin trying to say. “Get to the point Jimin. What about Grandpa’s will?”

Jin’s palms were becoming sweaty and a little tick in his left leg had already started and was about to become a full blown restless leg syndrome like a pathetic little office worker worried about losing a promotion.

“Well,” Jimin is moving across the room to sit beside his older brother, turning his lithe body to the side facing him as he starts to explain. “Grandad’s will stated that we were to receive 10% of our inheritance every year starting at the age of 35. Unless father remarried.”

The mention of money always sped up Jin’s heartbeat. It raced in his chest like he was about to win the lottery. Maybe he was?

“What then… ?” Jimin’s Cheshire grin slowly lighting up his whole face was never a good sign. Until now apparently.

“If he remarried before we turned 35, we are to receive our inheritance. In full. At once.”

Jin really felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. Because that was a lot of money.

“That’s-”

“$10 billion.” There was a slight pause as Jimin eagerly awaited his brother’s reaction.

“I think I just had a powergasm.” Jimin is chuckling as he slaps Jin’s back, shaking his older brother out of joy as they both start to gradually laugh louder. Is this how supervillains felt? Jin’s never laughed like this before and it’s no surprise that it’s money that’s doing the trick. Poor people wouldn’t understand.

That’s when another realisation occurs. “That’s why he kicked me out of the house. Because he was going to get engaged and couldn’t risk us retaliating and finding this bit of information out.”

“Precisely big brother.”

“Fuck…. We’re going to be rich as fuck.”

“If he doesn’t figure out a way to get that clause crossed from the will.” Jimin seems a bit nervous for the first time since he had started talking.

But Jin wasn’t. Not when he had people on his side who would love to make some money as well. Well, more money. He wasn’t friends with poor people.

“Don’t worry about it. You still in contact with Taehyung?” Jimin looks at his older brother with a ‘duh’ face.

“You still have a dick?” Jin’s just rolling his eyes as he calls the first number under ‘Y’.

“What?”

“Hello to you too, Min. Say, you want to become rich?” Yoongi on the other end is snorting before he speaks with his signature lazy drawl.

“I’m already rich, you bitch. But I’m having a down day anyway. Tell me more.”

Jin is smirking towards his brother, his body is buzzing and this is the most excited he;s been a while.

“Meet at my place with the other boys. At 2. Lunch is on me.”

“Yes because I desperately need someone to shout me lunch.” He’s had enough of Yoongi’s sarcasm so he just hangs up.

“Well Jimin, lets go get our billions.” Jimin hands his older brother a glass of whiskey before they make a toast.

“Amen.” Jin furrows his brows again.

“You believe in god now?”

“After seeing Amber’s tits? Yeah.”

“Oh hello there. Eavesdropping were we?” A man is leaning against the wall behind you, hands in his pockets while he looks at you head to toe, two small dimples appearing when he grins rather…. cutely you might add.

“U-Uh, n-no?” The handsome stranger is only shaking his head as he walks towards the door where the two brothers had gone in to only half an hour ago.

“Be careful next time little maid.” You hold in the scoff until he disappears inside the room.

“You guys have better discussed Amber’s ass and nothing else of importance because of the audience outside. The pretty little thing Anders hired.

“How does everyone know his name and not me? You don’t even live here Hoseok.” Jin’s scoffing while Jimin worries about the real problem.

“Fucking hell. The staff in this house is more loyal to our father than their own families. What do we do?”

“Leave that to me. Girls never kiss and tell when they’re with me.” with a wick, Hoseok is settling on the couch as well. “Just transfer me $50 million when you both get the money.”

Oh boy. Being rich was hard.

You were screwed. Or at least it looked like you were. Even though you'd been hired months ago - it was not usual to see the 'house Masters' (that's what Anders had called them anyway so you stuck with it). In fact you could count on one hand how many times you'd seen Kim Seokjin around the mansion. though he didn't live here so that wasn't too surprising at first but you did think that he would at least regularly visit his father. the numerous articles written about this family portrayed them as loyal as you can be to your own blood. What behind closed doors however, was a different story.

The eldest son rarely visited his father and his father, your employer, was even more of a rare sight around the Manor. In the three months you'd worked here, you'd seen Mr. Kim twice. And one of those times was when the annual Christmas dinner was hosted. But even for that, the youngest son, Jimin had not been present. So seeing the new face around the Manor today had confused you very much. But the way his perfectly sculpted features, luscious and shiny - oh god was it shiny - hair had told you that he belonged to this family. How close he was? You weren't sure. Until now.

Now that you'd been caught listening in to the scheming going behind the closed doors. He was the youngest son that was asked about a thousand times at the Christmas dinner and each time both, the father and the son, evaded the questions like experts. He was as handsome as the rest of the family so it didn't surprise you much when you found out his identity. Especially when the future house mistress had been lead in to the room by him, all smiles and charming demeanour. You'd naively thought that the step-mother and son - though she looked too good for her age as all rich people did - had quite a close relationship even though this was the first time you were seeing Master Jimin home. Until the moaning had sounded obnoxiously out in the hallway. Anders had tried his best to get to be anywhere other than cleaning the massive hallway that all the rooms connected to but in the end, you'd gravitated towards the noises. Knowing it was wrong for you to listen but not being able to help yourself. The young master's voice was so melodic, so serene, you were almost forgetting that the said noises weren't as innocent as the emotions they were evoking in you.

Your heart had sped up and your fingers had tugged down your uniform subconsciously at the erotic noises emitting from the room. Imagining yourself to be on the giving end of the scenario playing out in the room. But your fantasies had been broken when you'd hear Anders and Mr. Kim's older son's booming voice coming down the hallway. Quickly ducking back in to one of the rooms you were supposed to start dusting in, you'd only caught glimpse of the incredibly handsome Kim Seokjin reprimanding Anders for making him feel unwelcome in his own home. Though you felt for the poor old man. He was nice and looked after you more than you had expected. And the amount of work he had to see through was incredible and you were amazed at how he never failed to complete each and every one of his tasks. Except keeping Mr. Kim out of the young master's room that is. You'd heard the cheeky tone in Jimin's voice when he'd asked Anders to make sure that no one disturbs them. You'd thought stupidly that maybe they wanted to spend quality time with each other since Jimin was back home after a long time. And they spent quality time alright. The noises were a testament to that.

You were suddenly feeling the nervous butterflies in your stomach at the prospect of Jimin being found out by his older brother. And with his step mother no less. Like youwere the one doing something that scandalous. Craning your neck you'd tried to hear, maybe yelling? You'd assumed - wrongly, again - that the older master Kim would be horrified at finding out the debauchery going on inside the room but all you'd seen was a ruffled Amber - you think that's her name from the moans at least - and then joyous laughter which could only mean the brothers meeting. Rich people were bizarre. Did they not have any morals? Nothing settling uneasy in their conscience?

Not that you were any better because you were plainly eavesdropping and that was not how your mother raised you. Though she didn't raise you that much at all in all honesty. But she was quick to correct your mishaps or seemingly 'dishonest' activities. That was all she did really. Mostly your grandmother raised you until you were kicked out at the ripe age of 18 by your mother to 'find your own way' like her crack addicted self told you. She preached but never practiced her own self-righteous attitude more than when she needed to keep you under control. Though your visit down the memory lane is interrupted when your ears catch on to what the two men inside were talking about. The words 'cocaine' catch your attention - it was your mother's favourite at one point. Listening on further was just pure coincidence. But boy oh boy. What were you hearing? Were they going to possibly.... hurt someone for even more money? How much more could they want? They already had enough of it. You didn't realise the pout that had been on your face while you listened to the two brother calling a friend for some 'help'.

Not until someone was clearing their throat behind you, damn near making you knock your head against the wall you had been absentmindedly wiping for the hundredth time. Initially - for the millisecond of the reaction time you had available - you thought Anders would be the one to catch you and for some reason, you weren't as scared. Hence the sheepish smile on your face when you turn around to face whoever it was that had caught you so blatantly trying to listen to whatever was happening. Though your smile - as well as your heart - drops instantly when you see an unfamiliar face in front of you, yet again. And once again - the stranger is handsome, incredibly so. In fact, the toothy grin he's beaming your way is nearly blinding. His white teeth - definitely not natural, though you wouldn't be surprised if they were - smiling up at you as he leant against the wall besides you. How did you not hear him? His body was lithe and somehow you're not surprised that he snuck up on you so easily. Nonetheless, he did and you were in major trouble. He was good-looking enough for you to figure out that he probably belonged in the two master's circle.

“Oh hello there. Eavesdropping were we?” The man is leaning against the wall behind you, hands in his pockets while he looks at you head to toe, two small dimples appearing when he grins rather…. cutely you might add.

“U-Uh, n-no?” The handsome stranger is only shaking his head as he walks towards the door where the two brothers had gone in to only half an hour ago.

"No! Uh I mean. N-No... that's what I mean." You're hoping the desperation in your eyes gives him a hint that you rather not get in to trouble.

“Be careful next time little maid.” His smirk doesn't dissolve. In fact, it seems to get wider. Most likely being able to tell how hard you're trying to make it seem like you were doing the right thing. Definitely not eavesdropping. The handsome stranger is only shaking his head as he walks towards the door where the two brothers had gone in to only half an hour ago. Still watching you.

But alas, your mind malfunctions and the only thing you can think of is to get out of there. Too many good looking men you've seen to last you a decade. You're scurrying away back to the room you were originally supposed to be in and you can hear his chuckle even as you go further down the hallway to the room.

Slumping against the wall, your hand clutches just above where your heart should be. You were sofired. There was no way that whoever this was would not mention you lurking outside the room. Who was he anyway? Oh well, not that you would get to find out because you were stupidly caught eavesdropping. Eavesdropping! How cliché. It was impossible to focus on your work knowing that you will be in immense trouble. Pacing back and forth, rehearsing excuses and explanations to give Anders on why you were outside of your given area. And caught by a guest no less. From what you'd gathered about the older Kim son - he couldn't care less about your presence in the house.

One time he'd come in the living area, stayed for over two hours without acknowledging that you were even in the room. In fact, when Anders had called out to you to return to lend a hand at the kitchen is when he'd looked up at you as if it was the first time he was hearing a name that wasn't his own. Even then, he'd only looked at you for a mere few seconds before going back to the book he'd been reading.

But the newcomer - or old you guess, you'd only just started working after all - you weren't sure how he'd react to finding out your roaming outside his room. Surely, he would be just as aloof and uncaring of a mere maid as you, right? Maybe not if the handsome stranger told him about how well you'd been listening to the conversation inside. Oh lord. This was the only job that paid enough for you to send home and also keep a roof over your head. What were you going to do? You minded your own business but the one day curiosity got you was when you've been caught. Just your luck. Your mother was right. Your curiosity will be your end. And seems like it will be now as well judging from the sound of the doors opening from the young master's suite and several pairs of footsteps coming towards the room you were in.

Your limbs moving like lightning, making sure each and every one of the vases was picked up and dusted through thoroughly - it's obvious you're trying to look as occupied as possible. A few seconds later, the footsteps stop right outside the room you're in and your heart might as well have stopped pumping blood through your body as well with the way your temperature drops from the impending doom. Had they told on you already? Was Anders also outside the door? If he was alone you could've tried to weasel your way out of such a mishap but you doubt the you could even let out a squeak between the three intimidating men.

To your demise, when the men enter the room - Anders is nowhere to be found. The two brothers and the third stranger who had caught you stand in the doorway looking all too.... nerve-racking (for you). Instantly you know that theyknow how nervous you are. Nervous of losing the only source of income that was enough to sustain you. The older of the two brothers is looking at you up and down, slowly and calculating. Like it's the first time he's seeing you. Someone like you at least. Some who wasn't at the same calibre as he. Even his gaze makes you feel poor. Inferior.

Thought it doesn't seem to be intentional. He was inspecting you like you were an enigma when in reality he was the one clad in all sorts of bling you were sure you would only see in the movies. Being so focused and aware of Seokjin, you'd almost forgotten about the two other men in the room. While the stranger leant against the wall like he had earlier, Jimin had taken a seat on the large sofa a few meters away from you. Crossing his, muscular you might add, thighs. Getting comfortable with one of his arms splayed on the back of the cushions while the other rested on the hand rest - completely at ease. The exact opposite of you. While Seokjin was all curious eyes, Jimin seemed to be looking at you with sly eyes, blatantly checking out your frumpy uniform and the duster in your hand. The smirk you'd seen in the morning still ever present on his face.

Never having been in a room with an attractive man such as Seokjin himself - let alone three - you're about ready to faint.

"Are you boys going to start or shall I?" The stranger spoke first. Voice breezy like they were about to have a conversation about the weather with you.

your eyes must still be opened wide when Jimin speaks up. "Relax Hoseok hyung, let the girl breathe first. You okay sweetheart?"

His saccharine sweet tone instantly soothes some of the nerves and the smile he sends your way, the wrinkles appearing around his round eyes making you feel all warm inside.

"U-Uh, wh-what? Oh I-I'm-" The elder cuts you off however. Seemingly not being able for you to finish up your stuttering. Hm, he definitely wasn't as nice as the other two.

"Anyway, what were you doing outside master Jimin's wing, little one?" The nickname makes your face redder than it was, feeling your blood rush in your head suddenly. Never did you think that the sons of your employer would actually refer to themselves as 'master'. You definitely guessed wrong. At least Jimin hadn't. You reallydid like him better even if he was about to fire you.

And guess what you do next? Sabotage yourself even further of course. Your mouth has no filter when you're nervous because the words come stumbling out before you can stop yourself.

"I heard your plan to get money from your dad!" The words almost sound like a really long, poorly pronounced word. A breath leaves you in a rush like you' been holding it in for a while after your word vomit. "Or w-well I guess.... m-more money."

The last words are whispered almost to yourself but the way the men are now widening their eyes at you - you know they heard every word.

"Excuse me?" The handsome stranger - Hoseok, now you know - fills the defining silence with the most endearing laughter you've heard in your small life-time just as Seokjin's incredulous tone has you shrinking back in to yourself.

"And what do you suppose... you will do with that information, hm?" Jimin slowly gets up from his place on the couch, straitening his dress pants. The Cheshire smirk still upturning the corners of his mouth as he stalks towards you. Slow, with purpose, to undoubtedly make you more nervous than you were feeling surrounded by him and his older brother standing adjacent to you.

"I-I... I won't say a-anything." You're taking a deep breath before you say the next words - gathering all the courage that you were able to. About to do something you never dreamed you would have to. "If you don't f-fire me."

Even though you are outright blackmailing these chaebol brothers and with a witness present, you can't help the frown creasing your forehead at your unethical actions. Who were you blackmailing people that can probably have your existence removed from this earth?! They certainly had enough money for it.

"And if we do fire you, little one?" The screech that leaves your throat at the unexpected closeness of Seokjin as he leans his head down. Close enough that you instinctively take a step back as his deep coal orbs bore in to yours - challenging you to respond.

"I-I-I um," you gulp, looking anywhere but his intense eyes that won't let you breathe. "I'll tell y-your father!"

Your reply is defiant but nowhere near as threatening as you'd wanted it to be. In all honesty, you just want to keep your job. Seokjin's eyebrows shoot upwards at your feigned bravery and the bold claim. How would you even get in touch with his father?

You'd only ever seen him from a distance in person. Here's to hoping they don't call you on your bluff.

"Oh will you now?" His head tilts almost menacingly, still staring right down at you. The arms that come around to wrap themselves around you are purely in instinct. You were out of your depth here and desperately hoping they'd forget about this and ignore you. You were a mere house staff and a very lowly one at that.

Surely they won't fall to your words. This was stupid and you were doomed. You're about ready to apologies when Jimin speaks making your head snap towards him.

"Calm down, brother." His smile is then directed at you. "What's your name darling?"

"Y-Y/n." Your brain was on auto-pilot and you just wanted to be out of trouble.

"Well, y/n, don't worry." Jimin is close enough that you can smell his cologne. It smells heavenly and you almost want to sniff as much as you can to take in the smell while it's there. "Our mouths are barred," head leaning down just as Seokjin had been earlier, "as long as yours is."

Jimin was smooth. Slick and smooth with his hypnotic eyes, euphonious voice and tranquil words making sure you were listening. Comprehending every word. You're nodding along with him - actions a little quivery. Until another thought pops up in your head.

"W-What if h-he dobs me in?" Your head gestures towards Hoseok's animatedly in your nervous state. Completely missing the chuckle that sounds from the accused.

Jimin is biting his bottom lip, holding himself back from flat out laughing in your face probably.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart. We're all bounded in this contract. Deal?" He's nodding at you, prompting you to nod your understanding as well.

Seokjin is still scrutinising you, stepping back now that Jimin had taken over. You glance in Jimin's eyes before nodding once again - much more firmly.

"Excellent. Shall we seal this deal?" He looks around to Hoseok who just gestures with his hand 'as you wish' with a grin similar to Jimin's. It's like they're all communicating in some symbolic language that goes above your head. Seokjin doesn't respond but now stand besides Jimin.

When Jimin is looking back at you, a singular eyebrow raised - you nod as well. "O-Okay."

Hastily, you're wiping your clammy hands on your uniform to bring it forward and shake his hand. That's what he meant right?

The golden haired boy only smirks at your outstretched hand as his gaze falls back to your reluctant face. Your nerves are settling slightly when his arm is making its way to you as well - thanking god above that this was going to be over soon.

Until the said hands bypasses yours waiting to shake his and settles on the wall beside your head and your own eyes watch its descent. Before you can ask any questions or even make sense of what's happening, your head is tilted backwards slightly when a pair of voluptuous lips take their residence on your own. The noise of surprise leaving the back of your throat is the only other heard in the otherwise quiet room. Your hand instinctively going to grab at the arms caging you between them.

Jimin's kiss is all consuming, his lips gently sucking yours in the most unwavering embrace. Embrace is a bit of a stretch. While one hand had squashed any hopes of your escape, the other made it impossible as it held on to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb as his tongue swiped over your lips. A whimper leaves your mouth when he does so and only a few seconds later, Jimin is pulling away with a wet 'pop' of his lips. His petal soft ones are moist and gently coloured with a natural deep pink.

You're barely breathing, eyes half closed when Hoseok has stepped besides the smirking Jimin.

"What a-"

"We're sealing it with a kiss, Darling. All of us." You felt like you were going to faint. Kissing one of them was this taxing - in the best way with the way the butterflies were going haywire in your tummy - how were you going to kiss all threeof them?

"I- Okay." You sound defeated and overwhelmed but ready to have someone fill the void that was left when Jimin stopped kissing you.

Hoseok has taken Jimin's place, swiftly pushing his head closer to yours, nuzzling your nose with his - an oddly intimate act - before his soft lips push against yours. Your arms have found their way to the top of his chest purely on instinct once more. Needing to hold on to something so your weak knees don't give out beneath you.

His kiss is more delicate than Jimin's. Much softer. Until he pulls back for the first time of course. Only to crash his mouth on to yours with a ferocity you were not expecting. Your hands are itching to tug on the silky strands of his hair but you resist. You're not sure if you should even kiss him back. What were you doing? Kissing strangers. It was a little too late to think about that anyway because there was no plausible reason you could think of at the moment to stopkissing him back.

"That's enough hyung. Let her breathe." Jimin's impish chuckle sounds from the room somewhere just as Hoseok's touch gets dangerously close to the curvature of your breasts.

He breaks away with a dramatic 'chu' as his lips part from yours. Sparkling from how shiny they were from your combined saliva. Jimin was right. You really needed to breathe before you fainted - especially with the way your knees wobbled, trying your best to rest against the wall behind you. Hoseok's eyes are still staring raptly at you, the knowing smirk still ever present. It briefly slips down to your heaving chest and even though the uniform was virtually shapeless - you felt almost naked under his scrutiny.

Evidently, your cheeks are reddening even further as he steps back, your heart skipping several beats and blood pressure spiking shortly after when you realise who was next - Kim Seokjin. Somehow, you'd expected the state of subtle arousal to dissipate to a certain degree. The substantial dislike you'd acquired for his tone whenever addressing you had been pushed to the side as he took his place in front of you. Your eyes lock, heart stopingly striking features making you breathless once again.

He, undoubtedly, intimidated you the most out of all of them. Eyes flicking back and forth between the other men and Seokjin, you're trying not to get nervous with each second that passes. Hoseok had not waited long enough to let the panic rise from deep down and you were thankful for that. Because nervous you was not appropriate. Not at all. But then again nothing about kissing your boss's sons and their friends was appropriate. You were way past that point. He places his hand besides your head, just as the other two had done. Bracing your hands behind you on the wall, you're ready for him to steal your breath away.

What you weren't expecting was the gentle press of lips against your cheek. A surprised gasp leaves past your - very lonely - lips. Trying to hide the disappointment that's trying to claw its way on to your face, you stay very still like moving even just an inch might be catastrophic for you. Just as soon as he kissed you, he's pulling away. You hadn't noticed his other hand that had been just shy of holding your waist - hovering besides it like he was uncertain. Which was a crazy thought to you.

"Nowit's a deal." Jimin speaks up from behind Seokjin. Seokjin's broad shoulders had almost completely blocked your view of the other two men in the room that you had momentarily forgotten about them.

Seokjin moves away just as fast as his little peck on your cheek. Which makes you wonder if you were that indigent to him, this unappealing, that he'd resorted to a little peck on your cheek. This was ridiculous on its own because your perception of reality was so skewed considering the events that had transpired in the past hour. A few hours ago you were getting ready to do your weekly thorough cleaning of the vast left wing - now you were internally pouting at not receiving a kiss from one of the three most handsome men you'd ever laid your eyes on. Not to forget - two out of three were your employers.

The realisation is enough to jolt you out of your thoughts and speculations, looking around at all of them. "I should go."

Your words are shaky, rightfully so with how much physical intimacy you received in the last hour than the last month. Neither of the three men stop surveying your tremulous tip-toeing towards the door, trying to get out of the stifling room that was feeling too small with all the bodies occupying it.

They don't stop you when you're fumbling with the golden doorknob, finally pulling open the door. Though why would this day get any easier for you, right? And what had you done in your previous life to deserve this.... predicament. Standing in front of you, was another man. That's right. Another one. Beautiful, incredibly so. He seems to be just as tall as Jimin, ivory skin with a healthy amount of flush.

"Well, hello... maid." His deep - puzzled voice sends shivers down your spine as you stare Bambi eyed at him. Why were all these men so, comically handsome? He looks just as puzzled as he sounds.

"Ah! Perfect timing Yoongi hyung." The loud, boisterous voice startles you once again, whipping around to face Hoseok while Jimin walks towards the newcomer.

"Is the another one of your role-play threesomes Jimin? Poor thing looks like she's going to cry. Unless you're a professional actress?"

The last question is directed at you as he looks into your eyes, his own lovely face frowning as he inspects your uniform. Before you can answer though, Seokjin is scoffing, taking a seat on the couch once again with the drink in his hand that he'd been pouring earlier.

"Please, I wouldn't be here if that were true. Come, have a seat. She won't cry." He waves his dismissal of you and once again - your face is heating. This time in irritation.

Yoongi just shrugs, eyes still watching you as he sits beside a lounging Seokjin who offers him a drink. "So, what's the little maid doing here?"

Jimin is smirking again as he looks towards his older brother. "Let me explain." he offers.

"Make my friend a drink, little one."

"Pardon?" Seokjin sighs, as if being greatly inconvenienced that he has to elaborate.

"Just because you got a few kisses from us doesn't relieve you of your duties, yes?" His narrowed eyes are condescending but you can't say anything. Because he was right. You were still a maid at their house despite the little stunt they pulled earlier (you were complicit).

"Y-Yes. Of course." Eyes downcast as you make your way to the liquor cabinet, taking out the bottle that Seokjin had previously to pour himself one.

"Wait, you guys kissed your maid?" Yoongi's unbelievable laugh makes the blood rush back in to your cheeks. They were discussing you like you weren't there and it was embarrassing to say the least. Though they definitely out-ranked you on the power spectrum so you doubt they really cared much about your input.

"It was a transaction, nothing much of it."

"Talk about yourself, mine was definitely more than that." Jimin is scoffing but you still hear the smirk in his voice. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

You know he's talking to you even if he doesn't know your name yet but you resist the urge to turn around, already too embarrassed at how easily you'd given in to their advances. Wiping your hands down on your uniform again to get rid of the sweat that's been accumulating, you carefully hold the heavy liquor glass. Hoping that it doesn't slip from your clammy hands otherwise you were in a lot more trouble than before.

Hands slightly shaking, you stop right before you reach the couch, bending forward to hand the newest face his glass of whiskey. You hadn't noticed before but all 4 of them had been watching you. Carefully examining your composure and the nervousness pouring off of your frame as you tried to keep your eyes on the glass. You make the mistake of glancing up at Yoongi and almost drop the glass like you'd been trying to avoid. Thankfully, he mercifully takes it from you - eyes still watching as he takes a sip.

"Sorry! Sorry..."

"That's okay little one. What's your name?"

"Wait yeah. we never asked her name." Hoseok muses from the opposite couch he's sitting on and Yoongi scoffs at them all again. But they did? Did they really forget my name already?

"Really now?" He's shaking his head mumbling 'egocentric fools' before his eyes turn back to you. "Go on."

Taking a deep breath. Wondering if you should give your real name or a fake one this time in case they try to have you fired when you're gone. You decide to be brave and tell them your name. Again.

"Y/n." No stuttering, thank god.

"How long have you been working here y/n? I would remember a pretty face like yours." Yoongi's tone is light, not flirty like his words suggested. He seemed like a person who just talked this way - complimenting people he deemed worthy of them.

"Three- Three and a half months now." Your voice gets quieter the longer your sentence goes on. The blush on your face is now permanent because of how intently all of them seem to be looking at you. you also need to fight the urge to shuffle your feet around like you were on trial for something bad you did and they were the judge and the jury. In a sense you guess that they were because you wouldn't be here otherwise.

"Hm. Somehow I'm seeing you for the first time today." You bite you tongue, wincing lightly at your own strength but you had to. Otherwise you would go on a tangent about how he really rarely looked at the staff in his own home. Seokjin just annoyed you! Biting on your lip - a nervous habit - you contemplate whether you should ask if you can go.

You were soclose before.

"Please, hyung. You would've if you stopped admiring yourself every chance you got." Jimin mocks his older brother.

"Not my fault I look like this." Seokjin is gesturing to himself like it's a great burden being that good looking. Then again you don't know. It could be.

"Settle down children." Yoongi rolls his eyes at the two brother bickering, checking his gold toned Rolex before speaking again, "so, what's this scheme I’ve been summoned for? Spit it out."

"That'll be all y/n." Jimin's charming smile is directed at you all of a sudden when Yoongi mentions the dreaded plan that you'd overheard. Nonetheless, the way your name slips off his tongue sends a small shiver down your spine, nodding at him before staggering towards the door.

"Don't forget our deal, little one." You can hear Hoseok snickering when Jimin calls out behind your retrieving figure.

Knees almost knocking into each other when you're outside the room, you let out the biggest breath that you were once again, unwarily holding. What had you gotten yourself in to?

Everything was coming crashing down onto your psyche. The gravity of the situation was settling on you and you could feel the hyperventilation lurking nearby. These were not just normal everyday people who happen to have more money than you. The Kim family was affluent and prominent. They didn't follow the normal dynamics of society like all the other wealthy and rich in this country. They made the rules that they wantedto follow. Remembering the incident from when you'd just started working here, you could feel your heart drop down to your toes.

It was your second week on the job and your timorous nature was taking a back seat slowly - getting a hang of your duties. Anders was kind and let you settle in and perhaps because you were just as old as his granddaughter he'd told you about. Minhyuk - another staff member that you'd seen around the Manor and quite honestly developed a small crush on - had been showing you the east wing and what your duties included. You didn't have much to do there as it was Mr Kim's quarters, including his study and office where he worked once in a while. Not everyone had access to that area of the house and you figured it was because of his work. maybe he was really particular about the way things were done. You just didn't think much of it.

"You will always be given your schedule of the type and duration of cleaning required the day before when it comes to Master Kim's rooms so please take note of that."

He smiles sweetly as he shows you around. The notepad in your hand, you're diligently taking notes because you did not want to risk leaving all of this new information to your forgetful nature. You swear you hear him mumble 'cute' when he's watching you but the sound of heels clicking on the marble floors distract you both. When you look up - your jaw is almost dropping to the floor. You's seen Mr Kim's partner a fair few times - on the news that is. In person she was even more... unreal. Tall, thin with equally bright and big bone structure. It didn't phase you when you learnt that she was indeed - a model.

"Good morning Am- Ms King!" Her pearly whites make a small appearance before she curls her lips in an almost sensual smile.

"Good morning Minhyuk. Who is this?" She doesn't spare you a glance when she questions, fingers lingering on his shoulder as she leans in a little close to him.

The blush lettering Minhyuk's cheek tells you that this isn't the first time she's been this close to him. He introduces you as the newest staff addition but she doesn't seem to be listening. What she does though is start to question him about his weekend. Making him almost forget that you're there. What does capture your attention meanwhile is the slight rustle - as if someone had walked away from around the corner. You're only able to catch the colour black and a suit comes to mind automatically.

"Everything alright y/n?" Minhyuk's voice makes you whip your head around back to him and you catch Ms King watching you as well.

"I-I just thought I saw someone." Ms King frowns at that.

"That must be Ryuk. Excuse me." She just smiles - one that doesn't reach her eyes as she steps away. Ryuk?

Sensing your confusion, Minhyuk answers your unanswered question. "That's Mr. Kim. His first name is Ryuk. Weird right?"

You just chuckle along with him - completely missing the underlying panicked tone. He continues the tour but after your run-in with Mr Kim's fiancé, he seems to be on edge.

The next day at work - Minhyuk is nowhere to be seen. Not the next day either. Then never again. A month later - you receive your new duties in the east wing. Minhyuk's designated area.

"Excuse me sir," Anders looks up from the sheets of paper he'd been handing out to the rest of the staff, "Isn't it M-Minhyuk's area? Am I temporarily-"

He doesn't let you finish. "He doesn't work here anymore dear. These will be your permanent duties until further notice."

Your heart clenches at his direct tone. He only spoke like this to you on your first day at work. He doesn't elaborate any further and you get the hint to not further question the change in staff.

You don't see Minhyuk again.

How were you so asinine that you didn't connect the dots before? Minhyuk's panic as he'd shown you to your duties after Mr Kim had possibly seen you three chatting with his Fiancé, him getting replaced - fired? - with you. He was simply removed from the Manor and you'd never heard his name from any of the other staff members either. It's like he never worked there. You were rapidly fading down the doomed rabbit hole. Already thinking of about a hundred ways Mr Kim's sons could have you disposed of. Maybe you were thinking too much? Not possible. With this family, anything was possible.

The tear that falls down your face has you bringing your cold hand up to your hot cheeks. Foolishly, you've forgotten to go much further away from the room you'd exited from. The panic clouding your senses as you fished for your phone from your pocket, hastily dialling your grandmother's house phone.

A few rings later, you hear your mother's annoyed tone. "H-hello Mama."

Her tone turns sickly sweet, dishonest you know but you try to trick your heart and your brain in to believing her concern. "Hi dear! Haven't heard from you in so long. Are you not at work?"

Her tone turns serious and worried instantly at the prospect of you not being at work. You also want to tell her that you called every two days after work but she never wanted to speak to you unless it was payday. But that doesn't hurt you nearly as much as her not even being remotely entered in your wellbeing.

"I am at work. Could you... could you put Nana on the phone please?"

"Um. Okay." That's it. your voice is cracking and you know she can hear you but she doesn't care enough to ask.

"Hello? y/n?"

"Nana." whimpering, you try to not burst out crying. Keeping the intense emotions at bay.

"What's wrong dear? Are you alright?" Hearing her perturbed tone at your distressed one only makes the tears fall quicker, making you slap them away so they don't blur your vision completely.

"Nana... I might be in trouble. I-I might get..." fired. You couldn't say it. Once you let her know you were a hundred percent sure your mother would be incessant in having her spill the bad news. She would make your grandmother's life hell and you couldn't do that to her. Your mother needed the steady money to keep her in rehab. You had hopes that since she was at least going to rehab - that one day she could be a good mother to you.

"What dear? You can tell me y/n." Pushing your hand over your mouth, you try and swallow the sob before it passes through the phone. Though you could already hear your mother asking your Nana what was going on.

"Be quiet Elizabeth! I'll tell you."

"I-I'm okay. I just miss you." You could do this. your grandmother didn't deserve this. No one deserved this just because you made a foolish mistake and you hope she doesn't question you further.

"We miss you too dear. So much. Will you be able to visit soon? Let her get back to work Ma." Your mother sounded angry and you wanted to scream at her through the phone that at least your grandmother cared.

"I'll let you know. I have to go now Nana. I love you."

"I love you too darling. So much." She stays on the line for a few more moments. Making sure you didn't want to say anything else.

Dropping your head down in your lap - you let the last few stray tears fall, trying to stay as quiet as possible. You needed to pull it together. Your family was counting on you to keep this job and you were going to fight for it. Even if you were several outnumbered. You had their secret and that should count for something, right? As long as you appeared strong in front of them - maybe they'll leave you alone.

Dusting off your uniform, wiping away at your face and checking it in the nearest grand mirror on the wall - you get to work. You still had a job.

What you domiss though, is the man who had witnessed your panicked tears. He hadn't expected himself to be this affected but the way his heart clenched and his hands curled into fists at your disturbed state - he'd never wanted to comfort someone this badly. Empathy. A foreign emotion indeed.

#bts #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfction #jimin x reader #jin x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #hobiwonder #lmk what you think #:)

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damn-behzinga · 5 years ago

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Happy Hours

summary - Ethan talks about you and your son on the Happy Hour Podcast.

warnings - talk of drugs, alcohol, teenage pregnancy, illness and death, swearing, my terrible writing

Part two of After Meeting A Little Early

masterlist - request here

Ethan talking on the happy hour podcast

"So I wanted to talk about your wife and son if you don't mind?" Jack asked.

Ethan nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"So when did you have your son and how old is he? How did you meet your wife? What's the story?" Jack questioned

"So, my wife and I met in secondary school and then we went to the same college. We became a thing in year eleven, and we didn't plan to go to the same college but the college did our courses. I studied games development and web design and she studied criminology with psychology and forensics." Ethan explained.

"Woah!" Jack exclaimed. "You were so young!"

"Yeah and we had both turned seventeen and we found out that she was pregnant." Ethan swallowed, he always got nervous talking about his son and his teenage pregnancy, people reacted massively and changed their opinions in seconds.

"Wow, so you were literally teenagers when you had him?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, so Ben - my son - was born October 2012." Ethan nodded. "He's eight this year and I don't really show him on camera. There are those odd few moments where I do take a video with him but I did decide that whether he wants to be in videos is his decision. Kids are fucking brutal nowadays and I don't want him getting wrapped up in shit like that." Ethan explained.

"That has to of been very difficult for you. How did each of your parents take it?" Jack asked.

"So, y/n's parents kicked her out and haven't spoken to her since. She talked to her grandparents and siblings still but not her parents." Ethan explained.

"Holy shit!" Stevie exclaimed.

"My mum let her move in with us which I don't think I'll ever be able to thank her enough for it. My mum was nervous but when I said we chose to keep him, my mum wasn't necessarily happy, but she was accepting and questioned me to make sure we were ready." Ethan said.

"That's a smart move though. I rate that!" Jack said. "She's protecting you!"

Ethan nodded. "Yeah, yeah."

"So, you were doing YouTube at this time as well right?" Jordan asked.

"Yeah. I was doing three videos a day and full time at college." Ethan explained. "I was getting about an hour of sleep plus a nap every night and it fucked me up. I had met Josh, Tobi, Simon, and JJ at this point and I decided to not to tell them about Ben until a month before we met in real life."

"Why is that?" Jack asked.

"To be honest, I was scared," Ethan stated. "I was scared people weren't gonna be accepting of my early parenthood, you know?"

The other men let out noises of the agreement as Ethan nodded.

"So, how did they react?" Jack pondered, watching Ethan carefully.

"They all accepted it but they didn't meet him until he was three and it was a big situation because this is my son and my best friends and I wanted them to be comfortable around one and other." Ethan coughed slightly. "Yeah, now Ben refers to them as Uncle. It's amazing."

"That's well sweet!" Stevie chuckled.

"Oh my God, who's his favourite?" Jack exclaimed quickly.

"Um, he loves JJ and Vik." Ethan laughed. "He and JJ have a handshake but when Ben is in a room with anyone, the first person he goes to is Vik. He always gets Vik to play with his toys."

The other men awed.

"I will say," Ethan said. "The boys are lifesavers. A few weeks before Ben's seventh birthday, it was the hardest month of mine and y/n's life. Y/n lost her Nan, her granddad got ill and because of y/n's parents we weren't allowed to go to the funeral so we never got to say goodbye." Ethan swallowed. "Even more, y/n lost her job and everything was just hitting us. The boys set up an entire birthday party for Ben and paid for everything and got him presents. Honestly, me and y/n cried of happiness that night when Ben got to bed."

"That's bullshit. No offence but that's still y/n's family, they could at least have let her go!" Jack argued, and Ethan just nodded not saying a word.

"God, I couldn't imagine that all happening especially in the same month." Stevie shook his head in disbelief.

Ethan nodded and swallowed. "We got married that same year. We had been planning it that year and we were fortunate for y/n's granddad to come along because he was really ill at the time. We got married in the beautiful garden and I had the men as my groomsmen. Y/n had Freya, Talia, Katie, her sister, her two friends from college, and Sarah. Ben was stood next to us whilst it happened and he was a ring boy."

"Thank you for inviting us by the way." Jordan smiled.

"It's alright, mate." Ethan grinned. "We were gonna have family and the bridesmaids and groomsmen and that was it. We decided that we wanted everyone to come because everyone has had some role in our lives. Thankfully everyone committed to the no filming rule, we did get it filmed but we only released a few clips from it."

"Beautiful ceremony by the way. Where did you go on your honeymoon?"

"We went to Bora Bora which is gorgeous by the way."

"Lovely!" Stevie nodded.

"Honestly, I found out you were a dad before I actually met you and, I'm not gonna lie, I was worried about the fact you were a dad and whether you were gonna be a good one but I met you and realised, you are a good dad and you'd do anything for your son," Jack explained.

"Many people believe that!" Ethan chuckled.

Jack nodded and continued. "You and y/n are the best parents I've ever met and, when I came down just to see everyone, it was nice because everyone was out for dinner and you bought Ben out with you. I am not exaggerating when I say he is the most polite and smart boy I have ever met. He started talking about animal facts and asking if I knew that Baloo from the fucking Jungle Book - or whatever it's called- was a sloth bear!"

Ethan laughed. "He gets all his brains from his mum honestly. Not me at all! I got fucking suspended from school a few times."

The men all laughed as Ethan took a sip of his water.

"Honestly, you should be proud of your son and y/n. You are some of the best people and parents I know!"

Ethan blushed and smiled softly. "Thank you, that means so much more then you can imagine."

---

"So you said you were going through a hard time in 2015. What was y/n's reaction to that?" Jack asked.

Ethan took a deep breath and said. "So, Ben was turning three that year but it was a few months before his birthday. I was stupid, doing drugs and drinking way too much. It was a dark period in my life and y/n had come up to me and basically said, 'get your shit together, Ben and I are staying at my sister's and will stay there if you don't quit by the end of the month'."

"Fucking hell, y/n don't take shit!" Jack laughed.

"Yeah, but fair enough. I was putting my needs before our own son's which is fucked and I wasn't thinking right." Ethan explained. "About three weeks into her being gone I had got rid out of all alcohol out of my apartment and weed and whatever. I took a train up to y/n's sister's house and I told her that I got rid of all the shit and she came back that day. We went out to dinner and that was the moment where I realised how much y/n benefited my life."

The other men awed and Ethan chuckled.

He was grateful for everything you had bought into his life. There was never a dull moment with you and Ben by his side.

#sidemen #sdmn #behzinga x reader #ethan payne x reader #ethan payne imagine #ethan payne #ethan payne fanfiction #ethan payne fluff #behzinga fanfiction #behzinga fluff #behzinga imagine #behzinga #sidemen x reader #the sidemen #sidemen fanfiction

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 33: Jon Prime

Martin breathed deeply, tilting his head back slightly and closing his eyes. “It smells like snow.”

“It’s a bit warm for that, fortunately.” Jon’s fingers laced through Martin’s, their palms pressed together. “Lessens the chance of frostbite.”

The Institute was closed until the new year, which meant Jon and Martin would be able to move about the Archives freely during the day, rather than only being able to come out at night, and Jon had spent much of the previous month attempting to remember where the cameras in the Institute proper were located so he could avoid them. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do, exactly, since he still hadn’t figured out how to safely dispose of the table, but he supposed he had nine uninterrupted days to figure it out.

For now, however, that was in the future. For now, they walked hand in hand down the streets along the Thames. The typical sounds of a London Saturday evening washed over them, punctuated by bells—the jingle of the bells on the harnesses of the horse-drawn carriages that capitalized on the Dickensian nostalgia, the steady clatter of the bell-ringers who stood on street corners and at shop fronts with their kettles asking for charity, and the gentle tolling of the steeple bells calling the faithful to Christmas Eve services. The sky was overcast, which meant their walk was lit only by street lamps rather than stars or the moon, but that was all right by Jon; there was enough light for him to see by, and he’d never been much of a stargazer. The air smelled crisp and cold—as Martin had said, it smelled of snow, but the air was too warm—and Jon could almost fool himself into thinking he smelled pine and cinnamon.

“I never asked you if you had any Christmas traditions,” he said. “I mean, not that there was ever much opportunity. That first Christmas we were all working in the Archives, I was still trying to be distant and acting like I hated you. The second year I was paranoid and obsessing over the tunnels and Gertrude’s murder, and…” He trailed off, not wanting to bring up the third year. Or the fourth.

“And that was the last Christmas you were aware of,” Martin supplied, squeezing Jon’s hand briefly. Jon gripped it tightly and refused to let him go. “Honestly, not really. When I was little, Granddad had a collection of Christmas poems we used to read together, and we’d sing a couple songs he’d learned as a boy, but I don’t know what happened to the book after he died. Mum used to go candlelight services on Christmas Eve, but…even when she let me go with her, I never got much out of them. I liked sitting out in the evenings and listening to the church bells, though.” A smile flitted across his face as another church tolled out its summons nearby. “How about you? Any Christmas traditions?”

“Not outside those dictated by policy,” Jon said, unable to hold back an exasperated smirk as he thought about the dreaded Institute Christmas party. God, he’d hated it even when he was a researcher, and it had been infinitely worse when he was a department head and supposed to be a presence. “Grandmother was…she’d been raised non-Christian. I think she observed the holidays for her husband when my father and his siblings were young, but after they were out of the house and Grandfather Sims died, she went back to the faith she’d been brought up in, as best she could, anyway. I was never sure what religion she belonged to, actually. She didn’t exactly practice it. I suppose she assumed that I was young enough not to really remember what Christmas and Easter and that sort of thing were like, so she never saw it as her duty to give me any of those traditions.”

“So I guess you were like me. The Christmas holidays were just a reason to be out of school.”

Jon hummed in agreement. “I strongly suspect this is mostly for Tim’s benefit. Possibly Sasha’s.”

Martin laughed. “I mean…if Tim had asked me, I’d have done Christmas with him that last year. But I think he was too upset to even acknowledge it, you know? Didn’t even change the background on his laptop to anything festive.”

Jon’s hand tightened in Martin’s again. Regret swirled through him. He hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to the significance of the dates, and he’d completely missed Tim—whom he’d always seen at his cheeriest around Christmas—practically ignoring the holiday. “I wish…there are a lot of things I wish I’d done differently. The way I treated Tim…the way our relationship deteriorated…that’s probably one of the biggest. That and the way I treated you. Watching our…counterparts do things better just makes it worse, honestly.”

“Because you can’t make it up to our Tim,” Martin guessed. “Jon, wherever he is…wherever he was, I’m sure he forgives you. Now, anyway. Now that he knows you didn’t—there’s blame on both sides. Same with you and me.”

Jon huffed. “No, there’s really not. You were nothing but polite to me—”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t have respected me more if I’d stood up to you sooner.”

Jon had to admit, Martin was right, but he decided he only actually had to admit it to himself. “How would you know if I wasn’t looking you in the eye?”

Martin bumped Jon’s shoulder, but he was laughing at the same time. “Asshole.”

“I’ll cop to that.” Jon laughed, too.

It was a pleasant enough walk, serenaded by the bells and the occasional snippet of a Christmas carol. Martin swept his cane along in front of him, although he didn’t really need it with Jon holding his hand. Still, Jon could appreciate Martin’s desire to be as independent as he could be. Part of what made them work as a couple was that they could function on their own.

Jon and Martin hadn’t ventured out of the Institute in some weeks, certainly not since Daisy’s visit and Jonah’s tormenting of Past Martin, so he hadn’t seen what the decorations looked like. Past Jon hadn’t bothered to describe them, either, merely saying “they have to be seen to be believed”. Jon prepared for the worst as they came around the corner.

To his relief, things seemed…tasteful. Tim, Past Jon, and Past Martin lived on the end of a row of four terraced houses, identical save the trim, and he’d half expected to find it ablaze with colored lights and tinsel, but it was surprisingly subdued. There was a wreath on the front door and a plant of some kind—Jon presumed holly from a distance—hanging from the center of the frame, and handmade paper snowflakes plastered on each windowpane visible from the street, but that was it as far as decoration went. The reason became clear when they drew closer; while the house on the far end of the row had some garland and lights, dark at the moment, and the one next to it bore several blatantly Christian decorations, the one next door to the Archive crew’s home was undecorated entirely. Through the half-open curtains, Jon could see a shaking, age-spotted hand lighting the first of eight candles in a curved holder that looked like a long-cherished family heirloom.

Martin’s cane bumped against the low step leading up to the threshold, and Jon, who knew the drill by now, let Martin lean on his arm to steady himself as he stepped up. Jon steeled himself to reach for the knocker, then noticed a pearly button set next to the door. “Ah, they’ve installed a doorbell, excellent.”

He pressed it. He could faintly hear the chime, more of a clanging really, sort of like a ship’s bell. A moment later, the door opened, revealing Tim in all his festive glory. He wore a sweater that could not possibly feel good on his skin given the sheer tinsel-to-yarn ratio, a floppy sequined hat with a sparkling ball of fluff on one end covered his hair, and he’d traded out his usual discreet star-shaped stud for a dangling glitter-covered candy cane, but the bright grin splitting his face ear to ear outshone it all.

“Hey, you made it!” he cried happily.

Jon couldn’t help but grin. “Sorry we didn’t bring anything. Our oven was out of order.”

“Please. We’ve got enough baked goods made to last us until Easter.” Tim scoffed. “What’s important is that you came.”

“Tim. Did you really think we wouldn’t?”

Martin reached out and tentatively touched Tim’s arm. “Christmas is about family. If we’re really allowed to be part of yours, of course we’d be here.”

Tim’s eyes actually filled with tears, even as he smiled, and his breath hitched. “I’m going to hug you now.”

“Tha—” Martin began, but got no further before Tim lunged forward and wrapped him in a hug. He laughed and hugged him back, dropping his cane in the process, presumably so he didn’t accidentally goose Tim with it. It was a sight at once strange and familiar, but something about it tugged at Jon’s subconscious and he wasn’t sure what. All he could say with any certainty was that it looked different than the times he’d seen Tim hug Past Martin, and he had no idea why.

After a moment, Tim released Martin, then picked up his cane and pressed it into his hand before turning to give Jon a hug. Jon hadn’t hugged Tim—or Sasha, for that matter—except as part of a group hug, and then only once, so he wasn’t prepared for the renewal of long-forgotten, or at least long-buried, feelings of comfort and security that came from one of Tim’s missed-you-buddy hugs. Even as he hugged him back, he tried to hold himself as separate as he could. After all, he wasn’t Tim’s Jon and—

“Nope, not happening,” Tim said in his ear. “No guilt tonight. No anger, no fears, no death. No talking about the past or the future. Nothing about my eyes or your scars or any of that. All of that can wait. It’s Christmas, and it’s about family, and I’m going to stand here and hug you until you cancel your travel reservations for that guilt trip you’re starting on and fucking hug me back properly.”

Jon laughed. “You always did know how to say just the right thing at the right time,” he mumbled as he let himself sink into Tim’s embrace.

Tim tightened his arms. “There you go. Welcome home.” He clapped Jon on the back, then stepped back with a smile. “C’mon. Let’s get this party started.”

“As long as you don’t make us play Strip Charades again,” Martin teased.

Jon stumbled. “Again?”

The way both Martin and Tim laughed at his reaction told him they were just kidding. Probably. He hoped.

The front room of the house did hold all the garish, over-the-top decorations Jon had expected. Apart from what was presumably a Christmas tree under the glut of lights, tinsel, and ornaments, topped with a lopsided star that looked like it had been crafted by a glassblower with the hiccups, there was no part of the wall not covered in garland, ribbon, or something glittery. The coffee table was covered with neatly-arranged platters of every kind of biscuit imaginable, from brandy snaps to shortbreads to something soft and crazed and dusted with powdered sugar, while Sasha and Past Jon tried to shuffle things around to make room for a charcuterie plate. On every other available surface stood a jar candle, lit and emitting a pleasant, Christmas-themed scent, that all mingled together in a miasma that was just a tad overwhelming.

A portrait of an angel in bright tempera paint, with two sets of glitter-dusted handprints for wings, held pride of place on the wall. It looked like a child’s school project, and Jon was going to go closer to peer at the signature when Past Martin came into the room, bearing a tray loaded with six steaming mugs. “I don’t know where we’re going to put these, guys, but—oh, hey, you made it!”

Past Jon and Sasha looked up from their endeavors with broad smiles. Warmth bloomed in Jon’s chest at the relaxed, contented look on his counterpart’s face, and he swore again that he would do whatever it took to keep that look there. “Good Lord, you weren’t joking about the baked goods.”

“This isn’t even all of them. Just what we could fit on the table,” Past Jon said ruefully. “We’ll give you some to take back with you whenever you leave. You, too, Sasha.”

“Sit down,” Tim told them. “All of you. We’re not standing on ceremony. This is just…we’re just getting together, right? Baked goods, hot drinks, telling stories, maybe playing some games that don’t rely on being able to see?”

“Damn. I was looking forward to dominating you at ‘I Spy,’” Martin said with a straight face. Jon choked back a laugh.

Sasha perched in an armchair, her legs crossed beneath her as she took one of the mugs from Past Martin. Past Jon and Tim sat on the sofa, and Martin and Jon, as was their wont, took the loveseat. As Martin accepted a mug from the tray—Jon found himself continually delighted that they always made sure there was a mug with a distinct carving or detail to it so Martin would be able to tell his from the others if he set it down—he asked, “How was the Institute party this year?”

Jon hid his smile behind his own mug at the chorus of groans from the other four. “That bad, huh?”

“Oh, God.” Tim picked up a gingerbread man and bit its head off savagely.

“So first of all,” Sasha said, “there’s the usual bullshit that comes from an Institute event—namely, a bunch of upper-class old white men talking down to anyone who isn’t and a load of rich people expecting everyone to suck up to them—all of whom, I might add, we had to interact with because, between the CO2 system getting installed, the fire, the infestation, and the subsequent cleanup, not to mention the usual requisitions and expenses we had to deal with, the Archives apparently had the highest budget of all the departments this year, so we had to deal with the donors—”

“Hey, at least there were four of you to spread it around a bit,” Martin pointed out. “Our Tim and I had to do it all on our own. The Not-Sasha didn’t show and Jon left early after spending the entire time he was actually there in a corner nursing a glass of wine and hissing at people walking past.”

“I would like to register a protest about that description.” Jon rested his hand on Martin’s leg, and Martin covered it with his own. “Unfortunately, it would do me no good, because it’s accurate.”

Sasha giggled. Past Martin snorted. “Yeah, well, then you had that one guy who thought he was God’s gift to women. Half the female-coded people at the party spent the night trying to get away from him and the other half were practically dripping off of him, until he made the mistake of flirting with a married woman whose husband is apparently some sort of underground fighter. Who took it aboveground. There was punch everywhere, it was nuts.”

“At least that was towards the end of the night,” Tim added. “And made slightly more interesting by the fact that whoever was in charge of the music managed to find ‘Bad, Bad Leroy Brown’ and put it on in the background while it was going on.”

Past Jon sighed heavily. “You know, I think I would have been able to handle all of that if I hadn’t also had to deal with Elias. Bad enough having to pretend I don’t know what he is or what’s going on. Worse to have to pretend I didn’t know what he did to Martin.”

Past Martin blushed and looked down at his mug. Tim’s hand tightened on his own, but then he said evenly, “Hey, I already told them. We’re not talking about any of that heavy stuff tonight. This is a night for fun. We can vent about Elias fucking Bouchard on…Monday, ‘cause we’re not talking about it on Christmas either.”

“Yes, sir,” Past Jon said with a mocking salute. Tim kicked at him halfheartedly, but he was laughing, too.

The conversation did shift after that, thankfully. They nibbled at the biscuits and cheeses on the table as they talked about the best and worst Christmas parties they’d ever attended. Martin was attempting to describe the horror that had been Peter Lukas’ Institute shindig when the doorbell chimed. Past Jon looked up with a frown. “Who could that be at this hour? On Christmas Eve, no less?”

“I’ll get it.” Past Martin set his mug down and crossed over to the front door, then opened it.

“Here we come a-caroling—” The lone voice that started singing was high, young, and punctuated by the peculiar wobble caused by someone hopping from foot to foot on each downbeat while they sang.

“Charlie, where’s your coat?” Past Martin sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“It’s not so bad as long as I keep moving,” a child’s voice replied.

“Go home and put a coat on. Or at least a sweater.”

Past Jon rolled his eyes at Jon, but he was smiling fondly; Jon wasn’t sure if it was at Martin’s instinctive tendency to mother hen or at the idea of the child on the stoop. From the expressions on his and Tim’s faces, Jon suspected they’d had more interactions with Charlie beyond the initial one when he’d dropped off the casserole and cake the day they moved in.

Their expressions froze, however, when the child’s voice replied, “I can’t. Nan says I’m not allowed in the house by myself, so I have to stay outside until she gets home from midnight mass.”

“You didn’t go with her?” Past Martin asked.

“Oh, you know…” The child’s voice trailed away.

Past Jon was already up and moving towards the kitchen when Past Martin said, “Tell you what, why don’t you come inside and help us eat some of these biscuits? We can tell stories and sing some carols together until your nan gets back.”

“Will I be in the way?”

“Of course not. We’ve got plenty of room for you.”

“Well…okay.”

Past Martin stepped aside, then closed the door and ushered their new guest over. Jon gave a fleeting thought to how they were going to explain his and Martin’s presence, a thought that was swept aside as soon as he laid eyes on the child. He was no more than seven, still rounded with baby fat, and far too young to be left outside alone after dark. He was dressed in a shirt too thin for the weather, and despite his brave words outside he was shivering slightly as he got warm.

What left Jon breathless, however, was the fact that, save for his hair—which was a dark reddish-brown instead of bleached blonde—he was a dead ringer for Annabelle Cane.

Fortunately, Charlie—if that’s who he was—didn’t notice Jon’s face at first, or anything else about him. His attention was caught by the painting that had caught Jon’s eye upon entry, and his whole face lit up. “You really framed it?”

“I told you it was good enough to be in a museum,” Tim pointed out.

Charlie scuffed a shoe against the carpet. “Yeah, but I thought you were just saying that ‘cause you thought you were supposed to.”

“Tim never does anything he’s supposed to,” Past Jon called from the kitchen.

“Shut up,” Tim called back, but he was laughing.

Charlie giggled. It sounded like the usual innocent, impish laughter of a child, but Jon was on edge enough to be wary. Even knowing the entities didn’t usually like the fear of children, he was…worried. The Web, more than any other save perhaps the Dark, had a tendency to mark children, or so he’d gleaned from all the statements he’d consumed over the years, not to mention his own personal experience. Between his appearance, his name, and the fact that abuse and neglect could sometimes beget exactly the sort of survival tactics that would draw the attention of the Mother of Puppets, it was a risk, and Jon couldn’t help himself.

He reached out with his powers, just a little bit. He didn’t have Tim’s eyes, and he’d never quite understood how Elias saw and identified the marks, but he could, at the very least, sense if someone had a statement to feed the Eye. Even if it would be something the Eye found unappetizing or…unfinished, if Charlie had been touched by one of the fears, he would know.

Nothing. He almost gasped with relief. Charlie was a solitary child, starved for affection, certainly vulnerable to a surprising number of the entities as well as just ordinary horrible people, and aware in a way even Jon and Martin had never been at his age that his grandmother hated him—and his father had definitely been one of Annabelle’s brothers. But none of the fears had even started giving him attention. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Jon withdrew his mind and smiled, and in that instant, Charlie tore his attention away from the angel and caught sight of Jon and Martin sitting on the loveseat. “Oh! Hello. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You’re fine,” Jon assured him.

Past Martin patted Charlie’s shoulder. “Charlie, this is my cousin Kieran and his fiancé, Walter. And this is our friend Sasha, she works with us…guys, this is Charlie. He lives a couple doors down.”

“And he’s an amazing baker, too,” Tim added, sweeping a hand at the mass of plates on the table. “He helped us with all this.”

Suddenly, Jon understood why there were so many baked goods. “And a fine job he did of it. It’s wonderful to meet you, Charlie.”

“Good to meet you, too.” Charlie gave Jon a broad, gap-toothed smile, but his eyes were puzzled. “Are you Jon’s cousin, too? You look a lot like him.”

“Ah—not his cousin, but we are related,” Jon said, which was true enough to be getting on with. “I suppose ‘cousin’ works, though.”

“They’re visiting us for Christmas,” Past Martin explained, shooing Charlie towards the sofa. “Here, come have a seat…Kier, you were telling us about that work party that went south?”

“That was it, really,” Martin said. “I had to do most of the talking, but there wasn’t really a lot of talking to be done. Quietest office party I’ve ever been to.”

“Where do you work?” Charlie asked innocently as Past Jon came back with a mug for him.

“Oh, that was a couple years ago. I don’t work there anymore.” Martin tapped the corner of his eye. “I went blind earlier this year. But I used to be the personal assistant to a man named Peter Lukas.”

Charlie accepted his mug from Past Jon with a surprised thank-you and settled onto the sofa between Past Martin and Past Jon. “I’m sorry you went blind. Is it scary?”

“It was a little, at first, but I’m used to it now.” Martin squeezed Jon’s hand and directed a smile at him. “And I have the best support I could ask for.”

Jon smiled back. “I do what I can.”

Tim plied Charlie with sweets for a minute, effectively distracting him from asking Jon or Martin any more questions. He waited until Charlie was halfway through a florentine before he said casually, “I bet it’s not much fun at your grandmother’s church. Not on Christmas, anyway. Maybe sometimes it is, but if you have to sit still for a whole hour?”

“Oh, it’s more than an hour. It’s a long, long time. Nan won’t be back until very late,” Charlie said. “But there’s lots of music, and I love it when the lights are off and all the candles are lit and it’s quiet except for the chanting and singing and the organ playing. And I like listening to the stories and the messages.” He suddenly looked anxious as he looked up at Tim. “And I can sit still, honest. I’m very, very good in church.”

“I believe it,” Tim assured him quickly. “You’re good everywhere else, so why not in church?”

Charlie looked hopeful. “You really think so?”

Tim ruffled Charlie’s hair, making him giggle. “I sure do, buddy. Why didn’t you go with your grandmother this year?”

“Oh…” Charlie’s face fell, and he looked down into the mug in his hands. After a moment, he mumbled, “I’m not allowed to go back to church with Nan unless I stop being a boy.”

Two bright spots of color appeared in Tim’s cheeks, and he pressed his lips tightly together. The look Past Jon and Past Martin exchanged told Jon this was not a new and startling discovery for them like it was for him, but then, if they’d truly interacted with Charlie for a while, he’d probably told them something like this before. It still seemed to upset them, though.

“Is that your nan’s rule, or the church’s?” Martin asked, in the same tone he’d once used to ask Jon how many times he’d listened to the tapes after the Watcher’s Crown—gentle and patient, but with an undercurrent of worry and maybe a bit of anger that was being restrained so the questioned didn’t think it was directed at him. It brought back memories of those horrible—weeks? Months?—after the world ended, but also brought feelings of safety and security and love.

Charlie responded to it the same way Jon always had. He raised his head and gave him a look of mingled sorrow and trust. “Both. The teachers at church say God won’t recognize me if I’m a boy, and Nan says Mum and Dad wouldn’t either.”

“Well, that’s silly,” Jon said, trying to summon up the brusque and authoritative face he’d put on as the Archivist. “Anyone who doesn’t recognize you because you’re a boy isn’t someone who knows you, or loves you. You would know your parents no matter what they looked like, wouldn’t you? Even if you haven’t seen them in a while.”

“I—I think so.”

“Then they’ll know you, even though you didn’t tell them you were a boy the last time you saw them in person. And if they don’t, they don’t deserve to know you.”

“You can trust him, you know,” Sasha said sagely. “He knows everything in the world.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Really? Everything in the whole world?”

“Just about.” Jon decided not to go into the limitations of his abilities, or indeed what those abilities were. They weren’t important to the discussion.

Charlie studied Jon with a gravity far beyond his years. At last, he asked, “What’s her name?”

“Whose name?” Jon frowned. Had he missed part of the conversation?

“My—Mum said my sister was on the way. But something went wrong, and Nan said Mum and the baby both died. I never even got to meet her. If you know everything in the whole world, what’s my sister’s name?”

Jon hesitated. He wasn’t sure if that was actually something he could Know, considering there was a good chance everyone who knew the answer to that was dead. But he knew he had to try. And if he couldn’t come up with the answer, he wouldn’t lie. He wouldn’t. He reached out with the Eye, feeling the familiar crackle of static as he did so.

In the end, it was easier than he’d thought—just a matter of plucking the right information from the right heads. The date and location of Charlie’s mother’s death from his grandmother’s mind, a nurse who’d been in the room, a buried memory of a gasped-out conversation, and a startlingly clear pair of blue eyes meeting her mother’s before taking her last breath. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Athena Joy,” he answered.

Charlie looked at him, then smiled, too. “Athena Joy Cane is a pretty name.”

It effectively ended the serious part of the conversation, which was a relief. Instead, they started telling stories of Christmases they’d experienced when they were younger, which devolved into jokes and silly stories. Tim got up to refill everyone’s mugs at one point. He was gone for quite a while, and Jon would be prepared to swear he heard the kitchen door open at least twice, but he didn’t say anything. Not then. Instead, he simply accepted his refill and watched Tim settle back onto the sofa.

“Shame it’s so overcast,” he commented. “I took a peek outside, and it’s still cloudy. I love studying the sky on Christmas Eve.”

“Looking for Father Christmas?” Sasha teased.

“Ha, ha.” Tim stuck his tongue out at her. “No, I just like looking at the stars. I mean, I always like looking at the stars, but there’s something special about it on Christmas Eve.”

Past Martin looked wistful. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I used to sit and watch the stars while I listened to the bells. I could almost convince myself the stars were ringing, too.”

“What bells?” Sasha frowned.

“Church bells, mostly. I didn’t attend services or anything, it wasn’t—” Past Martin checked himself with a swift glance at Charlie. “I always felt like the message in the bells was more comforting.”

“‘The wrong shall fail, the right prevail’,” Martin said softly.

Jon looked over at Martin, struck by the words in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “What was that?”

“It’s a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Someone put a tune to it later. Granddad taught it to us, remember?”

Past Martin opened his mouth, then memory lit up his eyes. “Oh, yeah! ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.’ Yeah, that makes sense, now I think about it.”

“How’s it go? Can you sing it?” Charlie asked around a mouthful of mint meltaway.

Jon expected Martin to prevaricate or enter a stammering denial. Certainly Past Martin blushed and opened his mouth to. But before anyone could say anything, Martin took a deep breath and began. “I heard the bells on Christmas Day their old, familiar carols play…”

Jon had only heard Martin sing a couple of times before—the time he’d sung to the little girl in the Archives, and when he’d sung along to the recordings while they helped the others set up the house—and the former he’d been barely audible and singing to entertain a child, while with the latter it had been a bit difficult to parse out what was Martin (or Past Martin) and what was actually on the recording. This was different. This was Martin alone and unaccompanied and singing a song he meant in a voice meant to be heard, and it was one of the purest, warmest, most beautiful things Jon had ever heard in his life, topped only by his name on Martin’s lips and the sound of him saying I love you.

It took until the third verse for Past Martin to finally join in, but when he did, it only added to the song. Jon let the words fill his mind as the music settled in his soul. They spoke at first of a message of despair, but then of hope, reminding the singer—the poet, really, Jon supposed—that hate wouldn’t, couldn’t, win in the end. That there was still a greater power out there.

When they finished, Charlie stared at them both with shining eyes. He wasn’t alone in that; both Tim and Past Jon looked as though their brains had short-circuited. Jon couldn’t blame them. Honestly, even he hadn’t known Martin had a voice like that.

“That,” Sasha said softly from her armchair, “was brilliant.”

“I like that song,” Charlie said. “Do you know any others?”

Past Martin blushed a flaming red, but Martin simply smiled. “Lots. What’s your favorite?”

It was the right thing to say, apparently, as Charlie launched into a song he liked that even Jon, who’d never really sung Christmas songs until he’d been in college and his friends had all but bullied him into it, knew all the words to. Sasha joined in, along with both Martins, and eventually Tim and Past Jon recovered enough to join in as well. They spent the next couple of hours interspersing songs with stories and poems, from the familiar to the obscure. Charlie’s enthusiasm was impossible to quash and even harder not to respond to.

Eventually, however, his eyelids flickered, and it was obvious he was forcing himself to stay awake. Sasha caught Past Martin’s eye and nods quickly at him; Past Martin nodded back and set his empty mug down. He ran his fingers through Charlie’s curls for a moment, then started to sing a song Jon had never heard before. “When the mountain touches the valley…”

Martin joined in with a soft harmony—or perhaps it was considered a counter-melody, Jon wasn’t quite sure—and it was another hauntingly beautiful song. Tim caught Jon’s eye and jerked his head towards the light switch; Jon nodded, slipped off the love seat, and turned off the main lights, leaving them bathed only in the glow of the candles and the Christmas tree as the Martins sang. By the time the song ended, Charlie was curled up in Past Martin’s lap, sound asleep.

“That worked surprisingly well,” Past Martin said, keeping his voice low.

“My God.” Past Jon’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Jon didn’t think it was to keep from waking Charlie.

Sasha snorted softly. “Seriously, why did you not study music in school, because that was fantastic.”

“I-I mean…I had to drop out,” Past Martin reminded her. “We needed the money. I was studying music before that.”

“Wait, seriously?” Jon said, startled. “How did I not ever know that?”

“Jon, you never asked,” Martin said, squeezing his hand. “We never really talked about college or anything like that. I dropped out, that was all we ever brought up. But yeah, I was in a music program. That woman, um, what was her name—the one that came up after the Christmas concert?”

Past Martin frowned. “God, I don’t…Mrs. Smith?”

“Yeah, her. The one that said she knew Granddad.” Martin sighed. “Anyway, she’s the one that suggested I audition for the program. Got in, too. But I was only a couple weeks into the first term when Mum got really bad and I had to drop out.”

Tim shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me, Martin.”

Past Martin blushed furiously. Sasha put her mug to her lips, but since she didn’t take a sip, Jon guessed it was to hide a grin. “If I’d known that, I’d have bought you some music books for your birthday or something.”

“Oh, I don’t—I don’t really sing anymore. Not like that. Just, you know, folk songs and that sort of thing. I was never all that great with the fancier stuff, really. I’m okay with choral stuff, but…” Past Martin trailed off.

Jon decided to spare him and change the subject. “I take it Charlie’s been spending a lot of his time over here? He seems…comfortable.”

“Yeah. His grandmother’s not the outgoing type, but she’ll have her bridge club over or a sewing club or something and he has to either stay in his room or go outside, so lately he’s been coming over here,” Tim answered. “He’s a good kid. And he likes us, too.”

“Jon’s his favorite,” Past Martin added with a teasing smile.

Jon looked pointedly at the little boy cuddled against Past Martin’s chest, relaxed and contented, with his fingers curled in one of the cables. “Are you sure about that?”

Past Jon gave a soft, shaky laugh. He still looked rather stunned, which, well, Jon couldn’t blame him. “Frankly, I think his favorite is ‘whoever is paying him attention at the moment.’ He’s well cared-for from a physical point of view, but…”

Jon understood. His grandmother had been much the same—resenting being asked to raise a child after her own were grown, mourning his father and constantly reminded of him every time she saw Jon, making sure he was fed and clothed and educated but never taking the time to get to know him. He imagined it would have been worse if she’d known he was queer, although he couldn’t be sure.

“He seems like a good lad,” he said. “Lucky thing he has the three of you.”

All three of them seemed embarrassed by that. Sasha didn’t even try to hide her grin this time. “Suppose his grandmother will think to look over here for him if she gets back and he’s not at home.”

“If she doesn’t think of it herself, I left her a note,” Tim said.

“I thought I heard the kitchen door,” Jon said, raising an eyebrow.

Tim ignored him. “I said we’d keep him until the morning if she gets back too late. Frankly, I wouldn’t send him back at all if I didn’t have to, but…”

“No, me, either.” Past Martin got carefully to his feet, cradling Charlie in his arms; the boy’s head flopped onto Past Martin’s shoulder as he nestled against him in his sleep. “I’m going to go tuck him in, at least for a bit. Be right back.”

Past Jon watched him leave the room with an expression that felt familiar to Jon. He brought Martin’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it gently. “All that goes to prove I’m right, you know. You’re going to make an excellent father someday, Martin.”

Martin laughed softly. “Thanks. I think.”

Past Martin came back into the living room and took his seat. Tim and Past Jon leaned into him from either side, and the six of them just sat together for a bit longer in silence as the candle flames flickered and the lights on the tree twinkled.

Finally, Tim started singing, his voice low and rumbling, a Christmas song Jon was mostly familiar with. Past Martin joined in, then Martin, until all of them were singing along as the world turned on and the clock ticked over to midnight and Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day.

And for a little while, Jon felt completely at peace.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #implied transphobia #implied emotional abuse #death mention #child death mention

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reloumi · 5 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

Ugh, well... First time for everything! the lovely (devious) @shippingdara3008 tagged me and even though I am a granddad when it comes to Tumblr, I’M GONNA TRY

So I have, like, one too many WIPs - they’re all Hankcon because my brain can’t cope with anything but those two cuties (and Geraskier xD)

P.S - I have no self control, here’s more than a snippet

A taxi was waiting for him when he exited the CyberLife store, and as he sat, he couldn’t shake off a strange feeling in the base of his spine, right up to his shoulder blades. It made his teeth itch and his fingers drum on his kneecaps incessantly; wishing he had his coin that was tucked safely in his work jacket at his apartment. He brushed non-existent wrinkles out of his grey checked trousers, tapped the heels of his black leather boots, picked at invisible loose threads on his navy bomber jacket. It clicked after he toyed with the new curls on his head, making sure the errant flick of hair was in place on his forehead.

He was nervous. Not in a ‘I’m about to have surgery’ sort of way, but rather, ‘What if they don’t like me?’.

Besides Hank, Connor had only been in contact with the people at the station whilst they were on duty, they’d never even seen him in normal clothing; and now he’d changed his appearance too. Would they think he was trying too hard? Would they prefer the old Connor? Would they even want to talk to him outside of the station?

The sound of beeping broke his thoughts and a notification popped up in his vision;

ALERT // 17:46: Arrived at Bronco Bar, Camden, Ravendale District.

Connor paid his fare wirelessly before he accepted his fate to be ridiculed. The air was bitingly cold at this time of night, and the android hugged his jacket closer as he rushed into the bar. He noted this one didn’t have any negative signage regarding androids, even before the revolution and nodded in surprised appreciation at his colleagues’ choice of venue.

The door closed with a definitive thud as the sound of a loud cheer echoed through the bar. Found them, Connor thought to himself. When the android paid more attention to the clientele of the bar and found a pretty even ratio of android to humans, he could feel himself calm slightly. He smiled, deciding to get the bachelor a drink before he greeted the party.

Connor found it strange, buying alcohol. It was the first time he could actually drink the stuff; experience the taste, and effects. On a whim he bought himself a drink too, even if the rest of the precinct didn’t want to drink with him, Hank would.

An AJ700 android passed him two glasses of whiskey on the rocks, accepting payment via LED. She winked before her eyes flicked to someone behind Connor.

“Well, helloooo handsome.” A voice slurred, giggling.

Connor knew the voice instantly.

“Reed?” Connor questioned with horror, but the detective ignored him; getting handsy as the fog of alcohol skewed his ability to recognise the android.

“N’awww such a shame you got a drink already! I’da loved to’ve bought you one, sweetness.” The direct eye contact the detective was giving him caught Connor off guard.

“Um... uh...Reed? it’s me Con-”

“Connor?!” The incredulous and familiar voice of the Lieutenant cut through his stuttering, “That you?”

Connor forgot for a moment that he’d changed his appearance, though he didn’t think he looked that different. “Uh...yeah.”

That caught Reed’s attention, the veil of alcohol lifting for a moment and Connor was sure he saw the detective turn green, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Reed, you read my mind - I feel the same way!” Connor grimaced as he teased, extracting himself from the detective’s arms that were caged around him; loosely pinning him to the bar, “I’m truly flattered, but you’re not my type.”

“Fuck off.”

The android beamed; smug with the knowledge that the detective was showing signs of arousal, “Gladly.”

Reed sulked over to the bachelor party, proverbial tail between his legs and filled with the hope that Hank or Connor wouldn’t tease him for.

Connor was too happy with himself to realise he was being stared at, by Hank no less. The android raised a questioning brow to the Lieutenant, and he noted his heart rate had increased. Strange.

“Do I really look that different?” Connor asked, a frown taking over his face as he wondered if he had made a mistake, “I can change back-.”

“No!” Hank cut him off, looking sheepish, “I mean...uh… it looks good. It suits you.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Con, we’re not at work.”

Connor rolled his eyes, “Thank you, Hank.” He noticed the human’s heart rate stutter slightly and he eyed him suspiciously before letting it go. Weird humans and their weird… reactions.

I wouldn’t have a clue who to tag, so, if any of my ‘17′ followers (I see u bots) see this and wanna hop on the band wagon, go ahead xD

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #hannor #hankcon #connor x hank

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

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Your safety is my concern; 13th doctor x child reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well I have in store for you another Doctor Who fic request that came to me over 50000 years ago, so ti took me a bit but I managed to get a straight story plot in so to the anon who requested this fic, I hope you like it and thank you for being SOOO patient :) Not really any serious warning except for the alien threats, mild swearing and a bit of action so your typical PG-13 rating. Enjoy my lovelies :) Also there’s a fun face cast (until tumblr decides to stop being a little B***ch the face cast is Tom Ellis for our villain).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@psychosupernatural

@waddles03

@platawnic

@ixchel-9275

_____________________________________________________

“Wait, wait so those things actually exist?” Ryan exclaimed.

“Yep.” I replied.

“You’re actually serious?” said Yaz.

“Yeah. They live in a place call the Black forest. That’s where the Brothers Grimm wrote their histories.”

“You mean their fairytales?” Yaz tried to correct me but I just looked at her with a quirked brow and a grin. “No way……”

“Can we go?” asked Ryan.

“I would but—that’s the one rule my mom doesn’t allow. She doesn’t even allow me to go on my own. But I’m in my 11th stage at this point, she went there long before I was even thought of. So you know what—screw what she says. Let’s go!”

“Alright!” Ryan cheered as the two of us fist bumped.

“Uhh Ryan can I speak to you for a bit?” Yaz urged him.

“Oh Yaz don’t be such a spoilsport.” I argued. “I know what you’re gonna try to convince him that we all shouldn’t do this cause it’s my mum’s only rule. Well news flash. You guys have been in worse case scenarios before, so let’s just drop it and go there and you guys can see what inspired the Grimm’s history books.”

“Yeah Yaz. C’mon. This is a one in a lifetime opportunity.” Yaz was in a debate with herself before she finally said.

“Oh alright. But only because I loved reading their books growing up.” I cheered out a yes as I fist pumped into the air. “Just tell me we don’t have to use the TARDIS to get there.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous. You can get there practically in any universe or timeline. Just gotta know where to look.” I said.

“Okay so where do we find the entrance here in London?” Ryan asked.

“Well if you were an English writer or wanted to read a book in peace, where would you go to write?”

“The Park.”

“But which one? There’s over a hundred parks here in London.” Yaz said.

“Well the land where the Brothers Grimm came out of in order to begin writing “Little red riding hood” was turned into what is Hyde Park. So just a cab ride there and I can show you guys they exited. Some entrances can lead you out into another part of the world so we’ll have to make sure we exit out of that exact spot once we get there. Otherwise we’ll end up in Germany or Italy.”

“But how will we get pass the Doctor and Graham?” asked Yaz.

“Leave that to me. Now c’mon let’s get going.” We then left my room and we made it to the heart of the TARDIS.

“So there you three are, finally getting bored of reading eh?” Graham’s voice rung out.

“Oh not my girl Graham. My little (y/n) could just bury herself into books, call her my little Belle sometimes.” My mum said.

“Yeah, hey mum since we’ve had such a long few weeks of battling Daleks, evil hitmen and mind controlling robots, you think we could take a holiday?”

“I wouldn’t mind that. Yeah so where shall we go? The Bermuda Triangle?”

“Nah not after what happened last time.”

“Yeah you’re right very nasty business. What about the Capri islands?”

“Charming little places but no. I was kinda thinking in the lines of local holidays.”

“Oh okay then well umm……uhh fam what is there to do around here that’s peaceful and tranquil?” my mum asked the gang.

“Well there’s always the park.” Ryan suggested going along with my plan.

“The park! Of course good suggestion Ryan.”

“Which park shall it be?” asked Graham.

“Earlier (y/n) suggested Hyde Park.”

“Of course she would. Never did choose any other park after that, not after seeing Queen perform there back in ’76.”

“Hey that was a great concert and don’t pretend you didn’t love it in your previous regeneration!” I snapped at her.

“Oh of course I did. I may have been a sour angry Scotsman previously but I knew good music.”

“That you did mum.”

“Alright Hyde Park it is!” mum proclaimed and as we all began to head out Graham took me by the arm and he said.

“Wait so—she was serious? She used to be a man?”

“Oh yeah. Various generations of them too. I kinda preferred her 10th and 11th form though. He was much cooler and funnier in those forms. His last form it was like having a grandfather instead of a father. But oh boy was I surprised to see this, but she does get me better now as a woman.” Graham looked overwhelmed so I patted his back and gestured for him to follow us.

We left the TARDIS and decided that a simple cruise through cabbie to Hyde Park was the best thing. It took us about 15 minutes to get there but we finally arrived at Hyde Park. Graham paid our fee and we all exited the cabbie and stood before the park.

“Alright gang, what shall we do first? Do a little exploring? Skip some rocks? I’ve always wanted to try and skip rocks, I never could do that when I was a man. Maybe with these new wrists I could do it.” My mum said.

“You know Graham’s actually a master at rock skipping, aren’t yah granddad?” Ryan asked.

“Yep. I mean I don’t like to brag but once I managed to get seven skips right by the docks during the WWII. My old brothers in combat never let me hear the end of it, but it was worth it if it got their egos knocked down a bit.”

“Then it’s settled. Graham you can teach my mum how to skip rocks, while Yaz, Ryan and I go on a little hike. That okay with you mum?”

“Alright but you stay close to Yaz and Ryan alright?” she warned me.

“I promise mum I won’t leave their side. Cross my heart.” I said as I crossed both my hearts and raised my right hand. She looked at me but cupped my face in between her hands, her thumbs stroking my cheekbones before placing her forehead on mine.

“You better not. Yaz, Ryan I’m entrusting you to protect my daughter. Make sure she stays out of trouble.”

“Don’t worry Doctor, we will.” Yaz assured her. My mum hugged and kissed me one last time before Yaz, Ryan and I headed on out towards the hiking trail Hyde Park had to offer.

“See, told you it’d be easy.”

“You were right (y/n).” Ryan said with a grin.

“Alright let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Now where do we find this entrance at?” Yaz asked.

“Well if I remember correctly, cause as usual you humans always make changes to the forests in order to build your parks, I think it’s…..this way.” I went to the right part of the park that led to the forest.

As we tracked along, I looked carefully at every bush and behind every tree trying to remember where the entrance to the Black Forest was. It was then when I came across the blackberry bush, something clicked.

“Hey guys, we’re getting close.”

“How can you tell?” asked Ryan.

“See that blackberry bush? The Brothers Grimm once spoked about a blackberry bush being the first thing they found after they back from the Black Forest.” I raced on ahead with Yaz and Ryan calling out my name. It was then I found what looked like a small cave entrance. “This is it guys. We found it.”

“This is the entrance?” Ryan said.

“Yep. This is our entrance into the Black Forest.”

“So…..what do we just crawl through it.” Yaz asked me confused.

“Go in and see for yourself.” I said with a slight smirk. Ryan and Yaz looked at each other and Ryan shrugged at her. Yaz sighed and walked up to the entrance.

“I can’t really see any….any light at the end of the tunnel. (Y/n) are you sure this the entrAHHH!!!”

“Yaz!” Ryan exclaimed as he went after her but he too ended up falling down the hole. I grinned and crawled into the den before whispering to myself.

“Off we go.” I then slide down on my back and proclaimed happily like I was going down the slide.

I ended up lying on top of Ryan’s back and I heard him groan underneath me.

“Hello Ryan.” I said.

“Hey (y/n), do you think you could get off of me? I think you broke a rib.”

“No I didn’t you’re just being dramatic.”

“She’s right Ryan, if you had you’d be in a lot worse pain.” Yaz confirmed with me. We all stood up and she said, “So, this is the Black Forest?”

“Yep. We can look around if you like, there’s plenty to see here. But be careful, every single character the Brothers Grimm wrote, they are all real. And some of them are made even lighter by their standards so tread carefully.” I walked on ahead leading the way with Yaz and Ryan following cautiously behind me. As we walked on Ryan asked me.

“So who should we meet first?”

“Actually Ryan it’s best we don’t go looking for them, in fact I didn’t want to scare you guys but they might have a feeling that humans have entered their world.”

“Wait so even the human characters aren’t really human?”

“Not exactly. They’re…..” it was then an arrow came right in front of my face, barely missing my nose by a centimeter.

“(Y/n)!” They both cried out. They pulled me in between them and they both asked if I was okay as Yaz began to look me over.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” But it was then dozens upon dozens of archers came out with their arrows drawn out ready to fire at us. We all held our hands in the air trying not to appear threatening.

“State your name and business trespassers!” the bear-like huntsman demanded as he drew his arrow further back.

“We are not a threat Huntsman.” Ryan tried to reason with him.

“Silence weakling! I speak to the girl!”

“No need to get your knickers in a twist Huntsmen dear.” An echo sounded off as we heard a flock of ravens flying ahead. It was then every single one of the huntsmen all tucked down in fear trying to swat away the ravens buzzing around them. The ravens gathered behind a tree and as soon as the last one went behind the tree, a man stepped forward.

His skin while looking like the skin of a toad, glistened like morning dew on the grass, or the sparkling of the stars in the universe. Across his face was an impish smirk and his eyes were demon red and he had hair black as ebony. It was then I knew exactly just who this guy was.

The King of the Black Forest, the Fae King, Rumpelstiltskin.

“Rumpelstiltskin.” The Huntsman said fearfully. He then bowed as did the rest.

“Oh my god.” Yaz whispered in awe.

“Shh!” I hissed lowly.

“Now then, who has the audacity in entering my kingdom without a request from me?” the Dark Fae king stood before us and looked at each of us one by one. “Ahh a couple of humans, been a long time since humans came. Now what were those two lovely yet odd gentlemen’s names again?” he hummed as he tapped his foot, pondering in thought till he snapped his fingers, “The Grimm Brothers. Lovely chaps they were.”

“This guy can’t be the Rumpelstiltskin.” Ryan muttered to Yaz.

“And just why can’t I?” Rumpelstiltskin snapped as his eyes flashed angrily.

“Oh well I—I-I-I didn’t mean any disrespect I was just…..”

“He only meant that….you looked so different, than what we’ve read about you.” Yaz tried to explain.

“Oh really?” he pondered. “And just how exactly am I portrayed?” Yaz didn’t respond back right away, all she did was just stare in awe at the Fae King.

And I’ll admit in my previous stages, especially my teenage forms, I probably would’ve fawned over Rumpelstiltskin too. Cause even with the toad-like skin color, he was still a very attractive fae (then again what Fae isn’t?).

“Well judging by your gaping mouth I’d say not quite like this.” Rumpelstiltskin said as he gestured to himself.

“Begging your pardon, your majesty. What exactly shall we do with them?” a huntswoman asked. Rumpelstiltskin looked at Yaz and Ryan and said.

“Take these two away.” It was then four huntsmen came down and two of them took Yaz while the other two took Ryan by their arms and held them back.

“Hey let us go!”

“Get your grubby hands off of me!”

“Yaz! Ryan!” I exclaimed. Suddenly I felt this magical grip on me. I couldn’t break free of it. I was then hung upside down and forced to look in the direction of the King Fae. Knowing just how he had the power to affect children, I closed my eyes and tried to turn my head away.

“Ohh, a smart child aren’t you? You seem to know exactly what I can do. But you don’t have the same mortal aura as those two simpletons.” He cooed. “Why don’t you have a look into my eyes dear one? Let me see those adorable, innocent eyes?”

“No! I know exactly who you are! You’re a Djinn Fae! A creature from the Planet Drecarys that can bend reality and target solely children in order to obtain your long lives!” I heard him chuckle icily that sent shivers up my spine.

“A clever child you are, but then again you’re not any ordinary child, are you?” I felt his hand cup my cheek. I tried to fight it but I felt myself being squeezed by the magical force and that’s when he said. “So that’s it. Now this is a surprise indeed. I think you a mere child but LOW! You are the daughter of a Time Lord.”

“Wait does he mean you know who?” I heard one of the huntsmen say. That was until I heard the sounds of him choking and even gurgling? I don’t know what but I honestly didn’t want to find out, not if I risk falling under the spell of the Djinn Fae that is Rumpelstiltskin.

“The Doctor does not rule me!” Then I heard the snapping of bones and the collapse of a body. “Take the humans away, I have special plans for our guest of honor.” It was then I could hear Yaz and Ryan crying out my name and I called back to them till my voice was silenced as a gently shush was the only thing I could hear. “They don’t matter anymore my dear little Timelord, all you should be concerned about is us.” Then as I felt both sides of my face being cupped, I then began to smell something sweet.

It was like—honeysuckles no, no, no uhh….lavender. No oh stardust no he’s using the aroma Djinn Fae’s are known to use to put their prey under their spell. Wait hey….why are my eyes closed? Shouldn’t they be open? I then opened my eyes and that’s when I was looking into warm brown eyes.

“There’s my girl. Now come, we’ve got a lot to discuss.” I then felt myself being carried like a baby in his arms and I guess he looked safe so I clung onto him and he smiled down at me before I closed my eyes and fell asleep in his warm, protective embrace.

*3rd Person POV*

He finally had it. Out of all the children he’s sucked the life out of, Rumpelstiltskin finally had the key to eternal youth. With the regenerative abilities the timelords have been blessed with, even he could surpass any other Djinn Fae that came before him. Even if he were near death, all he had to do was regenerate and he’d continue to live his life.

Rumpelstiltskin grinned down wickedly at the young timelord he finally had in his grasp before fading off into a beam of light and disappearing from the forest.

Meanwhile with Yaz and Ryan, they were being escorted by the hunts-people feeling beyond worried about what Rumpelstiltskin wanted with (y/n).

“What is he gonna do to her?” demanded Ryan.

“Quiet nave!” said the leader of the huntsmen scouts.

“No you don’t understand that is our friend he just took hostage! She’s important to us! Important to someone else!” Ryan snapped. At that point the leader stopped which caused the rest of the guard to stop. He turned around and said as he held up his ten inch hunting blade right before Ryan’s nose.

“One more word out of you, and I’ll feed you to the wolves!” he threatened.

“Please. That little girl is really important to us. Don’t you have children? Did any of you have children?” Yaz said as she looked to all the hunts-people. They were all silent until one woman stepped up and said.

“I did, once. But then Rumpelstiltskin came along and took her away from me.”

“I’m so sorry, how—how old was she?”

“Younger than your friend. He caught her when she wondered too far from home.” The huntswoman answered solemnly.

“My two boys, Isaac and Ferdinand. That—damned imp stole them from me. And it was me Ferdinand’s first hunting lesson. I should never have let his brother go on his own.” Answered another huntsmen.

“My husband and I once had a pair of twins. Two baby girls. They were the lights of our lives. Until that—devilish son of a bitch came and stole them in the night. My husband’s never been the same after that.” Another huntswoman replied. Yaz and Ryan felt heartbroken hearing these stories, but they were surprised when they heard the leader say.

“Even though I had asked for sons, seeing those tiny little things wrapped in their blankets, I—wanted to protect them. I should’ve protected them.”

“If you all want to avenger your fallen children, then help us rescue our friend back.”

“It’s impossible to fight the likes of Rumpelstiltskin. We’ve all tried, and many of us had lost comrades in battle trying to kill him. I won’t risk anymore of my people.” The leader answered.

“There has to be a way to kill him.” Ryan said.

“There’s not. No one can kill the imp that is Rumpelstiltskin. Even the knights from kingdoms have tried. Other sorcerers, and he just turns them either to dust or a part of his werewolf and dragon army.”

“Well if you won’t help us, do any of you know where he would take her?” asked Yaz.

“His castle is five leagues from here.” The leader said pointing West. He then let out a whistle as he called out “Gregory! Gretel!” it was then two horses came in. One was a brown stallion and the other was a khaki color mare. “These horses once belonged to two great warriors. Before they too died at the hands of that imp. We named them after their riders. May they lead you both into battle, just like they did their former masters.”

“Thank you……”

“Hansel.” The leader introduced himself.

“Hansel? Does that mean…..” they both questioned.

“Yes, my sister—after she lost her son she tried to avenge him alongside with her husband. May my sister bless you and guide you in a way that she could not in life.”

“We won’t let you down Hansel, thank you.” Ryan and Yaz mounted the horses but before they took off riding a huntsman called out,

“Hold on brave heroes,” He walked up to Yaz and Ryan and handed them each two things. A piece of mushroom and a vile of liquid.

“Wait is this…..”

“Since you come from the world where we are stories yes. Eat the mushroom and you will grow, drink the vile and you shall shrink to the size of a field mouse. Be cautious. His goblin spies and werewolf watch dogs patrol all of the castle.” They nodded before finally urging their horses and took off riding Westward.

“Good luck, and my God have mercy on your souls.”

Far into the West where a decayed old castle stood up along a mountain, Rumpelstiltskin had tied to a sacrificial table (y/n) bound and ready for the ceremony that would begin at the moon’s highest point. As he prepped his potion and sharpened his dagger, he turned towards the young timelord child and said.

“With your powers no one will ever stop me. Not even death.” He poured a vile containing red liquid into a cauldron and the green potion turned red before he stirred it up.

“Uhh…..mum? Mum are you there?” (y/n) softly groaned starting to feel slightly more conscious. Rumpelstiltskin turned wide-eyed but remembering in her memories of how the Doctor was now a woman, he walked up to her and disguising his voice, he spoke as the Doctor.

“I’m here sweetheart. Just go back to sleep for now, mummy’s cooking up a special something for her favorite little Time lady.” He then kissed her temple and using his sleep magic, he once again had (y/n) under a sleeping curse. “All to easy.” His voice spoke normally once again.

Meanwhile inside the lower part of the palace as a goblin guard was walked through the hallways and corridors doing it’s patrol. It stopped and sniffed the air before looking towards a small crack in the wall. He walked right up to it and looked inside it before sniffing it again. After a few sniffs it turned away and proceeded with its patrolling.

It was then peeking out of the wall were mouse sized Yaz and Ryan. Ryan looked around to make sure it was all clear before he said.

“He’s gone.” He said to Yaz as the two of them came out of the hole and walked along the stone railings.

“Okay, now how do we find (y/n)?” Yaz asked.

“We just—gotta think like an evil mastermind in any other fairytale, where would you keep a young female at?”

“The highest tower point.” She replied.

“Bingo.”

“But do you think we can get there in time? If this is anything like the fairytales then by midnight Rumpelstiltskin is gonna suck her life out. And either time moves faster here or my watch is broken but it’s 5 minutes till midnight.”

“Okay, okay let me think uhh—do you think we should drink the vile?”

“Do you think we can sneak past every guard, get up the tower and get to (y/n) normal sized?”

“We gotta try, otherwise the Doctor’s gonna really be pissed at us for having her daughter killed by some psychopathic fairy.”

“Alright Ryan, but you better be right about this.” They then took the pieces of the mushroom and took a small bite of it before the two of them grew to their normal sizes. They then took off and hid behind a stairway just as two more goblin guards came their way. The two of them holding their breaths so that the goblin wouldn’t be able to smell them, then once it took off, they quickly and quietly raced on ahead.

As they came to a throne room, they noticed something behind the throne. Yaz walked up towards the black and skeletal throne and moved it aside before pressing against the wall behind it to reveal a secret passage.

“Secret door, nice.” Ryan commented with a grin.

“This might lead us to the highest point of the castle. Now c’mon we’ve got four minutes left.” Both Yaz and Ryan quickly raced on ahead as fast as they could up the stairs. When they finally reached the top, they were now standing before some ritual room but it was the young girl sleeping on the floor on top of an engraved symbol.

“(Y/n)!” they both cried out. They both knelt down beside her and Ryan grew worried.

“Is—is she…..”

“No, no she’s still alive.” Yaz said as she took her pulse.

“Then what’s wrong with her?”

“Sleeping curse. Like snow white and sleeping beauty.”

“Great, so only a true love’s kiss can wake her up. But the Doctor’s not here.”

“Maybe not, if we can get her out of here, maybe that could cause the curse to fade away.”

“It’s worth a shot, let’s go.” Yaz picked (y/n) up and the two of them took off running back down the stairs. But as they came down, a raven flew in front of them and began flying out cawing out an alarm.

“Oh shit!”

“Run!” Yaz and Ryan proceeded to run out of the palace as quick as they could with a goblin army chasing after them.

Flaming or non-flaming arrows were shot at them as they tried to dodge each one of them.

“Quick the forest!” but just before they could enter the forest, a firewall blocked them from the entrance and there a spiritual form of Rumpelstiltskin appeared.

“Taking my meal ticket away? I wouldn’t dream of it. You should’ve left when you had the chance, but now you will be delicious treats for my darling puppies.” He let out a wicked laugh as soon jumping from the fire were about seven werewolves, snapping with teeth and claws ready to devour Yaz and Ryan.

The two of them took off running as fast as they could as one werewolf was literally breathing down their necks. Ryan reached the edge of a cliff, but before he could even react Yaz bumped into him just as the werewolf pounced right where they were just standing. Sliding down the bumpy slide-like path that send them down the cliff before sending them flying through the air and landing in the forest.

“C’mon this way!” Yaz said as she adjusted (y/n) in her grip and took off running. From on top of the cliff, Rumpelstiltskin proclaimed.

“Don’t let them escape this world!” the wolves and goblins soon all poured down out from the palace and into the woods. He also transformed into a large spiritual raven and took off gliding in the skies to track down the thieves who were the key to his eternal life.

As Yaz and Ryan kept racing through the forest, all they could hear were the sounds of goblin snarls and werewolf howls echoing through the forest. Their adrenaline pulsing and their fear rising. They didn’t know whether they were surrounded or about to walk through a trap.

“C’mon we can lose them this way!” Yaz proclaimed as she ran to the left through a thick patch of bushes. But as they went deeper and deeper, the bushes soon turned into a hell trap of thorns and vines. Even though they were getting scarred up and bleeding from their hands or cheeks, they kept pressing forward.

Suddenly like a bomb setting off, Rumpelstiltskin landed right behind them in the form of a dragon. Yaz ran on ahead but as Ryan tried to keep up, he ended up getting tied up in the thorns. He tried to push on ahead but inch by inch he was being dragged back.

“Yaz! YAZ COME BACK!! I’M STUCK!” All the while Rumpelstiltskin kept opening and closing his dragon mouth trying to reach Ryan through the vines and thorns that he too was caught in.

“RYAN!!” Ryan looked up to see Yaz reaching out her hand for his. He reached out and took it and she began pulling as hard as she could to free her friend. Rumpelstiltskin roared and tried with all his might to grab a hold of Ryan, but then like a spring chord, Ryan was free and the vines shot out like a whip towards the King Fae’s eyes and the thorns went right into his left cornea which forced him to shoot up and roar in agony.

Yaz and Ryan continued to race on ahead, that’s when things began to look familiar to Ryan.

“We’re close to where we came from Yaz! Go right!” she nodded and the two ran ahead but just before they jumped down the small hill, something exploded from behind them and the three of them went flying. When the smoke and dust cleared, Yaz and Ryan coughed and groaned in pain.

“Ryan, you okay?”

“Maybe feeling a bruise tomorrow but other than that I’m just fine. Where’s (y/n)?” It was then Yaz noticed that she was no longer holding (y/n). She and Ryan gasped as now standing over (y/n)’s unconscious body was none other than Rumpelstiltskin.

“I’m gonna enjoy draining the last bit of life from this time lord’s very soul. Then you two,” at that point goblins held onto Yaz and Ryan as Rumpelstiltskin said in an almost ecstasy tone, “I’m gonna enjoy tearing you both a part. Nice. And slow.” He then picked up (y/n) by the collar and his eyes glowed pure red as he was ready to suck the lifeforce out of (y/n).

“NO!!!” Both Yaz and Ryan proclaimed. Suddenly echoing through the forest was a thunderous roar. A tiger’s roar to be exact. It was then shooting out from the bushes was a large tiger. It frightened off the goblins forcing them to tuck tail and run away, meanwhile the werewolves tried to fight back but with a single thunderous roar and show of it’s long canines, the werewolves backed away submissively.

The tiger then stood before Yaz and Ryan and hissed and mocked charged at any werewolf trying to get near them. A few more thunderous roars left the entire forest shaken and even Rumpelstiltskin stood there in shock. The tiger turned towards them and actually spoke.

“Don’t you even dare think of taking them away from me!”

“Oh my god.” Yaz muttered.

“Impossible.” Ryan said in shock.

“No, Doctor. Never. Never again.” He then carefully set (y/n)’s body back down like he was bringing a sacrifice to a God.

“This is your final warning Rumple. Stay. Away. From my family, or you’ll come face to face with something far worse than me being a tiger.” The Doctor lowly snarled as she stood over her daughter before turning back to face Ryan and Yaz. Both of them in shock at seeing the Doctor like this.

She then looked back down at her daughter and lowered her head and gently licked her cheek. Slowly her chest began to rise and fall as a small groan came from her mouth before finally her eyes were starting to open up.

*My POV*

Whoa, that was—that was a seriously long sleep. Where was I? I mean last thing I remember was…..oh god Rumpelstiltskin, Ryan and Yaz. I slowly opened my eyes but I got an even bigger shock when I saw my mum standing over me. Her eyes hard with sternness and anger. Uh-oh, busted.

“Now keep that promise, we’re finished here!” I was then picked up in my mum’s arms. I turned to look at the Fae king who looked at my mother with a suspicious look.

“I promise Doctor, this is all behind me.” He eyed down at me wickedly as his eyes briefly flashed, almost like he just wanted me to see it, before finally disappearing into a beam of green light and fading away.

“Doctor we—”

“Not. Now Yaz! We’re going home now!” she kept hold of me in her arms as we proceeded to head back in the direction we came in.

Next thing we knew, we were back at the park. Graham was standing by a tree and he said.

“There you three are, just what the hell were you two thinking!?” he snapped worriedly.

“Graham, I will handle this.” Said my mum. “Now we’ll discuss this in the TARDIS, so everyone let’s head back now and get out of here.” As my mum and Graham walked on ahead, Ryan, Yaz and I lagged behind and I said to them.

“Sorry I got you into this guys.”

“It’s okay (y/n).” said Yaz.

“We’ll try to have the Doctor go easy on you.” We took a cabbie back to where we had left the TARDIS at and let me just say the car ride back there was so tense, it was like waiting for a black hole to devour the entire universe.

When we got back to the TARDIS, mum activated it and we were once again traveling through time and space. She had Yaz, Ryan and I sitting on the steps as she paced back and forth as she said.

“I don’t know what any of you were thinking. You all could’ve been killed had I not stepped in!”

“Speaking of which how did you turn into a tiger?” questioned Ryan.

“Not the time Ryan. I’ll be dealing with your punishment later.” Graham lectured him.

“I just—I don’t know who to be madder, madder is that even a word? Anyways I don’t know who I should blame more! Yaz, Ryan I told you to watch over her and not let her out of your sight! And you young lady, you deliberately disobeyed me! You knew that the one world I’ve forbidden you to go to and yet you went ahead and did it. And what’s worse is that you put Ryan and Yaz in danger!”

“We’re sorry Doctor.” Yaz said solemnly.

“Just—the three of you please leave the console room, I need to have a word with my daughter alone.” My mum said in a disapproving tone.

“Don’t you worry Doc, I’ll give these two a proper talking to.” Graham said as he guided Ryan and Yaz out of the room and into one of the many rooms that TARDIS had. My mum came up to me and she knelt down in front of me and said.

“Seriously what were you thinking? Do you realize the damage you’ve done? You nearly surrendered your Timelord energy to one of the darkest and most dangerous Fae’s in all of time and space. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened had he succeeded in draining your life force?”

“I get it mum I screwed up okay? I’m sorry! I was just—I just wanted to show Ryan and Yaz that the Grimm Brother’s stories weren’t just stories.”

“There are other ways of showing a reality is real, especially one as dangerous as that. (Y/n) I—when you, Ryan and Yaz didn’t come back I grew so worried, then when I remembered that a Grimm world entrance could be found in this park I was terrified. If something ever happened to you I wouldn’t know what to do. You’re so important to me, and I can’t bear to lose you.”

“I know mum. The last of the timelords is us. You spared me the night I was born from the extermination of our planet when you ran away. I screwed up, I know. But don’t blame Yaz and Ryan, they were just curious. I was the one to goat them on and let them go with it. Hell Yaz was against it at first.”

“First of all language missy, you’re no longer a 24 year old anymore, you’re 11 and I don’t want any swear words coming out of your mouth while in this state.” I cheekily grinned at her. “Second, thank you for telling me who was really responsible for this. I’ll—try to be light on Ryan and Yaz.”

“Yeah, they had nothing to do with this. It was all me. So if anyone should be punished for it, punish me.”

“And you can bet I will, but for now come here.” She held her arms out and I went up and hugged her and she hugged me back. “I’m just so relieved that I found you when I did.”

“But—I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Rumpelstiltskin.” I muttered frightenedly.

“I know.” She said gravely. “He’s not one to give up so easily, but he’ll have to kill me first in order to get to you poppet. I promise.”

“Thank mum, I love you.”

“I love you too (y/n). I love you so much.” She kissed the top of my head and hugged me tighter.

After all that, mum apologized and let Ryan and Yaz off the hook since they really had nothing to do with going to Grimm world. And of course I was punished with no mission going for an entire month. I was forced to stay in current time London 2019 and forced to stay with Yaz’s family, yeah I know it may not seem like much of a punishment but to a timelord who can’t travel and save the world, it’s torture.

But I had sickening feeling that we would soon come in contact with Rumpelstiltskin again, I don’t know when and I didn’t know how but I’ve been getting visions of him. It’s almost like there’s this—psychic connection between us. I can see him and he can see me, and it frightens me to no end.

I only just hope we can find a way to stop him before my visions come to pass.

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