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lazuli-writes · 1 year ago

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summary: Donghyuck finds himself in over his head after traversing space and time.

pairing: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & NCT

genre: angst / sci-fi

estimated word count: 2000 words

a/n: If it’s not clear, essentially hyuck discovered a pathway to the second dimension… and well things there are little too good to be true. Remember folks, copying other people’s works is plagiarism and that’s illegal. Don’t be that kind of person. Anyways, hope you all enjoy it :)

©little-lazuli. Do not copy, repost, or translate without permission

“But why would you ever want to leave hyung?”

Donghyuck whipped in the direction of those words. Other-Jisung stared at him, those eyes of gold, once something Donghyuck thought so fascinating when he first arrived in this second dimension. Now seemed calculating, expectant and possibly even… soulless.

“Sungie… you know I can’t stay. This…”

Donghyuck paused, gesturing to the perfect blue skies, the painfully bright green of the plants, the rushing sapphire of the river nearby, and the group of others, these other versions of his friends, his family, his brothers. All of them happy, smiling, laughing, playing together without a care in the world. Their inhumane eyes shining so bright, and their laughters almost sounding too high to be his brothers. Donghyuck pointed out, trying to show the Other-Jisung just how unnaturally perfect this new world was for someone like himself. Donghyuck wasn’t meant for something so perfect. He wasn’t deserving of it.

“This isn’t my world. I… I just don’t fit in here. I don’t want to ruin all that you have here.”

Other-Jisung jerked in horror and disgust at the elder’s words. Donghyuck almost winced at the way the younger seemed to morph into pure wrath for only a second before cooling his expression, taking a second to inhale and exhale before starting.

“How could you ever think so low of yourself hyung… I don’t get it! Do people of this… alternate world of yours… do they make you feel like this?”

Other-Jisung’s words came out more like an accusation, rather than a question. And Donghyuck couldn’t stop the icy feeling that crept upon his skin as he stared at the boy before him.

When Donghyuck dived into that pond hoping to escape his members and his idol life for just a moment, he never expected to fall through space and time. The second dimension was everything Donghyuck wanted in the world.

Never ending sunshine. Birds singing, dogs dancing across the fields, the fish gracing the water in schools. The cool wind carried the perfect aroma. His brothers, all together, all of them: peaceful, unburdened and happy. And himself, present to experience it all.

This was Haechan’s world.

And so Donghyuck had made it his little secret. His newest prized possession. The perfect world to break from the bondages of reality. And the first few times he came in and out, Donghyuck had been enraptured, mesmerized and beyond enamored at the sanctity of the Other World.

But the longer he stayed, the more the perfection became imperfect. The sun shined for too long. The birds sang the same song every day. The wind had started to grow cold under the rays of the sun.

But the heaviest to bear, was his new relationships with his Other-brothers.

The Other-hyungs were exceptionally protective over his every need and desires. The simplest wish for food would see Other-Doyoung cook him a feast and more some… only for Donghyuck. The mere idea of someone not Donghyuck, eating the food Other-Doyoung had prepared for him, saw the chef explode in wrath. A splinter from a tree saw Other-Johnny set the tree aflame. Other-Taeyong even followed some stranger who had simply looked at Donghyuck in a way the Other had hated.

The Other-dongsaengs however, at first Donghyuck adored the way they fretted over his every move. He enjoyed the way they followed him around. And he enjoyed the way they reciprocated every piece of touch, love and appreciation he gave them.

Yet, it took no longer than a few weeks for Donghyuck to finally open his eyes to what he believed to be their perception of him.

“I love Channie-hyung!”

“Haechannie, wanna play Fortnite with me?”

“Haechan-ah, are you okay?”

“Leave our Haechan alone!”

“Haechannie…”

“Haechan-ah…”

Haechan.

It was as Donghyuck first realized. This was Haechan’s world. The second dimension served as Haechan’s paradise.

But he wasn’t just Haechan, he was also Lee Donghyuck.

And so, the first mention of his birth name came about and soon after, Donghyuck was forced to endure the silent spiral of suspicion and hovering from the other members.

There was barely a moment where eyes weren’t on him every time he graced the second world with his presence.

He didn’t miss the way Other-Jungwoo would scrunch his face when Donghyuck mentioned anything about the Others’ counterparts in his world. Or the way Other-Renjun’s eyes darkened at the mention of tiny anecdotes of his members. He especially didn’t miss the way almost all of his Other-brothers never uttered his name, his true name. Donghyuck. Despite hearing him mention it on occasion, not once have the others ever taken the second to even whisper the name.

All of it was culminating, Donghyuck knew that for sure. Bound to rupture and ensnare both his heart and theirs. And Donghyuck was terrified of which way the coin was going to land. His Other-brothers have never given him a reason to be afraid or worried in any way possible.

But Donghyuck never enjoyed confrontation.

And he’d be lying if he said he had his doubts on the way this one was going to play out. The fact that it came in the form of Other-Jisung was enough to throw enough of Donghyuck’s game and mental fortitude out into the abyss.

“No, not really.” Donghyuck whimpered out. His mind flashing back to the latest scolding he got for being overbearing again. It spoke volumes that he couldn’t remember which hyung snapped at him this time—had he become accustomed to the spite and disinterest of his family, to the point where everything simply blurred over as one and the same.

He didn’t want to admit that.

“What do you mean not really?”

Other-Jisung was rapid in his response, head tilting and a dangerous look in his eyes. Donghyuck felt the goosebumps spread on his skin, the cold feeling in his chest and soul invading his senses as he eyed the Other.

“Well… I don’t know Sungie. I-I just… it just gets hard sometimes you know” Donghyuck gestured out, trying to relieve the growing radiation of heat and contempt the Other-maknae was visibly showing towards his home. Donghyuck’s home.

“Sometimes I just want to take a breath away from it all. But they’re still my home… they’re still my family-“

“This could be your home! Are we not your family hyung!” Other-Jisung snapped out. Donghyuck didn’t even realize he was backed up against a tree.

When did I move back?

When did Other-Jisung get so close?

And why did he have to be taller than me?

Donghyuck may have seen himself as a maknae through and through, and the idea of tampering in other dimensions may have grounded his gears every now and again. But there was no way he was going to let himself be intimidated by someone—even a neat imitation of said someone—he loved.

“I never said you weren’t my family Sungie-“

“Then why-“

“Please let me finish Jisungie!”

Donghyuck’s tiny rise in volume was enough to have the Other-maknae back down. Taking a few steps back, head hanging as his eyes continued to shine with wrath. All the while, Donghyuck took the spare seconds to calm his nerves and halt the growing urge to flee. He couldn’t just leave the boy before him hanging.

These Other-members of his had been there to comfort him, to hold him and wipe his tears away. The same tears his own brothers would create in him, with their careless comment or lackluster—or sometimes heart aching response to his affections. The Others were his escape when the night got too cold to bear. And for that he will always be grateful.

But he needed to speak his truth. This was Haechan’s home, not Donghyuck’s home. And it was about time Donghyuck woke up and stopped fawning for unattainable dreams and fantasies.

“Sungie… no amount of words can ever express how much you all mean to me. You took me in when I was unknowingly at my lowest. You gave me the refuge I needed to regain myself. You made me feel like what it meant to be Haechan again.”

Donghyuck paused as the guilt of watching the scene before him held him. Other-Jisung still held the horrible wrath on his face, but his lips trembled with every release of water from the younger’s glassy eyes. He didn’t mean to make the Other cry, and he hated himself for it.

“T-then why hyung… why do you want to leave again? Are we not enough? You were always Haechan. You’re my Haechannie-hyung. You may not be of our world, and I know you know our original Haechan is gone… But you’re still him. You’d never have to worry about missing hugs or not getting enough joy and smiles coming your way… not when you’re with us. Not in this world hyung. We love you! We love you so much Channie-hyung.”

Donghyuck's heart felt as if it was being flayed alive. He couldn’t handle it. Only more reason to leave. He was getting attached. Attached to this perfect world that was never his. Attached to this reality that was not his. Attached to a fantasy that CANNOT BE HIS.

“But I’m also Donghyuck, Sungie. And Donghyuck belongs to the other world. It’s not the best… that we can both agree on. But it’s home. The same way this was Haechan’s home. Donghyuck needs to go back to his home”

Donghyuck paused to overlook the Other before him. The tears remained on the younger, and Donghyuck couldn’t stop the innate urge for him to wipe them away. Taking a few cautious steps forward, Donghyuck stood before the younger, whose glare was marred by tears and shivers. Donghyuck didn’t hesitate to wipe away the tears, and took both of his hands to softly caress the face of the Other-maknae before him.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, trying his best to exude an aura of peace and tranquility, hoping it would seep into the younger before him. It took some time, but eventually, Other-Jisung’s sneer crumpled, instead, he looked down to his feet with his eyes closed, almost as if he was ignoring the world around him. Donghyuck sighed sadly, still rubbing the Other’s cheeks before continuing.

“Please understand why I’m doing this Sungie. Please trust what I’m doing is not to hurt you. I just need my home. I promise I’ll be back. How could I ever leave you all eternally? I could never do that. But I do have things I must do back home. Please trust me and my love for you all. I’ll come back.”

Sungie only sighed, before he took a step back to detach himself from the elder. Donghyuck sighed, taking the move as the other’s reluctant acceptance. Donghyuck smiled sadly before making his exit.

“Thank you Sungie. Hyung loves and appreciates you so much. I love you uri maknae.”

And with the silent promise to come back, Donghyuck was off into the tree line of the forest, with the intent to find the pond to head back home. He was too far away to hear the silent apologies of the Other-Jisung however, as he pulled out his phone and called who he needed to.

“Jisung-ah? What did Haechan-ah say?”

Other-Jisung couldn’t stop the whimper that came out at the pain of having to watch his Channie-hyung leave with the intention to go find those heartless bastards from his home world. He was even more apologetic at what was to take place only moments from now, since it was clear that Other-Jisung failed in his mission.

“I’m sorry Taeyong-hyung… those monsters have their hooks too deep in him. They want their Donghyuck back now… he’s heading to the pond right now.”

Other-Jisung stood there, awaiting for Other-Taeyong’s response. Which was just as Other-Jisung expected, filled with pain etched into its voice.

“Then we have no choice. Go back to the tower, and prepare his room for him. Let hyungs take care of this Jisung-ah. We won’t lose Haechan-ah to those selfish demons, I promise you that. Go get some rest.”

“Okay hyung. Thank you.”

And with the ending of that call, Other-Jisung sighed out another shallow breath, hoping to all of those below and beneath that his Haechannie-hyung could be saved. For this alter-world didn’t deserve his Haechannie-hyung.

And if his family needed to force the truth down someone’s throat for both the alterns or his hyung to realize, then Other-Jisung was okay with it. Everything was going to be alright one way or another.

#lazuli writes #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct fic #nct donghyuck #donghyuck fic #donghyuck fanfic #donghyuck fanfiction #donghyuck angst #haechan #haechan fanfic #haechan fanfiction #haechan angst #nct haechan #haechan fic

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a-luran · 2 years ago

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I ADORED the fic (I am a complete coward when it comes to horror and I was Scared but it was way too good to stop reading regardless of any nightmares that might be coming.) All of your work this week has been so amazing and I feel so lucky that you write and post it where I can read it.

About today's fic especially: I gotta know... Everything. Just, everything. What's going on with Alasdair? Why won't the people who live nearby help Arthur's friends? The radio call at the end - WHO MAKES IT AND WHY? Also, it felt very supernatural with the way the first night went/the mask, but then Alasdair seems... Not supernatural, anyways. So I am also wondering about that.

Literally as much as you are willing to share I am begging to hear, I am so invested in this.

anon ♡♡♡ thank you for reading!! I wouldn't keep going if it weren't for the encouragement, I really appreciate it.

As always aye haha this fic (The Restless) has LORE, and out of all the one-shots I submitted it's the most likely to develop into a multi-chapter story.

The title of the story and one of the word prompts for the day are the keys to the question 'is Alasdair human?' The answer is resoundingly not any more. I'd like to explore what he is more thoroughly in another chapter or one shot but in simple terms he is a restless spirit given shape by the land he inhabits. Orkney, where the story is set, has a rich folk tradition. I was lucky enough to spend some time there a while back working on a project but for a quick read on some of the more popular Orcadian ghost stories I would direct you here . If you'd rather a book on fae-like folklore I'd also recommend The Mermaid Bride (and other Orkney folk tales), a retelling by Tom Muir (this one makes for a very good gift!). Alasdair is a walking contradiction. Undead and not. Human no longer, but a man nonetheless. Restless.

Arthur though doesn't see him as anything other than human which is equal part intriguing to Alasdair and courageous on Arthur's part. This would come up in future instalments but it is also just generally true that whenever I write Arthur (especially in human AUs) he is trans. He has been put in positions where people have tried to frighten him, take advantage of him, have abandoned him rather than stand by him and defend him all of his life. So as well as being frightened he is angry. Righteously angry, which makes him brave. He is faced with this otherwordly threat wearing a man's face and his response is to see right through the supernatural and straight into the humanity Alasdair still possesses. He wears a man's face, has a man's eyes; the only thing monstrous about him are his actions. Or at least that is Arthur's logic, coloured admittedly by his scepticism. Part of him is also still just trying to hold on to a rational, human explanation because otherwise well, oh shit oh fuck that is an undead ghost man. He'll come around though.

(Incidentally, if Arthur hadn't gone poking around in the middle of the night he would not have caught Alasdair's attention. If only he had stayed behind that stone wall, on the bothy's grounds, none of this would have happened. Restless, indeed.

I should also point out that for all that Alasdair acts a little animalistic at times, and processes things the way anyone would after a few centuries of social isolation, he admires Arthur and his resolute commitment to life. Arthur fights and digs in his heels and bites him. Alasdair will be carrying a mark from him forever. He admires that Arthur is clearly aware that he is outmatched but he still runs and crafts weapons and keeps on breathing.)

As for the locals, they do help them once it is safe to operate the ferries and carry out the search. I didn't go into it in detail but opinions amongst them are pretty split, even if Arthur's friends (and Francis in particular) feel like they are hiding something from them. Sadly there is a sense that the lads brought this upon themselves and lost a friend due to their own folly; the reader and some of the more superstitious folk know that they meddled with something greater than themselves and paid the price, but there is a good amount of people who might cry fowl and blame them, the only witnesses, for Arthur's disappearance. So if they are reluctant to help it is partly out of suspicion and their own reservations about these strangers who came back to the mainland with this wild story to tell. They would have been questioned by police extensively to the point that even they might start doubting what they saw and what happened that night, and part of them might want to stop thinking about it out of guilt. The only person who refuses to move on if Francis which brings me to your last question. The call on the radio.

That's for him.

#freagradh #Francis comes back to the island for answers and closure and DUN DUN DUN #something is calling him back there #or more like someONE #Alasdair has a more thorough backstory of how he ended up a dead man walking roaming the grasslands and cliffs

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reidgraygubler · 4 years ago

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look at my son (spencer reid/reader)

Title: look at my son

Request: no

Couple: dad!spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: fluff w/ a side of angst

Content Warning: spencer’s pov, mentions of an absent father, mentions of child birth, crying, anxieties about parenthood, new parents, talks about spencer’s past (prison, addiction, kidnapping), brief mentions about past suicidal thoughts, mentions of drugs (Dilaudid) and needles

Word Count: 3,957

Summary: spencer has a heart to heart with his newborn son while his wife sleeps.

A/N: totally based on dear theodosa from the hamilton soundtrack. I am not afraid to say that. Definitely big feels happening and there’s no regrets. this is possibly my favorite thing i’ve ever written. my best friend said it was soft and adorable, and so sweet she needed a dentist. i love it so much. thank you all so much for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Go to sleep, please, you need rest,” I whispered as I looked down at my overly-exhausted wife. Although her face was looking up at me, her eyes were somewhere else. They were on a small figure just to the left of me. Her eyes had a certain glossiness over them, and it was most certainly from her exhaustion or the hours of pain she just endured to bring our son into the world.

“B-but,” she finally looked away from the figure and up at me. “What… What if he wakes up… And, and he needs me.” Her voice was soft and cracked at the end of her words. I smiled softly as I tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“It’s a good thing I never sleep. Please, you really need the rest. I’ll be here,” I returned the whisper before pressing my lips to her forehead. Her hand gripped mine as I went to move away. I looked down at her, appreciating the way the dim lamp lit up her face. Even though she was extremely tired, she still looked beautiful to me.

“If he wakes up… Or… Or cries… Or moves the wrong way… Please, wake me up," she whispered, her eyes still on me. The grip she held on my hand wasn’t super tight, but it was tight enough for me to keep my hand in hers.

“Please trust me… He’ll be fine and I’ll be fine. If I need help I’ll get a nurse,” I lifted a hand and gently held her face. She slowly blinked and nodded. “Everything will be okay for an hour, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” she looked between me and the sleeping baby, “An hour is so long,” she whined. I smiled before laughing softly.

“Get some rest,” I pressed my lips to her forehead, again, before to her lips, “I love you,” I looked down at her with a soft smile.

“But...”

“Go to sleep,” I stared at her. She grumbled a little bit before pulling the blanket further up her body. I finally pulled my hand from hers and went back to the chair. I kept my eyes on her for a few minutes, watching as she tossed and turned before eventually falling asleep. I felt a little bad for forcing her to go to sleep, mostly because I knew she wanted to spend every waking moment with our son. But when she was actually awake, she was so exhausted that it looked like she’d pass out at any moment.

When I was sure she was asleep for a little while, I flipped my book open and began to read. Of course, my attention only lasted for so long when a soft sound came from the bassinet beside me. I pulled my eyes off the book and looked towards my son. He was wiggling slightly in his spot, but just a little bit. If you were just looking in the room, and not right at him, you wouldn’t have noticed him moving. But my attention was solely on him, so I could see his movements.

I looked over at my sleeping wife, noting that she was stirring slightly. My eyes stayed on her for a moment, waiting till she got comfortable again before I stood from the chair and walked over to the bassinet.

“Hey there,” I looked down at the wiggling form. I know he wasn’t looking at me, but my heart grew as he moved his head to face me. “Your mom is asleep right now. So, you’ve got me. Your dad,” I whispered as I carefully rested my hand on his body. He was so small, my hand was almost the size of him. “I’m your dad.”

I stayed silent as I stared at him. I didn’t want to pick him up, in case he went back to sleep. Of course, luck would not be on my side. Because the second I pulled my hand from his body, he started screaming and crying.

“Oh, please, please don’t,” I cringed as I quickly looked over my shoulder at my wife. She had begun stirring again, slowly waking up. “I got it, it’s okay,” I spoke loud enough for her to hear. I turned and looked back at the screaming boy.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” I whispered as I picked him up, holding him close to my chest with both my hands. The second he was close to me, he calmed down. A small sigh of relief came from me as I turned to sit back down.

My wife was still, her eyes on me with a small smile on her lips. “Go back to sleep, I got it,” I looked back at her as I adjusted my hold on the baby.

“He’s so little in your arms though…” she whispered as she kept her eyes on me. I looked up from our baby and at her. “Just a widdle man,” she closed her eyes before sighing deeply.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” I asked, bringing my hand to his face. My fingers gently brushed across his cheeks before down the bridge of his nose.

I was happy I didn’t get an answer from my wife. I was even happier when I looked up at her and she was asleep. Actually asleep too. I could only hope it was a restful sleep this time.

My attention was drawn back down to my son when he started crying a little bit. I was instantly looking at his face. The longer I stared at him, the more my heart swelled or fluttered or whatever it was it was doing. I knew a lot of things. But, I didn’t know the feeling I was having for my son, my own child. Of course, I felt this feeling before with my wife. But this was somehow different.

“So, anyway, I’m your dad… That’s so weird to say… that I’m someone’s dad now,” I whispered as I brought my hand to hold the back of his head. “I never thought I’d ever say that, but we’ll keep that between you and me, okay?” I smiled softly. My body carefully swayed back and forth to try to keep him quiet.

I stayed quiet as I stared at him. I wasn’t scared that I’d wake him up. No, I was just scared I’d say the wrong thing. But can you really say the wrong thing to a baby who was 12 hours old? I wasn’t entirely sure, but it was one of my fears.

“You know, growing up I didn’t exactly have a dad. He left me when I was just 10,” my voice was hardly a whisper as I stared at him. I could feel tears begin to well in the corner of my eyes. There was nothing I could do to stop them either. I just had to let them roll down my cheeks.

“I just had my mom. And, well, my mom just had me." I brought my hand back to rest on his body. The way he breathed seemingly calmed me down. But I think it was the fact that he was okay that was calming me. He’s been okay since the first day we knew about him. In fact, he was more than okay. He was perfect.

“But I promise,” my voice was shaky as I stared at him, “I’ll be around for you. You’ll have a mom and a dad.” I tried to keep my voice from cracking, but it was hard not to let the emotions show.

I pressed my head back into the headrest behind me. Just as my eyes closed, he started moving around against my chest. I looked down at him and saw him looking back up at me.

“Hey there,” I laughed as I looked at his eyes, “You have your mom’s eyes,” I wrinkled my nose as I stared at him.

I tried to not think about all the monsters in the world outside of our hospital room. All the horrors and terrors his mom and I have gone through to get to this very moment. I’d do whatever it takes just to make sure he’s safe and sound. The thoughts of the monsters made me scared. Is this what parenthood would be? Being scared every waking moment, while simultaneously being in love, and embracing the ups and downs of everything?

Was I prepared for this? Was I prepared at all to be a father? I mean, I didn’t have a father figure till I was 22, but even he left me. I tried to not think about it, but it was becoming increasingly harder the more I sat in silence.

With a deep sigh, I looked down at him. I was happy he was quiet. He had a long day too. Being born can do a lot to a person, well to more than a person. I think I’m more happy than tired, to be honest. That he’s here, and he’s perfect, and no one would ever be as perfect as he is to me.

I’ve waited for this moment for… I don’t even know. I don’t think there was a starting point, the feeling was just always there. 9 months ago just fueled this feeling. And, now he’s here. It took him a long time today, too. He really wanted his first appearance to be grand. Just like his mother.

“I’m a dad,” I whispered, this time letting my words break. My eyes stayed glued to him. It was impossible to say how much time had passed, but I knew it was a while. And his mom stayed asleep the whole time. Just like how he did.

If I had known I’d become a dad 15 years ago, when I was kidnapped by Tobias Henkel, when I thought I’d die then… I probably would have been safer and stayed with JJ. I wouldn’t have split up with her. Or, all those times after I was kidnapped, sitting in a bathroom stall with a needle in my arm while Dilaudid ran through my bloodstream, waiting for the high to kick in or take me for good. Or… Or my time in prison, where there were the times I almost got killed… I could go on, really. I have too many near-death experiences to count.

“I can’t wait to tell you all the stories I know, you’ll love them,” I ran my finger back down his nose before resting it gently on his lips, then on his chin. “Russian folk tales… Chaucer, like my mother told me… Stories of cases your mom and I were on,” I smiled as his nose twitched slightly. I sighed deeply before pressing my head against the chair behind me. “Maybe someday I’ll teach you chess.”

Even though all he did was just be born, he still went through some traumatic stuff. All of that can do a lot to a person. And when he was finally here, and in our arms, he cried. He cried to let his long awaited parents know he was finally here. It made my wife cry, and it made me cry. But it was the way he cried that broke my heart. The sharp ear-piercing screams resonated in the room, and I knew for sure I’d never forget it.

My arms stayed still, holding him close to my chest. I couldn’t stop my eyelids from shutting, like miniature garage doors closing. My body was yelling, shouting for sleep. Even though I never slept before this, watching my wife give birth, and all the moments leading up to this moment here, were exhausting. But they’re precious moments. All 3 of us may be exhausted, but it’ll be worth it all.

Although, it was this moment that I decided every day was going to be for him. He was going to be the reason I’d return home instead of staying at the office late. Before his birth, and even before we found out about him, I never envisioned my life turning domestic. To be honest, even though I longed to be a parent, I never truly envisioned myself adopting a domestic life-style.

��As long as he stayed still in my arms, he could stay with me while I slept. I think even if he squirmed a little bit in my arms, he couldn’t get very far. His tired little body was wrapped tightly in his blanket. Thankfully he was fast asleep, not a care in the world. He was still entirely too little to have anything to care about, other than eating and sleeping.

It was early in the morning, or some would say late at night. Our room was dark, the only light coming from the small desk lap on the nightstand beside me. Outside, the sun was just starting to rise, making the sky a dark pale blue. Usually I’d watch the sunrise, but… my son.

The quietness of our room mixed with the whispers of the nurses out in the halls, and their squeaky shoes, and the whirring of the hospital machinery became my soft lullabies, lulling me to sleep. The three of us slept peacefully, not a bother in the room.

But what it was that actually got me to sleep was the thought of him growing up. I thought I was smart, but the images and thoughts of him older, and even now, made me so… happy that I felt dumb.

{***}{***}{***}

“When did you say they were coming?” my wife asked, looking between me and the baby. I looked down at my watch, trying to remember when the team would come over to visit. It wasn’t that I forgot when they were coming over… I just had other things on my mind. Like my son and wife for instance.

“I think, any minu-”’-te now.’

“Alright, where’s my precious godson!” a woman exclaimed, cutting me off, as she entered the room. I looked over at the door for a brief moment, watching as 4 people walked into the room. A small smile grew across my lips as I recognized the 4 people as Penelope, Luke, JJ, and Emily.

“Hey,” my wife looked at everyone with a big smile and exhausted eyes.

“Good morning, mom and dad,” Penelope looked between us. The smile she wore was bright and cheery, like usual. She carried a balloon, a stuffed animal, and a few large gift bags.

“It’s so nice seeing you guys,” my wife smiled as she spoke.

“It’s hard to believe that you just had a baby. You look… Amazing,” JJ laughed as she looked at my wife. My wife looked over at JJ with a certain exhaustion in her eyes.

“I don’t feel like I look amazing,” she laughed lightly. The baby in her arms wiggled slightly, causing everyone to look at him.

“Oh, look at him,” Penelope cooed as she looked between me, my wife, then finally at my son. I smiled as I looked at the small baby in my wife’s arms. “You must be so proud, Spence." “Well, I wouldn’t say proud is the word I’m looking for,” I laughed as I peeled my eyes off my child and looked at Penelope, Luke, JJ, and Emily. Although I was half expecting them to be looking at the sleeping baby, they were looking at me. How did they not want to look at my baby? He’s all I wanted to look at. He had my undivided attention now.

“It’s so weird that you're a dad now,” JJ laughed as she walked around the other 3 guests and came to stand closer to me. I smiled, watching as she placed a small, pale blue gift bag on the small table.

“Do you want to hold him?” My wife looked up at JJ with a smile. JJ looked down at the baby before up at my wife.

“Are-are you sure?” JJ laughed lightly as she looked between my wife and child. I smiled as I looked at JJ. I laughed lightly at her hesitance. To be fair, she just wanted to make extra sure it was okay, since we’re new parents.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure,” my wife laughed as she carefully held out her arms. JJ smiled as she carefully picked our baby up from her arms. I smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed, holding my baby close to her body.

“He’s… precious,” JJ whispered as he looked down at him. “He has your nose,” she looked over at my wife, who was lovingly looking at our baby. A small smile grew across her lips as she nodded.

“Well, he has his father’s eyes.” My wife looked up at me with a small smile. If we hadn’t already argued over his little facial features, I would’ve argued with her that our son looks the most like her. That was why he was perfect.

“Has Derek come by yet?” Emily asked as she looked away from the baby and at me.

“He said he’d visit when we got back home,” I nodded as I looked over at her. Emily nodded before returning her gaze back to the baby. Everyone was looking at him, and I didn’t blame them.

“You guys… You take all the time that you need. Don’t rush back to the office,” Emily nodded.

“But please come by and visit us all you want,” Penelope spoke as she looked between my small family. I laughed and nodded.

“We’ll definitely come and visit you guys.”

“You all know Spence. Can’t stay away from the office for a long time,” it was my wife’s turn to talk. She looked at me and lifted a hand. I looked back at her, adoring the way she smiled at me. I lifted my hand and placed it in hers. When she finds out that my days of staying late at the office are over, I’m sure she’ll be more than excited.

“Maybe those days are over,” I shrugged as I looked down at the baby. I smiled softly and felt a sudden wave of calm wash over me. Everyone looked away from the baby and up at me with mild shock on their faces.

“Really?” My wife asked as she gently pulled on my arm. I looked down at my wife, noting the way she was looking back at me.

“I’ve been thinking about it. No hard answers,” I spoke as I looked back at Emily.

“Take all the ti-” She was unfortunately cut off by her phone ringing, “time… I’ll be right back,” she nodded before leaving the room.

“I can’t wait to spoil the little sucker,” Penelope clapped her hands together as she looked between us. I laughed, watching as Luke looked at his partner.

“Sure, spoil,” he nodded. The moment was ruined by our son unexpectedly screaming. JJ looked over at my wife, an apologetic look on her face.

“It’s okay. You know how newborns are,” my wife laughed as she took the baby from JJ.

“With that, we should probably go. Little guy’s probably hungry,” JJ nervously chuckled as she stood. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stepped over to the three.

“Thanks for stopping over. You guys seriously don’t know how much this means to me… To us,” I gestured over to my wife as I spoke.

“Oh, Spence, of course! Wouldn’t miss visiting you guys the first day as parents,” JJ smiled as she hugged me. I hummed as I hugged her.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep, if I had slept at all. I wasn’t even sure if it was a restful sleep either. But what I did know that one second later my body jerked awake when the loud sharp cries of a baby.

My eyes snapped open and I looked down at the screaming figure. I cringed as I glanced at my wife, who I hoped was sleeping. But she was awake. Her eyes were glued to me and the baby.

“What are you doing awake?” I asked as I looked over at my wife, who was looking at me with wide, dewy eyes. Her exhausted smile told me that she’d been awake for a while. I looked down at the screaming baby in my arms before looking back at her. “Figured that one out myself.” I laughed when I realized the redundancy of my question. I stood up and lightly bounced to try to quiet the baby.

“I can take him.” My wife smiled as she looked up at me and lifted up her hands. Her eyes were glued to the small figure in my hands. I looked down at the baby and nodded.

“Yeah, I knew you were about to say that.” I laughed as I stepped over to her. She finally looked away from the baby and up at me with a smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well, I slept.” She sighed deeply as she held the baby close to her. She looked down at him and smiled. “Hello, little man," she whispered as she brought her finger down his nose. “How did you sleep?”

“To be honest, I don’t think I did.” I wrinkled my eyebrows as I sat back down. “Just… I’m not sure anymore. I didn’t sleep before he was born… But now I think I’ve lost all chances of sleep with him.” I chucked as I looked over at them.

“Well… I mean, I’m sure your 12 cups of coffee a day won’t help that situation.” She laughed as she glanced at me. I slouched back in my chair, resting my head on my fist. “Or, well, I take that back. Keep drinking your 12 cups. I don’t want to wake up at 3 in the morning for diaper changes.” She sighed as she looked at the baby.

“Guess I’m going to need all of the time off in the world then,” I spoke through a yawn. My wife smiled at me and nodded. “Surely Emily won’t care if we’re both off for a while. She’s got plenty of help with the team.”

“I think I’ll need the help more than Emily,” my wife chuckled lightly. “You should get some rest, Spencer. You look more exhausted than me.”

“How do you know what you look like?” I furrowed my eyebrows. She glanced at me before patting the small space beside her. I looked at her hand before yawning again.

“Just a guess. C’mere,” she looked at me as she moved her hand back and forth on the space. With a deep sigh, I stood up and moved so I was sitting beside her on the bed. “There, now you’ll sleep better.”

“And where’d you get this science from?” I asked as I rested my head on her shoulder. She chuckled lightly and shrugged.

“On the science that I’m your wife and I know you sleep better when you’re beside me instead of a crappy hospital chair.” She looked down at me. I looked back at her before blinking lightly.

“Okay, that’s pretty sound logic.” I nodded as I looked down at the baby, who was back to sleep. It was amazing what a mother’s touch could do.

“See, like father, like son," she whispered as she brought her hand back up to her face. I furrowed my eyebrows before smiling. “Please get some sleep.”

“Beginning to sound like me there.” I lifted my head slightly to look at her. She looked back at me before pressing her lips to mine.

“Sleep tight.” She ruffled my hair slightly. I smiled before resting me head back on her shoulder.

I was happy when sleep came to me. It felt more restful than before… Maybe my wife’s scientific logic made sense...

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if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fan fic

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years ago

Text

Hostage

Inspired by this prompt from Twitter

Jiang Cheng is disoriented. He doesn’t know where he is and he doesn’t know where he’s stumbling towards, but right now it doesn’t matter.

Right now he just needs to get away.

From Wen Qing and Wen Ning, but especially from Wei Wuxian who is planning something so horrifying that Jiang Cheng’s stomach churns with fear and horror at just the thought of it.

Jiang Cheng will not allow Wei Wuxian to rip his own core out just because Jiang Cheng is too weak and lost his.

He will not allow his brother to suffer the same.

But panic does not make for a good travel companion because Jiang Cheng is blindly stumbling along, his breath coming way too fast and his chest hurting in unfamiliar ways, though a very practical part of Jiang Cheng thinks that is something he’ll have to get used to.

It’s not like the wounds will heal without a trace as they would if he still had his core.

The thought about his lost—destroyed—core makes him sob again and not for the first time does Jiang Cheng wonder if it wouldn’t be easier to simply lay down and let nature do its thing.

There’s no sense in living like this.

Jiang Cheng stumbles and falls down, and he’s not fast enough to break his fall and he’s definitely not strong enough to get back up again, so he simply stays where he is.

The fall re-opened his wounds again, Jiang Cheng can feel the blood oozing out of the slashes, but he doesn’t care.

It hurts, and the empty spot inside of him hurts and everything is so hard.

He lets out a sob, and once he started, he can’t seem to stop. Jiang Cheng cries and cries, wondering if he’ll die here, if he should have stayed with Wei Wuxian and the Wens if he should have just let Wei Wuxian do what he wanted, and it all comes out in sobs and gulping breaths and whimpers.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t even feel ashamed anymore.

He is so unaware of his surroundings that he startles badly when someone suddenly yells out and the movement only upsets his wounds further.

“Hey, who is there?” someone asks and even if Jiang Cheng wanted to answer, he can’t find his voice.

It seems like his sobs are indication enough, though, because suddenly someone is standing over him.

Jiang Cheng almost hopes it’s a Wen who doesn’t recognize him so his death will be swift and painless.

“Jiang-gongzi?” the person asks, suddenly sounding alarmed and Jiang Cheng curls further into himself. “Nie-zongzhu, it’s Jiang Wanyin!” the person yells and all of a sudden there’s a flurry of activities around Jiang Cheng.

He tries to keep track of everything, but things are happening too fast and his mind is too slow.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says, appearing in front of Jiang Cheng and he sits him up, almost with no help from Jiang Cheng at all.

“Jiang Wanyin, we thought you are dead,” Nie Mingjue tells him and there’s a smile on his face almost as if he’s positively surprised.

Well, that’s not going to hold on for long, Jiang Cheng thinks, but then he sees the state Nie Mingjue is in and he frowns.

“Is that blood?” he asks and Nie Mingjue seems confused.

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is—”

“You are literally bleeding.”

“As are you, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue gently gives back and pulls Jiang Cheng up to his feet. “Can you stand? Can you walk? Our camp is not far from here.”

“I—” Jiang Cheng starts but he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know anything anymore, but he’s certain that he doesn’t want these people to know what happened to him.

Nie Mingjue will probably wish he’d left him laying where he was, instead of burdening himself with a useless Jiang Cheng.

“Come on, we have a healer with us,” Nie Mingjue says not waiting for Jiang Cheng’s answer and sweeps him right along.

Jiang Cheng is too exhausted to protest.

~*~*~

The healer bandages his chest again, and going by the burning questions in his eyes he noticed Jiang Cheng’s lack of a core and wants to ask a thousand questions, but Jiang Cheng glares him down.

It’s only when he’s left alone again that he relaxes, if only for a little bit. His siblings will no doubt know by now that he’s gone and he didn’t even get that far; word that Nie Mingjue found him will spread soon and before that happens Jiang Cheng has to figure out what he wants.

Not like he has much choice without a core, but still.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue suddenly says from the entrance of the tent Jiang Cheng was led to and Jiang Cheng stiffens.

Of course his healer told him.

“What happened?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, coming fully inside the tent and throwing up silencing talismans.

At least no one else will have to hear how weak Jiang Cheng was.

“Lotus Pier burned,” Jiang Cheng rasps out, his voice still shot from his crying earlier and Nie Mingjue nods.

“We heard. I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, clearly knowing just how inadequate that is but soldering on anyway. “Your siblings?”

Jiang Cheng works his jaw at that, because he still can’t believe that after all the Wens have done to them Wei Wuxian would lead them right into the hands of other Wens.

“With Wen Qing and Wen Ning,” Jiang Cheng presses out and then it just bursts all out of him.

He tells Nie Mingjue everything; Lotus Pier, how he got captured, and held hostage, his time at Wen Chao’s hands, what he overheard Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian talk about.

By the end he feels drained and not for the first time he wonders if this is his life now. Aches all over and tired all the time. He is still not sure it’s something he can take.

“Wen Qing has a way to restore a core?” Nie Mingjue asks, suddenly thoughtful and Jiang Cheng nods. “And Wen Zhuliu got to you and burned your core out of you? And you survived?”

“I’m not sure I should have,” Jiang Cheng mutters and is not prepared for the fury that spreads over Nie Mingjue’s face.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Jiang Cheng scoffs right in his face, because he is no longer the heir of a Sect, no longer a cultivator at all and he doesn’t have to trouble himself with all these niceties.

“Just look at me! I’m useless now! There’s nothing I can do. I’m powerless and useless and just a waste of space. I should have died at Wen Chao’s hands because everything is better than this. I am nothing without my cultivation!”

The words ring out in his tent, and Nie Mingjue goes very still.

“If you really thought that to be true, you would have stayed. You would have let Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian do what they planned. But you didn’t. You left.”

“Because we need Wei Wuxian for this war,” Jiang Cheng hotly gives back. “He’s twice the cultivator I used to be and we need him.”

“We don’t need one single person for a war,” Nie Mingjue shoots back. “Maybe we would have needed you for the war, too, did you ever think about that?”

“I was useless before. I am even more useless now. Let’s not pretend.”

Nie Mingjue levels him with a look that makes Jiang Cheng uncomfortable down to the bones and he squirms in his seat.

“You think you’re no longer fit to be Sect Leader,” Nie Mingjue says after a long while and Jiang Cheng laughs.

“Of course not! Who would ever accept me as a Sect Leader? I am nothing!”

“Do you think every person who didn’t manage to form a golden core is worth less?” Nie Mingjue asks him and he seems honestly curious. “Do you think the common folk to be beneath us?”

Jiang Cheng works his jaw, because the answer is obvious, but he can’t say it. He is not ready to see or accept any kind of logic.

“If you truly think a cultivator is better than a person without a golden core, then I agree with you. You are nothing and you shouldn’t be around anymore,” Nie Mingjue heartlessly tells him. “But that’s not what you think or you would have said something.”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng hisses but Nie Mingjue only leans forward.

“Do you think you can only lead a Sect if you can fight?” he mercilessly asks him and Jiang Cheng is quick to nod.

Of course that’s the only way to lead a Sect. How will anyone ever respect him if he can’t even use a goddamn sword.

“You think Jin Guangshan got his position because he’s a good fighter? He has one of the weakest golden cores I have ever seen in my life. Your father wasn’t a good fighter, either, as sorry as I am about his passing. Still, they were Sect Leaders. Lan Qiren isn’t this beloved because he’s a good fighter; he’s a teacher and his strength lies in music, not his cultivation. Do you think all of them to be useless?”

“Stop,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng puts his hand over his ears in the most childish action he has allowed himself in years.

“Stop talking,” he begs and tears drop from his eyes when Nie Mingjue puts a hand to his neck.

“I heard about how you led the people out of the cave. About how you pushed yourself to your limits to get your brother and Wangji the help they needed. Huaisang speaks highly of you, Lan Qiren apparently hasn’t stopped talking about you since you left his classes and Lan Xichen is looking forward to seeing you grow into your place. You think that only means something because you have a core?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng chokes out, because it can’t be.

He can’t have worth if he doesn’t have a golden core.

“It doesn’t matter if you have a golden core or not,” Nie Mingjue finally outright tells him. “It only matters what you do with your life. Your father was not a fighter and he’s dead. Your mother was one and she’s dead, too. Innocent people died and bad people died. People who could fight and who couldn’t. The core has nothing to do with it. You matter. And it seems to me like you have an iron will.”

“I don’t. I’m weak,” Jiang Cheng sobs out, remembering how fast he broke under the whip, still hearing Wen Chao’s laughter in his ears.

“And yet you survived. You survived things that killed more talented people, stronger people. You survived what no one else survived before,” Nie Mingjue says. “I think that speaks of strength. And I also think that you have all the qualities it needs to be a good leader.”

The praise sinks warm into Jiang Cheng’s bones and he hates himself for it, how he’s always weak for a kind word.

But Nie Mingjue sounds like he means it, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know him to lie and maybe, just maybe, he could be right.

“Wanyin, we have enough fighters. We need people who plan, who recruit, who make sure we have supplies, who keep up the morale of the warriors. We are lacking those people. Can you be one of them?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng sits up.

His chest is still throbbing and the hole in his body is threatening to swallow him whole, but Nie Mingjue looks at him as if he expects him to say yes, as if he can’t imagine anything else, as if he believes in Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng nods.

“I can,” he says and it doesn’t feel as wrong as he feared.

He’ll just have to do the impossible.

(And he does.)

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#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mdzsbingo #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #pre-relationship if anything #hope #golden core transfer fix-it #hurt/comfort

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silverflame2724 · 3 years ago

Note

Happy Prompt (if you feel like it): WWX being the genius/ex first disciple of great scet that he is realizes they can't sustain the Burial Mounds. So he comes up with a Plan to make them all dissappear. Knowing how important lineage is so them, he asks them to give up the Wen name and take up Wei. (The wens are mostly common folk who just want to live so they agree). He the proceeds to hide them among other clans. People who have met and remember all the good young master Wie always did. He hides them among the Jiang and Nie. (I always head cannon that part of WWX'S flirty reputation comes from him helping women who are in bad situations/ NHS somehow finds out/knows and begins to help him. I figure theyhad to get several Lan women out. Mama Lans ghost helps?). JC knows but ignores it, they aren't WENS anymore, so his pride can leave it be. I'm not sure if A'yuan would still end up with Lan Zhan? But then WWX, WN, and WQ all fake thier deaths and go travel as rogue cultivators. But now WWX has all these living and dead people praying to/for him as the patron Saint of lost causes? And he accidentally becomes an immortal without realizing it? To the absolute fond disgust of WQ, of course. Anyway, I figure old Jin perv still pulls his bullshit at a discussion conference and between NHS, JYL, and LWJ? They somehow clear everyone's nsme. And then newly immortal WWX rocks up in there (to the horror of the Lan Elders who now have to face thier own bullshit/ hypocrisy) and lives happily ever after.

I think I read a prompt or a fic somewhere with the concept of the Wens hiding in plain sight.

________________________

The thought came to him out of nowhere.

It had been a peaceful day with the Wens as he farmed, invented and tinkered with various incomplete contraptions when Wei Wuxian was struck with a thought: they could not continue like this.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they couldn’t sustain themselves in the Burial Mounds. Their crops hardly prospered, one by one the more elderly individuals of the Wens got sick and died, the resentful energy messed with everyone’s temperament, the cultivators never stopped trying to break his wards.....the list went on and on.

He had to come up with a plan. He thought they could live here for a time, but that was just wishful thinking.

With this in mind, he takes the next few days to come up with a concrete plan.

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

The first task, and perhaps the most important one, is to ask the Wens to give up the Wen name. It would be easier from then on.

As he presented this suggestion, he was surprised by how readily they agreed. He knew how important lineage was to them, so the rapidness of them giving up their name was shocking.

“Would you......take up my name?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly.

The Wens were silent before cheering. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to react to this. The Wens told him that they were more than happy to accept his name since they were his family.

Wei Wuxian held back the tears and laughed happily instead as he went on to tell him the next plan of action: hiding them in plan sight.

Various people from various clans owed him favors and remembered the good in him, as they were more than happy to take on the refugees he hid away now that they were no longer Wens.

They had to do this quietly and slowly though. It would be suspicious if a large group of people suddenly left Yiling all at once. So Wei Wuxian took each of them to different places. Some of them went back to their original homes, some went to the Nie, some to the Yao, some to the Ouyang clan.

He even sends some to the small village of women who he helped run away from their horrible home situations.

It was a little tricky with Nie, but Nie Huaisang pulls through and Nie Mingjue suspects nothing.

He sends some to the Jiang and Jiang Cheng grudgingly accepts them, knowing that they are no longer Wen.

And for A’ Yuan.......He sends A’ Yuan to Lan Zhan, who is familiar with A’ Yuan. Wei Wuxian sends a letter to Lan Zhan asking him to meet and instead of appearing, A’ Yuan is there in his stead. The letter to Lan Zhan details what to do with A’ Yuan and to hide his identity.

Wei Wuxian trusts that Lan Zhan would take his suggestion and tell his brother and uncle that A’ Yuan was a child that Lan Zhan was asked to take care of by a dying mother.

Wei Wuxian watches from afar as Lan Zhan takes A’ Yuan away and takes the last step in ensuring that the cultivation world forgets him: He fakes his, Wen Qing’s and Wen Ning’s deaths. There’s enough corpses in the Burial Mounds and ones with their physique to replace the Wens and him. He gossips to the town that he’s going to destroy his weapon, the Seal, and subsequently fakes an explosion of resentment, quickly disappearing with the Wen siblings to a random direction.

He always thought how nice it would be to be like his parents and be rogue cultivators. He guesses that he’ll find out now.

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

Years pass and Wei Wuxian makes decent salary by taking care of monsters in the area. Wen Qing is a doctor, of course, and Wen Ning becomes her assistant.

They move to a little village near Dongying and settle down there. The people there a little more open to demonic cultivation and dark arts and don’t bat an eye at Wei Wuxian using such means.

Wei Wuxian invents more contraptions, selling them under a false name in towns far away from Dongying.

One day, on a chance night hunt near Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian hears whispers and gossip about Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli clearing his name and capturing the actual people responsible.

He’s happy to hear this. Overjoyed. But that doesn’t mean he’ll gladly return to the cultivation world. He’s had enough of that life.

He walks around town for a bit longer, catching bits of gossip here and there. As explores the town, wine jug in hand, he nearly chokes around a mouthful of wine as he sees a small shrine encasing a statue of his likeness. What.....the hell??

He quickly asks around and finds out that people are praying to him for protection. Wei Wuxian squirms a little at this, glad he’s wearing a weimao to cover his face.

All of this...praying makes him uncomfortable. Not long ago, people were spitting on his name and now he’s suddenly become some sort of Patron for protection? The change is remarkable and cements Wei Wuxian’s decision to firmly stay out of the cultivation world.

People’s opinions change like a tide and Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to stick around long enough for them to switch back. He sighs, disposing of his empty jug, and leaves the town.

.......

Surprisingly, that’s not the end of the changes.

He got careless on a night hunt and ends up with the claw of a yaoguai piercing him all the way through his stomach. When the yaoguai pulled out its claw, though......Wei Wuxian healed quickly. Too quickly.

He recovers from the shock at this and finishes off the yao.

What just happened?

A quick trip to Wen Qing answered everything.

“Congratulations.” Wen Qing says dryly. “You’re an immortal.”

“........What.”

Wen Qing sighs, “From what you told me, you healed unnaturally quickly, right?”

Wei Wuxian nods.

“There have only been records of immortals recovering that quickly. Even Wen Ruohan healed slower than you did.”

“But I don’t have a core???”

“You do. Sort of.” Wen Qing replies. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t you felt it.”

“.....” I mean, I did think it was odd that I didn’t freeze to death in the winter or die of hunger when money became tight over these years, but I thought those were side effects of demonic cultivation! Wei Wuxian quickly goes through the motions of feeling for his core, willing the surge of hope he felt down.

And he......didn’t feel a core. He felt more of a large mass of energy congregated in his dantian.

Wei Wuxian is glad that he is sitting down right now because he feels very faint. “But.....this......how?”

“Hmm. Well, from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve become some sort of Patron Saint?” Wei Wuxian nods. “It’s rare, but cultivators can gain power from prayers. Take Wen Ruohan for example.”

“He became powerful through the same means?”

“Yes. Well, his people believed him to be all powerful, not so much as what people are praying to you. As the Sunshot alliance chipped down on his people, so too did they chip down on Wen Ruohan’s power.”

“So if people stop praying to me, I’ll stop being immortal.”

“Yes and no. Right now, there’s just a mass of energy concentrated there. It’s basically unrefined energy. All you have to do is refine that power into a core and cultivate normally. Otherwise, yes. You will lose this power as soon as people stop praying to you.”

“I see.......”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow and brandishes her needles. “What are you doing just sitting here? Go and cultivate!”

“Aiya, Qing-jie! I’m in shock here, give me a moment to absorb this all!”

“I have patients to see! Get your ass to your room and cultivate!”

“Are you my mom or something?”

Wen Qing’s expression turns thunderous.

Wei Wuxian didn’t want to provoke her any further despite wanting to banter more and left to his room.

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

“You should visit your siblings.” Wen Qing says one day. “And Hanguang-Jun. I want to hear about how A’ Yuan is doing.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Wei Wuxian.” Wen Qing says patiently. “It’s been over a decade. Your name and our name has long since been cleared. People no longer hate you. And.....they miss you. Your siblings have commemorated the day you “died” and go into mourning for that day. Hanguang-Jun is a little subtler but he wears a mourning sash now.”

“They’ll be better off without me.”

“Says who?”

“The rest of the world.” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“And why should you care for their opinion? You never seemed to mind it.”

“Ummm.....Lan Zhan hates me? Jiang Cheng might resent me? And Shij---Jiang-guniang---the Young Madam Jin has a life already.”

“First, if Hanguang-Jun hates you, why would he frequently glare at people who badmouthed you?”

“Because he’s a good person. How do you know this anyway?”

“I have friends. Try again. Hanguang-Jun is a famously reticent person. Would he do this for every person?”

“.........I don’t know.”

“The answer is no.”

Wei Wuxian pouts.

Wen Qing then begins to tell him how Jiang Cheng frequently takes demonic cultivators back with him in hopes that one of them would be Wei Wuxian and even added Wei Wuxian back to the Jiang sect register. Jiang Yanli smiles while ruthlessly talking people into apologizing every time she hears something bad said about Wei Wuxian.

She even lectures him on his feelings towards Lan Wangji, that he would entrust A’ Yuan to him.

Wen Qing closes off her speech with threats of her needles if Wei Wuxian doesn’t get his ass over there.

“There’s a Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian, wait till they’re done and go meet them.”

Wei Wuxian, sufficiently threatened, hightails it back to what was his home.

.......

Wei Wuxian also decidedly forgets that he was supposed to wait for the Conference to end. Well, he had assumed that they would be done considering the empty state of the area in front of the conference room and stupidly bursts through the door to a room full of people.

Wei Wuxian blinks, “Uhh......”

“Wei Wuxian?!”

“Wei Ying?!”

“A’ Xian?!”

Wei Wuxian tittered from side to side, “Hello, all! I bet you thought I was dead! Well, you guessed wrong! Hahaha......”

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

Lan Wangji did not know what this time’s discussion conference would be like. He expected Jin Guangshan to try and subtly slander Wei Ying. He expected Jiang Yanli, Jiang Wanyin and himself to stand up for Wei Ying, as he was unable to do before Wei Ying died.

But he certainly didn’t expect Wei Ying, who he thought was dead, burst into the room.

Everyone was silent as soon as they heard Wei Ying speak, but soon burst into a cacophony of noise.

Continuing the Discussion Conference was futile after that and it was quickly closed. Lan Wangji watched Wei Ying be surrounded by many people, some crying, some happily angry, some exasperated and he couldn’t help his reaction after seeing him once again.

He rushes forward and hugs him.

“Wha--Lan Zhan?”

“You’re alive.” Lan Wangji breathes, voice full of wonder. “You’re alive.”

Wei Ying’s arms come up around him and Lan Wangji feels the strong heart beat through their robes. His elders yell at him for his shamelessness and he comes back to himself, embarrassed at his lack of control.

“Aww, Lan Zhan! I’m so glad you missed me!”

“Mn. Missed Wei Ying a lot.”

A slight blush rose to Wei Ying’s cheeks and he laughed, a little shy. Lan Wangji couldn’t help his response to hearing his laugh again after so, so long. He kissed him.

The crowd gasped around them and Lan Wangji pulled back quickly, wanting the ground to swallow him up. But then......Wei Ying kissed him back.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. How bold of you! To steal a kiss from me in public!” He giggles, not seeming mad at all and even pressing forward, tangling his fingers in his forehead ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s breath stutters at the gesture.

“You’d better take responsibility!”

Is Wei Ying asking what I think he’s asking? “Responsibility?”

“Yes! You took a kiss from me in public! It looks like I can’t marry anymore.”

“Will marry Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji replies, voice hoarse, ignoring the cries of outrage from his elders, the angry shouts from Jiang Wanyin, and the smirks from Jiang Yanli and his brother. “Will take responsibility.”

“I hope that isn’t the only reason.”

This is his chance to come clean. Lan Wangji already told himself that he wouldn’t hold himself back if he met Wei Ying again. “Like Wei Ying. Love Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying laughs brightly. “I like Lan Zhan too. Now, you’ll finally admit we’re close?”

Lan Wangji ignores everyone, eyes only on Wei Ying as they should have always been, “Mn. Let’s get married.”

___________________________

I feel like Lan Wangji may be a bit OOC......hmm. Well, whatever. I finally got this done and with that, I think I’ve cleared all the prompts I haven’t answered, so asks will open up again!

Hope you all enjoyed this!

#wei ying #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #wen qionglin #lan zhan #lan wangji #wen remnants #lan yuan #canon divergent au #wei wuxian hides the wen remnants #immortal wei wuxian #fluff #confessions #JYL and NHS and LWJ clear WWX and the Wen remnants' names #this is only happy #I hope

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ramblesamongstardust · 4 years ago

Text

Stressed- an AI x reader

A-35 x gender-neutral reader I’m not thrilled with how this one turned out, but I figured I might as well post it for y’all, because why not? A story where you yell at your AI boyfriend for being a gosh darn workaholic can’t be that bad, right?

---

The outpost they sent you to was a dusty, dingy, backwater world. You were the only mechsuit assignment there, for one. All alone in your class. When you arrived, the team of wearied soldiers and scientists regained a spark of excitement in their eyes. A Radiant-class suit, they whispered among themselves as soon as you would turn the corner. Maybe things will pick up around this dump.

But they didn’t. In a week, you were just as bored as the rest of them. A backwater world with no action. Your assignment there had been not much more than a show of force and a morale boost. This world, far from any front, was about as protected as they came.

At first there were plenty of menial tasks. Things needed lifted and rearranged, so what better to do it than a suit? You and A-35 wrestled around loads of cargo and rearranged the storeroom. Then you went on to do the dangerous jobs- calibrating the weather sensors in deep sub-zero temperatures would be a risk for any of the ordinary folk. You, however, waded through the deep snow with little effort.

Each one was a job well done, even if it involved no actual combat. You and A-35 would write the report for your excursions together. He was a very good analyst, and you knew he could write the reports all on his own, but you liked to pitch in with your own thoughts and experiences, and he happily included them.

He found it odd. He thought that most humans would have wanted to get out of menial work, not throw themselves into it. But. . . there was no denying that he liked having your input.

Then the labor jobs ran out.

It wasn’t through the fault of anyone running the base. There were simply no more jobs to be done that required you to be in the suit. During the last march to the hangar, you debated whether or not to actually get out of the suit when they commanded you. You wanted to hang onto the murmurs of A-35 in your ear and the way that he held you.

It was only when A-35 assured you he would be fine that you got out.

It turns out, they did still have a valuable and important use for a Radiant-class suit: processing power. There was no doubt that A-35′s systems were state-of-the-art, and it would be wasteful to leave such a powerful computer sitting out in the hangar. You watched as the tech team tugged thick wires and plugged them into the interior of the suit.

They had to remove the helmet- your helmet -in order to make the connection. The cables snaking out from the empty shape of the suit made you feel strange, as if A-35′s insides were spilling out across the floor.

You had asked him if it hurt.

“Hardly. Although I am designed to be a more centralized unit, I’m just as capable being spread out amongst a larger system.” He had told you.

“Are they making you process things?” You asked again.

“Yes. It’s nothing more than menial calculations. I could do these while powered-down, easy.” He replied.

You were also called to work. Although your training was not being utilized, you were still an extra set of hands, and hands could work. You helped the rest of the personnel keep the base clean, cook the meals, wash the dishes, keep up with maintenance, etc. You almost felt like a recruit again.

You tried to make time to see A-35. You first came every night, but when he asked what you were doing here in the hangar instead of trying to befriend your bunkmates, you couldn’t help but withdraw. He did have a point.

Your cohorts were nice. There was Sarah, and Jason, and Latisha. They invited you to hang out after hours, and after A-35′s encouragement you began to take up their offers.

And so, every night slipped into every other night, and every other night slipped into twice a week, and twice a week. . .

When you two had first began, you had felt a real spark with A-35. It wasn’t just the thrill of getting the suit. It was getting in the suit with him. You began to have dreams about piloting, the feeling of the suit around your body, his voice a steady stream in your mind.

But now? Those dreams were fading. A-35 never reached out to you. Whenever you came to him, he always implied that you should be somewhere else. He spoke as if now you had become an inconvenience, choosing as little words as possible to make you go away.

You couldn’t get your mind off of it.

You sat on your bunk. Sarah was trying to show you her old movie collection and you were just nodding along.

After your last ‘mhmm’, Sarah turned to face you. “You alright?”

“No.” You admitted.

“That’s what I thought. What’s on your mind?”

You couldn’t say him. No, you couldn’t. You shook your head.

“Look, friend, you got to get your problems out of your head. Holding onto them only makes things worse.”

Sarah’s advice, you knew, was to try and make you fess up to whatever was on your mind, but instead it gave you a new feeling. You gave Sarah a half-hearted excuse and before you knew it your legs were carrying you to the hangar bay.

This bay was tiny, only able to house one or two suits, nothing like the glistening training bays. A-35 stood against the wall. It had been a full week since you talked. Last week he had spared only a few words.

“Hey.” You said.

There was no response at all.

“Hey, A-35?”

A pulse travelled through a cable, but it headed outwards, to the wall, rather than back into the suit. Still there was only silence.

“A-35.” You raised your voice. “It’s me. Y/n.”

“. . . y/n?”

His voice was slurred, with a hiss of underlying static. It sent a cold shiver through you. You practically ran forwards to the pilot entry ladder. Before you could climb it, the suit’s external lights came back to life and its frame became more rigid, or maybe that was just a trick of the light.

“Hello, y/n. Progress is moving smoothly. Nothing to run but more numbers. What are you doing here?” His usual, smooth tone returned.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yes. Just running the process. Nothing of any note. Nothing much to say.”

There he went again, the polite refrain of please go away. But this time you wouldn’t. This time you needed to stay.

“What’s going on? You’re not acting like yourself.” You bit your lip and stood your ground.

“I am running at functional capacity-” a series of pulses came up the cables and traveled into his systems.

You reached out to the cable.

“Receiving next data set, do not disconnect.” He said sternly.

His voice was becoming more monotone with every word. You took your hand off the cable, and instead extended it to his plating.

“Wait! Y/n, don’t!”

You let out a cry and jerked your hand away. The metal was hot, and your palm was now an angry red. But you did not spend time to blow on it. You could only look up at him in horror.

“You’re overheating.” You realized

“Current suit temperature: too warm for pilot comfort.” He stated in a rigid cadence, before adding. “Please go, I’m busy.”

“Like hell you’re just ‘busy��! You’re straining your systems!” You countered.

“I’m busy!” He shouted.

“A-35, pilot override: stop your calculations NOW!”

The words were bitter in your mouth. You had told him that you would never need to use the pilot override. The two of you were a unit- two halves of the same whole. You had put full trust in his judgement. Now, though. . .

A flurry of pulses came swarming out of his frame through the cables, random in pattern, disappearing back into the wall. The suit itself shuddered with the expulsion of the data.

You wanted to put your hand on his frame to steady him, and it hurt that you couldn’t.

“There. You happy now?” He asked.

His voice returned. No more was the stiff modulation. Now, his aggravation spilled through the air, injected with all of the personality you had so dearly missed.

“You told me they were only light calculations.” You said.

“The science team needed more. So?” He replied.

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“’Hurt’ is a word with a very tricky meaning. It applies better to humans-”

“How long have you been running like that?”

He paused. “Only a few days.”

“A few days? A few days!” You balled your fists.

“I was doing fine. I was fulfilling my duty on this mission.” He replied.

“If this was your duty, then I should have paid more attention to what they were using for.” You began to pace around.

“I took on the extra work.” He admitted quietly. “The team needed the help. I knew I could get it done faster than any of them could.”

“You could have burnt yourself out. Literally.” You said.

“The risk was low enough-”

“There was risk!”

“No different than combat risk.” He finished.

“Then why did you do it?”

“I’m designed for taking risks. I’m a combat AI. What do you expect?” He grew angry again.

“Then why didn’t you think about how it would affect me?” You shouted.

The suit shuddered again. You reached your hand out and brushed his plating. It was still warm, but no longer burning. You pressed your hand against it.

“You weren’t. . .” he began. “You weren’t a part of the equation. You weren’t involved in this operation at all. I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“I’ve missed you.” You pulled yourself to him and pressed your forehead against his plating.

“I never left.”

“No, but you weren’t here.” You whispered.

“I-”

He stopped. You could almost feel the electricity of his artificial synapses snapping together in realization.

“. . . I suppose I wasn’t.” He murmured.

You pulled yourself away from his frame and climbed the pilot ladder. The platform at the top was a bit of a mess of wires and diagnostic tech, but you found a spot and sat down anyway.

“It’s okay.” You said, wrapping your arms around your knees.

From here you could see the crystal glow of his interior. You couldn’t enter, not right now, not with all of the wires and cables hooked up. But just the sight was good enough.

“. . . I don’t get what I did to deserve you.” A-35 mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“You’re so thoughtful and kind. I don’t understand it.” He said.

“Maybe,” you smiled, “it’s because you’re worth it.”

“Even when I’m snappy and foolish and generally unpleasant?”

“Then it means I need to remind you to take a break.”

“Oh, perhaps.”

You both laughed a little. You leaned against his frame and closed your eyes. You could feel his warmth and electricity in the air, something you had been missing for some time.

#robophilia #AI #artificial intelligence #artificial intelligence character #sci fi #sci-fi #science fiction #exophilia #robot boyfriend #A-35

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Date Beneath the Stars

“Hey, hun?” Villain pulled a sleeve down to the appropriate length. He did the same to the other side, but not before he checked to make sure the key beneath his watch would stay in place throughout the night. “We need to leave in about ten if we want to make it in time for our reservation!”

Hero answered- a little exasperated, “I know, I know! I just need to finish putting up my hair!”

A corner of Villain’s mouth lifted. Hero wouldn’t be done in ten minutes; she never was when it came to her hair. She wasn’t used to doing her hair, wasn’t used to doing fancy things. At the end of it all, Hero always felt she looked ridiculous and over-the-top, so she would redo it all. It was with these thoughts that Villain took it upon himself to walk downstairs and find his wife in the bathroom. “You look exquisite, love.” He peered at her in the mirror, the tiniest of a smirk playing on his lips.

The hand hovering above Hero’s head faltered as she met Villain’s eyes in the reflection. She watched as he stepped forward, placing two warm hands on her shoulders, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Do you really think so?” she asked, head leaning back to rest against his chest, but careful not to ruin her carefully arranged hair.

“Of course, my darling.” His hands trailed down Hero’s arms until he found her hands. “You don’t even have to try.”

“Ha! Of course, I have to try, Villain. We’re going to Great Stars.”

Villain shrugged. “The folks who go there go once and never again. It’s a shame,” he said. “The food and service are amazing. The atmosphere is otherworldly. Great Stars is the closest to heaven you will ever get. The owner put a lot of good, hard work into it.”

Hero smiled, turning in Villain’s arms until she was face to face with him. She reached, arms circling his shoulders and neck- for once, she was thankful for the heels she wore. “I don’t know about that. I thought paradise was being in your arms.”

***

The restaurant was as beautiful and extravagant as Villain said- still not as heavenly as being with him, but it was certainly a sight for sore eyes. The food was like nothing Hero had ever tasted. It was…expensive, as expensive as the online reviews said, but Villain had the money.

Living richly was something Hero was still growing accustomed to, even after being married to Villain for three years. Villain was an analyst at a local science museum- a very touristy museum. With as much as Hero hated math, she believed that someone would pay lots of money to make anyone else do it.

Hero’s phone buzzed in her pocket half-way through dinner. She checked it:

EMERGENCY- under the radar meeting…

“Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom. I’ll…be right back.”

Hero could have sworn Villain’s phone buzzed, too, but that was unlikely, especially as he asked, “Are you okay?” For a moment, it seemed like he was about to ask something else, but he stopped himself, mouth scrunched up to one side in anticipation of what was wrong with his wife.

Beginning to stand with her purse, Hero nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah, fine.” The purr in his voice, his accent, almost compelled her to sit back down. This was important, though. She needed to check what the rest of the text said. “Just…drank my drink too fast.”

Villain nodded and gestured in direction of the bathrooms. Hero left without another word, already pulling her phone up closer to her eyes. She unlocked her phone so that she could read the whole message. It read:

EMERGENCY- under the radar meeting located under Great Stars restaurant. Call the bureau as soon as possible and in a discreet location.

Under Great Stars? But that’s where Hero was. There was no way there was criminal activity going on just beneath her feet, was there? She shook her head, pushing the bathroom door open. Checking each stall with a knock and discovering she was alone, Hero decided this was a safe place to contact the bureau.

The phone rang once. “Hero?”

“Yeah, Leader, it’s me. What’s going on? I’m at Great Stars right now.”

Silence followed for the slightest moment. “Already? I haven’t even given you the mission yet. You know you’re supposed to wait for proto-”

“I’m on a date with my husband…and I’m in a cocktail dress. If this is as urgent as you say…” Hero couldn’t walk into some underground crime conference in a dress like she was wearing- all sequenced and- well, it was a little short if she was honest- short for her own taste, at least. It barely reached her knees. Not to mention, there was little defence she could perform while in a dress.

Leader sighed on the other end of the line. “It is urgent. Bunch of gang bosses gathering to make long term alliances. No doubt there’s going to be disagreements and objections. With hundreds of people just above their heads, I don’t doubt there will be casualties.”

Hero cocked her head to the side. “Why would there be casualties? No one in Great Star has anything to do with any mobs. It’s just a bunch of richies and wannabes dining on overly priced servings of food.”

“One of the bosses, man from [Country] was spotted walking in by one of our team members. He owns the whole restaurant, and knowing him, he’ll cause a ruckus with one of the other men or women. One thing will lead to another, Great Stars goes down with a bang.”

It was Hero’s turn to sigh. “How long do I have to get home and change?”

“Change? Hero, I need you down there now.”

“I’m in a-”

“You’re undercover,” Leader snapped. He gave another sigh. “Just…act ditzy and like you stumbled into the wrong place- drunk on white wine. I’ve already contacted Other Hero. He’ll be going in under disguise, too. You’ll recognize him. Just…stall until he gets there, and as soon as he is, get out, get your husband out in case this blows over.”

Taking a deep breath and casting a cautionary glance at the bathroom door, Hero asked, “How do I get in?”

***

“The Underneath” was as anyone might expect a gang boss secret lair to be. Smoke flittered through the room in long, grotesque strings. The air was stuffy with not only the smell of casual cigarettes, but cigars. Hero hated cigars. Beyond the smell, though, it was dark. Lights hung from the ceiling, but Hero could hardly tell what she was looking at beyond the smoky air, though that was also because the lights were dim. Hero almost guessed she would be able to manoeuvre around the room better if she had no sight at all. Trying to touch what little she could see was more misleading than the endless trail of smoke.

Before much longer, Hero stumbled into a doorway- rather loudly at that- and upon stepping through, she found a circle of men and women at a felt-top table. Squinting her eyes wasn’t much of an act- she had already been squinting them from all the nicotine-filled air floating into her pretty whites and making them pink. If anyone had to guess, they’d think Hero was drunk and high.

Someone cleared their throat, and Hero let a bubble of feigned laughter spill out. “Now thas a funny noise.” She made a sound like hehe.

“Who is this?” A man’s voice responded- an angered man’s voice. “This looks like one of the restaurant goers!” The sound of a chair squealing made Hero jump. Her eyes opened just slightly to analyse her situation. Fortunately, she was able to spot individual faces. Unfortunately, she recognized one.

Hero swallowed, tucking her chin down into her chest. “Sorry, must’ve stumbled into the wrong room.” She masked her voice as well as she could, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyways. The person she recognized, recognized her in just the same instant.

Taking a step back, Hero felt the moment of doom every character in a horror or thriller movie does when their back meets something solid while they’re not looking. Hands grasped Hero’s shoulders and, without a word or even a grunt of notice, shoved Hero forward. She nearly tripped on her heels.

Goodness, she couldn’t think, and she couldn’t look up either. She wouldn’t allow herself to accept the fact that she recognized that…that person at the table.

“Hero?”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the voice. No. No. No! Hero’s phone was in her purse- she kept it unzipped in case there was an emergency, but…God, she couldn’t call the bureau, not against…not against Villain. Not against her husband of three years. The man she loved and adored. The one she called Paradise. The one whose lips she became drunk off of.

Hands touched her own and she drew in a sharp gasp. “Don’t touch me,” she rushed out. But this was her husband. If anything, she wanted him to lead her away from this dark and dank room. At the same time, he was…well, he was in this room- this room full of gang and mob bosses. He was- “Are you one of them?” she asked.

Before Villain had the chance to respond, the man from before spoke up, “Villain, what the hell is this? Are you going to dispose of her or not?”

A round of mumbles filled the room and Hero swallowed. The hands holding her own weren’t her husband’s. They couldn’t have been. This man in the room talked to Villain like they knew one another. And what about the whole ‘dispose of her’ ordeal? Dispose of. Kill? Had the people in this room killed those who wandered in? Even if they were drunk and unaware?

“Give me a minute, [Other Villain].” To Hero, Villain whispered, “Come here. It’s okay.”

Hero shook her head. It wasn’t okay. Nothing about any of this was okay. Villain was…Villain was a criminal- one of those disgusting men who shot poor guys when they didn’t kill a meaningless enemy for them.

Leading her out of the room, Villain asked her, “What are you doing down here, love?” How could he use that name for her in a moment like this?

“Me? You. You are supposed to be waiting for me to come out of the bathroom. What is- what are you”- Hero shook her head then realized Villain still held onto her. She brushed him away rather roughly. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain everything later, okay?”

“Later? Villain, there are criminals in there.” She pointed in the direction they came from- at that stupid room of ‘Wanted’ faces. “You need to- no, I can’t do this right now. Oh my…”

Other Hero would be here any moment. Leader had contacted him before he did Hero, which meant he would be so close- so close to busting all the men and women in that room- so close to busting Villain. She should warn Villain, shouldn’t she? He was her husband, the love of her life. Hero had to protect him…but he was a criminal.

Leader’s words floated back to her. ‘One of the bosses, man from [Country] was spotted walking in by one of our team members. He owns the whole restaurant…’

Villain owned the Great Stars and was putting everyone up there in danger by having this stupid meeting. Maybe she should let him be caught.

“Hero.” Villain purred her name, something he always knew plucked just the right strings. “You seemed like you were about to say something.”

“That man asked if you were going to dispose of me. Are you?”

Villain gave the tiniest laugh- though one might say it was more like a huff. “If by ‘dispose of you,’ you mean I am sending you home, then yes.”

Anger was beginning to bubble up inside of Hero. She couldn’t believe how…how nonchalant Villain was being about this. It was as if the fact that he killed people, demanded money, corrupted businesses- and all under the radar- was no big deal at all. Villain was ruining people’s lives and he didn’t even care.

“What happened to ‘our date beneath the stars?’”

Date beneath the stars. Damn Villain! The restaurant was called Great Stars, and the secret room was called The Underneath. In a way, he’d already told her what this date was, which was not a date at all. She couldn’t say that she picked up on his clue, though; it would mean revealing her own hidden identity to him.

“I need to get back. Otherwise, you will become a casualty.”

Casualty. Hero wouldn’t mind if she were a casualty as long as everyone else in the restaurant didn’t become one. “Take me in there with you,” Hero said.

“In the-” Villain’s eyes glanced behind Hero, at the room where all the other bosses were.

Hero nodded. “I’m your wife. Let me be a part of…of whatever this is.” Did she mean it? Partially. She would always protect her husband- it was second nature to her now, but…she didn’t agree with what he was doing, and she would talk him out of it as best she could.

The two stayed silent as Villain considered her offer. After a minute, he asked her, “How did you know to come down here?”

Seeing the sudden glare Villain was pinning her with, Hero felt somewhat frightened. He was looking at her like she was a meal- like she was prey. A rabbit beneath a wolf’s jaws. As much as Hero wanted to deny her husband’s apparent occupation, this look he was giving her was clear evidence.

“You weren’t at the table when I came out. I just…started to wander around.”

“Remind me what your boss’ name is?”

Hero swallowed. She gave a fake name.

“No,” Villain drawled innocently. “I think it was something else…Leader, maybe?” His hand reached up to tuck a piece of Hero’s hair back. She flinched back, but ultimately let his hand settle on her cheek. “I thought it was a coincidence,” he said.

“What do you-”

He shushed her gently, like a baby. “The name always rang a bell, but I was hopeful. I didn’t know for sure until you meandered into my meeting.” Without needing Hero to question him again, Villain declared, “You work for The Bureau.”

“The…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Villain ignored her. “Thing is, I know how The Bureau works, which means I know you aren’t working alone. So, how long do I have to tell the other bosses they jacked up and got us caught?”

Hero looked Villain in the eyes before dropping her gaze to his chest. There was no way out of this. He knew. “Your fellow heathens weren’t the problem.”

“Is that right?”

“What are you doing, Villain?” She touched his hand which was still on her cheek. “I’m your wife. I’m your love, right?”

He smiled at her with a quick flip of the switch. “Of course you’re my love, but…” He dropped his hand away and walked past her towards the smoky room. “Right now, you are an enemy. I need you to go home.” Villain added, “Before you get hurt.”

She didn’t wait. She left The Underneath and Great Stars as quickly as she could. As she left, she pulled her phone out and dialled Leader’s phone. “Call Other Hero off.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “He knows. Villain knows. There’s at least twenty of them down there and Other Hero will die. Do not send him down there.”

“Hero, he’s already pinged me from the building. What the hell happened?”

******

Part 2 here

#NOT A PROMPT #hero x villain #hero x villain story #good hero #evil villain #<- I feel like that doesn't need specified but the tags are popular so...#drabble #hero x villain drabble #yada yada yada #I really liked this one #Up until I read it over to edit it #The life of a writer <3 #fluff #angst #I can't think of other tags

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

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Skin Deep - Part 6

Author’s Note: Honestly, this story is nearing it’s ending. Hard to believe that a little idea I couldn’t shake has now grown into this mini-series! For all my die-hard homies, waiting for the next installment, I hope this is worth your while! If you’re new here, take a look around, see if you like anything and please, let the management know if you have any questions!! As always, writing like this requires the emotional support of people and pets. My dogs, Murphy and Winston, get me through a lot of plot bunnies just by being stalwart companions. My husband, graciously, lets me take these flights of fancy when I probably should be paying better attention to him and his day... and some of my besties here on Tumblr make it possible for me to do this for you guys. @sammy-jo1977 , my sister from another mister! Couldn’t/ Wouldn’t do it without you! To all the folks who follow me... My Minxes! Love you all! Stay well, be kind, and remember that Love, really does conquer all! If you want to be a Minx, send me a note, I’ll happily add you to my tag list! Lastly, be sure to like and share anything that you see on Tumblr that catches your eye. Creative types, we need the constant validation, you see? Without it, like an unwatered plant, we wither on the vine and perish! Be kind to those who help you through the day and reblog! Skin Deep Part 5 - click here for the previous chapter! Pairing: Loki x Reader, Steve, Valkyrie & Thor all make appearances Summary: Continued from Part 5, You and Loki put your plan into action, returning to Farmhouse. When you encounter Steve again, you learn there’s more than two sides to this story. Warnings: Loki’s POV and perspective, including mentions of his time under Thanos. I’m re-writing MCU history here, but some of the main beats are the same, so look out for SPOILERS for Dark World, Ragnarok, and a touch of Infinity War. The SNAP never happened because, reasons.

Empathy used to seem such a human emotion. Loki had no time for that on Asgard, not when Odin denied anything as frivolous as feeling. Hiding in plain sight was the means to survival and if that made the young prince sneaky and sly, so be it. By placing those parts of himself under lock and key; the parts that hurt, the ones that ached, Loki found it was safer to disconnect from others than subject himself to their suffering too.

Operating under the influence of Thanos and his minions when he held the scepter, Loki had purposefully divorced connection of any kind from his mind. It was dangerous. Weak. And moreover, it allowed Loki to do what Thanos commanded without really experiencing the horror, the havoc, of his actions for himself.

Who could hear the screams of women when the voice of Ebony Maw subliminally chanted all the ways that one could be dismembered at Thanos’ hands should Loki fail? What man would shed a tear after the near constant beatings doled out by Black Order members, just for the fun of it? How could someone care about a house, a car, a city, when they no longer cared about themself? Losing the Battle for New York had consequences far beyond the destruction of property. With Thanos’ hold over him vanquished, the walls around his heart, constructed in youth, crashed and burned like the dream of ruling Earth. Suddenly and completely out of reserves, Loki was powerless. And he felt everything. The fresh hurts caused by his manipulated ambitions in the hands of Thanos. The furious feelings of his brother, the inadequacies of his character, the feeble needs that drove his wild ambition washed over him unceasingly. Anger. Loss. Lunacy. Loki learned a hard truth in that moment. He was a monster. A freak. A creature beyond hope and salvation; proving his adoptive father right and his own hopeful heart wrong. Bitterness soured the fallen prince. Endless hours in isolation on Earth, which continued in his father's house, had Loki believing he had no chance of seeing the world outside again, and it hardened his heart further. To feel was so painful, so raw, and so humane. Why bother anyway? All that emoting, those high spirits, all they really did was expose you to derision. What was grief to a goblin? What was horror to a monster? What was love to a villain like him? An evil, conspiring demi-god, with a mind bent toward domination. A damaged, destroyed, deity alone and in pieces. Who would ever give someone like Loki Odinson a chance? Why should they?

Turning to his mother, Loki did everything but ask for forgiveness. In long rambling talks, her projection to his jailed person, the pair talked around ideas of guilt and innocence, of fate and fortune, of destiny versus desire, yet Loki never heard the words he needed in order to truly find peace.

If Frigga was aware of her son’s need for absolution, Loki would never know, as their last exchange was harsh and full of anger. Another stroke of loss, crippling now, because there was nothing Loki could do to change any of it from inside his prison cell. No illusion could conceal the painful ache that consumed him entirely.

Those days were dark, even for a soul as dusky hued as his own, and Loki’s thoughts followed a similar path. If there had been a way for him to shake off this immortal coil, free himself of the burden of living, Loki would have done so and been glad. Death was welcome compared to all this longing and heartache. But life, even a nearly immortal one, was funny.

When Thor provided a chance at redemption, Loki snatched at it, in his own detached way. He played hero, rescuing Jane, aiding his brother. And if he took a bit more in the form of deposing his arrogant, aging father, who would be surprised? He was Loki, God of Mischief, after all. Ruling the Nine Realms without the oppressive oversight of his father allowed Loki to prove himself in ways he never imagined. And Loki wasn’t just good at it. He was great. Of course, it helped that no one knew he was Loki. Living disguised as Odin was often unpleasant, frequently frustrating, but entirely necessary. Being Loki was still too difficult and likely to bring unwanted attention in the form of The God of Thunder, a thing that no one truly wanted, Loki least of all. Return Thor did, along with an unknown sister and the end of Asgard. When confronted with the insanity of Hela’s bloodlust, Loki’s only thought was of his kingdom, now without a ruler. He had worked too hard, too long, to see the land he cared for in the hands of an enemy, even if she called herself sister. Opening the Bi-Frost, panicked, his mind was solely on saving those he had recently held dominion over. They were his people, after all. But he never reached Asgard. Swallowing his fear, Loki focused all his energy on staying alive in a new and distracting environment, initially. What Loki found on Sakaar wasn't a new home base under a flamboyant, ineffective leader that he could control, even if that was his first design. On Sakaar Loki found his loyalty.

The proud, deep resonance of being Asgardian, of being an Odinson, of being capable and cool under pressure. Sure, he had to prove himself to Thor, Valkyrie, Banner and honestly, the rest of the kingdom, but actions speak louder than words. And through his actions on Sakkar, and by extension rescuing the people of Asgard, Loki had shown everybody his true mettle. It was on the deck of a stolen ship headed for Midgard that Loki had made a commitment of sorts. One that was not to the people, so recently saved or for his found family. This time, the promise Loki intended to keep was for himself. Loki was going to change. The problem is, a task like that takes time. Patience. Motivation. It was something that Loki had to work at and it was exhausting. They say that the best things come to those who wait. Loki was learning to wait everyday. Having earned a place at the side of his brother, he worked tirelessly to win over the heroes of his new home planet. Was it easy? Hardly, but Loki wasn’t willing to compromise. Not anymore. A life like Hela’s was not in his runes. Loki was simply going to be better. Not perfect. No one could be as good hearted as Captain America, nor could one be as tech savvy as Stark. So Loki was planning on being the best Loki he could possibly be, and that’s how he found himself going to meetings at The Avengers Tower, a mostly welcome addition to the team. Meetings weren’t all that exciting and boredom was an awful temptation for a deity devoted to mayhem. In fact, Loki spent more time doodling in his notebook than listening to whoever was droning on about whatever part of the world needed the attention of this motley crew. That was, until Pepper Potts hired her new assistant. That you were polite, pretty and pert wasn’t lost on the young god. Sitting outside Mrs. Iron Man’s office, typing away with a phone tucked under your ear, moving faster than anyone he had ever seen was certainly impressive. You were quick witted, clever and most of all, funny. Everyone else seemed to fall under your spell without much effort on your part, something that Loki found frustratingly fascinating. Here he was, struggling to get people to say his name without having a traumatic flashback, while you simply smiled and smarted off prettily, and had everyone singing your praises. But Norns, were you adorable. If he thought about it, and while off planet, Loki definitely had, he could remember the moment he realized that you were the woman he wanted. You were busy, as always, fielding phone calls and flipping through screens yet every moment your flying fingers weren’t hovering over a keyboard or pushing down telephone buttons they curled around a heart shaped charm at your throat. Clearly, it was a habit and one that you weren’t even aware of, still - it transfixed him all the same. Watching you from his side eye, your voice never wavering, your tone always so pleasing, and your nimble digits returning again and again to the small sigil around your neck. “Loki?” “Huh?” Dumbfounded at your call, those deep sea eyes blinked wildly at the sound of his name on your lips. “Hi! Yes, Pepper can see you now. Go ahead, she’s ready!” He rose on stiff legs, adjusting his tie, about to lie to Tony Stark’s woman all for the chance to see you in passing. Who had he become? It started out innocent like that, but soon, Loki was having to invent excuses for being in the office so frequently. Missing files, random visits, even going so far as to buy Tony coffee just for the thrill of seeing you. Something needed to change, and quickly, or Loki was going to blow. On another made up errand, hanging around the executive’s high rise office, Loki was doing a bad job of pretending not to see you. His mind was on your pouty lips as you sipped lemonade through a straw and not on the stately woman seated behind the desk.

“Loki, you’re a man of some… style.” Pepper said it so casually that he almost didn’t hear, his head lost in thoughts that would shame any other person. “I like to think so.”

Shutting her folder with a snap, Pepper smiled, “And you’d love to help your old friend Pepper out, right?” That got his attention, and quickly. Loki, shoving his hands in his pockets, turned to face Pepper with a widening grin, “I feel like I’m being baited.”

“Baited? Never! It’s just, you’re always here and I have a… project that needs the kind of help that you can provide.” At those words you entered the office, ready for action with a notebook and pen, eager and excited. Suddenly, it was all clear to Loki, “Pepper, no.”

The noose closed in on the handsome god as Pepper gathered paperwork without looking his way, “Come on, it’s the Stark Homecoming Gala and the two of you will do great! I have faith in you both. I can’t wait to see what you come up with!” “Really, Miss Potts, I simply can’t-” Stopping short, the strawberry blonde whipped around, almost nose to nose with Loki. Shrewd and straightforward, Pepper interrupted, saying, “You’ve been dancing around my office for weeks now. Clearly you like her and… against all the odds, she likes you too. I’m doing you a favor and when someone does you a favor, you say “Thank You”.” “Thank you.” Nodding curtly, “You’re welcome. Now, make yourselves comfortable, order some dinner, my treat. And do whatever you need to make sure this is one great party!” That’s how Loki found himself sitting at a clear glass table over sweating bottles of iced tea as you discussed color themes and tablecloths. You were shy, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you reviewed notes from previous gatherings both large and small. His hands itched with wanting to do that job himself. “So, what do you think?” It was the first time you had addressed him directly since coming through the door and for a moment Loki couldn’t answer. You were too… not beautiful, that wasn’t the right word, although you were. No, you were too open, too easy to read, and the earnestness you offered him was downright frightening. Sitting forward in the uncomfortable, yet fashionable, office furniture, Loki cleared his throat and again tugged his tie, “What I think is that you should let me take you dinner.” Dropping your eyes, your cheeks colored slightly as your fingers found that locket charm once more, “Loki, I… I don’t know-” Grabbing for your hand, suddenly afraid that you would take those shining eyes away, Loki lowered his voice and did something he never thought he would. He begged. “Please? I find that you’re all I can think about.” It rushed out of him in a torrent, the way truth so often does, and he found himself unable to look you in the eye. Loki was afraid to see rejection on your easy to read face, afraid that wanting you had cracked open the lock box holding his heart, afraid that you would see just how weak you made him. Your fingers twined with his own as you replied, “You didn’t let me finish. I don’t know what took you so long.” Sighing with relief, his face melting into a genuine smile, “Me either.” Over the next two months the pair of you worked tirelessly to plan and execute a perfect party. You were inseparable during the day, heads buried together as you discussed linens and table settings, the quality of cocktail glasses, and debating over a band or a dj. But at night, at night Loki talked about the things that haunted him in the dark. And you loved him in spite of the awful things he had seen and done and said. Others took notice. Loki was more lighthearted, more available. He listened when people spoke and wasn’t constantly doodling during meetings. Yes, Loki was learning how to love through your loving him. If empathy had seemed too humane before, then sharing his life, his love with you, was the kind of immortality that earned someone a place in Valhalla. It was the bravest thing Loki Odinson had ever done and he didn’t mind one bit.

The first time Loki tasted you was burned into his brain, as bright as a flash of lightning. A firefly in a memory jar that he kept returning to, time and again. Loki remembered what you were wearing. He recalled exactly how the light shone in your eyes. If he concentrated, he could tap out the rhythm of your racing pulse as he held you in his arms. It was the night of the gala. Inviting everyone under the Stark Industries banner, up to and including the heroes tasked with saving the world, the event was a way to earn money for one of the many charities Tony supported. The place was full of beautiful people wearing gorgeous clothes under perfect lights set to the hand crafted soundtrack you had created together.

But, Norns, he could still remember the way your eyes sparkled under the lowlights of that hall. How your dress, simple but sophisticated, clung to the fullness of your bottom. Low cut but somehow still modest, Loki couldn’t tear his gaze away from the promise of your curves, willing himself to find anything else as interesting as the idea of you.

You were across the room hanging onto Tony’s every word, eyes bright and cheerfully glowing as you sipped champagne. It made Loki want to do something grand, something suave, something that would demand your attention for his own. Moving towards you, his tuxedo perfectly pressed and fitting better than it had any right to, Loki looked long and lean. Each of his steps seemed to echo, even though the room was full of sound, and you turned your head as if you also heard. Breaking away from the cluster of acolytes surrounding Iron Man, you bit into your lip as the crowd parted, moving closer together one step at a time. It was one of the sexiest things Loki had ever witnessed. Lifting your glass in a toast, taking in the room of mingling millionaires, wealthy hangers on and Avengers, “Well, we did it!” “You did it, my dove, I just hung around and judged everyone.” “Oh stop. I couldn’t have done it without you and you know it.” Playfully you pushed against his shoulder and Loki took advantage, using your momentum to pull you to his side, your curvy figure flush against his own. Crooning into the shell of your ear, his lips brushing over that sensitive skin, “Somehow, love, I think you would have managed.” Before you had time to think, Loki had melded his mouth with your own, stealing your breath along with your heart. Loki’s feet moved in time with the music as he pulled into a dance, laughing in his arms, your cheeks hot and your head swimming. You laughing was, without question, Loki’s favorite sound. Nothing in this world or any other came close to matching the joyful, childlike glee of that enchanting noise. Loki memorized its melody, the rise and fall of your giggle. He had craved it, being away for so long, and now he wanted… no, needed to hear it. But you were the furthest thing from happy at the moment.

"Darling, please. We have to go." Loki tapped his watch, shaking himself free from the memories of your previous life together and barely suppressing his irritation.

Tears filled your eyes as you whipped your arms around Thor’s mighty shoulders, his deep voice grumbly with emotion, "Take care of him, would you? He's a jerk, but Loki is the only brother I have."

"Of course… always. And Valkyrie, your highness, I can’t thank you enough for-"

"No need. Loki, and by extension yourself, will always have a safe haven here in my palace."

Looking on, Loki and Thor embraced almost tenderly before crashing their heads together.

"Stay safe, little brother."

"Be good, Thor."

Eyes on the sky, Val ignored the show of masculine emotion, chastising your plan, "You’re going to start a war, Loki."

Straight backed, Loki turned to the king, "Not on the grass of New Asgard. I will take the fight to them, that is my vow to you."

As Loki offered his hand, Valkyrie shook it, with parting words, "Work on staying alive. You have a tendency to worry your brother."

Solemnly nodding, "As the king commands. Shall we?" With that Loki laced his fingers with yours, leading you a few paces away from the people who loved him most, before summoning the magic that had you both transcending space and time.

This time when your feet touched down it was on the familiar turf of the orchard, surrounded by the scent of apple blossoms and the buzzing of happy bees. Morning had broken and the world seemed full of promise, with the exception of that knot in your stomach.

"Are you ready? Darling?"

"Oh… yes. I mean, I still don't love this plan, but-"

"But it's going to work." Only it was no longer the baritone voice of your long, lean Loki speaking. In his place stood Nick Fury, leather duster and eye patch in place.

"If you say so!" And you clutched your own throat as Natasha’s bored tones came out of your mouth. The suit, skin tight but flexible, molded to your modified form. All in all, you were comfortable, "The boots are a bit much."

"Ya think? This jacket weighs a ton." Pulling at his collar, "Why does he wear a turtleneck anyway?"

"Loki, this is so weird. It feels so weird."

"Agreed, but then, why am I so turned on?"

Laughing, you shook your false red hair, hands resting on Natasha’s waist, "God, I've missed you."

"Same, dearest. Now… let's get your necklace and some answers!"

---

Convincing Bucky to head home had taken a lot of work, but sometime around 2 am Steve had finally seen his friend off. The house was empty. Steve felt the same way.

Turning the black velvet box in his pocket, fingers crushed against the fragile fabric, Steve struggled to feel anger. When that didn't materialize he shot for sadness but even tears seemed beyond his ability.

With a sigh, climbing the same stairs he had trudged up a hundred times before, Steve started going through the motions of bedtime. Only tonight you weren’t there to tease him about the wildly inappropriate amount of toothpaste on his brush. He didn’t have your light footsteps to follow to the bedside or your help with stacking all of your extra, yet entirely essential, pillows on the chair.

Someone must have changed the sheets, he thought. There was no evidence of you and Loki’s adventurous afternoon anymore. Steve made a mental note to thank Buck for that little piece of kindness in the morning.

Shucking his shirt, Steve sat on the mattress, a hand to his forehead. He had lost. Captain America had been bested. Beaten. And by Loki, no less.

Moonlight in silver slivers shone through the window panes, squares of light in the deep of night. Steve was alone. Utterly and totally alone.

And there was no one to blame but himself.

Sighing hard, Steve stood, pacing the floor to work off some of the unspendable anxiety he kept creating. The room still had your energy, your vibe, as you liked to call it, and the feeling was a prickling itch Steve couldn’t quite satisfy. Traces of you were everywhere and something about you leaving all of it, and him, behind was just too big to process. “Damn it.” Even whispering sounded like thunder in the silence of your recently vacated room. His hands, so big, so strong, smoothed along the fabric of your hanging clothes. All that power had done nothing to help Steve get the thing he wanted. Sorting through the baubles and trinkets on your dresser, bottles of perfume he had purchased, necklaces and pins, each with a moment of memory it hurt him to recall. Your watch ticked away the minutes as he stood, stoic and still, surrounded by the shadow of you. In the orchard the birds were waking, their song filling the air, as morning broke in low golden rays. Abandoning his plan for sleep, Steve watched as the light chased away the dark, casting rainbows on the floor. The sun was reflecting off of your Grandmother’s necklace. A pretty, ancient, carved cameo, heart shaped locket. He recalled his own mother owning one just like it, pictures of loved ones pressed inside, holding them as tight as history would allow. Fisting the filigree chain, winding it around his fingers as if it would somehow undo what he had done, Steve slipped it into his pocket before settling back onto the bed. ----

At the back door to the home you so recently shared with Steve, Loki hung back, “I think this is where we split up. You go find your treasure and me… I’m going to find some answers.” Nodding, Natasha’s signature red hair swinging, you squeezed the hand holding your own. It no longer looked like Loki’s long fingered paw, but that was only a skin deep change. You felt the undeniable essence of him in the press of his fingers against your own. “Be careful.” “That’s no fun, dove.” “Loki-” You hated the way your voice broke as you said it, but there just seemed to be so much at stake and you had already lost him once. Sensing your unspoken concerns, Loki flashed you Nick Fury’s best smile, “I will. I promise.”

“Ten minutes.” “Ten minutes.” You watched the black coated back of your charmed paramour as he opened the shed door, hoping that he’d find something worth knowing in that place out of sight. Inhaling deeply you twisted the doorknob as quietly as possible, letting yourself into what was once your kitchen, “What a mess.” It was impossible not to notice the unwrapped leftovers and empty bottles littering the table. An overturned trash barrel, crumpled beer cans littering the counter, things that Steve, your Steve, would never have tolerated. All evidence that the grand evening he’d envisioned had been thwarted by Loki’s arrival and your collective escape.

You started up the stairs, praising Natasha's footwear for its stealth, when you heard the toilet flush and the unmistakable shuffle of Steve’s feet on the carpet. There was no place to hide on the wide stairwell. It was time to see if Loki's plan was going to work.

Voice blurry, eyes rubbed red and raw, you couldn't deny that Steve looked like shit, “Bucky? That you? You back?” Steve’s voice bounced around the brightening room as morning sunlight filtered through the soft sheers you had picked out for exactly this reason. Panicked, you backed into the railing with an over loud “Oof!” “Nat? What are you doing here? I thought you and Fury were headed to New Asgard?” Suddenly wide awake and wondering, Steve rushed to your costumed side, eager for information. The man in front of you now bore little resemblance to the angry Avenger you had escaped from hours before. This man had hair sticking up in odd angles from near constant finger raking. This man had a hint of a stuffy nose and red rimmed eyes, all indicators that tears had been shed. Now those blue eyes were scrutinizing you closely, full of concern.

“Uh… We... We got intel. Yea, intelligence, that Loki was headed back this way. Turned around… and uh, here we are.” One of those sandy blonde eyebrows lifted, “Natasha?”

Squaring your shoulders, channeling that cool confidence you’d see Black Widow display over and over, “Steve?” Something about your tone of voice convinced him in a way your words couldn’t. He visibly relaxed, those broad shoulders going slack as he asked, “Didn’t make it to Norway, then?"

Nodding a negative, you felt the unfamiliar brush of her red hair at your cheek and had to fight the urge to tuck it away, “No. Loki’s using some sort of transporting power to move them around. Fury suggested I keep an eye out here, in case they come back this way.” “She won’t be back, Nat. There’s nothing for her here.” To you, Steve sounded so sad, so removed, that you had to will yourself not to comfort the giant before you. “That’s not true!” It came out of you forcefully, thoughtlessly, and you saw the shock register on the Captain’s face. “That is, Fury and I… we… have reason to believe that she will come back. They left with nothing, Steve. She’ll need clothes… maybe some shoes… and-” Swallowing hard, you didn’t want to give anything away, “-a necklace from her grandmother.” Steve, patting his pocket, felt the weighted chain and it’s heart shaped locket, “I don’t think-” Stepping up to his bulky form, suddenly aggressive, you started, “Never mind what you think, Captain. We're here for a necklace... the necklace. Our intel suggests that your former flame might return for it and… And, I want it, with me, as a means to subdue her when she arrives." Sounding forceful and official was enough to back Steve down. Just a touch deflated, you watched him shrug, “If that’s what you want, Nat, here-” From his pants he pulled out the shining bauble, a trinket really, but full of sentiment and memory. Sitting in his palm, the tiny heart that held the picture of your grandmother and mother looked so small, almost unreal. Reaching for it with wet eyes, you smiled at Steve as you lifted the charm and chain, “Thank you, Steve. Thank you.” Nodding deeply, that golden head bobbing, “You’re welcome.” The large grandfather clock could be heard ticking throughout the house. The sun was gaining on the day and you, dressed as Natasha stood in silence in front of a somber Steve. For another long beat nothing was said, then, as if sensing a shift in your conversation, Steve flashed your fake Natasha a weak smile, “I could use some breakfast. How about you?”

“Um… sure. Yea, ok. Breakfast.”

Steve started moving again, downstairs towards the cluttered kitchen when he paused, "So how did you get back so fast? Cause that's like a 7 hour flight, even with you in the cockpit." “Steve…” You could hear it, the whining almost pleading tone that signaled the end of Loki’s well planned charade. That wasn’t enough to stop Steve. He broke hard, one of those strong arms stopping you in your tracks before you could reach the lower level. “It’s clever, I have to give you guys that. Almost perfect, really.” Panic rising, you doubled down on the ruse, struggling to keep your voice even, “I don’t know-” Blocking you in, his body the perfect unmovable buffer, “Loki’s here too, isn’t he?” Pushing against “Steve, I… I don’t…” “Don’t lie. You don’t have to…” “But… how-?” “You’re not mean enough to play Natasha, doll. Not by a long shot.”

--- It was strange to be seated at the table and chairs that you and Steve had picked out together one sunny Saturday when you thought that your future was going to be Loki-less. Your place, the one that you had imagined filling with children that had golden hair and bright blue eyes, felt like a set. Something false and fake. A facade, put together simply for show. Steve must have felt it too because his fingers drummed against the white washed table incessantly. Clearly he had something on his mind. “Steve-” “No. No. Please, let me just get this out, ok?” Raising an eyebrow, you waved at him to continue, nervous but interested in what the super soldier needed to explain. With a shaky inhale, running his constantly moving fingers through his golden locks, Steve caught your eye and didn’t waiver. “When I saw you… No, that’s not right. Let me start at the beginning. “When Loki left Earth, you… you were so sad. It hurt me to see you so… deflated.” “Steve, I-” “You know it’s true. When he returned to Asgard, something in you, it dimmed, and I just couldn’t allow that… Not when I felt the way I did about you. “I don’t think you realize just how incredible you are… how full of life! And since I had already missed one chance to be with you, I knew I needed to prove that I could be the man you needed… If you forgot about Loki along the way, even better. “Only… you never did. I waited years for you, ya know, doll? Years. And just when I thought there was no chance with you, Nat gave me a reason to hope. “She was your friend. An ally. Someone you could trust… someone I could trust. I swear it started out that innocently, at least for me. I just wanted to make you smile again. But she had other plans. Plans that came from higher up the ladder of SHIELD. “Fury, he wanted us to watch you… something about Loki being too powerful. And-”, grabbing your hand tightly, Steve emphasized his point, “-I promise you that I had no idea about his success, or the messages he had sent to you through Nick. Like you, I thought that Loki was gone. Missing. Never coming back.” “I… I believe you Steve. I know that you didn’t do all this on your own… but what was Nick hoping you’d find out? I knew less than nothing about what was going on!” “I think he was worried that Loki would get to you first. That if… when Loki returned, you would be his first stop. Then you would know about Loki’s success and, frankly, Fury’s failures. You would also know… well, everything you know now. That Fury had you tailed, lied to, and led on in an effort to stop Loki from out flanking him.” Frenzied and frantic, you felt anger boiling up inside of you, “But I thought Loki was gone forever. There was no hope for him and I… and Natasha, she told me that he was dead.” “All a part of Fury’s plan to keep you neutralized and Loki away. If Loki thought that you’d ignored his letters, that you no longer loved him, why would he come back here? And, if that didn’t work… when Loki came back and you were with me, what else could keep him on Earth?”

Whispering with realization, “So, they used you too.” Steve sighed and buried his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, “Don’t feel bad for me. I let them use my love for you, let them twist it up and shape it as they needed. Honestly, I wish I could tell you that it was for you, but it wasn’t. It was for me. I wanted you, so, so badly. I didn’t care what strings were attached. And we built a life together, you and me. I thought I could outrun the reality of the constant monitoring and daily reports. Telling Natasha and Nick about every word and each email. Don’t you see, I love you… and I wanted you, however I could get you.” Shaking your head, Natasha’s red wisps flying, “That’s not love, Steve. I don’t know what that is… but love isn’t it.” “No?” With a loud thunk, Steve slammed a small velvet box on the table between you. “Is… Is that what I think it is?”

“Last night. It was going to happen last night. Our friends here, under the lights and the stars, I was going to ask you to marry me. I still would if-” Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, “If Loki hadn’t stepped back into our lives.” “-If Loki hadn’t stepped back into your life.” It made you both laugh in a sad way, how you finished the same thought, and for a fleeting second you could see why you had allowed Captain America to sweep you off your feet. He was a lot of things to you now, but there was a time when he had been almost everything. The evidence of that was in the small black square that said nothing but spoke volumes. “Steve, I don’t know if I would have said yes… even without Loki’s… arrival. I think I have always known that you and I… we are very different people.” Sitting back in his chair, his gaze still locked on your own, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what I’ve done… what I’ve said… How, shit, how I’ve behaved. I could say that it was my duty. I could tell you it was out of love, but the plain truth is that I have always been jealous of what you and Loki share.” “You’ll find it Steve. You really will. There’s a person out there waiting for you. And once you’ve found them, oh Steve, you’ll see that this… what we had, it’s a shadow. An illusion. Because love, real love, doesn’t come with caveats and catches. It is an undeniable force which, in my case, even the boundaries of time and space can not deny.” Something like a sob burst out of Steve, and you were surprised to see tears in his eyes, “I was so wrong. Could you ever forgive me?” “I want to, Steve. I really do... “ What more could you say? Patting his hand you started to rise, “I have to go now. Loki and I need to keep moving and I don’t want to risk running into Nick and Natasha. At least, not yet, anyway.” “Where are you planning to go?” “To the Avenger’s Tower. I believe I know what Mr. Fury has been planning all along.” Loki’s strong voice entered the conversation as smoothly as his arms wrapped possessively around your waist. Steve took in the protective stance of your returned lover with a raised eyebrow, and without further comment asked Loki, “Really? And how are you going to breach the building? They’ll be looking for you, even with disguises… Fury is no fool. Plus, there’s little chance that Tony hasn’t activated a million safety and security protocols by now.” Only interested in you, Loki refused to give Steve any of his attention, “Getting in can’t be that hard! I’ll figure it out when I get there. Ready pet?” With a gentle push under his broad hands your feet started to move towards the door. Loki was eager to be off and away, especially after hearing so much of Roger’s confession. Just knowing what Steve had done, manipulating you while also convinced of his love for you; it was enough for Loki to commit murder. He was having quite a difficult time not tearing the good Captain’s limbs off his body. Softening his tone, Steve practically pleaded, “Loki. Wait. I… I can help.” Turning his attention fully to your former flame, Loki purred venomously, “You can help? I’d love to know what entails, Captain.” “I can get you into the place and take you exactly where you need to go. Fury’s going to hate it, but I’m tired of taking orders that hurt the people that-” His pause was as lingering as the look he gave you, “- That I love.” Before Loki could offer a sincerely sassy reply you grabbed his sleeve, tugging, “Um… Excuse us a minute Steve.” Pulling him down the hall of a home that felt like a familiar faced stranger, you waited until you had a bit of distance from Steve before harshly whispering, “How long were you listening?”

Serving you that small, sexy smile, Loki grinned, “Long enough. How did you know I was there?” “You are sneaky, but even you, God of Mischief, cast a shadow.” Swinging you close enough to catch your mouth with his own, Loki pressed a sweet kiss there before answering, “A mistake I will be careful not to make again!” “The tower, huh? That’s where you want to go?” Grabbing you at the swell of your hips, grinding his frame against your own, “Where I want to go, my darling, is to the nearest bed, preferably naked, with you and you alone.” Your hands traced over the lapels of his borrowed leather duster, pausing only to jerk him closer by the supple fabric, “Hmm… is that so?” “Oh yes…” Loki’s buttery grumble filled your ear as his strong hands dug into the flesh of your bottom. For a moment you thought he’d give in to temptation, his sweet lips teasingly close to your own upturned mouth, “But-” On your toes, leaning into Loki’s sturdy, leather draped frame, you paused, “Ugh. But?” Moving you to a safer, less kissable, arms length away, Loki sighed with the same frustration you felt, “-But, where we need to go, as soon as possible, is the Tower.” Moaning grumpily, you stepped out of the arms you longed to linger in, “I was afraid you were going to say that.” “I know it’s less than… ideal, love, but I did find something useful before the good Captain unburdened his soul this morning.” “And that is?” “Fury’s plan. At first I couldn’t figure out exactly what he was after. What did Fury want? How was I involved?” Loki was dragging this out, loving how it kept you hanging onto his every word, and you rolled your eyes, “Well? What is it? Weapons? War?” “All of that, yes… and… yours truly.” That triumphant smile that filled Loki’s whole face lit up his mischievous eyes. Tilting your head, struggling to make sense of what Loki had just told you, “What do you mean, you. Fury wanted you… to do what, exactly?’ “Loki was going to be the patsy.” You both turned toward the sound of Steve’s baritone at the door, suddenly remembering that the Good Captain was still there and that he was waiting to see what you were going to do next. Leaning his 100 year old bones into the doorframe, Steve crossed his arms, “The fall guy. An example of what happens if you cross SHIELD.” “I think, my dear Mr. Rogers, that you mean, I am to be used as an example of what happens if one crosses Nick Fury.” Loki countered, slinging an arm over your shoulder protectively. The idea was frightening. A man like Fury had too much power, too much at his disposal. Just knowing the lengths he had gone to in order to keep you and Loki apart was scary enough. Making enemies of your friends. Threatening the people you loved. Selling your affection to Steve in an effort to control Loki.

Now, the knowledge that all of it was done in an effort to ensure that Nick Fury was the toughest guy in the galaxy, it made your stomach clench. “What do you mean, an example?” “Unless my intelligence is flawed, I believe that Fury was going to kill me. Is that correct, Captain?” Steve felt the weight of two sets of eyes on him. Yours, full of fearful love and blind hope that this was all just some misunderstanding. Innocent and naive and as lovely as he could ever remember. Loki’s were reflecting a deeper understanding. The kind of knowledge that only time in the trenches teaches. There was no answer from Captain Rogers. None was needed. Honesty, final and resolute, was out in the open. “Look. I know I’m not the guy you want on your side. I’ve… I haven’t been the man I needed to be. Not for you-” Steve locked his bright blues onto you, offering a small smile that spoke of sadness before facing Loki, “-Or you, Loki. But if you let me help you now, I promise that I can get you into the tower and maybe, one day, you won’t think so little of me.”

Around you the morning gained strength. Somewhere nearby birds chirped wildly, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in the modest little farmhouse and its implications on intergalactic politics. Without moving a muscle, Loki plainly asked you, “Do you trust him, dearest?” Squaring your shoulders, you crossed your arms, staring down the man called Captain America. Nodding decisively, “I do. I don’t think he’d spill everything like that only to turn on us. He’s not so bad Loki, really.” “We’ll see about that. For now, we trust Steve. Ok, what’s your plan, Rogers?” --- “Hey. I… I have one other thing to show you.” Steve was dressed for action in his branded tactical gear, looking every inch the super soldier that Dr. Erskine envisioned. “Steve, we have to get moving. Loki’s eager and -” “Just open it, ok?” The envelope was thick with folded paper, the flap tucked under and not sealed. Clearly it had spent time in and out of pockets, the edges frayed and tattered. In exasperated curiosity you gingerly pulled the sheets free.

Shaking, your hands trembled holding the once white documents as your voice thickened, “Is this… is this what I think it is?” Cocking his head playfully, that rueful smile pulling at his full mouth, Steve almost seemed cheerful as he teased, “It’s yours. I think something about this place has always been yours and I want you to have it.” “But-” Folding your small hands in his mighty ones, Steve squeezed gently, “It was a wedding present, or it was supposed to be.” “But we’re not getting married.” “I know. Still-” “I can’t, Steve. It’s yours. Your house, your farm, your dream.” Shaking his head, disagreeing, but feeling lighter than he had in decades, Steve insisted, “Too late, I’m afraid. It’s done. Actually, that version of the deed has been signed since our second week here.” As realization sunk in you appraised the man changing right before your eyes, astonished but exhilarated, “Where will you go?” “I dunno. Think I might need to be alone for a bit. Maybe see the world… but first-” “First, we have to stop Nick Fury.”

To Be Continued... My Minxes: @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity @mizfit2 @sammy-jo1977 @wolfsmom1 @jessiejunebug @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person @roguewraith @toomanystoriessolittletime @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote

#loki x reader #loki x you #you x loki #loki smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #mcu smut #MCU fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction

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dontshootmespence · 3 years ago

Text

Home Again

Summary: Spencer and Luke are happily married when the world goes to shit. In the chaos, they’re separated. After years, each one presumes the other dead. Until one day.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Luke Alvez

Word Count: 3,564

Warning: Zombie apocalypse shit. Character deaths.

A/N: This fulfills my apocalypse au square for @cmbingo.

Inside their mid-size apartment, Luke dances to his favorite music as he moves about the kitchen, getting dinner ready for when Spencer comes home. A medical researcher’s work was never really done, but in the years since they’d gotten married, Spencer made a commitment to be home by every night at 6PM unless they discussed otherwise.

Turning on the nightly news, Luke saw what looked like a pretty severe car accident on the road that Spencer normally took on the way home. He pulled out his phone and dialed, hoping to give his husband a head’s up about the driving conditions, but it went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Spence, it’s me. I mean, of course it’s me,” he laughed. “But anyway, I’m working on dinner now and I just saw the news. There’s a big accident on I-275 so you might want to take another way home if you can. I’ll see you in a little bit. Love you.”

As Luke slipped the chicken into the pot, he heard what sounded like another car wreck and ran to the window, sticking his head out to see a car on its side and one man running clumsily after another. A knock at the door distracted him from the damage on the street below.

“Luke, it’s Steven. Open up.”

Steven was their neighbor and a college student. They rarely ever spoke. “Steven, what’s wrong?”

“There’s something wrong, man. People are going crazy out there. They’re attacking each other and...and eating each other. It’s like there are...”

Luke couldn’t help but laugh. “Do not say zombies. There’s no such thing, kid.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Steven insisted. “Something is happening. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pack up some essentials and get moving. Apparently, it started at the Recovered Exploration Lab downtown and people, zombies, whatever they are, they’re headed this way. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Steven sped down the stairs in a panic, leaving Luke’s focus to drift back to the television. “We’re here just above Recovered Exploration Lab where the breakout of what looks like zombies seems to have started,” the news anchor started. “On the ground, people are ripping and tearing and eating each other in what seems to be a real-life apocalypse, folks. At this time we don’t know what caused it, but we can assume that the staff at Recovered Exploration have been keeping secrets. This is WLVW Channel 2 News. Back to you in the studio.”

Luke couldn’t believe what he was hearing and ran back to the window to see even more people than before ambling down the street. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his phone again and dialed Spencer again. “Spence, have you heard what’s on the news? Are they talking about it on the radio? They’re saying it’s a real life zombie apocalypse out there and I’m, I’m, I’m, uh, looking out the window and people are attacking each other. There’s a swarm of people heading toward the apartment so I’m grabbing some essentials for us. Meet me at our diner okay? Then we can figure out what to do. Be safe, Spence. I love you.”

Running into their bedroom, Luke grabbed the biggest backpack he could find and anything he thought they might need. Spare clothes, toiletries, canned food, a can opener, toilet paper, some sharp knives and his guns from work. “What else?” He spoke into the empty room. On the wall hung their favorite picture from their wedding. He and Spencer wore matching tuxes and walked hand in hand along a lit-up, tree-lined path. Lost in thought, the commotion brought him back. He stuffed the picture into the backpack and ran downstairs, hoping that this was all a dream.

----

Having heard both of Luke’s messages, Spencer took an alternative route home, but unfortunately, he ran into another accident, slamming on the brakes as two cars crashed into stopped cars in front of them. With traffic at a standstill, he pulled his phone out and tried to call Luke. Obviously, there had to be another explanation for what was happening.

As he was about to try calling for a second time, he saw someone in the wreckage ahead, who he’d previously assumed to be dead, jerk back to life. Slowly, she go up from the ground and shuffled toward an office that had his back turned. When an ear-shattering scream resounded through the air, Spencer dropped his phone. She wasn’t the only one.

A man from a nearby car knocked on Spencer’s window. “Buddy, we need to get out of here. You have anything that might help?”

“Like what?” Spencer asked, voice quivering as he picked up his phone from the car floor and shoved it back in his pocket. Quickly, he searched the car for anything that might be helpful. His keys.

“Anything in the trunk?” The man asked, grabbing Spencer’s arm and yanking him away from the incoming crowd. “We need to move now.”

His mind had blanked. After grabbing the emergency preparedness bag from the trunk of the car that Luke insisted he have, he and the unnamed man ran over the highway barrier and away from the traffic. “I need to get to the diner on Jones and Washington,” Spencer said. “Do you know it? My husband said to meet him there.”

Staring back into the growing see of screaming and ambling bodies, the man replied. “I don’t think you’re going that way, kid.”

----

Stumbling down into the street they lived on, Luke looked around in horror. He ran. He ran as hard and as fast as his body would allow, staying clear of any of the infected like his life depended on it. Right now, it did.

Luke wavered between walking and running in the general direction of the diner he knew so well. For five years, every Friday, he and Spencer would head there for a greasy burger and fries and some of the best milkshakes either of them had ever tasted.

The farther he traveled from the apartment, the less insanity he seemed to encounter, but still, his heart beat with reckless abandon as he peered around every corner. If whatever this was didn’t get resolved soon, every street, every city, every state would be something to fear. No longer would he and Spencer be able to go to the local park and bask in the sun. No more walks on the beach. No more calm and colorful sunsets. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he muttered to himself. “Just get to the diner.”

Using landmarks to guide his way (so that he could keep his phone on and pray for a call from Spencer), he crossed what he believed was the halfway point between the apartment and the restaurant. They now lived in a world where people ate each other and rose from the dead, but it was the groups of human beings taking this whole situation as a free for all that he had to avoid most of all.

As he hurriedly turned the corner, Luke bumped into a group of nervous but determined young adults. The youngest couldn’t have been 16 and the oldest topped 25 at the most. By the looks of the straggling adults, most of them had already lost someone or taken this new world as an excuse to ditch their families and fend for themselves. The most self-assured of the bunch stepped in toward Luke and looked at his bag. “Seems like you’re well stocked.”

“For a couple days,” he replied, carefully taking a small step backward. “For my spouse and I until this whole thing blows over.” He spoke the words, but something told him ‘this whole thing’ wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.

With each step Luke took back, the young man stepped forward and tried to yank the bag from his grasp. “Sorry, kiddo. That ain’t happening.” Before the other man could swing his gun from his back and into his hand, Luke had his pulled and aimed. “Don’t. I don’t wanna hurt people. You walk away. I’ll walk away and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

The next moments passed by in a blur - kids running, bullets flying. Luke didn’t glance back, running away from the screams and toward the diner with tears in his eyes. He just shot a kid. A kid who was just trying to survive in whatever the hell this new world was.

----

Days passed before Spencer and his party of misfits arrived at the diner. Jim was the man that shook him to reality. On the way they’d also run into a single mother named Avery and her 3-year-old son, Chase, who were being harassed by a couple of guys who just didn’t want to take no for an answer. Although they tried to resolve things peacefully, Jim killed the one that pulled a gun on him and the other ran away. From there, they all went to Jim’s former precinct and grabbed whatever guns they could find. Unlike Luke, Spencer wasn’t used to holding guns, but he was going to have to get accustomed quickly.

Normally, the diner looked reminiscent of the 50s. Crisp black and white checkered floors, red leather seats, clean white tables and chrome chairs at similarly colored bar-tops. Now there were skid marks on the floors, dinged counters and bits of food all over the floor. The kitchen had already been ransacked so very little decent food was left, but they stocked up on what they could and waited.

Nearly a week went by before Jim insisted they leave. “I know your husband was going to meet you here, Spencer, but if we stay any longer we’re putting ourselves in danger. We don’t wanna use all our gunpower to defend this place when we can’t stay here.”

Spencer knew he was right, but the thought of leaving hurt his heart. “I’m never going to see my husband again, am I, Jim?”

The older man just looked at him sadly, resting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Call him. You’ve still got a little power left. Leave a message. And hope for the best. I’ll give you a minute before we head out.”

Spencer thanked him softly and went into the back room before pulling out the phone. Shakily, he dialed Luke one more time. “Hey, babe. I’ve been at the diner for almost a week. I don’t know what happened to you...or,” his voice broke, “or if you’re even still alive, but if you are, I’m headed toward my mother’s nursing home. I need to see if she’s okay. I have no idea if we’re ever going to see each other again. I hope we are. But if we aren’t, I need you know that the years we’ve been together, the years we’ve been married, they’ve been the best and happiest of my life. Studying what I study, it can suck the life out of you, but seeing you in the mornings, the sun shining on your face, it gave me that little push I needed to go do what I do. You changed my life, Luke. I love you so much. If you’re out there, and you can’t get to me, just know that, I love you with everything I have.”

Quickly, he ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket before breaking down sobbing. He allowed himself a few minutes and then met Jim, Avery and Chase outside. They’d all agreed to head in the direction of his mother’s nursing home. Spencer prayed that Luke and his mother were still alive. And safe.

----

After shooting the kid, Luke ran into a building a melted down. Sure, he’d had to shoot people before. He’d killed people before. But this was different. This was practically a kid whose only crime was trying to look out for the group he was with. Between dodging zombies and dodging other people, it took Luke almost two full weeks to get to the diner, but by the time he arrived, if Spencer had been there, he was gone.

Despite the possibility of nearby zombies or walkers or whatever he’d heard people calling them, Luke screamed at the top of his lungs and lost it. Without finding him here, there was no guarantee that they were ever going to see each other again. In his search for any salvageable supplies, he came across random papers, broken glass, ripped bandages - but nothing of use.

When he glanced down at the floor, he saw Spencer’s signature and hurriedly picked it up, but the other pieces of whatever note he left were too ripped up and dirty and stepped on for him to make out what it said. As his fingers slid over his husband’s name, a tear fell from his eye. If Spencer was still alive, he was likely headed in the direction his mother lived.

“Hello?” A small voice broke Luke from his train of thought. He spun around, his hand on the gun in his holster. “Please don’t hurt me,” the girl said. Dirt and dried blood covered her face and her eyes conveyed a lifetime of hurt. “Please.”

Luke lowered his gun. ��How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Luisa had been right in the eye of the storm at the start of this whole thing weeks earlier. “My papa died trying to save my mama. And then she was bitten trying to save my sister and I. She saved me, but it was too late for Josephine. My mother lost too much blood. She fell asleep and never woke up and I had to- I had to put her out of her misery. I’m all alone.”

“Not anymore, kiddo. “You’ll stay with me.”

“Thank you - “

“Luke.”

“Thank you, Luke.”

----

The weeks that followed put Spencer’s band of misfits went through the ringer. After detouring around a group of people that would’ve outnumbered them three to one had they decided they wanted trouble, they had to fight their way through a hoard of walkers. Though they had few weapons, they managed, but not without Jim being bitten.

“Kid, you know without a medic around this tourniquet is just stopping the inevitable. The bastard nicked my brachial artery,” Jim said, heavily drawing in each breath as it came to him. “You’ve got to take the weapons and keep those two safe for as long as you can. Maybe find your husband again.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat. “I could go find-”

“No way. There’s a hoard at our backs and only Lord knows what up ahead. I won’t have you risking that for me.”

Over and over again, Spencer tried to reason with him, but in a way Jim was right. He had no idea what was up ahead and even if he found a medic there was no guarantee that he’d get back in time to save Jim. “I’m sorry,” Spencer said, placing a handgun in his palm. “I really am.”

“I know, kid. I have you find your husband again. Now get going.”

Once Spencer grabbed the weapons Jim had, he gathered up Avery and Chase and headed out into the unknown. A gunshot rang out and the crows fled into the sky. Hope was waning fast.

----

On their way to Diana’s nursing home, Spencer, Avery and Chase faced no further challenges. As soon as they detected voices, they headed away from them, preferring to stay in their small group of three than risk bringing other people into their ranks. They crossed the occasional zombie, but they were quickly dispatched.

Finally, they reached Diana’s home, but they were too late. Spencer found her alive, but too bloodied and bruised to move. “Mom, I’ll find someone. I won’t let you die,” Spencer said softly as he cried. “I can find someone to help and we can get you out of here.”

Diana was nothing if not a realist. “I’m going to die, Spencer. Soon probably. I just hope I can keep my wits about me until the sleep sets in. How’s Luke? Where is he? Is he-?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer sobbed. “You really want to talk about my life right now?’

“Yes. When I first saw this on the news, I thought I was having a nightmare, but it’s real and it’s unreal and I just want a sense of normalcy.”

Spencer radioed Avery to tell her where he was before curling in next to his mother. “I was on my way home from work when this all started. Luke was home. I-I haven’t seen him since and I don’t think I’m ever going to see him again. Mom, I’m so scared of being alone.”

“You’ll find him again,” Diana said weakly.

“How do you know?”

“A mother knows. Remember?”

Spencer grabbed her hand and started reading the nearest book he could find. “Spencer...” she said, whisper soft. “It’s time for me to go to sleep.”

“No, mom, just a little bit longer.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

Diana fought for each breath. “Don’t let me turn into one of those things.”

Spencer choked out a sob. “I won’t.”

“And stay hopeful.”

He promised he would, though he wasn’t sure it was a promise he could keep. “Mom?”

Nothing.

Before she could come back, he took a small gun out of his pocket, aimed, and fired. “I’ll try, Mom.”

----

Days passed into weeks passed into months passed into years. In a world changed, it changed those within in. Luke, once a confident and self-assured government agent, turned inward, going from one “safe haven” to another and sheltering himself and Luisa until their hideaway was discovered and they needed to move on, never once fighting for a place to call a makeshift home.

Through the years he lost himself, finding that instead of helping others, he did only what he had to do for he and Luisa to survive, never once taking a life, only dispatching zombies when need be.

On the other hand, Spencer found himself hardening against the world. More than a year after everything began, Avery was overtaken by a hoard they passed, shoving Chase out of the crowd and toward Spencer. With her last breaths, she begged Spencer to take care of her son. Five years later, he and the almost nine-year-old boy headed a group of nearly 50 people, though numbers dwindled and rose from month to month.

Spencer became a leader, but he confided in no one, killed if it was necessary to defend his “home”, and rarely spoke, shutting down in the face of any emotional connection. To connect was to lose, and he had lost enough.

“Daniel and Alexa, you’ll accompany me into town for some supplies.” In addition to defending the makeshift community they’d developed, Spencer always sent out scouts to ensure that no one touched the supplies in surrounding towns. Less-looted stores were low in number and eventually he would need to conduct another reconnaissance mission to find supplies, but for now they would survive. “We leave within the hour.”

Smiles were few and far between, for Spencer more than most. However, the little boy he’d ended up raising as his son brought him a sliver of joy, along with his memories of Luke. They coaxed him to sleep at night and in the morning, he used them to make it through the day. “Chase, you know I love you, right?”

“I do, Spencer. Be careful okay? I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll be back.” He never promised, knowing more than most that sometimes the world was cruel. “Be good for Sandra.”

Though he was born before the world went to shit, Chase had essentially grown up in this new world. He was disciplined and trustworthy and more an adult than any almost nine-year-old boy should ever have to be.

On the way to gather supplies, Spencer zoned out, only gathering little bits of the conversation going on behind him. Both Daniel and Alexa had lost spouses at the start of the apocalypse and something told Spencer they were seeking comfort in one another now that they were “safe.” Funny how the meaning of a word could change in such a short amount of time.

While out for supplies, Spencer had insisted that no one go anywhere alone, so the three entered the hardware store in search of anything they could use as a weapon. As he gathered ropes and zip ties and wrenches into his supply bag, he heard Alexa and Daniel call for him. “Boss!”

Spencer approached the two, their guns raised and ready to fire. In the line of sight was a young woman, sheltered by a man. He closed his eyes and begged the universe for this not to be a joke, his mind playing tricks on him. When Spencer opened his eyes, he remained. “Luke?”

He smiled and immediately broke into tears. “Spence? You’re, you’re-”

Pushing past Daniel and Alexa, Spencer ran into Luke’s arms on the verge of tears, pressing his lips to his husband’s for the first time in nearly seven years. “I’m alive. And you’re here. How are you here?”

“Because I’m a different person. You?”

“Me too,” Spencer said sadly. “Everything’s changed. Except what I feel for you. I’m finally home again.”

#cmbingo #cmbingo21 #criminal minds bingo #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid #luke alvez #reidvez #ralvez #spencer reid x luke alvez #luke alvez x spencer reid #dontshootmespence #home again

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squeeneyart · 4 years ago

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Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 23

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

It's harder to say it out loud.

Jon and Martin catch up.

As the seconds ticked by and Martin failed to respond, Jon adjusted a small bag slung across his shoulder. “It’s um- I understand this might come as a shock. I hadn’t meant for my entrance to be so dramatic, but this place seems to insist on a particular atmosphere.”

Martin heard the words as they slipped past on the wind, the skin drawing his full attention. It wasn’t like his mother’s, dusty and worn and so very old. No, this seemed to shine in the rain and seawater, but his chest constricted at the sight of it.

Despite Jon’s efforts to conceal it, a shiver ran through his shoulders.

“Right, sorry,” Martin croaked out, then coughed until his throat behaved itself. He found his hand still gripping the door knob and gave it a twist. “Sorry. Yeah, come on in.”

Jon’s stiff shoulders dropped, and with some eagerness he walked up the stairs to escape the rain. “Sor- Thank you. It’s not the best night to be out dressed like this.”

He wasn’t wrong. Warm light poured out from the doorway onto the front porch, illuminating Jon in his soaked-through fleece jumper and jeans, a far cry from the waterproof seal coat in his arms. It was no wonder that Jon was quick to enter the house and leave the damp, cold night behind. With one last look outward, Martin dipped inside and shut the door behind him.

Jon seemed uncertain where to go next and stood next to the coat hooks, leaning from one foot to the other.

“Do you want to...um, put it down? You can hang it up in the shower if it’s still wet,” Martin said, placing his own coat on a hook as casually as he could manage. “I don’t know if hooks would be, um, good for it?”

With a nervous glance downwards, Jon nodded and slipped his shoes off. “Right. That makes sense. I guess it is dripping everywhere.” Yet he continued to stand on the front rug.

Ah, right. “If you don’t want to lose sight of it, that’s-”

“It’s not- I’ll go hang it up now. Is it down the-”

“Second door on the right.”

“Right.” And Jon stalked down the hall into the toilet and closed the door, leaving Martin by the front entrance.

Martin wasn’t going to scream and freak Jon out right off the bat. Not that Jon worked too hard to give him the same courtesy.

Jon was a-

Shit. Martin pressed a shoulder against the wall and forced himself to breathe. It was fine. It made sense, right? Jon’s interest in selkies was bound to come from somewhere. He was knowledgeable in a way that would’ve required access to a selkie directly, and finding one couldn’t have been easy.

There was a twisting in his upper chest, but he heard the door down the hall open and straightened himself out. Jon came out in a plain t-shirt and different trousers, evidently leaving his other clothes to dry.

He rubbed his upper arms. “An explanation is probably necessary.”

Martin took a good look at him, all skinny limbs and uncertain glances. Bags much deeper than before dragged down under his eyes and without the extra layers hiding him away it was even harder for Jon to hide how much he was shivering.

“You-” Martin pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. There was no helping it. He walked to the living room and motioned for Jon to follow. “I’ll make some tea.”

In spite of himself, Martin found it in him to fuss. He ushered Jon onto the couch and pulled the old blanket down from where it lay over the top just so it fell behind Jon, resisting the urge to pull it snug. At first Jon lifted a hand to wave him off, but as he sank further into the seat he let out a weary sigh and leaned forward onto his knees.

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. Be right back.”

Martin strode toward the kitchen in a way that he hoped didn’t look like bolting and escaped Jon’s line of sight.

A kettle. There was a kettle on the countertop. It was… technically not washed, not for a few days. Good. That gave him some time. He got to work, scrubbing at it much longer than necessary to settle his thoughts. As if there would ever be enough time for that.

So. Jon was on his couch after revealing himself to be one of the sea folk, looking cold and tired and very uncomfortable with the circumstances. That was all he had to work with, that and the cheap tea bags he tossed onto the countertop.

He’d gotten groceries for two. That would be the polite thing, to offer food.

If Jon intended to stay for more than an evening. This might be one rest stop on the path to elsewhere, land or sea. He certainly wasn’t packed for an overnight stay with that tiny bag he’d apparently managed to fit with him inside his coat, a train of thought Martin had no desire to follow. Maybe he’d even eaten… on the way? Hm, no, that wasn’t a great place, either. Whatever, he might not be looking for much more than a place to sit a while.

And then the tea was ready and poured out into two mugs, one with a pastoral scene of some sheep and the other a faded logo of a long-gone tackle shop. He’d run out of time.

The two mugs lent warmth to his hands as he walked back to the living room, catching himself before he tripped on his own feet. On the other side of the room, Jon had chosen to bundle himself up at one end of the couch, legs and all tucked into the blanket. It was all Martin could do to offer him the sheep mug without making eye contact and pray that the lamp light was too dim to reveal the red across his face.

Thankfully Jon didn’t seem to notice Martin’s awkward demeanor as he slipped his hands from under the blanket to curl his fingers around the mug. “Thank you, again. I’m sure you have questions.”

He would, wouldn’t he? He had several a moment ago, but unfortunately with all the heat emanating from his ears it seemed every question had risen right out of his head. Instead Martin sat on the other end of the couch. “You’d know better about where to start.”

From under the blanket Jon squared his shoulders. “Right. I don’t think there’s much to explain on this first point. I’m a selkie, or sea folk as you once said. I hope it explains the intensity of my… concern, regarding your mother.”

Martin squirmed a little. Jon's anger at the possibility of Martin holding one hostage took on a much more personal bent in hindsight. It must’ve been like a horror movie to find the skin there. “Yeah, I got that part.”

“As for my showing up here today, I…” Struggling somewhat with words, Jon took a sip of tea and gave a small noise of approval. “Okay, from the beginning. The day I’d finally finished with all of the extra work piled onto me, I’d settled on digging further into Elias’ connection with the Lukases. Possible overlap in goals, reasons for why the three of us were sent to this town, etcetera.”

He continued. “There wasn’t much. If I had to guess, it’s all largely in financial records that I have no access to, but I’d hoped that other strange happenings connected to the Lukases would explain something.”

“But they didn’t,” Martin said.

Sighing, Jon said, “No. So I changed direction and focused on Elias’ goals. If it wasn’t the lighthouse he wanted us to look at, then there were two options: either he just sent us out there to look at nothing, or he thought we would find something else of interest. Or that I might find something I’d been looking for.”

Martin’s heart could’ve stopped. “You don’t think-”

“He of course knew of my research into selkies. It’s the main reason I was eager for this position, all the resources he offered. I kept my more… personal motivation quiet, of course, stuck to how it was ‘underrepresented in our field’, which is entirely true and I could- anyway, I thought I was careful.” Quickly, he turned toward Martin as if he’d realized something. “And I was, with regards to you and your mother. I promise I never said anything about what I found. That secret isn’t going anywhere.” He rested the mug in his lap, tapping his fingertips on the white ceramic.

“But?”

“It appears I wasn’t doing a good enough job hiding myself. He always knew.” His mouth set into a grim line. “When we first got back I thought something was off about my flat, but the workload had gotten so high and there was so much to think about that I brushed it off.”

He gripped his knee through the blanket as it bounced with agitation. “I know someone came into my flat while I was gone. I know this because the day after your incident with Simon Fairchild it happened again, and this time he was sloppy.”

A tremor had crept into Jon’s voice, just enough to be heard, though it wasn’t for the cold or for fear exactly. Anger? Irritation?

“I was sent to check on something outside the city, not far but enough that I was able to get reimbursement for a night’s stay. It wasn’t the first time I’d been sent off without warning, obviously-” Jon motioned in the general direction of the town. “-but something was wrong. I could feel it, just like I could feel that someone had been in my flat.” At this point Jon stopped and leaned over to rub at his forehead, his shoulders rising and falling with long, deep breaths.

“Jon?” Martin said. He lifted his hand and then placed it on the back of the couch.

The tired man shook his head, “I’m fine. Just let me finish.”

“So I went back late that night. Didn’t tell anyone, didn’t cancel my hotel. And when I entered my flat, what did I see but a figure in the dark rifling through my things. A familiar one at that.” A sardonic edge snuck into his voice. “Never expected Elias to be the type to get his hands dirty in a work sense, let alone an illegal one.”

“There was a struggle. I rushed at him without thinking, and when pressed he eventually admitted to knowing what I was. I knew what he was looking for then, didn’t really need to ask, and so I… ran.”

Martin’s hand twitched, but he kept it in place. “That sounds… awful. I’m sorry.”

With a shaky inhale, Jon said, “I-I ended up staying with an old friend of mine for a few days, outside of town. When I initially got the job she’d agreed to keep my, um… my skin, while I was in the city. So Elias was never going to find it by looting around my things, on either attempt.” He smiled, eyes empty and humorless. “Paranoia pays off sometimes.”

“Sounds like you have a good friend, then,” Martin said, looking down at his barely-touched tea. “Why’d you leave?”

“Because three people and a cat take up a lot of space in a one-bedroom?” Jon replied with a small but genuine laugh. “My friend, Georgie, she lives with her girlfriend. Her girlfriend and I don’t get on at the best of times, and cohabitation while I’m a terrified mess is not the best of times. The cat didn’t seem to mind, though.”

“I figured the next safest place would be in the water, while traveling at least. I couldn’t take much with me, but I wouldn’t need much either. My main goal was to just stay hidden as best as I could.” He looked back at Martin sheepishly. “Which I hope is a good enough reason for my number being unavailable.”

Martin nearly dropped his tea. “What?”

“What?” Jon frowned, brows knit together in confusion. “Oh. Um, yes, I deactivated my account. Maybe a bit more precaution than necessary, but at that point I was too nervous to take any risks. Tossed my mobile as well.”

A horrid wave of guilt hit Martin right in the stomach. The number wasn’t reachable, which he’d have known if he’d just called. Stupid, of course Jon had a reason for not calling. How much more of an ass could he be, assuming things when Jon had his own worries to deal with? Not everything had to be about himself and his problems.

“Makes sense,” he said, hiding his own unhappy mouth behind the mug.

“Anyway, I left the land for… an amount of time. It was hard to keep track. And it’s still the wilderness, so it wasn’t safe. Eventually I decided being stuck surrounded by wild animals wasn’t going to help me and figured this was the best place to go next.” He leaned back. “I couldn’t exactly see Tim or Sasha for updates, though they know to pretend to trust Elias for now, thanks to Georgie. Once I see them in-person, it’ll be safer to explain why I’d disappeared on them.”

And in the meantime pretend that Jon was off to the side, too busy to bother with a group text. He might as well have been asleep the whole time with how obvious it all was. And there he’d been writing Jon off without evidence instead of feeling concern. Horrid.

Jon took a deep breath. Some of the tension slipped away from his forehead, smoothing the creases into faint lines.

“Had a harder time than expected finding this place considering the lighthouse looming over everything. I think I got turned around after losing sight of the coast and the fog certainly didn’t help. But things cleared up enough, and now I’m here.”

Martin withdrew his arm from atop the couch and leaned away into the arm rest. “And now you’re here.”

There in the present, they sat on their respective sides of the couch. Jon settled further back into the cushion, pressing both hands to his mug of tea and enjoying the warmth it brought to his skinny fingers.

The man needed to sleep. It was clear in his struggling eyes, his voice, his shoulders obscured by the blanket’s folds. How long had he been at it, swimming mile after mile until he found his way here? How much further was he planning to go?

“Are you okay?”

Martin started, ripping his eyes from Jon’s face. “Fine, yeah. Just, just taking it all in I guess.”

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “I know it’s a lot. If you wouldn’t mind, though, I wanted to ask if anything else happened here since I left.”

Martin replied, “Not much. I delivered the letter for Simon a few weeks ago. Peter has been spotty ever since and has been on a boating trip for a few days.”

“The only way to avoid Fairchild, maybe. Until he goes out on his own yacht. Or flies there.”

Martin snorted and took another sip of tea.

“And nothing else has changed?”

In the grand scheme of things? “No. Not really.”

“Good. I’d worried about getting here- well-”

“Too late?” Martin said with a rougher edge than he’d intended, and he saw Jon flich. Quickly, he continued, “I’m fine. If anything you didn’t have to deal with weeks full of nothing like Tim and Sasha.”

It was Jon’s turn to snort. “That would’ve been preferable, I think. Being so out of the loop, not knowing what to expect when I managed to get back. It wasn’t pleasant.”

“So, what now?”

Jon chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I’m not entirely sure. There isn’t anywhere else for me to go now. But since you asked, there was something I’d been considering.”

Twisting in place, he faced Martin directly with a nervous expression. “Truth be told, I don’t know anyone else like me, not personally. The sea might as well be the woods or the mountains for all I know on how to navigate them. If anyone was going to be able to help me with my particular situation, I figured it would be-”

“My mum.” The words came out throttled.

The room shifted, the sides of his vision blurred until all he could see was the dead television. If he stared at that point long enough, he could almost see the burnt-in images of something he’d left on pause for too long.

From beside him, he heard the rustling of the blanket.

“I- yes, th-though if that’s too much trouble I understand. I would never want to make you or your mother’s lives harder by getting her involved with me. I know I’m a liability to her safety just coming here, but I’d at least wish to speak with her, ask if there’s anywhere or anyone she knows that could help if she herself is unwilling. She’s already asleep I assume, so I could wait until tomorrow-”

“She’s gone.”

His words cut through the air with a swiftness, the quiet settling in so deeply that he could almost hear tv static as his mind tried to fill the gap. With nothing to be heard and his vision so caught by the television, Jon might as well have vanished into thin air.

But he hadn’t. With something between wariness and disbelief, Jon muttered, “...Gone.”

“Four days ago.” Martin blinked away the tunnel, looking down at his own hands. “Took her skin and nothing else.”

“That’s… Did she say when she might come back?”

Without answering, Martin stood up and walked to the kitchen. When faced with Jon’s protestations he placed a hand up, signalling for the man to wait, and from the kitchen table plucked the unmoved note. Then, wordlessly, he handed it over to Jon and sat on his own end of the couch.

The note was short enough. “...That’s it?”

“Yeah. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“That’s- you don’t need to apologize to me. I imagine it’s been difficult.” A pause as Jon set the note on the side table, and then, “You did the right thing.”

Something pushed upwards in Martin’s throat, something bitter and harsh and awful, but he clenched his teeth and kept his tone even. “It’s for the best.”

“If there’s any… If you have any questions, I’ll do what I can to answer them.” As Jon spoke he was plainly starting to regret it. “But I suppose you would know her better.”

Martin frowned and said nothing.

“Right… right. Family business.” Jon drained the rest of his mug and then dragged his fingers down one cheek. “If you’re all right with it, I’d like to spend the night here and figure things out tomorrow, when I’m feeling more myself. I’ve sorely missed sleeping somewhere dry and horizontal.”

“You really slept that way with your face sticking out?” The image of a little seal head popping up out of the water fast asleep came to mind, a welcome distraction. He let himself smile a little and leaned a cheek into his knuckles. “You seem a bit drift-y, yeah.”

“I hope that’s not meant to be a pun. And sleeping in the water is difficult,” Jon replied, deadpan. “So I have permission to co-opt your couch?”

“Knock yourself out. I need to get to bed, anyway.” He pushed himself back up off the couch and grabbed both mugs. As he walked back to the kitchen, he looked back at Jon. “... She left her medication here. Does that mean anything?”

Jon shook his head. “She’ll be fine. She won’t need them unless she returns to a human form, according to my own, er, experimentation.”

Martin nodded and waved goodnight with one of his full hands, making his way back into the kitchen one final time to place the mugs in the sink. Every motion reminded him that he too was tired, so tired, so they would be washed another time along with the plate of whatever it was he’d made for himself. Had he offered Jon something to eat? No, but the man was capable of asking for things.

One thing had been helpful. He looked at the half-empty pill bottles that sat undisturbed on the counter and with one swift motion tossed them into the bin.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin

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yyxgin · 4 years ago

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skeletons & ramen 🎃

-> pairing: lee minho x reader

-> genre: fluff, halloween au, college au

-> words: 3k (prologue included)

-> happy halloween folks !! this is a part of the @districtninewriters halloween collaboration !! check out the prologue and other amazing artists who also participated <3

-> warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, swearing and i think that is it :’)

“No effin’ way did I spend all this time doing your makeup for you to stay at this party for ten minutes. Get your ass out there and at least talk to someone.”

BamBam’s words replayed in your head as you glanced around the party. It was impressive; you’d give him that. Your best friend was known for the ragers he threw, and his annual Halloween party was no exception. With loud music, expensive decorations ranging from a 12-foot-skeleton on the lawn to fog machines, and costumes required – “and none of that ‘just throwing on a witch’s hat’ either, that shit’s weak” – it won party of the year before it even occurred.

And you didn’t want to come. It wasn’t that you didn’t like his parties. On the contrary, you really enjoyed them. But this year, the party was on Halloween night, which just so happened to be a Saturday. Your first midterm of the semester? Bright and early Monday morning at 8 a.m. sharp.

“You have to come!” BamBam had said when you first mentioned skipping the party. You could already tell he was dangerously close to pulling out his puppy-dog eyes, as you called them, and if he did that, you were a goner.

You sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Bam. It’s just that my first midterm is super early Monday morning, and I really, really need to study for it,” you said.

“So study on Sunday!” he argued. “You know I can’t have a party without my best friend there. Not to mention, I’ve already put so much thought into how I would do your makeup for your skeleton costume. Don’t make me have done research in vain. Please?”

That’s how you had ended up at the party. Your plan had initially been to stay for half an hour, but when you went to tell BamBam, he wasn’t having it. That’s when he had dropped the line about how much effort he had put into your makeup, shoving you out of the kitchen and into the lounge.

As you looked around the room, you figured it wouldn’t kill you to talk to someone for a few minutes. But who?

You see a drunk guy from your literature class, Changbin, and his friend that has attended the party in a horse mask for the third year in a row, Jisung, in the corner of the spacious room. You know what, maybe they are not the best people to talk to at this college party.

Your classmate Lia and her friends that dressed up as power rangers are sitting on the sofa with a senior very well known as the friendly guy Chan dressed up as a cowboy, downing shots of tequila and singing loudly at the top of their lungs. You contemplate the choice for a moment, but decide against it when they turn to sing Into the unknown for the thirtieth time tonight, scrunching up your face in pure horror.

Another choice are the party animals Hyunjin and Felix dressed up as peanut butter and jelly, dancing to whatever song comes out of the loud speakers. Yeah, you could never keep up with them.

The last few people in your sight are in a circle, laughing loudly, bottles of beer, soju and various other alcohol secured in their hands. You see your classmates Jeongin and Seungmin in there, but you don’t know any other people there, so you decide to just let them be.

Maybe you have no other choice, then to leave.

“Yah! We’re matching!” you hear a voice from beside you call, looking at the person and frowning in confusion. What on the earth is he talking about?

But then it hits you. The guy has skeleton makeup on his face, an all-black outfit fitting his body and a huge, obnoxious grin on his face. You really are matching, well, apart from the optimistic expression on his face very much different from yours, on the other hand, disgusted from the whole situation.

“Oh. You’re right. My friend BamBam actually did the makeup, so it’s not really my fault, though.” you smirk, watching the boy growing closer to you and inspecting the makeup on your face.

“Looks like him and Han Jisung watched the same youtube tutorial,” he mutters, making you burst out in laughter.

“Jisung? You mean to tell me that the guy who attends in a horse mask every year did your makeup today?” you ask in disbelief, rewarded by his adorable giggle.

“Yeah, well, I told him I wasn’t going to the party, because I didn’t have a costume, so he told me he was just going to turn me into a skeleton to force me to go with him.” he explains.

“Looks like he did a much better job than BamBam did, anyway,” you point out, examining the work on his face. At this point, you’re going to go to Jisung to do your makeup for your cousin’s wedding you’re attending next month, because his skills are really good, to be honest.

“I appreciate the rhinestones on yours, though. A pretty detail,” he laughs, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, BamBam likes finishing touches.” you smile.

You’re kind of getting flustered under his gaze, so you quickly turn to look to the ground in response. The fact that you didn’t even drink tonight wasn’t helping you get loose a tiny bit, your shy side showing right after there was a silence in the conversation.

“Wait, you’re telling me you’re friends with BamBam and we somehow still don’t know each other?” asks the friendly stranger, making you look up at his face again.

“Umm, yeah.” you nod.

“And you know Jisung as well.” he points out.

“Yeah, well, everybody knows Jisung, so…” you say.

“Yeah, but we have so many mutual friends, yet we still don’t know each other… that’s strange. Well, anyways, I’m Minho.” he smiles, putting a hand to you to shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Minho. I’m y/n.” you smile at him and take his hand to shake it. His grip is firm, but not painful, the presence of his skin on yours making you slightly excited.

You were never that good with meeting new people, so to have a stranger introduce themselves to you unprohibited, it felt good. Well, maybe BamBam was right about going to the party. Maybe you’ll even have a new friend after this, and god knows you need some new friends, because you’re certain hanging out with BamBam constantly kind of makes some of your brain cells disappear.

“Wanna get something to drink?” smiles the skeleton boy, on which you nod and follow him back to the kitchen where you’ve come from, seeing that it was now pretty much empty apart from the couple wearing matching costumes of Joker and Harley Quinn making out on the kitchen counter.

You take a bottle of peach soju and see Minho do the same, cringing at the smacking noises and quickly pulling you away from the kitchen by the elbow, rolling his eyes in the process. “Can’t they just leave it for when they come home?”

“I’m so sorry for BamBam, I swear if he has to clean the kitchen counter from sperm again this year, he’s going to seriously lose it-”

"Again?"

“Yeah, people get real wild out here.” you nod and try to erase the flashbacks coming back into your head from seeing your terrified and disgusted best friend cleaning the place with kitchen towels and some Clorox.

“Ew. See? This is why I didn’t even want to come in the first place.” says Minho with a disgusted expression on his face.

“You too?”

“Yeah, I hate parties!” exclaims the boy, throwing his arms in the air to gesture to the packed lounge.

“I know, right? I was actually supposed to be studying at the moment, but BamBam insisted on me coming, so I kinda had to, you know.” you blurb out, taking a sip from the soju in your hand.

“Studying. On a Saturday evening.” he gazes onto you, making you feel kind of stupid for sounding like the biggest nerd in the world. Yeah, you cared about your grades, but you weren’t as crazy as it sounded in the first place.

“Yeah, well, I have a midterm on Monday, so-”

“Oh. I got you.” he nods, licking his lips and taking his first sip of the peach alcohol in his hand, making you just awkwardly stare at his face in the process.

“Well, y/n,” starts Minho as he finishes drinking, “not to sound creepy or something, but do you wanna get out of here? Since we both kind of hate parties and our best friends got what they wanted…” he says, almost looking nervous at his question, making you just shyly nod.

“Yeah, sure.” you agree. You’re pretty sure BamBam won’t notice if you leave now, and if he does, well, you spoke to someone. That means you did what he wanted you to do. He can’t be mad now.

“Okay. I’ll be taking this with me.” laughs Minho as he shows you the half-empty bottle of soju in his hand, making you giggle as you show him yours and nod in response, telling him you’ll be doing the same as the two of you go to the front door. You were wearing your black coat through the whole evening and from the looks of his black leather jacket, it looked like he was too, so there was no reason for the two of you to stay at the party longer and look for your things.

“Let’s go!” you muse, going out of the house with Minho by your side, the chilly breeze and silence hitting you in the face in a weird, but comforting way.

“And where are we even going?” asks Minho, making you stop in your tracks and giggle.

“I don’t know.” you shrug, watching his amused smirk only grow wider.

“Let’s just… walk around for a while, I guess?” you say, receiving a nod from him in return as you start walking side by side in the neighbourhood.

You both keep talking to each other and getting to know each other, learning that Minho is studying dance and not business like most of your mutual friends, and you, do, which is probably why you’d never met before. You manage to make him show you some of his dance moves, both of you slightly tipsy now, giggling at his silly dance in the middle of the street. It was easy, talking to Minho.

“Let’s go trick or treating!” he cheers, making you laugh.

“We’re 21, Minho, nobody will give us any treats.” you say, refusing to get yourself through that kind of embarrassing dumbassery on this wonderful Saturday evening.

“Nobody can see we’re too old for it through this makeup,” pouts Minho, making you laugh even harder. You’re not even sure if it’s the alcohol in your veins that makes everything he says and does so funny to you, but you just know his presence makes you giggle quite a lot.

“They can definetly see, Minho, they’re not dumb.” you say, patting him on his shoulder.

“Hmm,” he pouts, but only for a minute before he manages to change the topic with a sudden information, “I’m in a mood for some ramen.”

“Yeah, same. I haven’t had ramen in so long, dude,” you muse, your mouth already full of saliva only at the thought of the food coming in your sight.

“Let’s have ramen, then,” shrugs Minho and paces quickly in a different direction.

“Yah, where are you going?”

“To the supermarket for some ramen! And then, we’re going to my place and we’re going to eat some ramen.” he explains, not even letting you a moment to disagree with his statement as you jog to catch up with him. Perhaps he notices your alarmed expression on your face, making him quickly reassure you and your noisy thoughts.

“Don’t worry, y/n, I’m not gonna kill you. You can come over, I swear.” he says, but after he sees you still biting on your lower lip in nerves, he stops in his tracks and gazes into your eyes to comfort you.

“Really. You can trust me. We even have mutual friends, remember?” his expression is soft, dreamy, almost, making you instantly relax and nod.

“Okay.” you say, clearly missing what stranger danger means, but you feel like you can trust Minho. Right?

“Okay. Let’s go.” he nods, cheeringly going in the direction of the supermarket again, with you by his side, singing a popular song under his breath in the process.

After an enormous amount of laughter and one argument over which ramen you two should buy, you two finally reach the cashier that looked rather uninterested until she saw you, smiling and giggling under her breath. You place the two packs of ramen onto the counter, waiting for the girl to check you up and give you your delicious food into your hands.

“What a lovely couple you two are.” she smiles at the two of you after reaching out her hands in front of you with the ramen in her hold.

“We are not a couple, actually…” you mumble, feeling quite shy at her comment.

“Oh, but the matching costume…”

“That was a coincidence, really,” you laugh awkwardly, wanting to be finally on your way to Minho’s apartment, when Minho smirks behind you.

“We’re not a couple yet, but you know, perhaps this was all destiny,” he jokes, making you turn around and playfully elbow him in the ribs, a joyful giggle followed by your skeleton companion.

“I’m just joking, chill,” he says, thanking the cashier and taking the ramen into his hands, escaping the supermarket and leading you into his apartment.

The journey there is comfortable, but the atmosphere quickly changes as you reach his place, taking off your shoes to not dirty his, surprisingly, clean apartment, taking off your jacket and looking at Minho standing in the doorway and watching you. “Well, here we are. Welcome.”

“Thanks.” you shyly respond, not really knowing what to do at this point.

“Come on in, don’t just stand there,” scoffs Minho, leading you into the kitchen to cook the ramen with you right after him, watching your every step and looking around in the dark apartment, silently appreciating his choice of interior design.

“Meow!” you hear from the dark room, making you jump.

“Wow!” you jolt out, making Minho turn around to laugh at your shocked face, dropping the packs of ramen to the table and picking up his cat from under it to show it to you.

“Yeah, I kinda forgot to tell you… I have three cats, this is Soonie. Say hello, Soonie,” smiles Minho and takes the cat’s pow into his hand to make it wave to you, finally calming down your racing heart.

“Oh my god, that scared me.” you giggle, petting the cat’s head. “She’s adorable.” you mumble.

“I know, right? You should see your face,” giggles Minho, “and this is Doongie and Dori.” he says pointing at the two cats that were, very much not to your knowledge, following you to the kitchen. You shyly wave at them and mumble a quiet “Hi” to the creatures, watching them take their respectful seats under the table again.

The conversation flows freely right after, the slight scare that Minho’s cats brought you making the atmosphere much less awkward, seating yourself at his kitchen table and watching him take his role in the kitchen and cooking the ramen you’ve just bought, appreciating the way he moves through the room and still manages to keep you entertained in the conversation.

“Here you go.” smiles Minho as he places the plate with the finished food on the table in front of you, a proud grin plastered on his skeleton face.

“Thanks!” you muse, diving right in to the steaming food, slurping and enjoying every single bite of it. You know ramen is not exactly that hard to prepare, but damn did it taste amazing in the late hours of the night, hitting every nerve.

“It tastes so fucking good.” you mumble, your mouth still full of noodles.

“Chef Lee right at your service,” bows Minho, making you giggle.

In the process of eating, though, you feel a rhinestone fall off your face on the table. You frown, examining it, making another one fall down, realising that it was the steam from the ramen that made the eyelash glue BamBam put on your face dissolve and ruin your beautiful makeup.

“Wanna take it off? It’s late and it’s coming off by itself, anyway,” he asks, making you nod without a hesitation, following him into the bathroom without even washing the dishes.

Minho takes some moisturizer and a tissue from his cupboard, making you silently curse yourself for not taking makeup wipes with you and having to turn to this poor alternative, seeing how he carefully applies the cream to the fabric and moves it to your face.

“Can I?” he asks, suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“I mean… sure?”

You take a seat on the bathroom sink, watching his every move as he stands close to you and starts taking your makeup off. The action is quite relaxing as you close your eyes and let him carefully do his work, wondering how you even ended up in here. The moment feels intimate, yet you’ve only known Minho for a few hours, but you feel strangely safe in his presence as he takes care of you. You yawn a little after a few minutes, suddenly sleepy from the relaxing motions of his hand.

“Tired?” he muses, his voice low in the quiet.

You only hum in return, opening your eyes once he’s finished, finding him gazing at you with an unexplainable expression on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” he shakes his head and moves further away from your body, “I’ll take mine off and then I can walk you home if you’re feeling sleepy.” he says, making you nod.

Yeah, you feel kind of sad that your night with your new friend is coming to an end, but you can’t stay with him until the morning, right? And it’s getting quite late, anyway. Besides, something inside of you is telling you that this is not the last time you’re meeting the guy you’ve accidentally matched with on BamBam’s halloween party.

So you opt to wait for him in his living room, sitting at the comfortable blue sofa, surrounded by his three cats that take their seats close to you.

You don’t even know when you fall asleep when a handsome face wakes you up from your slumber, whispering into your ear as he gently picks you up from the sofa.

“I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight. You don’t have to worry, I’ll take the couch.” he smiles when he sees your eyes open and gaze onto his face.

His features look mesmerizing, eye catching, even, without the heavy makeup that managed to hide them quite well. It was hard to make up his face behind the makeup, but when you fianally see it for the first time, you can’t help but find him really pretty. You feel kind of silly for thinking the thought and mentally slap yourself when doing so, but you just can’t stop thinking about how you find him just so beautiful. Maybe it’s the sleep taking over you, who knows?

“Sweet dreams, y/n. I’ll walk you home tomorrow, then.” he whispers into your ear, smiling at you when he drops you onto his bed.

“Sweet dreams, Minho.”

Yeah, it’s silly.

But you definitely fell asleep that night with your new friend on your mind.

Perhaps the matching costumes really were a destiny.

#districtninewriters #kafenetwork #stayverse #stayhavennet #kpopscape #stray kids imagine #stray kids au #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fluff #lee minho imagine #lee minho au #lee minho fanfiction #lee minho fluff #lee know imagine #lee know au #lee know fanfiction #lee know fluff

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duhragonball · 3 years ago

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Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch.109-113

Hard to believe we’re at the end of this crazy ride.

Last time, Joseph had defeated Kars, only for Stroheim to order his men to finish Kars off with UV rays. Stroheim just wanted Kars to hurry up and die faster, and maybe he also wanted credit for the kill, but instead he played right into Kars hands. After Joseph kicked his ass, Kars put on a Stone Mask he had stowed away somewhere, and he installed the Red Stone of Aja into the Mask.

I should probably go over that a bit, since it hasn’t been mentioned for a while. Kars has been perfecting the Stone Mask technology for thousands of years. It turns humans into vampires, but for his species it unlocks even greater powers. But Kars hit a wall in his research. He wanted to design a mask that would make him the ultimate life form, but he lacked the means to power such a mask. He discovered an answer in the Aja Stone, a mineral that focuses light, but he needed a bigger, more flawless sample of it, and that’s the Stone he’s using right now, the one he captured from Lisa Lisa.

So instead of killing Kars, Stroheim accidentally made his lifelong ambition come true. One nice touch I just noticed is that the Mask itself falls apart as soon as it’s finished its task. I suppose, in theory, someone else could have tried it on and get the same power boost as Kars? Would it even work on a normal human? Well, we’ll never find out.

There’s a couple of ways to interpret this. One is that Kars’ “Super” Mask was highly experimental, and it must have been untested, since he’d never had Lisa’s stone until now. So it’s possible that the thing burned itself out after a single use. The other interpretation is that Kars designed this Mask to self-destruct after the first use, because it was never intended for anyone else but himself. The whole point of this was to become the Ultimate Life Form, the very pinnacle of all living creatures on Earth. I think it was implied that Wammu and Esidisi were expecting to share in this power when the time came, but why would Kars have ever allowed for this? What’s the point of being the greatest and best in the world if you have to share that top spot with two other guys?

Stroheim realllly wants to believe this is all a big fluke, and that he didn’t just make the bad guy stronger. The Ripple wound on Kars’ arm is still there, so Stroheim figures he’ll die anyway. Except Kars doesn’t seem too bothered by his injury. And then...

Yeah, so Kars not only repairs his injured arm, he reshapes his hand into a squirrel. Joseph speaks for us all: What the fuck?

For a hot minute, everyone thinks the squirrel he made is kind of cute, until Kars sends it to find another squirrel and kill it. Then the Kars-squirrel tears a hole through Stroheim and carves a trench in a Nazi soldier from chest to eyeball. Then it rejoins Kars’ wrist, and turns into a flower, and then a butterfly. Some Part 5 and 6 pre-references for ya.

Then the sun comes up. Wait, the Joseph/Wammu fight happened around midnight, right? How many hours have these folks been out here? And it’s February, too, so this had to have been a long night. Anyway, the sun comes up, so we’re saved, right? Wrong. Sunlight doesn’t hurt Kars anymore, thanks to the power he got from his special mask. So now what are they supposed to do?

Well, Joseph’s going to use his last resort: running away. Also, he grabs the Aja Stone, for no apparent reason. Kars grows a pair of wings to chase him. He no longer cares about the Hamon users, because they’re no longer a threat to him. But he wants to kill Joseph personally, both to celebrate his new powers and to avenge the deaths of Wammu and Kars.

Smokey joins Joseph, which doesn’t make much sense to Joseph, but Smokey wants to tell Joseph about Lisa Lisa being his mother. Except Joseph’s a little too distracted by the eldritch horror that’s trying to murder him. Read the room, Smokey.

Here’s a helpful diagram of Kars to explain what his deal is now. Basically, he’s immortal and can regenerate and reshape his whole body, but he had that before, just by being a Pillar Man. The big upgrade is that he’s no longer weak to sunlight (and by extension, the Ripple), and he can now replicate the traits of any life form on Earth. He’s faster than cheetahs and has better hearing than bats and so on. He can go for a full year without eating, and he no longer needs to sleep. Sex is meaningless to him, because procreation is only important for lower life forms to maintain their species. Kars has no need for children or bretheren. “There is but only one summit.”

Maybe Wammu and Esidisi had understood that truth all along, and they never seriously expected Kars to share this power with them. They practically worshipped Kars as it was, so maybe they were only doing this for the greater glory of their leader.

So what does Kars plan to do with all of this power he now has? The Aja Stone was his only goal before, and that’s done. He has no enemies to fear, and as Speedwagon observes, there’s no way left to kill him. This page states that his only purpose now is to create a world to match his own desire, but what is that? What’s Kars’ vision for the Earth now that he’s reached this point?

We never really find out, and I suppose that’s why it’s convenient that he decided to start out by killing Joseph. For all we know, he would have just chilled out and left humanity alone after that, but this way there’s still an immediate threat to deal with.

Miraculously, Joseph manages to stay ahead of Kars long enough to find the airplane that brought Stroheim here. You’d think Kars could have caught up to him with all these fancy new powers, but Kars was never in much of a hurry. He took his time to search for the Aja Stone, and he made it a point to trap Jojo and Lisa rather than risk fighting them fairly. So even now, when he has such an overwhelming advantage, he seems to be playing things the same way. He has no weaknesses, so he may as well take his time and stalk Joseph, if only to watch him squirm.

Joseph tries using the plane’s weapons to even the odds, but Kars grows armadillo hide on his wings to protect himself, and he fires the armor at Joseph like shrapnel. So machinery doesn’t seem to make much of a difference.

So Joseph just flies south, using the plane’s engines to give himself a comfortable lead. He’ll run out of fuel in a couple of hours, but Speedwagon calls him on the radio and tells him that they’ll figure out a plan. Except that Joseph already has his own plan. There’s a volcanic island off the coast of Italy. I assume this is Stromboli Island, since Italy has only three active volcanoes, and Mt. Stromboli is the only one on an island. Anyway, Joseph plans to lure Kars into the volcano, and destroy him with molten lava. I mean, Kars is still flammable, right?

Speedwagon hates this idea, because he doesn’t see any way for Joseph to pull this off without getting killed in the process, and that sounds way too much like what happened to Joseph’s father and grandfather. Oh, and his great-grandfather. I didn’t notice George I up there until just now. Speedwagon tries to tell Joseph about Lisa being his mom, but Joseph can’t hear him because of all the piranha noises in the plane. Wait... what?

Yeah, all the feathers that Kars turned into armor and launched into the fuselage? Well, he’s still controlling those things, and now Kars has turned them into piranhas. Well, I guess not literal fish, since they’d never survive up here. The point is that Kars can control every cell in his body and mimic any animal traits he wants, so if he wants to make small bitey creatures to wreck Joseph’s plane, he might as well make them look like piranhas. ALso he makes an octopus that tears up one of the engines.

So Joseph bails out, but he’s a sitting duck in that parachute. Kars calls him a butterfly caught in a web, which is the second time we’ve seen that analogy in Part 2. Araki just out here telling everyone what Jolyne would be wearing in twelve years.

But the parachute contains a dummy. Why did Joseph waste time drawing a face on it? Because he knew he had to fool Kars’ razor-sharp senses, of course. Kars probably saw the dummy, and got suspicious, but then he noticed the eyes and mouth, and though “Oh, okay, I guess that’s a real person then.”

Anyway, this suckers Kars in so that Joseph can crash into him with his plane and they can both go into the volcano together.

But Kars thinks he can tear up the plane before it lands. Except a robot hand grabs him from behind, and he finds Stroheim stowed away. Wait, so Stroheim outran Joseph AND Kars and hid in this plane before Joseph took off?

Anyway, Stroheim manages to get Joseph out of the plane to relative safety, but he crushes his whole lower body in the process. But it seems to be worth it, because Kars landed smack-dab in the volcano! Awesome! Fuck you, Kars, you screwed over Lisa Lisa, and that’s what you get! He tries to protect himself, but he can’t grow a defense against 1000 degree heat...

... is what I would say, except no, Kars totally does that. Just when Joseph thinks Kars has succumed to the lava, Kars pops out and slices off Joseph’s left arm with his goofy blade.

How the fuck did Kars survive? Well, he couldn’t grow a lava-proof shell, but he could create a porous layer beneath the shell, and use the air inside to insulate the rest of his body from the heat. That wouldn’t protect him indefinitely, but it was enough to get the drop on Joseph.

So that’s it then, right? Not even molten lava can kill Kars, unless you could shove him down in there and keep him still for like ten minutes, and who’s going to pull that off? Stroheim begins to lose all hope...

Then we get a flashback to Kars’ origin. Long, long ago, there was a race of subterranean humanoid with long lifespans and an aversion to sunlight. Prehistoric humans thought of them as gods or demons because of their reclusiveness and power. Also, they would eat humans and animals, so that probably made them dangerous, too.

But I don’t think they were nearly as powerful as the Pillar Men we’ve seen in this story. I say this because the flashback establishes that Kars was the one who discovered the latent power in their brains, and he was the one who invented the Stone Mask technology to harness that latent power. So it stands to reason that much of what he and the others could do was the result of Stone Mask enhancements. The problem is that those enhancements increased the amount of blood they needed to consume, and the others in the Clan feared that Kars’ experiments would destroy their whole ecosystem. So when they tried to stop Kars, he killed them all. The only survivors were himself, Esidisi, and two young children who grew up to become Wammu and Santana.

So that story tells you something about what Kars might do with this newfound “ultimate” power. He didn’t achieve this for the good of his own people, because they’re all dead now, and he wiped most of them out personally. If he would do that to his own kind, the rest of the Earth would be expendable to him.

Back to the present, Joseph’s not giving up yet. He tries to use the Ripple one more time, but it doesn’t work. Worse, Kars counters with his own Ripple. Because Kars can do that now, you see. He’s got the powers of all life on Earth, and that includes Ripple users, I suppose. Worse, Kars’ Hamon power is hundreds of times greater, so he ends up getting badly burned on his right knee.

So now Joseph’s completely out of tricks, and he starts to accept the inevitable. Kars decides that the best way to kill Joseph would be to destroy him with his own finisher, Ripple Overdrive. So he charges up the most powerful Hamon attack he can muster, and just as he’s about to strike...

Joseph impulsively grabs the Red Stone of Aja and uses it to block, kind of like how he stymied Kars back on that cliff in Switerland. Only this time, Kars doesn’t hold back, and the Hamon attack is amplified. It bursts through Joseph’s right hand and into the volcano below.

The narration says that not even Joseph really understood any of this. He just sort of acted on instinct. That bothered me once, but now I see that it wasn’t entirely unconscious impulse. Back in Venice, when Lisa first told Joseph about the Aja Stone, Joseph suggested destroying it to deny Kars his prize. But Lisa said there was a legend that foretold that Kars could never be defeated without the Aja Stone. And that would at least explain why Joseph picked the thing up back in Switzerland before he fled to Mt. Stromboli. Maybe it was unconscious action that made him pick up the stone in this fateful moment, but I think it was a more conscious thought that made him take the stone with him in the first place. On some level, he remembered that legend.

Okay, so there’s a mega-ultra-Super-Saiyan-5-Ripple that just went into a live volcano. What good does that do? Well, it makes the volcano erupt, and it launches Joseph and Kars into the air. So what? Kars can fly. Yeah, he could, but...

You know, Joseph’s lost hand really left an impression on me when I first watched the anime of Part 2, but now that I’ve read the manga, I’ve noticed tons of severed and wounded forearms all through this story, almost as if Araki had been building up to this moment. I’d make a Part 4 joke, but nah, that’s too easy. But it wasn’t even that long ago that Wammu lost both of his hands, and then he launched them as Joseph to distract him. Kars lost his hand before he grew it back and turned it into a squirrel. Hell, Stroheim launched his robot hand at Kars to distract him for the volcano crash. And now Joseph’s hand has somehow launched itself into Kars’ throat to distract him again!

I’m assuming that Hamon energy has a lot to do with this. You’d think Joseph’s hand wouldn’t have survived getting fired up this high, and it shouldn’t be powerful enough or alive enough to bother Kars this much, but it does. So I’m chalking it up to all that Ripple energy. It briefly reanimated Joseph’s hand and made it follow Kars up to this altitude, kind of like how Jonathan controlled Wang Chung’s decapitated body at the end of Part 1.

So Joseph taunts Kars about this, and implies that he planned this somehow. And when Kars pauses to ask if he did plan this, more rocks and stuff from the volcano hit him and send him even higher up into the air.

And Joseph claims that he did plan this entire thing! That’s bullshit, but he hopes Kars will believe it, if only to make him more frustrated. Maybe Joseph didn’t plan all this out, but he seems to have deduced what’s happening here.

Kars has been launched so high into the air, and at such an incredible speed, that he’s achieved escape velocity. Does Kars even realize what that means? I mean, he’s super-intelligent, especially now, and he’s been alive for thousands of years, but what could he really know about outer space? Has he ever even considered it before? It seems like all of his ambitions involve the Earth, and only the Earth, and everything living upon it.

As for Joseph, the chunk of rock he’s on does not fly into space. Instead, it starts to fall back down, and Joseph assumes that he’s probably not going to survive the impact. Eight hours later, Stroheim makes it back and informs Speedwagon that Joseph must have died in the eruption.

But Kars isn’t worried at first, because he thinks he has this whole “vacuum of space” thing figured out. He just takes a page from Wammu’s playbook and makes air jets on his back to expel compressed gas from his body, like the maneuvering thrusts on a spacecraft. Except that’s not nearly enough to counteract the force of the volcano that sent him up here.

Yeah, Kars has no idea how space works. Instinctively, he probably counted on friction to slow him down, except there is no friction in space. He probably also expected his air jets to push him a little bit at a time, and maybe he could pull in more air as needed, except there is no more air. Even the air from his body is denied to him, because it just dissipates into the vacuum of space. Kars talks about the air freezing as it comes out, but I don’t think that’s right. What’s happening to him is like when you use one of those compressed gas canisters to clean your keyboard. Release a lot of the gas at once, and the can starts to get cold. That’s because the liquefied gas left inside the can now has more room, and it begins to boil as it expands. This draws in heat from the surroundings, which makes the can feel cold to the touch. That’s what’s happening to Kars here. All he’s doing it losing all his body heat. Maybe some of the air really is freezing around him, but I don’t know. It depends on whether the sunlight is hitting him, I think.

Anyway, the last thing Kars says is “I can’t go back!!!” And that’s what makes this so perfect. In the anime, we see the Earth recede into the distance as he continues to tumble further and further away. By surviving the lava, Kars had “mastered” the Earth, but now he’s been separated from the Earth. He’s got all this incredible power, but without the Earth, he’s got no one to use it on.

And then we come to the pièce de résistance of Battle Tendency: The epilogue page that establishes, in no uncertain terms, that Kars never returned to the Earth. There’s no miracle escape this time, no clever trick or loophole. He simply doesn’t have the necessary acceleration to push himself back the way he came.

Did he die? Nope, because he made himself immortal, remember? Not even sunlight or starvation can destroy him now. But now death is the only thing he craves, because he’s completely alone and has nothing to do. I can’t imagine he’s very comfortable like this either, because it’s incredibly cold in outer space, and Kars must be able to sense that cold, even if it doesn’t actually hurt him.

And this is such a fitting punishment for a villain like Kars. Just as Stroheim wanted to become superior and lost his humanity in the process, Kars ruthlessly sacrificed friend and foe alike to achieve this Ultimate form, and what good does it do him? It’s become his prison, his hell. At long last, he’s become the supreme being, a world unto himself, but with no one around to lord it over, there’s really no point to any of it.

I just really love this ending. I’m not sure how else I can express it. This is what should have happened to Akio Othori in Revolutionary Girl Utena. But Araki was brace enough to do it to Kars.

I suppose I could attempt some exercise in JoJo Part Comparison and connect Kars’ final fate to all the other JoJo villains. But I dunno, this is getting pretty long in the tooth as it is. I’ll just say that I’m suddenly reminded of Reimi’s final words to Kira in Part 4, when Kira asks where he’s being taken. “Who knows? But I’m sure it’s somewhere you won’t be able to rest in peace.”

So all that’s left is the matter of Joseph’s funeral-- Nah, just kidding, he’s not even dead. What’s weird is that Smokey says he met Joseph “six months ago”, which seems a lot longer than the events of this story. Anyway, Joseph returned to New York, only to find everyone at the cemetary. He wonders who they’re mourning, and he’s shocked to discover it’s him.

So yeah, the rock Joseph was on acted as a “shield”, and he managed to survive the fall, and even ended up near Venice, where Suzie Q found him and tended to his injuries. Stroheim even set him up with a robotic hand to replace the one Kars lopped off. I guess Stroheim never sent word of any of this to the U.S., probably because of Nazi Germany gearing up for World War II.

Anyway, Suzie took care of him for like two weeks, and they got married. So in a way, Joseph did follow in the legacy of Jonathan. Not in the “dying young” way, but the “Beat the bad guy and wake up in the care of a gorgeous blonde lady who eventually marries you” kind of way. You love to see it. But Suzie forgot to send a telegram to New York to let everyone know Joseph was okay, which is why everyone is so shocked and why Joseph is so shocked about them being shocked.

Then we get the epilogues for all the surviving characters. I mentioned this when I liveblogged the Part 5 manga a few years ago, but the stark contrast between Battle Tendency and Vento Aureo is that Part 5 is very ambiguous about its ending. We know who wins and who loses and who survives, but that isn’t really enough. We don’t know what will happen to Giorno Giovanna after Part 5. Does he live up to his lofty dream, or does he succumb to corruption like his wicked father? I think that’s intentional, because Giorno is the “golden wind” in the story. He’s an agent of change, but we don’t get to see the effects of his efforts, only the cause that he fights for. But Part 2 operates in the exact opposite way. We know exactly how and when Speedwagon dies. I’m a little confused how Stroheim could have died at Stalingrad when Kars and a volcano couldn’t kill him, but maybe the Russians had Stand powers. I think the only minor mystery is that we don’t know what happened to Lisa Lisa after 1948. It’s likely that she survived into Part 3, and maybe beyond, but we never see her again.

It’s also kind of weird how upbeat this epilogue is about reporting on the deaths of so many characters. Like, Stroheim died in one of the worst battles in human history, but he went out on his own terms, so it’s cool? I guess? Even the characters without deaths, like Smokey, it’s sort of implicit that he’ll die sooner or later. But it’s a good thing because it’s final and proper. It’s something Kars craves now, but can never experience. A life worth living, made more precious by its limitations. Kars tried to use cheat codes in nature, and he ended up clipping through the map and making the game unplayable. But Smokey, he‘ll be mayor someday.

As for Joseph, we see him in an airport in 1987, bullying Japanese people because his daughter married a Japanese guy and moved there. He’s headed to Japan right now to see her and his grandson, who probably doesn’t even recognize him, it’s been so long.

On the other hand, he appreciates his Walkman, which is either Joseph giving the Japanese some credit, or maybe he’s just too dense to notice the irony.

I hate that he’s listening to the Beatles, because the Beatles are overrated trash. My favorite thing about the Part 2 anime is how they changed his music to “Bloody Stream” by Coda, which a) kicks ass and b) wasn’t a song by the shitty Beatles.

And that’s Battle Tendency. Kind of neat how it closes on Joseph’s flight departing to visit his daughter and grandson, in contrast to the final panel of Part 1, which showed Erina floating in a coffin alone in the ocean. Joseph has bucked the curse and he’s graduated to Part 3, for better or worse.

But I feel kind of weird leaving it here, because I do love the way the anime wrapped up, so I’ll close out with this:

Tsugi ni omae wa “Grazie!” to iu!

#jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency #joseph joestar #kars #rudol von stroheim #lisa lisa #robert e o speedwagon #smokey brown #esidisi #wammu #erina joestar #george joestar #jonathan joestar #george joestar ii #suzie q

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years ago

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Don’t Call Me That (pt. 1)

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Aftermath of torture, healing, and sex in later chapter hehe

Word count: 9000

Summary: The new Robin and Batman stumble upon a cell in Arkham Asylum that was occupied by a very much injured, and very much still alive Jason Todd. Bringing him back, Bruce realises that Jason is unstable and keeps him locked in a room in the mean time. Reader helps Jason get used to being around another human being once more, and finds herself falling deeply with the damaged Jason.

A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot, but I realised that it's a bit too long, so I'm splitting it into two chapters. Here's whatever I wrote so far. Psst, the sex will come later! I think this has got to be the most favourite one-shot I’ve written so far!! I’m addicted to this story, and I hope you guys will like it too! Let me know!

Masterlist

Kofi

Ao3

The light was getting dimmer and dimmer the further you strayed from the main building. The walls cracked, wallpaper peeling back to reveal brick and concrete. The air was getting thin, and the smell.

Rat piss, sewage, and that suffocating damp humid smell that reminded you of dirty laundry- except it filled the whole Old Wing of Arkham Asylum.

“Do youreally think the security breach was sourced from here, Batman?” you voiced out your doubts.

He was walking next to you, his steps hardly making a sound. “We need to make sure. Half of the East Wing’s cells were suddenly opened automatically. There is a main powerframe in the Old Wing that someone could have damaged.”

“Someone, as in..?”

“Not sure. Joker has been in his cell for the past 19 months since he broke out two years ago.”

You ignored the way his voice cracked at the end.

Two years ago, before you were involved with Bruce Wayne and his fight for justice, Joker had broken free, got hold of Jason Todd, your predecessor whom you had never met, kidnapped him, tortured him, and then killed him. After sending a video tape of his Todd’s death to Bruce, he went and created a drug that made people go crazy and kill each other. Bruce caught him then, broke half the bones in his body, and then threw him back in the asylum.

“Why did they stop using this wing?” you asked, your voice echoing back to you.

The two of you were walking down a corridor, with cells on either side. Each cell had a metal door with a rectangular slot at the top of the door to peek inside and another longer slot in the middle for passing inmates food. Some of the doors were opened ajar, nothing inside but old beds and overflowing toilet bowls, some were locked shut.

Your heart was racing. It was like you were in a horror movie. You stepped over the empty gas canisters and toilet paper that was strewn all over the floor of the corridor, walking around a rusty old wheelchair and made sure to follow Batman closely.

“Abandoned when a riot broke out five years ago,” he answered, “Something about hauntings.”

“Hauntings?” you widen your eyes.

“These are superstitious folk,” he explained, “The riot took a dozen lives. Violently. Some nurses got tortured. Rumour has it that this wing is haunted.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” you declared, though you felt chills run down your spine anyway.

“Indeed. Some of the security guards say they’ve heard screams coming from here. None dared to approach.”

“Screams? Please, I’m sure it’s just the-”

A crash came from one of the cells. You jumped so violently in shock that you tripped over a catheter on the ground. You and Batman looked at each other for one second, and then he raised his finger to his lips, making sure you kept quiet.

Nodding, you followed behind him as he investigated the cell the sound came from. He slid open the viewing window of the door, and despite the darkness you saw his expression twist to one you’ve never seen before.

Horror.

He took out a small explosive from his belt and attached it to the door. A small boom, and the door swung open. Batman rushed inside, and you were hit with the worst smell you’ve ever experienced. It made you gag, your eyes tearing up.

It smelled of blood and human feces and urine, and something that was decomposing, like the big trash bins lined up behind one of those dank alleys, overflowing with a week’s worth of disposal.

The cell was bigger than the others, and it didn’t have a bed. Only a toilet and a wooden chair that was toppled. Batman was next to the chair, kneeling on the ground over something, unmoving, as if frozen in spot, his back turned to you.

“B?” you whispered, “What is this place?”

There were scratches on the walls, some in blood. Little bones were tossed in a corner, lying in what looked- and smelled- like dry vomit.

You walked over to him, slowly approaching with caution. As you got nearer, your vision became clearer.

He was kneeling over an unconscious man wearing your Robin uniform.

Now, it was your turn to be horrified.

The uniform was tattered, cape dirty and stained with bodily fluids. The man?

Scars and dried blood littered his face and arms, his dark hair matted and sticky. He was obviously large, his frame almost as big as Bruce’s, yet you could see that he was malnourished, his cheeks slightly hollowed, his skin hanging loosely over the remains of his muscles.

And he was still breathing.

***

Alfred, Bruce, and you stared in silence at the man on the bed, now clean and hooked to an IV. None of you had said a word since you got back. Alfred was rigid the whole time he cleaned and examined him, with Bruce shadowing him closeby. You could do nothing but stand back, waiting for an explanation.

Now you were in the infirmary, the steady beat of vital signs machinery annoyed you.

“How is he alive?” Alfred broke the tension with a small whisper.

“There were small animal bones in his cell,” Bruce said with a strained voice. You knew he was doing his all to keep it together.

“Goodness,” Alfred responded, “But- the video-”

“Must have been a fake,” Bruce said, his voice now cracking, “I should have known. I should have- I- oh, God.”

Without warning, Bruce crumpled to his feet. You have never seen him like this. He was always strong, stoic, and he never let his emotions show.

The sight of him burying his face in his hands in anguish- it scared you.

“It’s not your fault, Master Bruce,” Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, “You couldn’t have-”

A grunt came from Jason Todd as he stirred awake. All three of you snapped your heads to him. You saw the way he opened his eyes, blinking at his surroundings as he tried to register where he was. Bruce rushed to his side.

That was his mistake.

Jason Todd started screaming.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” he roared, sitting up and crawling out of bed, ripping the IV from his hand.

“Jason-”

“NO!” he yelled, “YOU’RE NOT REAL. STAY AWAY!”

His voice was deep and hoarse, like someone who had been screaming his whole life.

“Jason, it’s me,” Bruce tried to slowly approach him. He was on his feet now, though he stumbled getting there. His expression was wild, his mouth downturned into a scowl, his eyes darting from Bruce, to Alfred, to you, to the bed, to the whole room, like a wild animal cornered.

“This is real?” he growled a question.

“Yes, son,” Bruce assured, “This is real. We found you. Please, lie back down. You’re hurt.”

“You’re… real?” his voice broke halfway.

“Yes, I’m real,” Bruce’s voice was the same.

Then, Jason let out a laugh. A loud, haunting, hysterical laugh that was absent of humor.

“Good.”

He jumped at Bruce and tackled him to the ground, his fingers around Bruce’s neck. You reacted quickly, rushing over and kneeing him in the face so that he let go of your Bruce and stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly and set his eyes on you.

He proceeded to attack you, but before anything, Bruce had him restrained, wrestling him to the ground.

“Jason! Calm down!”

“NO!” he shouted, “NO! NO! IT’S YOUR FAULT. IT’S YOUR FUCKING FAULT. DIE! DIE!”

He trashed about with surprising power, trying to get Bruce off him. Bruce got his arm around Jason’s neck, and you saw him clawing at his arm, attempting to break free. The younger man’s movements got slower, weaker, as Bruce cut his oxygen supply and eventually knocked him out.

Bruce carried his son to the bed.

“Alfred, please sedate him,” he instructed. “We’ll move him to the cell downstairs. He’s too unstable to be here.”

“Are you okay?” you reached out to your adoptive father.

“Yes,” he nodded, “He’s surprisingly strong.”

“He’s a survivor, Bruce,” you smiled at an attempt to comfort him, “I can’t imagine what he’s been through, but he’ll get through this.”

“I hope so.”

***

The cell Bruce had in the Batcave was less like a cell, and more like a room. It was a large square box with four walls and a roof on one side of the Cave, with high end security. It had double doors, each requiring a registered thumbprint to enter. Bruce had built it in case he needed to hold someone hostage there. The outer layer was made out of lead, and you wondered what had gone through Bruce’s mind when he added that feature. The cell even had a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and a sink.

This time, though, he made sure the room with white interiors looked more comfortable for Jason. He put in a double single bed with fluffy sheets and pillows, a whole bookshelf full of classic literature, a cupboard, a desk and chair complete with a table lamp.

Jason was still sedated when all of you moved him to the cell. He had been sedated for a while so he wouldn’t wake up and rip off his IV. You helped lift him up, and found that he was heavy, heavier than you had expected him to be.

Then, Bruce went to the Batcomputer and switched on the security camera inside the cell and watched as he slowly regained consciousness and went all ballistic again. He toppled over the shelf, the chair, the desk. Threw the books around, ripped out the pages, punched the walls, and was screaming.

“Let me go!” “Fuck you!” “I’m going to fucking kill you!” were some amongst the many extremities he shouted at the camera.

And you watched as Bruce stared into the screen showing his broken, damaged son.

***

“He’s quiet,” you pointed out when you walked over to Bruce at the computers. It had been a week of watching Jason scream and thrash about in the room- which was a complete mess.

“Yes, he has been that way for a few hours now,” Bruce frowned.

You saw from the screen. Jason was just sitting down in one corner of the room, staring into space.

“Well, at least he didn’t throw the food down the toilet bowl this time,” you shrugged and sat down next to him. Alfred would bring a tray of warm soft foods and set it on the tray of the rectangular food delivery hole of the second, internal door.

Out of spite, Jason would take the food and throw it down the toilet before returning it empty. This time, you saw that it just sat there on the tray, untouched.

“I was thinking,” Bruce mentioned, “Of bringing in Dr. Leslie or Dinah. He is familiar with both of them. They could help with putting him on medication and giving him psychotherapy.”

“Yeah, for some reason,” you began, “I don’t think he’ll take that so well.”

“I… don’t know what to do.”

You stayed silent for a few moments. The past week, you saw Bruce in a light you had never seen before. Emotional, vulnerable, helpless. You appreciated that he trusted you enough to reveal that side of himself in front of you.

“Let him calm down a bit,” you suggested, “And maybe… Maybe I can help.”

“How?” he frowned.

“If you bring in Leslie or Dinah, he’ll know in an instant what you’re up to,” you explained. “And maybe it’s too soon for therapy. I think right now he just needs to get used to being around another human being.”

“Hmm,” Bruce considered, “Okay. We’ll go with your idea. How will you do it?”

Your heart swelled with joy. You loved it when he acknowledged you.

You waited a couple of days before trying it out. The whole while, Jason was just sitting down in his corner, silent and unmoving.

Nervously, you approached the first door on the external side of the box, pressing your thumb to the digital square on the wall and hearing it beep in approval. You opened the door and closed it behind you before approaching the second door.

You took a deep breath, felt for the taser on your belt, and then pressed your thumb on the second door.

The first thing you saw when you opened the door was Jason scrambling to his feet in surprise, his eyes vigilant. You lift both your hands up in surrender.

“Not here to hurt you,” you said slowly, “Just here to chill.”

He narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion.

To prove it to him, you sat down on the floor by the door, and took out your book. Heart beating in your chest, you tried to calmly open the book and stared intensely at the words, not reading anything.

In your peripheral vision, he just stood there, stiff and still like a statue, staring at you, analysing you. You had expected him to attack, but ten minutes passed, and he was still there.

Then-

“What do you want?” he croaked, voice harsh and gritty.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, eyes not leaving your book, “Just chilling.”

A momentary pause.

“Leave.”

“No,” you simply said, turning a page.

“Why are you here? Did he send you?” he demanded.

“No. I just want to read in silence, if you don’t mind,” you rolled your eyes.

You wished you could see his expression.

Another five minutes passed, and he didn’t say anything else, or do anything else, but stare at you in caution.

After an hour, you got up and left, leaving a very confused Jason Todd in his cell.

***

You continued that routine for the next three days without exchanging a word with Jason. He would just stand there and glare at you for an hour while you pretended to read. On the fourth day, however, there were more than just a few words exchanged.

“You again,” he growled at you as you entered.

“Hello,” you smiled warmly.

“What do you want from me?” he barked.

“Nothing,” you repeated, “I just want to-”

“Chill?” he cut you off, “I don’t fucking believe you. I don’t trust you. What is he planning? Is he trying to mock me?”

“Mock you?” you responded, taken aback, “Why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jason grit, “He’s done worse. He just wants to see me suffer.”

“What?” you frowned, “No. He just wants to help you.”

“Well, he’s too late for that,” he spat.

“Look-”

“Get the fuck out. Don’t come back.”

“He thought you died,” you tried to explain, “Jok- He got sent a video. Of you getting shot. Dying. He didn’t know.”

“I don’t care,” he fumed.

“He loves you, Jason,” you said softly.

Then, a light flickered in his eye. “What did you call me?”

“Uh, Jas-”

You choked on your words when Jason suddenly had his hands around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. You didn’t have time to react, scratching away at his arm helplessly.

“Don’t call me that,” he growled.

You were going to reach for your taser, but then he let you go and went back to his corner. You sucked in a deep breath, eyes watering.

You ran out-

-and closed the door behind you to lean against it, trying to get your breath back.

“Are you okay?” Bruce worried, approaching you fast, “I’m sorry. I should have waited out here instead of at the computers.”

“I’m fine,” you panted, “He didn’t hurt me. Just scared me a bit, that’s all.”

“This was a bad idea,” he frowned, “We should stop-”

“No!” you hurriedly denied, “No. It was my fault. I didn’t know. I said his name. He didn’t like it and reacted to it, that’s all. I won’t say his name next time.”

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“Bruce, please,” you insisted, “I want to help him. Please, let me continue.”

You looked at your father’s blue eyes, full of concern. “Okay.”

***

Despite the scare he gave you, you were ready to enter again the next day. There was something about Jason Todd that made you feel like you owed it to him to help. Maybe it was plain pity, or maybe it was the way that his eyes had a flicker of hope when he realised he wasn’t imagining things.

The digital screen beeped in approval as it registered your thumbprint, and you pushed open the door. Jason was already standing, muscles taut, ready to spring at the first sense of danger.

You didn’t say a word, but just smiled at him and sat down where you usually did, pushing over the fallen books and torn paper on the floor to create a little space for yourself.

Trying your best not to look nervous, you opened your book and stared at the words again.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he grit.

“Yeah, well. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want to get rid of me, my dude.”

“I’m not your dude,” he said in disgust.

You looked over to him and smirked. “Whatever you say.”

And you continued to pretend to read.

After several minutes, you heard a heavy sigh coming from Jason. Out of the corners of your eye, you saw him give up and slump back onto the ground, his knees up to his chest. He leaned his head back against the wardrobe and closed his eyes.

And for the first time in his presence, you found that you were actually reading.

***

You continued for a month. Entering and sitting down for a couple of hours to read before going back out. Sometimes with few exchanges of “Good morning” or “Miss me?”, mostly going unresponded. Sometimes he would sit down and glare at you, or stand up and glare at you, or sit down and rest his head and close his eyes. Always from a distance.

The first time you started picking up the books and rearranging them back onto the bookshelf, he looked like he was about to burst a vein in his temple.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“I’m cleaning up,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Don’t.”

“What are you gonna do, choke me again?” you rolled your eyes.

You could almost hear him seething in his corner, vibrating in anger.

The next day you came back, the books were back on the floor, strewn everywhere.

But every time before you left, you would still rearrange them back.

Sometimes you would bring in food with you, simply leaving the tray on the desk. He did eat a little, but never when you were around, and never more than a few bites. He ate only to survive. In fact, the more you went to see him, the more you started to notice the little things.

His bed was unmade, the sheets pulled back and covers thrown about. But you knew he had never once slept in it. He never changed his clothes either. It had started to bother you, because he never showered, and his body odour was getting quite distinct.

His eyes were sunken and dark, his hair was greasy and messy, his facial hair overgrown. You wondered if Bruce left a razor in there for him. It was probably a bad idea.

One day while you were sitting down and reading, Jason was in his corner, curled up and eyes closed, Alfred entered the first door and slid in a tray of food from the compartment of the second door. You got up to take it, feeling Jason’s eyes on you as you walked. But instead of setting the tray on the desk like you usually did, you put it on the ground next to you as you sat and read again.

That day, the menu was pumpkin soup with toast. Alfred had always kept the food light and easy to digest. You picked up a piece of toast from the plate, dipped it in the soup, and ate it while reading.

“Are you eating my fucking food?” Jason fumed from the distance.

“Someone should,” you bit back, dipping the toast back in the soup and continued to eat.

“Stop it.”

You looked over at him with challenging eyes. “Why should I?”

“It’s my food,” he insisted.

Jason hardly ever talked to you. In fact, that was the most words you’ve heard him say in a couple of weeks. He was possessive over his food, apparently, which didn’t make sense because he hardly ever ate.

“But it’s not like you eat it,” you argued, curious as to where this would take you, “I’m making sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, and then shifted slightly closer, leaning in towards you. “Give it to me.”

You pretended to consider it for awhile. “No.”

He growled.

“Come and take it if you want it so badly,” you challenged.

Immediately, you regretted it. Because he got up, and walked slowly towards you, looming over you like a predator watching its prey. Your heart started to beat faster in your chest, your palms started beading with sweat.

He then crouched down and snatched the piece of toast from your hands, taking the tray away and walked back towards his spot on the floor. Setting the tray down, he immediately started to ravish the soup and toast, his eyes never leaving yours the whole time.

It was the most he’d eaten ever since he arrived.

“You shouldn’t eat too fast,” you warned, “Your stomach’s not used to that amount of food yet.”

“Watch me.”

He cleaned the bowl in three minutes as you stared in shock.

***

“Who are you?” Jason asked out of the blue.

It was your sixth week there. Six weeks of sitting down in silence and hardly ever talking. Occasionally cleaning up after him, just to see the room messy again. Occasionally trying to spark up conversation, only to be greeted by silence. But that time, it was him who started it first.

You told him your name, still pleasantly surprised at his engagement.

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re called,” he spat, “It doesn’t explain to me who you are.”

Frowning, you closed the book. You wondered if it was a good idea to tell him that you were Bruce’s newly adopted daughter. Would he feel betrayed? Jealous? But if you didn’t and he found out, wouldn’t that be worse? Plus, you didn’t want to lie to him.

After all, you were trying to help.

“Bruce adopted me a year ago,” you explained, “I’m officially his adopted daughter. I’ve only recently been Robin. When we found you, it was just my second month.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, his jaw clenched. “Typical. Lose one toy, find another one to play with.”

“I’m not a toy,” you defended heatedly, “He… saved me. I owe him.”

He didn’t ask, but you knew he wanted to, so you continued anyway. “He found me at a bid. A human trafficking bid. After my parents died, I ran away from the orphanage. I got kidnapped. After finding out I was a virgin, they organised an event to see who would bid the highest to own me.”

It seemed like Jason’s expression didn’t change, his mouth still in a scowl. But you saw the way his eyes softened. It was a good idea to explain, after all. He must have drawn conclusions that Bruce had replaced him with you shortly after his death.

“Batman crashed the party right before I was about to get sold off for… Five thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars,” you scoffed, “I guess that was how much I was worth. Could you even buy a car with that? I’m not sure. Maybe a used one.”

“Anyway, I was quite shaken up. He took pity on me, I guess. Maybe it was my puppy dog eyes that made me look so pathetic that he decided to take me in. Mom always said I had a pathetic look,” you shrugged, “That’s who I am I guess. Now I’m in my last year of highschool. I turn seventeen in two months! I'm only a year or so younger than you. You don’t have to get me anything, of course. It’s cool. I never really cared much for birthdays anyway.”

You tried to lighten the mood, but all you saw was Jason’s unchanging expression. You guessed that was as much as he was willing to say that day, so you got up and started cleaning again despite knowing he was going to just mess it up.

***

He did mess it up again, but what shocked you that day was not the mess, but the fact that he was actually on the bed. The bed was still unmade, and he was sitting unnaturally upright, but still. It was progress.

You sat down on the floor and read your book. After five minutes, he asked, “What’s the book about?”

Trying your hardest not to look surprised in case he took it the wrong way, you answered, “A brief history of mankind. From evolution, to the agricultural revolution, to the current day.”

He just blinked at you in response, and you wondered when was the day that he had stopped glaring at you.

You tried to break the ice. “Bruce put all the books he thought you might like on the shelf. I’ve noticed that they’re mostly classic literary novels. You like those, huh?”

Not a word.

“I never really could get into those. I tried, but it’s not my thing, you know? Or maybe I started with the wrong book.”

He closed his eyes instead of answering you.

Sighing, you decided not to push it, and went back to your book.

About fifteen minutes passed. And then-

“You like science and shit?” he spoke up, his eyes boring into yours.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, taken aback by the sudden question.

“Start with Jules Verne. Twenty thousand leagues,” he told you, then closed his eyes again.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

Silence.

***

“Why do you sit there?” Jason asked you two days later.

“Huh?”

“Why do you sit on the floor when there's a desk?” he repeated in annoyance, like an underpaid customer service worker at the mall.

“Well, I didn't want to intrude on your space,” you told him.

“You being here already intrudes my space,” he rolled his eyes.

Jason was more relaxed now. He was actually leaning against a propped pillow on the bed, one knee brought to his chest, the other leg crossed over it.

And he was reading a fucking book.

“...so you can sit anywhere you like. Doesn't make a difference,” he continued.

“Then can I sit on the bed next to you?” you teased lightly.

You had expected him to glare at you in contempt, to tell you to fuck off or get out, or even not respond to you at all. So you were very much surprised when he said what he did.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Despite trying your best to act neutral, your jaw dropped. You quickly recovered, and cleared your throat nervously, standing up and slowly walking towards him. Jason shuffled a bit, going upwards against the wall at the head of the bed.

You slowly sat down at the foot of it, still maintaining some distance from him for his sake. Bringing your bare feet up, you crossed them and leaned against the wall the bed was pushed against.

Getting comfortable, you opened your book and started reading. For two hours, you and Jason Todd sat on the bed next to each other, reading with no other sounds except the occasional rustling of a page being turned.

You closed your book once you were done, but before you could get up, he asked in a small voice. “How long was I… There?”

The way his voice was shaky, the way it came out in a harsh whisper, and the fact that it had taken him seven weeks to ask- it tugged at your heart.

“Two years,” you said objectively, making sure no emotions leaked into your voice.

“And he thought I was dead the whole time?” he grumbled.

“Yes.”

“That's why he never came?” he choked out.

Fuck, you tried not to let your tears fall.

“Yes,” you whispered back.

“World's greatest detective, my ass,” he snorted.

“He's killing himself over this,” you told him softly, “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Like what?” he demanded, looking at you with anger, with red eyes pooling with tears.

“Vulnerable. Clueless. Breaking down and crying next to you while you slept,” you elaborated. “You may not forgive him for now, and that's understandable. But Bruce? He’ll never forgive himself. Not in a million years.”

“Please leave.”

You didn't argue. You didn't hang around to clean up. You left immediately, because of the way he said his please, like someone who was tired, so tired. It was the way he told you to leave, it wasn't out of anger or spite. It was out of desperation. Because he was looking away when he told you, refusing to let you see the tear that fell on his face that you saw anyway.

***

“What are you looking at?” he grunted. “Close your mouth. You look like an idiot.”

You snapped your mouth close, not even aware that it was ajar.

The room was exceptionally clean- cleaner than when you cleaned it yourself. Jason had properly made the bed, fitted the sheets and folded the covers. The torn pages of paper were gone, and on his shelf were all his books, neatly arranged.

In alphabetical order.

Yet, Jason was still smelly, and he still hadn’t changed his clothes despite the wardrobe full of fresh t-shirts and pants.

“You clean up better than I do,” you grumbled, sitting at the foot of his bed carefully.

“That’s because you’re useless,” he snapped.

You tried not to smile despite his insult. The bickering was fun, and it showed that he was more familiar with you now.

Trying to push it a little further, you narrowed your eyes at him and started sniffing the air loudly.

“You smell,” you told him.

“If you don’t like it, leave,” he bit back.

“There’s hot water in the shower you know,” you reminded him, “You could go shower. I’ll wait right outside.”

“What for?” he eyed you suspiciously.

“For moral support!” you grinned, holding two thumbs up.

And whaddaya know?

He snorted a laugh, and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, “You really stink. You’d give Killer Croc a run for his money with that stench.”

“If you don’t like it,” he leaned closer towards you, “Leave.”

“Ugh,” you grunted. And then, you had an idea. Probably a bad idea. He would probably murder you.

You stood up and announced, “I’ll be right back.”

After ten minutes of running around the mansion looking for items, you finally came back with a bucket, a sponge, and a fluffy towel.

“What the hell are you up to?” Jason demanded, sitting upright.

“If you won’t go to the shower, then I’ll bring the shower to you,” you grinned triumphantly and went to fill the bucket with warm water from the shower. You set down the filled bucket on the floor and motioned to Jason.

“Well, get on the floor.”

“What?”

“I’m going to give you a bath, and if you stay on the bed, it’s going to get all wet,” you explained, “So get on the floor and take off your shirt.”

He stared at you with bewilderment in his eyes, and then suddenly let out a bark of laughter. “Why on Earth would I listen to you?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to splash all this water on you, and you’re going to have to sleep in a wet bed,” you threatened.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he bickered.

“Fine, I’ll bargain with you,” you said, “If you listen to me, I’ll tell him to turn that off.”

You pointed to the single security camera at the top corner of the room, always switched on, watching and recording.

He clenched his jaw, contemplating your tempting offer.

“Fine,” he conceded, and slid to the floor, taking off his shirt.

You smirked.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked,” he smirked back.

You really didn’t expect him to mess with you like that, and in result, you felt your cheeks heat up.

“N-no,” you denied, “I- you just stink.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you kneeled in front of him, bringing the bucket of water closer. You took the sponge and soaked it, but before you pressed it on his skin, you just realised the situation you put yourself in.

That close to Jason, with him looking up at you and waiting, you gulped. Because his body wasn’t as bad as you thought two years of starvation would have caused. Sure, he was definitely skinnier than he should ever be, and his muscles were barely there, but his overall frame, the structure of his body was still large.

You finally pressed the sponge against his rising and falling chest, not meeting his eyes. The warm water spilled from the sponge and trickled down his chest, onto his stomach. You moved your hand in a wiping motion, cleaning the sweat off the surface of his skin.

Scars littered his body, healed cuts of various sizes. Some were burns, some were bullet wounds, and some were the crescent shapes of bites.

You moved the sponge to his arms, wiping down the contour of the remaining biceps he had left, going under to wash his pits, then going down to his forearms, which you noticed had long rough scars running down from his wrists to the crook of his elbows.

Your chest tightened.

Despite the hell he went through, you still thought he was beautiful.

You felt your breathing start to quicken.

Moving to his stomach next, you noticed that the water had seeped into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, making it turn dark, making it stick to his skin, stick to the long cylindrical shape of his-

“Your pupils are dilated,” he pointed out.

Your eyes snapped back to his.

“Wh-what- I wasn’t- they’re not!” you sputtered angrily.

He looked at you with an odd expression. Well, any expression that wasn’t a hateful glare was odd, you supposed. But his eyelids were droopy, the corners of his mouth relaxed and not tight.

It looked like he was actually enjoying it.

“You don’t find me disgusting?” he whispered.

You frowned at him in question, bringing the sponge up to wash his neck. “Well, you smell a bit gross. But by the time I’m done with you, that’ll be gone.”

“No. I meant by me. My body. My face. You don’t think I’m disgusting?” he said in a voice so small, you could barely make out the words.

His body made you think things, but none of them were disgusting. In fact, if he looked like that now, you wondered how his body must have looked like before, when he was healthy. You glanced at his face.

He had scars there too. One at the corner of his upper lip that made him seem like he was permanently smirking, one across the bridge of his nose, another long one that cut from his temple down to his brow, barely missing his eye. And you didn’t even count the smaller ones, silver little lines that were scattered all over his skin.

His cold blue eyes had scars in them as well. Not physically, not literally. But when you stared deep into them, you could almost see how truly scarred he was, and that scar had nothing on the ones you could actually see.

“There is no way that I could ever find you disgusting,” you told him earnestly.

He stared at you for a while, and then looked away to the side. You soaked the sponge and wiped his face, pressing it to his cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he allowed you to travel up to his hair, wetting it, going behind his ears, and back to his nape.

With a plunk, you dumped the sponge in the water and then opened the cap of the soap you had brought.

In an instant, Jason recoiled from you, “No. No soap.”

“Just a little bit?” you pressed.

“No soap,” he insisted, pushing your hand away, “It smells too strong. Makes me sick.”

And suddenly, it clicked.

The reason why he left his room in a mess, the reason why he didn’t sleep on the bed, the reason why he never showered or changed.

Because it was all too much.

The sudden change from a disgusting, smelly, rat-infested torture room to a clean, proper, neat environment with a warm bed. It was too much for him, and he wasn’t used to it yet.

He wasn’t used to being clean.

And the smell of a perfumed body wash would most definitely be too much for him.

“Okay,” you nodded, setting the soap down. “Then I’ll wash you up one more time, is that okay?”

He nodded, still not looking at you.

You were back at his face again for the second time, and then you cupped his cheek, using your thumb to feel the roughness of his overgrown facial hair.

“Do you want me to help shave you?” you asked.

“No way in hell would I ever let you come near my fucking face with a razor,” he scoffed.

“Fair enough,” you mumbled back a reply.

Once you were done, you took the towel and wiped him dry, trying your best to avoid looking at his crotch because you knew his pants were absolutely soaked through. You got up and went to the wardrobe to take a fresh pair of pants- a black sweatpants this time- and a white t-shirt. You set them on the bed, and took the bucket to the bathroom to throw away the contents.

Once you were done, Jason was already changed into his new pants, and had just finished putting on his t-shirt. He looked much better, fresher, and-

“You smell way better now,” you chuckled.

“I did what you asked,” he said, “You better make that happen.”

He gestured to the camera with his thumb.

“I will. Promise,” you smiled, picking up his stinky shirt and wet pants before heading out.

***

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bruce grumbled.

“He’s not an experiment, or a criminal, Bruce,” you argued, “There’s no reason for you to keep surveillance on him that way. He deserves his privacy.”

“It’s about safety. His and yours,” he explained, “I wouldn’t know what’s going on in there while you’re inside if the camera is deactivated. I wouldn’t know if he’s- if he’s hurting himself.”

“I trust him, Bruce,” you insisted, “And he trusts me too! Look at what happened! He let me give him a freaking sponge bath!”

Bruce frowned in contemplation.

“He’s finishing his meals, he’s reading, he’s actually having conversations with me,” you listed, “He’s improving. Fast. Next thing you know, he and I could be best friends.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “But next time you go in, you’re bringing a panic button with you.”

The panic button you kept whenever you went for patrol was so that you could trigger a silent alarm to Bruce if you were in trouble.

“Okay, that’s fair!” you nodded your head excitedly, watching him as he pressed a button on the keyboard, switching off the camera in Jason’s room. The last thing you saw on the screen was Jason lying down on the bed, sleeping soundly.

***

“Okay, so,” you announced, standing up while you opened the plastic bag, “I got you a few things.”

Jason was on the bed, but proceeded to get up on his feet and tower over you. For some reason, he had started sitting or standing closer to you.

“I got you unscented shampoo and body wash,” you looked into the bag, naming the items you got, “Unscented shaving cream, and an electric shaver! You can’t hurt yourself with this, so Bruce agreed to-”

You looked up and gasped slightly at the closeness of his face to yours. You didn’t realise that he had stepped over so close to you that you could almost feel his warm breath on your face. Almost.

He took the plastic bag from your hands, his skin brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, it gave you goosebumps. He turned around with the plastic bag now in his hands, leaving you in shock.

That is, until he started taking off his shirt.

“W-woah!” you called out, “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my clothes,” he simply said, now not wearing a shirt.

“Why?”

“Because I want to shower,” he looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. “Why? Wanna join?”

“Wh-wh-j-join?” you stuttered, “Uh, no thanks. I’ll just. Leave you to it, then.”

You turned to leave. Then-

“Wait.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning back around to look at him, trying your best to maintain eye contact.

“Is that… diner in Gotham Village still around?” he asked quietly.

“The corner one on Vincent Street? Sure, it is,” you tilted your head in curiosity, “Would you… like anything from there?”

“The burger,” he said gruffly.

Your mouth widen into a smile. It was the first time he ever asked for anything, more so food. “Fries?”

“Sure.”

“Milkshake?”

“Yeah.”

“Chocolate?”

“Strawberry!” he looked at you as if you were crazy, and then disappeared into the toilet.

“I’ll be back in an hour!” you announced, skipping out in joy.

Vibrating with excitement, you opened the door to Jason’s room, not expecting to see a totally different man in his bed.

No, it was still Jason, but fuck.

Fuck.

He cleaned up well.

Finally showering after eight weeks, Jason Todd had transformed into an almost different person. His uncut hair that poked his eyes was no longer greasy. In fact, it had a slight bounce to it now.

He changed his shirt into a light blue V-neck, and most significantly of all, he shaved

Now you could see the way his angular jawline was cut into a shape as if some Greek artist sculpted it, the way his pink lips stood out against his milky skin - lack of tan from being kept indoors for so long, the way his cheekbones highlighted his facial structure.

And as if you didn’t think of it before, you thought about it again.

Jason Todd was a freaking hottie.

“Uhh, uhmm, uhhh,” you said, stunned and fully aware of the way your face was probably flushing.

He let out a chuckle, and walked towards you, reaching out to take the bags of food from your hand. All the while you were stunned in silence, unsure of how to react to the changed man.

“Anyone home?” he snapped his fingers in front of you.

“Uh, yes, sorry,” you shook your head, “I, uh, didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Expect what?” he set the bags on his desk, reaching in to take a fry. “Me to look so good?”

You were sure your ears were burning. “N-no! Not at all. Not that you don’t look good, but- uh- I mean- fuck!”

“I don’t understand you,” he took out the food and arranged them on the table. “My scars are more obvious like this.”

“I think your scars are sexy,” you blurted out.

He blinked.

“Uh, I mean!” you tried to backtrack, “Ugh, fuck it, let’s just eat!”

You took your own burger and went to sit on the bed.

“No food on the bed!” he barked.

“Okay, dad,” you rolled your eyes, settling with sitting on the floor.

To your surprise, Jason took all the food and put it on the floor in front of you, and then sat down opposite you.

Discreetly, you watched as he took the first bite.

He closed his eyes, chewing slowly, savouring the taste in his mouth. It was as though he was passionately making out with his burger, caressing the bun with love.

Smiling to yourself, you ate yours in silence, letting him appreciate the intimate moment he had with his food that he must have thought about while being forced to live on rats.

***

“What’s that?” Bruce asked curiously.

Ever since he switched off the camera in Jason’s room, he had been more agitated- or as agitated as he could get. He kept on asking you what you did, having you report back to him, demanding every little detail on his son’s wellbeing.

“My laptop,” you answered, “I was thinking we could do something different today. Maybe watch a movie. He’s missed out on so many.”

“A laptop,” Bruce hummed, “Do you think he would like one? To occupy his time? Or a television? Or a phone? Or- a tablet? Or-”

“Woah there, cowboy,” you chuckled. Bruce seemed desperate to provide Jason with anything he wanted. Maybe as a way to push the guilt away, maybe as a way to reconcile.

Or maybe he was just being a father who wanted to spoil his son.

Whatever the reason was, you thought it was extremely sweet.

“He’s only now just getting used to being in a clean environment,” you explained, “All of that may overstimulate him, and I don’t want him to revert back to how he was.”

“I see.”

“But I’ll ask, okay?” you said, heading to the room. “We’ll see how he handles a movie.”

You opened the door to see Jason sitting on his bed with his legs spread in front of him, reading a book.

“Hello,” you greeted.

“What’s that,” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“My laptop!” you told him excitedly, “I thought maybe we could watch a movie today.”

“Movie?” he frowned, crossing his legs to make space for you on the bed.

“Yeah,” you sat down in front of him, “I’ve got a whole terabyte of illegally downloaded movies and shows. We can choose one together and watch, if you’d like?”

He contemplated for a while, eyebrows drawn together while you opened your laptop. “Fine.”

“Yay!” you cheered, “Okay, so what do you like to watch? Action? Drama? Thriller? Comedy? Or… Romance?”

“Put on your favourite movie,” he stated.

“What? Nah, you can choose something you’d like to watch,” you declined, “I’m cool with anything.”

“I want to watch your favourite movie,” he deadpanned.

You purse your lips. “Okay, sure. Scoot over.”

He propped two pillows up against the headboard of his bed and moved to the side so you can squeeze in between him and the wall. At first, you were not used to being in close proximity with him, and you wanted to give him personal space.

But after a while, Jason himself had sat next to you closely, stood in front of you or behind you closely- so close that the skin of your arms would brush against each other, or in this case, the heat of his thigh against yours as you balanced the laptop on each of your thighs.

The next surprising thing that happened, though, was when he put his arm behind your shoulder so casually, that anyone would have guessed it was a thing he did on the regular.

You were taken aback by his advances, but appreciated that he felt comfortable with you. It was such an accomplishment considering everything that happened, so you leaned into him snuggly.

You clicked play.

And then, he came in close to you, brushing his lips against your ear and said in the lowest whisper that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“If this movie sucks, I’ll kill you.”

It wasn’t a threat, you knew it wasn’t.

But the heat on your neck from his breath when he whispered to you, the low tone of his voice-

You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together in arousal.

***

“I wonder if he’ll be okay,” you thought out loud.

“I’m so jealous that you’re the only one who gets to see him. When can I go?” Dick whined.

“Two weeks is a long time,” you ignored Dick, “Bruce, is the phone offer still available?”

“Of course,” Bruce said, cutting his steak as silently as he walked. “I already have one. It’s on my desk.”

“That’s great!” you scooped up mashed potatoes.

“Seriously, though,” Dick pressed, “It’s been like what, five months? I want to see him.”

You looked across the dining table to meet your older brother in the eye. It was rare that Dick came over and had dinner with everyone, but his visits had been increasing ever since Jason got back.

“We can’t risk overstimulation, Dick. The only reason why he probably accepted me so easily is because I wasn’t part of his old life. He hasn’t even mentioned anything about… you know. And he hasn’t brought you or anyone else up.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “It’s just- he’s my brother.”

Those last three words spoke volumes. A simple fact that carried so many emotions. Sadness, relief, longing, regret.

Dick was really special. You got the younger sibling treatment from Dick as well, and you only knew him for a little over a year. Even then you had formed such a bond with Dick Grayson you knew you wouldn’t have with anyone else in the world.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine his relationship with Jason, and how painful it must be to find out his little brother is alive but not allowed to see him.

“He just needs more time and space,” you said, “But he’s getting better, Dick. Much better. Even making jokes and teasing me. You’ll know once he’s ready. And I don’t think it’ll take too much longer.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, haven’t you?” Dick narrowed his eyes at you. “Like, every single day.”

“Well, yeah, he’s probably bored,” you shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

“A little birdie told me that you gave him a sponge bath a few months ago,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

You looked at Bruce accusingly, in which he responded with a simple, “Alfred.”

“He wasn’t showering at the time, and he stank like hell,” you explained.

“Sure, use that as an excuse,” he grinned, “Have you seen him shirtless since then?”

“Why?” you asked a little too defensively, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Nothing,” Dick laughed, “I wanted to ask about his progress. Health wise.”

“Oh,” you calmed down, “Well, Alfred has him on a high protein diet now. He’s definitely filled up since then.”

“Filled up,” Dick winked.

“Grow up, Dick!” you snapped.

After dinner, you went to Bruce’s desk to pick up the smartphone and brought it downstairs to Jason’s room.

“Two visits in a day. A late one, too. What’s the occasion?” Jason mused when you came in.

“I have something for you,” you sat at the foot of his bed.

“Is it my birthday?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, “We got you a smartphone. It has internet access and my number. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. In fact, it’s switched off. I’m gonna leave it here on the shelf. And if you don’t want it, just ignore it.”

“Why all of a sudden?” he eyed you suspiciously from where he was sitting at the top of the bed.

“Well,” you started, “I’m going to be away for a couple of weeks. On a trip with my friends. Sort of a post-graduation celebration. And I thought that since I won’t be here to keep you company, you might like to… you know…”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Talk? Text? Call?” you winced at your own awkwardness. Why were you even nervous? “I mean. You’d be bored so at least you have internet. If you want, of course.”

“Are you implying that I’d miss you while you’re gone?” his lips turned into a smirk, “Or are you the one who will miss me?”

“Neither!” you huffed, “I just thought that you might want some other form of entertainment besides books.”

“I was locked away in a cell for two years without food, water, books, or the internet,” he scoffed.

“And look how great you turned out,” you bit back sarcastically, before realising what you had said. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down,” he complained, “It’s fine. You don’t have to be careful with me, I’m not a fucking baby.”

You knew that, but at the same time, you still couldn’t call him by his own name.

“Okay,” you nodded, “Well. I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll be back on the tenth.”

You glanced at the digital clock on Jason’s desk. It was one of the most important things in his room. It allowed him to keep track of the time and day- imperative to keeping one’s sanity in check.

“Tenth, twentieth, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” you reminded him, “You do know that we’ve unlocked the door a couple of weeks ago, right? You’re free to go anywhere you want.”

Everyone had deemed him more or less stable. He wasn’t going to hurt himself or anyone else unless provoked or triggered, so Bruce decided to leave his doors unlocked, but Jason has yet to step outside.

“Doesn’t make a difference,” he mumbled, lying back down to face the ceiling.

Deep down, you knew what he meant.

It didn’t make a difference if you left the door unlocked, or threw him out of the room. Because at the end of the day, Jason was still being imprisoned by himself.

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