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lightblueterracota · 3 years ago

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Tenderness, Undescribed

hermitcraft grian x mumbo jumbo. i don’t have a fully established and intricate universe for this storyline, but basically it’s their hermitcraft characters and grian also has wings :^)

another note is this is in no way shipping the irl people, this is absolutely only for their fictional characters! please don’t ship real people and/or harass the actual people behind these characters :)

There’s a certain tenderness to Mumbo that Grian finds fascinating.

For his long legs, clumsy mobility, and dark eyes above a bold mustache, Mumbo is not often associated with the word tender. More often than not, other Hermits know him for being the friendly neighborhood Redstoner that often finds himself in disasterous, life-threatening situations, often needing to call for other Hermits to dive in and save him last second. His general obtuse nature and lack of direction make him seem like a friendly yet out of control aircraft helicoper with styrofoam blades.

But there’s no denying that Mumbo is a genius as well. Almost on par with Doc, Grian would say that Mumbo is one of the brightest people he knows, despite his daftness. Even if he gets his Redstone wiring mixed up terribly sometimes, there’s a brilliance beneath that mustache that shines through everytime Mumbo eagerly invites Grian to his base to show him another massive and impressive machine.

And when he talks about his Redstone -- he’s all over the place. Big gestures and waving arms, loud exclamations of excitement as he eaglerly jumps around and points out each piece of Redstone and its wiring, it’s hard for Grian to keep up sometimes. But there’s something oddly fond whenever Mumbo gets insanely proud of a build, and even if Grian doesn’t understand it 100%, he listens attentively anyway as Mumbo explains it to him.

It’s hilarious, sometimes. Mumbo’s fingers are big and clumsy sometimes, and he struggles with piecing together intricate Redstone wiring that require small pieces. When he’s impatient, sometimes he has to ask Grian’s sharp eagle-eyes to help him piece together a particularly tricky part of a machine, and Grian is more than happy to help.

All in all, while Grian is very fond of Mumbo, he’s not someone Grian would consider gentle and tender.

There was a moment though, when that changed.

It happened on one of Grian’s worst nights. Upon visiting a nearby village, he hadn’t realized that he had accidentally triggered a raid, and at that time he had no combat gear on him. As the mobs swarmed from the hillsides and Grian desperately tried to protect the villagers and herd them indoors, arrows and slashes of melee weapons cut across Grian’s body. Even when he decided to draw back, trying to make his escape by flying away, several arrows were shot into his wings, and he almost didn’t make it.

He was on low health and bleeding when he crash-landed into Mumbo’s base -- the only other person that was also active at that time of night. He had scared the crap out of the man, Mumbo jumping out of his focus on his Redstone as the winged individual crashed through his window, heavily injured and weak.

He was too faint to respond to Mumbo’s frightened, “Jesus, Grian, what happened?!” as he collapsed onto the floor, wings spread across the floorboards of Mumbo’s base. He blearily watched as the man jumped up, immediately rummaging through some storage for healing supplies.

“Your wings,” Mumbo had said, and there was some saddening awe in his voice. “Oh Grian, your wings. They must hurt so bad. Hold on a second.”

Grian didn’t want to think about it. He could feel blood dripping from his wings and could see a few scattered feathers that had fallen off in his crash-landing. His beautiful wings, ruined.

“Can you stand?” Mumbo asked, and Grian was about to protest, when Mumbo continued, saying, “Wait no, you probably can’t. Hold still. I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

Grian cringed, expecting to be hauled like a sack of potatoes and bracing for impact, but was shocked when he felt Mumbo’s gentle hold as the taller hoisted the winged man up, moving him to a nearby bed. Mumbo seemed to be very careful of not brushing his damaged and bleeding wings, gently shouldering Grian so that his limbs were comfortable and his wings had room.

The closeness of Mumbo’s body caught Grian off guard and he silently let Mumbo gently place him down onto the bed. Then Mumbo got to work, grabbing some healing supplies and bandages.

“I’m sorry,” Mumbo warned in advance as he disinfected his own hands, “but there’s a couple of arrowheads still in your wings. I need to take them out before I bandage you. This is going to hurt.”

Before Grian could react, a sharp, excruitating pain blossomed from his left wing as Mumbo carefully removed the sharp object, the scalding pain shooting up his spine. A pained yelp came escaped from Grian, only to be sizzled away by Mumbo’s gentle shushing as he immediately started applying pressure to the wound.

“Shh,” Mumbo said softly, disposing of the arrowhead and cleaning the area. “Shh, I know it hurts a lot. It’s okay. You’re alright, I got you.”

It wasn’t often Grian heard Mumbo speak in such a soft manner. Oddly enough, his words were comforting, settling over Grian’s tired bones like a blanket, and Grian forced himself to relax as Mumbo continued to softly speak some encouragements.

Whimpers of pain continued to come from Grian as Mumbo continued to clean him up, his normally clumsy and large hands now extremely gentle and intricate as he delicately plucked the damage out of Grian’s wings and applied healing salves to his wounds. As Mumbo gently worked through patching up Grian’s wings, he made sure to inspect the rest of Grian’s body carefully, checking for other signs of bleeding and wounds.

Once he was doing bandaging him, Mumbo told him, “Lean back, please.”

Grian obeyed, settling back carefully into the bed and watched as picked up a bottle of healing potion. Grian groaned in protest, not in any mood to digest anything, but Mumbo simply leaned forward to place two fingers underneath Grian’s chin and lifted, making Grian’s mouth aim upwards.

“I know you probably don’t want to drink anything right now, but this will make you feel much better, I promise,” Mumbo said gently as he held Grian’s face up firmly and lifted the cool glass edge of the bottle to his lips. “Please drink.”

A feeling of tenderness, undescribed, washed over Grian as he became acutely aware of Mumbo’s fingers underneath his chin, and the way his thumb barely brushed against his bottom lip.

Too weak to fight against the gentle push of Mumbo’s hands, Grian let Mumbo slowly feed the potion into his mouth, obediently swallowing the restorative liquid. Mumbo let out a pleased hum as he watched Grian consume the potion.

Once Mumbo made sure Grian drank every last drop, he softly released Grian’s chin, letting his face fell back softly.

There was a belated, blurry moment where Grian realized he enjoyed Mumbo’s warm touch on his face.

Falling back into the bed pillows, exhausted, Grian felt his eyes go heavy. It seemed that the healing potion Mumbo fed him had a drowsy side-effect, likely to encourage overnight healing. As sleepiness slowly ebbed over his brain, Grian watched as Mumbo cleaned up, the warm light from the nearby lantern seeming to frame Mumbo in an entirely new perspective.

Who knew Mumbo would have such good bedside manners as a doctor, Grian thought lazily.

“You can sleep here for tonight,” Mumbo said. “I wouldn’t want you flying around in the dark now anyway. Your wings will be okay, they just need some time to heal a bit.”

Oh. Yeah.

“My wings,” Grian whined softly. “They look so damaged...”

“No,” Mumbo cut in gently. “Your wings will be back to beautiful once you rest up for a bit. I promise. You’ll be back to flying in no time, don’t worry.”

“They’re so ugly now,” Grian lamented miserably.

“They don’t,” Mumbo insisted. “You look beautiful right now, Grian, I promise. Now go to sleep.”

Grian knew damn well he was in no good-looking shape. He could still feel the dirt on his face and the way his hair was still curled and messy from crashing. But he was too tired to open his mouth and argue against Mumbo, so Grian let his eyes shut, the last thought drfiting in his mind being:

He thinks I’m beautiful.

After that, Grian could only ever see the tender side to Mumbo.

After nursing him back to health, Grian had thanked him countless times, with Mumbo simply giving him a kind smile and insisting it was no problem. From then on, Grian could only ever see that gentleness in Mumbo, and remember the way he tended to his wounds and cleaned his wings and held his face that night. The kindness and way he had jumped up immediately to take care of Grian. The gentleness and how he soothed his pain.

So maybe to other Hermits, they know Mumbo as a clumsy, bumbling human being.

But to Grian, he knows him as someone tender, undescribed.

#hermitcraft shipping #hermitshipping #grian #mumbo jumbo #grian x mumbo jumbo #grumbo #fanfic

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link4eva · 4 years ago

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Kiro’s Rhythm Date Translation [CN]

Hey, y’all! A quick note before you begin reading, I do not know any Chinese at all so Google Translate is the real MVP here. I’ve just taken the time to write down what comes out and changed some words here and there to try and make it make more sense. So apologies for the amateur translation in advance lol. This is just mainly to get the gist of the date before it eventually releases on the ENG server. Hope you enjoy it!

*Spoilers ahead for future content!*

[First Part]

After typing the last word of the report, I hit the enter key hard with my hand and then let out a cry of joy from my heart.

MC: It’s finally done!!!!!

Kiro: You’re finally done!!!!

Almost at the same time, Kiro, who was sitting on the sofa, took off his headset and threw it aside, raising his hands and cheering along with me. The next moment, his twinkling eyes looked at me.

Kiro: MC, let’s go out on a date! I thought for sure that this weekend would be spent working, but it seems that God still cares for us!

He didn’t wait for me to answer, he had already taken a few steps and sat across from me, holding the back of the chair and looking at me expectantly.

Kiro: Let’s go to the cake place that just opened up recently, I want to try it.

He held up his fingers and began to count the deliciousness of his thoughts. I cleared my throat and interrupted his daydream mercilessly.

MC: That’s it! The sunny weather is so nice, shouldn’t we go out and exercise? Savin asked me to supervise you. Recently, you’ve been slacking on your exercise regime to write songs. So...

Kiro: ...I knew it.

He lowered his head and sighed heavily but the happy smile returned in the next second.

Kiro: Let’s just exercise. Life lies in exercise and to enjoy life is to exercise with Miss Chips!

He told me to wait in a tone of voice I had never heard before and got up to change his clothes. I also went to change into sportswear that I had left at his house when we exercised last time.

Putting on my shoes and standing in the hall, I picked up the baseball cap and put it on Kiro’s head. I helped him straighten his messed up bangs.

He led the way down the hallway, but his toes tapped the ground like a beat as if he couldn’t wait.

MC: Make sure you don’t get recognized when we’re out later.

Kiro: Don’t worry, I promise to complete the mission!

Kiro obediently agreed. Before leaving the house, he turned his head and waved at Apple Box lying on the sofa.

Kiro: The task of housekeeping is left to you. We are going out!

I don’t know if Apple Box understood initially. To my surprise, he seemed to understand and replied with a “Woof!”.

[Second Part]

The weather outside was just right. The breeze that is blowing is warm on my face, almost as if it’s driving away the fatigue caused by the long days of work.

I followed Kiro and jogged forward aimlessly. From time to time, he slowed down and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me, humming as if he had just written a song.

Kiro: MC, are you tired?

As soon as I met his gaze, he couldn’t wait to inquire again and the thoughts in his eyes couldn’t hide.

MC: Although I am a bit tired, I can hold on for a while!

Kiro: Ah, that’s it, but-

He suddenly stopped halfway through his words and a trace of worry flashed across his face. I looked and stopped teasing him for the time being.

MC: Actually, it’s not impossible to rest for an hour or two.

Hearing these words, his eyes lit up.

Kiro: Then let’s rest for “one or two hours”!

He grabbed my hand and walked happily in one direction. The warmth of his palm matched the warmth of his eyes.

MC: Where are we going?

As soon as I asked, after turning a corner, a familiar street appeared in front of us. Tall and lush trees stood, exquisite old-fashioned buildings scattered. There were bustling young men and women and the smell of honey and coffee permeated the air.

--Isn’t this the street that has been very popular recently?!

I immediately caught on to what he was doing. I was amused but also a little annoyed.

MC: Have you planned the route in advance?

Kiro nodded, showing a natural smile.

Kiro: SInce I’m coming with you, of course. I have to plan every step in advance! There is a shop here where you can pick the toppings to put on a chiffon cake. The most popular one is raspberry.

I don’t know whether it was affected by Kiro’s vivid appearance or by the sweet fragrance in the air, Savin’s image slowly came to mind.

MC: It sounds really delicious!

Kiro: Alright then, let’s go! I have already made a reservation!

In a few seconds, I put aside my worries and joined him among the crowds on the street, enjoying the break.

It was a perfect moment, but all of a sudden, an unexpected guest stopped in front of us.

[Third Part]

Reporter: Excuse me, both of you! We are randomly interviewing attractive couples! Can you answer a few questions? *The translation came out as “high-value” so I’m going to assume it means “attractive”.*

The moment I saw the camera, I was already in front of Kiro, looking at this fashionable, young man with vigilance.

MC: Sorry, we’re busy at the moment. You can interview other people.

Reporter: But other people don’t fit the original intention of our “Feast for the Eyes” program! Only a few minutes of your time!

Reporter: Huh? Why does this man look a bit like…?

I had a bad feeling and I stretched out my hand to hold Kiro’s cuff. The next moment, the reporter slapped his thighs one by one--

Reporter: Yep! It’s Kiro!

His voice isn’t loud but it still draws all the eyes around us.

MC: You’ve got the wrong person! Let me trouble you!

I resolutely denied his claim before everyone could react. I immediately pulled Kiro into the crowd and quickly slipped away.

Kiro: (pouting) Why do we always encounter such things when we go out on dates?

In addition to the loud voices behind me asking, “Where’s Kiro?”, there is also Kiro silently complaining.

[Cut to Kiro’s house]

After hurriedly “escaping” back home, my highly elevated heartbeat finally began to calm down.

MC: Safe at last…

Kiro: I didn’t eat anything this time but I burned a lot of calories.

MC: Probably because God is standing on Savin’s side, we can do nothing but accept it!

Kiro: But I don’t want to accept it…

Kiro plopped on the sofa and hugged Apple Box and looked up at me with a sad pair of eyes.

Kiro: Alas, why can’t he make this world just for the two of us! *I had to change some of the wording here. What came out originally was kinda wonky.*

I looked at my phone and found out that what happened just now did not arouse any attention. I felt secretly relieved. Kiro saw this and looked out the window and saw the sun. He sighed.

Kiro: It’s so rare when the weather is this nice. We finally had some time together… It’s a pity not to do anything.

MC: Then let’s do something we can do at home. Perhaps watching a movie?

Kiro: Movies… Are there any good movies recently?

Although he appeared to be uninterested, he still put his head down and browsed the newly released movies with me.

Before I had a chance to look, a furry head squeezed between the two of us and pushed Kiro aside.

Kiro: Apple Box, don’t make trouble… Wait, what are you biting?! Ahh! Let go of my game controller!

Kiro swooped forward and Apple Box dodged swiftly. In the hot pursuit of Kiro chasing Apple Box, he accidentally bumped into some things.

The screen that had just stopped at the movie interface suddenly switched and several dynamic virtual characters appeared. As if drawn to this, Apple Box blinked his beady eyes and looked straight at the TV screen.

Kiro quickly grabbed the other half of the game controller from Apple Box’s mouth and clicked it angrily. Little brains.*I don’t know what “little brains” is haha.*

Kiro: I finally caught you, bad guy!

Apple Box, whose “toy” was suddenly taken away, looked at Kiro innocently. He wiggled his ears aggrievedly. I was softened by his eyes and I reached out to rub his head.

MC: Apple Box, you must be a good boy and not be so rowdy.

Apple Box: Woof!

As if he understood, Apple Box shook his head obediently and his fluffy fur rubbed against the palm of my hand. He then turned around excitedly and wagged his tail at the TV screen.

Kiro and I looked at the dazzling picture on the screen at the same time. The characters on it also writhed in time.

Kiro: Miss Chips, let’s play a motion sensory game!

MC: Why don’t we play this? Sports and leisure combined are great!

Talking in unison, we both laughed out loud. After deciding what to do, Kiro and I sat down on the carpet in front of the TV, choosing a game that we could play for a while. He put his head on my shoulder, expressing his opinions from time to time.

Kiro: I think this game is good! It’s fun!

Kiro’s breathing on my neck was ticklish and I shrank my neck. I watched the screen being manipulated to jump up and down to escape. The character retreated into himself.

MC: This feels too difficult. Let’s look at the next one.

Kiro: It’s not that bad! I set a world record in only one attempt!

He raised the corners of his mouth as he spoke, his expression extremely proud. Although he knew that as KEY, he was skilled at all aspects in the game.

MC: Well, then this game is not challenging for you…!

As if I had seen myself in the game, I decisively switched to the next interface.

Kiro: Eh? I don’t seem to have played this game before…

I was overjoyed when I heard this and made a decision almost immediately.

MC: Then let’s play “Just Dance”!

This is a very popular music and dance game recently. Players can choose different dancer characters to play as. Players have to imitate the people on screen and dance in order to win.

Because this game is simple and easy to use and, and has many popular songs, it has been popular all over the world after it’s release.

MC: Now both of us are novices. This is equal ground!

I gave a controller to him, nodded and said in a serious tone. Kiro raised his chin slightly with a smirk.

Kiro: So, MC, do you want to challenge my status as KEY?

MC: I won’t give up easily!

After that, the game begins.

[Fourth Part]

If I could go back in time by just 10 minutes, I definitely would’ve said something different about the game being “equal grounds”.

MC: What! Jumping wrong again!

The movements the two of us were doing were obviously strange at first. But after a while, we became one with the dance.

MC: Why am I always slow!

Kiro: Don’t worry! Treat this as a novice level and then adapt slowly from there.

MC: Then this newbie level is too difficult for me…

I was bitter. I felt as though my hands and feet were rebelling against me.

Kiro: It’s not difficult as long as you master the basics. For example, this movement here. As long as your hand is raised to this position, you will be guaranteed to pass.

He gestured for me to do the movement that stumped me just now, and I followed suit.

MC: Like this?

Kiro: Almost.

He walked up to me, grabbed my wrist and raised my head, then tilted my head to the other side.

MC: Is this it?

I followed his instructions and turned into ten twisted poses. I found the smile on his face grew wider and wider and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Kiro: Puff hahaha, MC, you are so obedient!

MC: KIRO!

I became annoyed at once. I reached out to try and mess up his hair but he leaned back and dodged me smoothly.

Kiro: I was wrong! I was wrong! I was wrong!

MC: I won’t let you get away!

I kept tickling the sensitive skin on his waist. Kiro dodged from left to right and wrapped me in his arms. He is like a koala. He has me locked firmly in his arms, making it hard for me to move.

Kiro: Haha, so you won’t be able to tickle me!

There was a bit of pride in his laughter and his hot breath after exercising clung to my back, even in my chest. The rhythm of our heartbeats can’t be concealed. My heartbeat somehow increased.

MC: I, I won’t do what I did before again. Let go of me first, or how else can we continue playing the game?

Kiro: Well, alright.

He released his arms, looking reluctant, but turned his attention back to the game again.

Kiro: So this time we will warm up with the easier songs and then challenge each other with the more difficult ones!

I didn’t know what Kiro’s “simple difficulty” meant until the melody of a familiar foreign nursery rhyme played from the speakers. But soon I put the matter of nursery rhymes aside and danced awkwardly with the little dino on screen.

With the cute and cheerful melody, everything becomes more fun. Compared with the previous song, Kiro danced such an overly cute dance. It was a bit strange.

He stared at the screen earnestly, making movements while humming his own jumbled lyrics to the tune of the music.

Kiro: (singing) I’m a little dinosaur~ little dinosaur~

His blonde hair puffed up by the hairband also jumped along with his movements. A sweat bead from his forehead “ticked” off and fell onto his collarbone hidden by his collar.

MC: Obviously I am the little dinosaur!

The “perfect” floating above the screen made my previously annoyed mood become more excited. The magic of the game is to make people forget all their troubles. When I’m with Kiro, these simple dances turn into the simplest happiness.

After the song ended, I watched the rating jump up to four stars. I couldn’t help but hug Kiro and cheer.

MC: Ahh, it’s four stars! Only a little bit short away from getting full stars!!

Kiro: See, that wasn’t so hard for you, was it?

MC: Sure enough, it’s not difficult to master the trick you taught me!

I confidently picked the next song to “conquer” but suddenly saw a familiar name.

MC: Huh, there is this song?

It was a song from Kiro’s latest album. I quickly turned to look at him. However, Kiro frowned slightly while staring at his song, his expression a bit solemn.

Kiro: This song was licensed to them. But I feel that it’s a bit awkward to dance to my own songs in the game.

Seeing him acting unlike his usual self, I felt a sense of curiosity. Even though the “highly difficult” sign made me a little worried, I still pressed the confirm button decisively.

MC: Let’s dance to this song. I want to see if the original dancer can beat the game!

Meeting his gaze, Kiro hesitated for a second and quickly gave in.

Kiro: If you want to dance, MC, you can, but this dance is very difficult. Don’t force yourself to.

MC: Hmm!

Accompanied by the “START” character flashing, the intermingled sound of the electric guitar and keyboard sounded. Kiro held the controller and imitated the people on the screen, raising his hand to make a pose.

Boom--

The powerful drum beats go straight to the heart. Kiro’s face is very serious and every movement that he executes is in rhythm with the music and is full of power.

He stepped barefoot on the carpet, clearly wearing ordinary sportswear, but he seemed to be standing in the centre of the stage.

And in this small living room, me being the only audience, got to “exclusively” enjoy this performance. I don’t know if I should watch him wholeheartedly or if I should continue to clumsily dance with the animation.

While I was lost in thought, I accidentally tripped over my left foot with my right. Seeing that the hand that was swung out was about to hit Kiro, I withdrew it quickly.

I was hit with an elbow

MC: Ouch!

I squatted down, clutching the area I was hit, and buried my head between my knees.

Kiro: MC? What happened?!

He squatted down worriedly in front of me with his arms open. It looked like he wanted to hug me to comfort me but was worried that it would be bad so he stopped midway.

Kiro: What’s wrong? Is your leg cramping?

MC: Just now, I…

I shook my head, thinking of the silly thing I did just now. My ears and face were beet red. Before I had time to explain, Kiro put one hand behind my back and one hand under my knees and lifted me up.

MC: Wait! I can walk by myself!

He denied my protests and placed me gently on the sofa in a few large strides. He slowly lifted up one of my feet and carefully pressed the tight muscles of my calf with the pad of his finger.

Kiro: Does it hurt? Tell me if it hurts.

I forgot to respond. Seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, he slowed his movements down again and became more gentle. The sunset shining from the outside hit the top of his head forming a very gentle glow. It gave me the urge to rub it.

MC: Kiro, I’m fine. I didn’t hurt myself by forcing myself... I was just watching you…

The more I talked, the quieter I became. The temperature of my cheeks rose. After all, it would be too embarrassing to explain that I hit myself while dancing!

It was silent for a few seconds and Kiro finally laughed out loud.

Kiro: I didn’t expect my Miss Chips to be so honest. Now, just look at me.

Kiro raised his hand in a squatting position, and I found myself looking into his gentle blue eyes. When the music hit it’s climax, the drum beat gradually grew faster and got closely intertwined into an airtight net as if the soul is enveloped in it. *Wording was a little weird here. I think it’s supposed to be a heartbeat but the kanji for heart (心) isn’t in the original text.*

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Like my heartbeat right now, it's so strong that it’s about to beat out of my chest. Kiro seemed to see right through me and stood up. He supported the back of the sofa with one hand and held my wrist with the other to prevent me from escaping. When his nose came up to meet mine, he rubbed it.

Kiro: MC, I’m curious…

Looking at my bewildered and embarrassed face, he suddenly gave a sly smile.

Kiro: Is the rhythm of your heartbeat the same as mine right now?

His eyes were full of warmth and gentleness. His words were like a poet writing lyrics, a sorcerer chanting a bewitching spell.

Kiro: It is the same as mine. Everytime it beats. It only beats for you.

The breath that belonged to him slowly approached, the music continued playing in the background, and the game on screen kept showing “miss”.

The rhythm of our heartbeats has already been in sync with the beat and sweat. *This last part here was a little wonky with the wording*.

[END]

(Here is the link to his "Strawberry Invitation" call after the date!)

#mlqc kiro #mr love kiro #mr love #mr love game #mr love queen's choice #date translation #i wanna dance with him #i want him to dance for me #and shake dat ass

53 notes · View notes

thenamesseven · 4 years ago

Text

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update, I’ actually a bit more busy these days so please deal with me! ^^’ Anyways! I hope you all enjoy today’s chapter and forgive me if there are some mistakes, I tried editing this but it’s almost 2am and my brain is about to die xD

<- Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter->

You didn’t have an idea of what was going on.

With your back pressed against the wall and Jaebum’s hand around your neck, you stared deep into his eyes, completely frozen on the spot, not even knowing how to process the situation you were in right now. It slightly reminded you of the first time he showed up in your apartment, cornering you like this, right before he kissed you without your consent but this was painfully different and there was no way you could ignore it. That time he had held you gently, longingly, as if you could break if he was a bit rougher than he was supposed to be while the grip he had on your throat, was depriving you from some of the oxygen you should be breathing.

It didn’t hurt though, he wasn’t squeezing strong enough to actually choke you, but the posture he had placed the two of you in, screamed dominance, it was as if he was silently and not so subtly stating he could control you whenever he wanted and thought it was necessary. You couldn’t believe this was the nice and sweet Jaebum that had fallen asleep on your shoulder this morning while you waited for the bus, he was a completely different guy and yet you couldn’t help but feel even more intrigued about him.

A normal person would have been scared, you knew fear would be the most rational thing to feel when an absolute stranger was holding you against the wall by your neck but there was something in his eyes, a glint you couldn’t decipher yet, that overwhelmed your lower stomach with a warm feeling that was far from fear and closer to safety. He wasn’t going to kill you, he could have done it the other night if he had wanted to.

“What’s wrong with you?” You simply asked, staring back into his eyes, watching how he went from heated and dominant to confused and thrown off. He hadn’t expected you to ask that, out of all the different outcomes he had imagined while waiting for you, Jaebum didn’t even think about this one.

“What?” He asked, grip on your throat faltering, his thumb was now caressing your pulse spot, feeling how your heart beats slowed down. Jaebum’s head tilted, like a puppy that didn’t understand whatever you just said.

“Why are you mad? I didn’t even have time to stop you back in the cafeteria before you stormed off” You repeated, visualizing Jaebum’s gears turning in his head, eyes locked on you, the situation wasn’t going as planned and Jaebum was lowkey panicking.

The shock that brought your words and unexpected reaction had fried his brain enough for him to not even know how to react to everything, Jaebum simply was in a lost for words and that only made him even more frustrated “Way to ruin the situation (Y/N)”

Moving his hand away from you, Jaebum let out a quiet sigh as he shook his head, looking incredibly disappointed at whatever had just happened between the two of you. While he had expected you to enjoy his actions and get in a better mood with him acting all dominant and sexy, you had only thought he was merely mad because of what had happened that morning. You were partially right though, everything that was happening right now had been triggered by the jealousy Yugyeom stirred awake in Jaebum’s chest but he hadn’t been aiming to get this kind of outcome, he had just been hoping for a little make out session and some dinner, that would have been perfect. However, lost was an understatement to how you felt, you didn’t even know where this was all coming from and you wanted to try to get an explanation before listening to your subconscious and assuming he had some kind of personality disorder he had forgotten to mention.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, looking at him, your eyebrows furrowing because of the soft frustration you were starting to feel “What situation Jaebum?” Your words only seemed to hurt his feelings even harder.

Jaebum considered his whole plan useless if you couldn’t have guessed that he was trying to spice things up romantically between the two of you from the beginning. His jaw tensed in what seemed to be anger but instead of saying something, Jaebum simply looked at you in defeat, hands raised in exasperation as he rolled his eyes and turned around to walk deeper into the apartment.

“Jaebum wa-”

You started walking right after him, willing to stop him before the distance between the two of you got too big, when your eyes landed on the table you usually had dinner on by yourself. Gone were the bunch of books and boring papers you always had scattered on it, being replaced by a red, soft looking tablecloth that you probably saved for special occasions but ended up never using it because, there hadn’t been any special occasions at all. A few candles had been lit in order to let the rest of the room be swallowed by darkness and gentle moonlight and, like the tablecloth, your special occasion silverware had also been set and prepared, waiting to be used.

“What’s this?” You asked quietly, awed by the view in front of you. “Did you do all this?”

Jaebum scoffed, plopping himself down onto your couch, finding your reaction truly unbelievable. Was it that hard to believe he would do something like this? “No! You see, actually Youngjae broke into our place and decided to prepare a romantic dinner for us but, since you arrived earlier you kind of interrupted it” His sarcasm and the way he called your apartment ‘ours’ was left ignored for the better, those were small arguments that you definitely didn’t need to have right now, it could wait till later, probably when Jaebum had calmed down and forgot about whatever the hell seemed to be bothering him at the moment.

“Okay, I deserved that, it was a stupid question” You muttered as your eyes moved from him to the table, right before they went back to him once again, while you stood there, in the middle of the room awkwardly, not knowing how to really handle the situation.

You’ve never found yourself in a similar situation, never in your life had you had to deal with something like this. Coming back home and finding a surprise, and apparently special, dinner was already incredibly new but frustrating somebody to the point where they didn’t even want to talk about it also was a first time for you. You still felt lost, mind raking for answers as to what you could have done or said to make him this upset but anxiety was also ready to show up since you definitely felt bad for making him mad and now, for hurting his feelings. Jaebum had taken the time and effort to prepare all of this after all and you appreciated it a lot even when you haven’t shown it yet.

“All this was stupid, I should have known it wouldn’t work” He mumbled in return, placing his feet up on the coffee table as he stared at the turned off television like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Jaebum’s child-like tone told you he was back to being the one you were familiar with, the one that got grumpy when you rejected his romantic advances and hated Youngjae for reasons that were absolutely insane. “Shouldn’t have listened to that old man, it feels like I’ve been tricked” You couldn’t help but lift one of your eyebrows at those words, definitely curious about what he was talking about.

“You’ve been scammed?” You asked, sitting down by his side on the couch, legs crossed and body turned to face him completely, letting him know he had your entire attention right now “How did you come back home Jaebum?”

“I saw Youngjae waiting in the bus stop and he offered to pay for me, so we came home together” Jaebum slightly lied, thinking it would be best if he didn’t mention how he had been the one asking Youngjae to pay for him, it was just unnecessary for you to know that right now.

It was surprising to find out that Jaebum had accepted coming back with Youngjae, someone he hadn’t hesitated to make his enemy, but knowing your own neighbor, you didn’t doubt that he would have offered Jaebum to come back home with him. “Ah, I’m glad you didn’t have to walk all the way back by yourself” You said with a small smile “I got out of the cafeteria to give you my bus card so you could take a ride home but I couldn’t found you, I felt kind of worried there”

“You did?” He asked, taken back by your sudden confession, he would have expected you to completely ignore his little tantrum and focus on your crush instead, not to go after him “What about you though? How would you have gotten back home if I had your bus card?”

“Well, I could always walk” You shrugged, leaning back against the couch, you hadn’t realized how truly exhausted you were until you landed your butt onto the comfort of your old couch “But I could also make Jinyoung pay for my bus ride even though I would have to buy him coffee for the next two days” Jaebum smiled a little, despite his first impression -which were always bad when it came to guys-, he kind of liked this Jinyoung guy since, instead of trying to seduce you, his only objective in life seemed to be getting on your nerves “I wouldn’t mind lending it to you, silly”

Jaebum’s lips turned into a small pout, mentally calling himself an idiot for getting all mad at you without listening to you first. Jealousy and worry were getting the best of him and if he let those feelings control him for too long, the situation would only get way too difficult to handle “I just thought you were too busy fanning over Yugyeom to worry about….Me” He didn’t realize how childish and stupid those words actually sounded until he had said them outloud, like God, he cringed at himself for saying something like that. A soft blush made its way up to his cheeks, making Jaebum look down at his own hands in order to hide the pink shadow that was overtaking most of his face.

You might have missed the cute blush but your eyes definitely noticed the hesitance in his eyes, the way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie….Jaebum was feeling nervous in this situation, probably felt a little insecure too and you suddenly were glad you weren’t the only one feeling like that right now “Yugyeom?” At the mention of his name and your obvious feelings, a strong blush tinted your cheeks, making you feel incredibly embarrassed. The only one who knew about your crush -or at least, that’s what you thought- was Jinyoung since you were too shy to even talk about it “I wasn’t...Uh….I just didn’t want to be rude and reject all of his ideas, you know?”

Jaebum scoffed, shaking his head silently, were you seriously trying to deny having feelings for Yugyeom when he had witnessed how you almost drooled as soon as your eyes landed on him? “(Y/N), I’m not an idiot, I saw the way you acted around him, you obviously like that guy” He sighed again, sounding painfully familiar to a disappointed parent. Leaning the back of his head against the couch, Jaebum’s eyes stayed glued to the ceiling “Even though I’m way better than him”

A genuine chuckle escaped your lips, despite how scaring he had been a few seconds ago, Jaebum was now back to the jealous childish guy he usually was around you. If he was seriously doing all of this because you had an innocent crush on Yugyeom..…”Is that so?” You asked amused, one of your eyebrows arched as you watched him curiously. His eyes were dragged down from the ceiling, turning towards you when he heard your question. A small, playful smirk pulled one of the corners of his lips up, the way his eyes scanned you left your stomach turning into knots “Why? What do you have that he doesn’t Jae? Enlighten me”

“Jae, huh?” He suddenly asked, making you blink confused before you realized you had just gave him a nickname without his permission.

“I’m sorry” You quickly apologized, blushing again as you thought of ways to fix the mistake you’ve just made, in case he had gotten slightly offended. It could also be that maybe Jaebum and you weren’t in that friendship stage yet, the one where the two of you gave each other petnames or nicknames, maybe it was too soon yet even though the two of you literally live and sleep in the same place, besides each other “I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“It’s alright” He assured, shaking his head “I like it, nobody calls me like that” Jaebum’s smile was friendly, one full of honesty and that showed he wasn’t just saying it to not make you feel more uncomfortable about it.

“Anyways, you were saying…?”

“Oh! Right, I was just about to start my Why-Im-Better-Than-Yugyeom-Speech” He said smirking, standing up so he could pace around the coffee table, acting as if he was really going to give a speech to the imaginary public that was sitting on the couch around you “First of all, have you seen this?” You couldn’t help but laugh when Jaebum used one of his fingers to point at himself, moving it up and down so you could take a good look at his athletic figure. That question had been totally unexpected.

“You mean, you’re shorter?” You asked, just willing to tease him a little bit, laughing even more when his eyes opened as wide as saucers at the realization of what you’ve just said.

“You can ask questions at the end” He cut you off, trying to look all serious even when the glint in his eyes, even when the way his lips kept twitching when he thought you weren’t looking, gave away that he was as amused as you were by this. “Second reason is I’m funnier” You opened your mouth to say something but Jaebum started talking again before you could interrupt him “You laugh way more with me, don’t even try to deny it”

“We met a few hours ago! How can you know that?” You asked giggling, hugging the cushion you kept on your couch, looking at him expectantly. Even though your night had started off with the wrong foot, both of you had big smiles on your faces and laughter was starting to replace the tense and confusing atmosphere from before.

“Call it Jaebum’s intuition” He simply replied, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Is it as trust-worthy as female intuition?” You questioned, squinting your eyes at him playfully to let him know you were watching him closely.

“What part of the you can ask questions at the end that you didn't understand?” There was evident frustration in his words, quiet chuckles slipping past his lips with every word he said as he sat back down on the couch, already giving up on trying to finish the mental speech he had been improvising.

“There’s no more reasons?” You pouted softly, not willing to let his amusing speech finish yet.

“I’m better because I say so, end of the story” Jaebum turned his head to look at you with a smile and, for some reason, your heart decided to skip a beat right at that moment. You knew he was handsome, every normal yet realistic person would admit Jaebum was a really attractive man but right there, in that moment, he looked so domestic, so kind of...Boyfriend? That it made you feel flustered for the first time since he had made his way into your life. At the lack of smartass responses and silly jokes, Jaebum’s eyes observed your face carefully and unfortunately, for you, the blush on your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him “What is it?” He asked with a soft chuckle, eyes still on you, amusing him even more when he saw slight panic in your eyes.

“What is it what?” You asked back, maybe sounding a bit more defensive than you should have sounded.

“Why are you getting shy on me now?” Without any previous warnings, Jaebum dragged himself closer to you, leaning in as if the already non existent distance between the two of you wasn’t close enough. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you talking about? Since when am I shy around you?” You asked gently, placing your hand on his chest, cautiously pushing him away so his face wouldn’t be that close to yours, triggering the memories of that first kiss the two of you shared when he showed up.

“Well you were pretty shy yesterday when I kissed you and don’t even get me started when I announced I would be sleeping in the same bed as you” Jaebum reminded you, a playful smirk on his lips that only stretched even more when your cheeks turned even redder at the mention of those events.

Not willing to be Jaebum’s target for tonight’s teasing you stood up from the couch, unnecessarily dusting off your clothes as you tilted your head to glance into the kitchen, willing to see what he had managed to cook for dinner. No food’s scent was filling up your apartment and that was slightly suspicious, you expected everything from Jaebum but you tried to remain positive, after all, he had prepared everything for you, the least you could do was have a little faith in him.

“So what’s for dinner tonight?” You asked, turning around to just find him staring up at you, smiling amused. You decided not to ask what was so funny since you knew his answer would only make you even more flustered. He definitely was in a flirty mood but you weren’t sure if your heart could survive that.

His smile twitched, someone who hadn’t been watching him closely wouldn’t have noticed it but you knew there was something he hadn’t told you yet “Uh...About that” Jaebum suddenly stood up, hand flying to the back of his neck where he scratched for a few seconds before his hands moved back down to start fidgeting with the rings that adorned his fingers “Your fridge was literally empty when I opened it, what was I supposed to do?” He asked, acting all frustrated and exasperated when you perfectly knew it was all an act to hide his nervousness from you.

“So, you’re telling me there’s nothing for dinner?” One of your eyebrows was arched as you turned around to look at him, not knowing whether to laugh or to hit him as hard as you could.

“I ordered pizza” He blurted out, as if he was telling you the worst kind of news someone could have ever told you. “LikeIorderedabunchofthembecauseIeatalotand-”

“Jae breathe” You instructed, not really understanding anything he was saying, internally freaking out because whatever he did seemed to be really serious.

“Okay so I just asked Youngjae how many pizzas should I order for us and he said that one would be enough but that I should order two if I was really hungry” Jaebum was still talking really fast but you were managing to understand most of the words he was saying, not really knowing where his little speech could lead up to “But when I read the menu I started liking everything and choosing was almost impossible so I endeduporderinglikefiveofthem”

“You did what?” For some reason, maybe because you probably had gotten used to how fast he had been speaking during this whole time since dinner was brought up, you managed to understand the rushed end of his sentence. “Did you just say you ordered five pizzas for the two of us?”

“Andyouhavetopayforthem”

You didn’t know if you should laugh and thank him for spoiling you with food or cry because the bill would drain the remaining little money you had saved in your wallet.

After eating as much pizza as you could without throwing up, the two of you cleaned everything and made sure every candle was turned off before you made your way to bed. You had scurried off to your bathroom after getting some clean clothes to take a short shower and change into something more comfortable before getting in bed with your new roommate, you weren’t calmer than last night though, the thought of sharing a bed with somebody like...With Jaebum in general, made your heart pound against your ribcage way too hard for your liking.

It was probably your lack of experience that made you so nervous around him, it definitely wasn’t because you liked him or something, that would be totally insane.

Jaebum was already in his underwear, clothes tossed on the floor as he pulled the bed sheets back before sitting on his side of the bed. He was exhausted after waking up so early to take you to class, it wouldn’t take too long for him to fall asleep. Resting his head against your pillow, he closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, the scent of your perfume pulling the corners of his lips up. Despite the reason he was here and what he was going to do to you, Jaebum knew he would have liked to be friends if you had met in another situation.

He would have definitely enjoyed your company so much.

It was the sound of his phone buzzing what made him snap his eyes open, he didn’t have many contacts saved and the few ones he had were definitely not welcomed to establish some kind of contact with him.

Jaebum’s blood froze when his eyes scanned the words that shone in his phone, his eyes scanning them over and over again.

Jackson 22:45 - What’s up bro? I’m back in town, did you miss me?

Jackson 22:46 - I bet you didn’t.

Taglist: @gold--gucciempress @harringtonsblackgf

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how-masterful · 4 years ago

Text

Remastered

Dhawan!master x reader

Chapter 2: Nightmare In Silver

Summary: The cyberiad never forgives. Nor does it forget. When the master and you arrive at an abandoned theme park, the looming cyber threat stands determined to rise and take revenge for the fall of the cyberium. With a dormant cybermite ready to convert you at any moment, and the master stuck in the middle of a deadly chess match for both of your lives, you struggle to understand just who's in control of the timelord... And just how in danger you truly are.

Notes: a 200 follower special! As always, this fic is dedicated to the reigning queen @plethora-of-imagines. I hope you enjoy this one, I've certainly been sitting on it for a while! 👑 feedback is forever appreciated- I hope you all enjoy!

"OH Y/N?!"

You rolled your eyes and gave out a sigh. The Master required you once more- or at least, the cyberplanner that sat inside his brain did.

You took a large gulp of the cup of soup you held in your hands. You'd spent hours couped up in the confines of the castle, running purely on fear and adrenaline, so the last thing the pair of them could do was give you a moment to refuel and gather your thoughts. The man beside you, a fellow soldier named Porridge, gave you an inquisitive glance.

"Are you not going to see what he's after?"

You shook your head, gladly taking another gulp of your soup. Whatever it was would have to wait. You needed this moment of peace.

"OH Y/N, YOUR MASTER WANTS TO SEE YOU! DON'T KEEP ME WAITING!"

"For gods sake."

You handed your cup of soup to the man beside you with an apologetic grin, thankful for the moment of comfort the warm food had brought. The smaller man laughed, taking the cup from your grasp.

"Sorry, Porridge- I'd better go see what they want. I dont think either of them are willing to be patient."

Porridge raised a knowing eyebrow, causing you to shake your head and chuckle lightly. You'd been placed in charge of the punishment platoon stationed on the planet, your attention pulled in all matter of different directions as you attempted to withstand the incoming cyber threat. From what Porridge had seen of your timelord he knew it best for you to attend his side- he'd happily keep watch of the mingling members of the squad you'd been laboured with, while you dealt with his demands.

"I'll let you know if there's any change. Don't keep him waiting- and be careful up there."

You smiled and gave him a quick salute, a smirk playing on the corners of your lips.

"Don't worry, the Master won't hurt me."

You spun on your heels with confidence and headed towards the doorway within the castle wall, bracing yourself for whatever demanded you be present in the throne room upstairs. Porridge sighed, taking a hefty swig from his own cup of soup as he watched you disappear into the stairwell.

"It's not the Master i'm worried about."

The Master sent you a warm smile as you soon entered the throne room, your eyes instantly falling to the chess game before him. You scanned over the board, observing the games progress with hopeful curiosity.

The Master had lost another bishop, the Cyber Planner both of his knights, only a scattering of pawns left between them as their pieces edged closer and mingled on the board. The Master's eyes met yours, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"Ah, there she is! I was starting to get worried you were avoiding me."

"This had better be good, I gave up my soup for this."

The master laughed once more, smiling fondly as you continued to inspect the game board.

"Dont worry pet, i'm winning if thats what you're concerned about." He said, causing you to raise your eyebrow with a hum.

"Just checking, thats all. You called, Master?"

The Master beckoned you closer with a wave of his hand, sincerity laced in his gaze. He held out his palms, offering them for you to take, but you didnt move, eyeing him suspiciously. He looked perfectly normal, despite the extensive Cyber framework positioned on his cheek, and was gazing at you with his familiar selective fondness that made you practically melt. Something, however, felt oddly wrong. You just couldnt put your finger on it. Your pause caused the Master to frown.

"Whats wrong? That upset about your soup?"

The Master tilted his head in confusion, brows knitting together across his forehead. You narrowed your eyes, trying to find any cracks within his facade. The Cyberplanner could be a great actor, but you knew the Master would always be a better one.

"How do I know you're you?"

The timelords face shifted in recognition- you were simply being apprehensive. Smart. He nodded his head, leaning forward as if to whisper. You unknowingly leant forwards, echoing his movements as he reached out for you once more. You almost recoiled, but the Masters position stayed firm.

"Trust me dear, the Cyberplanners hibernating between moves- this is technically my turn. C'mere pet, I wont bite. I want to see my human."

You hesitantly advanced towards him, your lightly trembling hands slowly slipping into his own. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, the timelord raising your joint hands and lacing a kiss to the back of them. You smiled, a blush spreading over your face as he pulled you closer to the table, noses hovering only centimeters apart. His large brown eyes met your own, scanning over your expression as he continued to hold your hands. His hold felt normal, the tenderness in which he held you all too familiar. You couldn't help but allow yourself to indulge. The Master suddenly sighed, breaking the cumulative silence.

"I'm worried about you, pet. I'm stuck up here playing chess with a vengeful computer program in my brain, meanwhile my girl's out there leading a platoon against an army of Cybermen with a Cybermite inside her, ready to convert at any second."

Ah, right. The Cybermite. You were so invested in this sudden affection you'd forgotten all about the whole reason he was playing this game. Or at least, the rushed explanation of events the Master had spouted to you as he rushed towards the castle only a few hours earlier.

The Master had accepted the Cyberplanners bargain for you. The failure of the Cyberium had caused shockwaves through all Cyber units in the cosmos: and it just so happened the planet you'd landed on was utterly riddled with vengeful Cyber technology- more specifically, a demented piece of technology only known as the Cyberplanner.

You'd been infected during an ambush that left three of the platoon below you both dead, and the Masters infuriated investigation had lead to him coming face to face with the control system for the planets dormant Cybermen. He too had been infected, this time by the planner itself, and they now fought for control of his brain. At least, that's what he'd hurriedly told you as you tied him to his very chair.

The stakes were certainly high: if the Master won, the Cyberplanner left his brain and the Cybermite inside you vacated your system. If the Cyberplanner won, he'd get the Masters mind and all his knowledge on the timelords, and you'd soon find yourself inhabiting a shiny new suit of cyber casing for all eternity.

Safe to say, you hoped your countless chess matches in the TARDIS library had prepared him well enough for this moment.

A gentle smile spread across your lips, the tension in your shoulders subsiding at the Masters words. Of course he was unknowingly morbid, typical timelord behaviour, but you knew him well enough to know he was trying to be tender. Perhaps trying that little bit too hard.

"I want that thing out of you and us off this planet. I care about you too much to see you hurt, dear."

You hoped the quickening of your heartrate wasn't as obvious to him as it was to you. Judging by his smile, he'd definitely noticed. Of course he cared, he'd shown you more than enough that you meant everything to him. The butterflies in your stomach still remained at every moment, no matter what he did.

He placed a kiss to your forehead, lips gentle against your skin, barely a peck but enough to make you shiver. You relented the distance between your faces, your foreheads connecting, noses brushing against eachother. Your eyes fluttered shut, his lips ghosting over your own as you nuzzled your nose against his, the timelord humming in appreciation.

"You're weaponless down there, all vulnerable and open" he sighed, placing a peck to the side of your mouth. "I'm not there to keep you safe"

You groaned lightly, shaking your head as you bit your lip. The Master almost purred at the sight, your lips glossy and red.

"No... We're not weaponless." you admitted, the Master adjusting your hands so your fingers interlocked on the table. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine as he laughed incredulously, your hair standing on end.

"Oh yeah? Whats my little human got to beat the big bad Cybermen with, hmm?"

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion swirling in the pit of your stomach. Something about that set your teeth on edge, the flurry of pleasure coursing through you replaced with a sudden drought of suspicion. This sudden outburst of affection hadn't truly felt right from the start, but now the cracks were finally starting to show.

He was teasing you, flirting- business as usual.

But the way your stomach dropped indicated something was very, very wrong.

"One big charge gun...five hand pulser units..." You started, nipping the end of his nose. The beeping pulse of the Cyber system on his face suddenly seemed far more obvious than before. The Master pouted, letting his face slip into a childish frown, beard tickling at your skin.

"Is that all? Pity, I thought you were about to excite me, dear."

You fought against your instinctive wince, smiling playfully as you pecked his bare cheek with a teasing hum. You advanced even closer, careful to not disrupt the chessgame below your body. The Masters eyes never left yours, gaze almost robotically focused on your expression.

"And... A shiny black planet smashing bomb with a trigger unit."

The Masters gaze shot wide, excitement dancing in his pupils as he let out a tiny gasp. You giggled, the timelord beginning to practically vibrate with glee. That had most definitely gotten his attention.

"Now THATS exciting. Dont you agree, pet? Should've lead with that."

"Well..." You teased, smirking devilishly and purposely biting your lip. "You of all people should know- theres nothing more exciting than a reveal."

The Master paused, as if processing exactly what you'd just said. Processing for just that bit too long. His wide eyes softened into a hungry gaze, smirk quirking at the side of his mouth as he watched you intently. You'd seemingly caught him off guard, his delayed reaction adding to your concern.

"Well then, why don't you indulge me?" He asked, voice dripping with unspoken desperation and eyes furiously scanning over your body for any sign of the trigger unit.

"Where is it, dear?"

You smiled shyly, but internally you were starting to panic. If your intuition was correct, letting the Master, or whoever was truly driving him right now, get their hands on the trigger unit would be a very bad idea. You feigned a blush, moving to shy your face away and gesture to your back pocket. The Master quickly caught on and hummed out a laugh, charming and sweet, squeezing your connected hands in excitement.

"Oh good girl, you brought it with you. Best leave it with me, pet- dont want any old Cyberman getting their hands on it do we?"

And there it was. Just as you'd suspected.

You nodded in agreement, slowly removing your hand from the masters grip and reaching for your back pocket. The Masters hand moved to cup your chin, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, your tongue teasing the tip of his thumb, causing him to shiver.

"Thats my girl, such a good girl for me."

The Master's voice was barely a whisper, eyes alit with something inherently maniacal. You let out a trembling breath, a quiet moan erupting from your throat. The Master's low chuckle didnt help one bit, your lashes fluttering as you held your hand behind your back. You suddenly paused, taking a breath. What you were about to do was either going to save your neck or result in a very pissed off timelord- but you had to take the risk.

"Theres one teeny, tiny problem though." You murmured, flattening out your hand behind your back and pulling your grip from the masters other hand. The Master tilted his head, nose brushing against yours as he lifted your chin with two fingers.

"And what problem is that, pet?" He offered, voice soothing and eyes tinged with a certain level of confusion. Your eyes flickered between the cyber hardware and those familiar brown eyes.

"My problem?"

You took a final breath, pulling away from the masters face and straightening up. It was now or never.

"I'M NOT YOUR GIRL!"

You raised your hand and swung, palm fiercley colliding against the masters bare cheek with an all mighty crack. His head suddenly whipped to the side, fringe flopping wildly as the cyber hardware began to violently flash, his whole body jolting with a richochetting mechanical 'snap.'

The timelords jaw dropped in shock, a gutteral yell of pain soon errupting from his throat as he turned to face you with a viscious glare, hand flying to his reddening cheek. He lowly snarled as you raised your hand to strike him again, the Master's hand positioned to stop the incoming hit with sudden wide eyed recognition.

"OW, FUCK! Love, love it's me!"

Love. Thats right, you were love. It was always his favourite pet name for you. The Cyberplanner hadn't called you that once. Maybe that's why you knew wasn't him. He was a romantic bastard at hearts.

You kept your hand poised to strike, a frown tugging on the corners of your mouth as the Master rubbed his reddening cheek. You almost felt proud at how hard you were able to strike him. Almost. You leant close to his face and raised your eyebrow, the masters expression copying your own, as if you were looking into a confused funhouse mirror. You narrowed your eyes, the master soon realising and raising a cautionary finger.

"Dont you DARE get any more ideas about slapping me again!"

Yeah. This was definitely the Master. You couldnt help but hold back your grin.

"How did you know it was him?"

You slowly pulled the trigger unit from your back pocked, shaking it between two fingers before clutching it back into your palm. The Masters eyes followed intently, gaze shifting from the device to your face as you leant against the table.

"This was all he was after. I could tell something was wrong when he seemed far too interested in getting his hands on it."

"Ah, I see."

"Plus-" you started, unable to hide your blush as your lips quirked into a bashful smile.

"He didn't call me love. And thats something you never fail to do."

The Master's grin was tender, lips curving amorously, all the while propping his head upon his fist and digging his elbow into the table. He batted his long eyelashes playfully, causing butterflies to return to swarm in your stomach.

"I always knew you were an absolute glutton for my terms of endearment, love- you have an undeniable sweet tooth for affection. And, a surprisingly strong smack. Consider that information filed away for later."

You giggled lightly, shaking your head. Of course he'd consistently flirt in a time of crisis- that was one thing about him the Cyberplanner got right. You sighed and began to push yourself off the table, leaning over to steal a peck from his lips, a kiss which the Master eagerly returned with no protest. It almost hurt you to pull away, your brain telling to you head back in for more- but you had work to do.

"If you're done trying to woo me again, lover boy, you've got a game to win. Now hurry up and finish it so we can get off this plane-"

Snap. The Masters arm suddenly jolted, limb twitching as if struck by a sudden bolt of lightning. The arm ripped itself from under his chin with a harsh mechanical clang, his hand lurching to grasp tight purchase on your wrist. Sharp fingernails dug tightly into the skin of your wrist, your fist freezing and seizing up around the cylindrical devise in your hand. Your wide eyes met the masters own confusion, his expression tinged with struggle as you gasped in pain.

"Master that hurts, let go!"

The Master clenched his teeth together, huffing out a breath as he fought to pull his grasp from your hand. His fingers dug in tighter, nails almost drawing blood as you felt your wrist begin to buckle under his strength.

"I can't, he's got control of the other bloody arm!-"

You let out a painful whimper, your other hand flying to help prise off his fingers. He soon followed suit, letting out a growl as he grasped ahold of his other wrist. It became a vicious tug of war- his grip was an utter vice on your wrist, the skin reddening under his hold as his left arm began to squeeze the trigger unit from your fist, your pain exhumed with pitiful cries.

"NO! NO, NO NO!"

The Masters yell was visceral as the Cyberplanner prised the trigger unit from your fingers, winning the fight and releasing your wrist with a rushed, hasty flourish. You stumbled back with a cry, clutching your bruising wrist to your chest as the Master slammed the trigger unit hard and fast against the tabletop. You watched him in terrified awe- the trigger unit crumbling to dust under his strength, disintegrating into nothingness atop the checkerboard table.

"Master?..."

You both sat in stunned silence, the masters breath shallow as his eyes furiously darted from your wrist to the chessboard, mouth hung open in shock. You dared to step forward, slightly cowering from the timelord sat before you.

"Its my move-"

"Master- What do you mean?"

"He got exactly what he wants-"

"He wants to destroy the trigger?"

The Masters gaze slowly rose to meet your startled eyes, wide brows suddenly submerged within a thick layer of malice. You stepped back once more, stomach churning as a twisted smile ripped itself across the masters face. This was the smile reserved for those who the Master knew wouldn't live to tell the tale of your encounter- The headlights that trapped meek little deer's like you in its blinding beam: But this wasn't the Master. Not anymore.

"No, love-" the Master spat with a grin, making you involuntarily flinch. "I want to destroy you."

The gulp that cowered within your throat caused the Master, more accurately the Cyberplanner, to laugh darkly, sneering face leering at you imposingly across the table. You felt as if the breath has been snatched from your lungs, panic soon poisoning your veins like a vicious chill. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as the Masters lips curled into a smirk.

"You know, Y/N, Inhabiting the Master's brain has taught me so much- Its been an absolute education. Now I see why the Cyberium chose him. He's potent, passionate- he has potential. But, like your sniveling human kind, theres weakness. There always is."

You scrunched your nose into a snarl, wary of edging any closer to the Cyberplanner.

"The master isn't weak." You snapped, but the Cyberplanner inside him merely laughed.

"How sweet- but its all in vain, pet. Right now, your precious Master's brain is the hivemind of the new Cyber revolution. Call it a second chance at doing what he promised to do the first time, but failed at... miserably."

The Master suddenly gestured to the window, shaking fingers pointing to the sprawling hills of the abandoned amusement park you took refuge in. You felt your insides tumble over each other as they tied themselves into agonising knots. He seemed to sense your fear, shushing you with false tenderness.

"Don't be scared, can't you hear them? Can't you hear them waking, the new race of the Cyberiad? Your soon to be brothers and sisters? They're coming for you, little human. We're already inside you. The Master can't save you now."

You took a trembling step back away from the table. The Master noticed in an instant, body leaning forward to follow your escape with looming intimidation.

"The revolution is coming, my dear, and if you're not already in a grave- you'll be converted. But don't fret, little human: Your Master will get to watch you perish, as he stands above the bright new dawn of the Cybermen. It will be my honour."

The look in your eyes as you stood face to face with the Cyberplanner could rival a burning sun. But on the inside, your fear was chilling you to the bone. The Master slowly began to rise from his chair, fighting against his rope, your feet instinctively shuffling back against the aging marble floor as you began to back away towards the exit. His laughter formed to rumble in his chest, soon expelling out of his throat into a mutated, twisted snarl. You had no time now to indulge further in the Cyberplanners intimidation: you had to get back downstairs. You had to warn the platoon that a war was on the horizon.

"That's it, little human! Run! Run while you can!"

His fury soon fell on deaf ears, form deviously hunched atop of the chessboard as you disappeared through the arching stone. He watched you leave with a devilish enjoyment, his finger hovering over the central piece on the board- his absolute prize of the game: the Masters queen. The Cyberplanner couldnt hold back his prideful smile, his twisted gaze fixating on the pure white chess piece, his didgit circling the crown as the metallic hardware adorning the Masters face flashed with excitement.

"The sun is rising on a brand new dawn, time lord- your queen will soon be mine... and i'm not just alking about our little chess match, either."

The Master's finger left the chess piece, body sliding to sink back against the plush throne he was bound and tied upon. The same smile still graced his lips as he tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair- a haunting four beat drum tapped against the fading gold.

Internally, the Master begrudgingly knew time was running short. He needed to win this game- to save his own mind from destruction at the hand of the Cybermen, but protect the only thing he would ever put himself into this position for- you.

With a small, sudden click, the Cyberplanner began to relenquish control of the Masters body from his grasp- the Masters conscious slowly spilling out of submission and back into the drivers seat of his form, the Cyberplanners metallic laughter still echoing in his mind.

"We can't play this game forever, time lord, your little human said it herself. The cyberiad wants its victory that you promised, and it will most certainly collect.

It's time to finally finish what you started, Master:

Its time for the endgame."

-------------------------------------------------------

#dhawan!master #doctor who #sacha dhawan #the master #bbc doctor who #doctor who season twelve #spymaster #sacha!master #dhawan!master x reader #fanfiction #remastered #dhawan!master / reader #the master x reader #master x reader #reader insert #x reader #reader

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darlinglissa · 4 years ago

Text

no rest for the wicked

steph is just. so tired. and the batboys are so insufferable. just some shenanigans for 4,503 words.

summary:

steph is a tired college student, just trying to make her way to her bachelor’s degree at least. doing this simultaneously with her nightly vigilantism is difficult and exhausting, but she makes it work dammit. she doesn’t even mind too much that her aforementioned nightly vigilantism comes with strange bat people that she isn’t fully convinced are people. but if one more tights-wearing, creepily-looming bat climbs through her window on her night off to actually complete an essay for once she’s going to make them write the six page essay for her, or so help her.

big big big thank you to @wisdom-walks-alone for being the best beta this girl could ask for!!!

read it on ao3!

Stephanie Brown is having what she likes to call a Shit Day. She’s just tired all around, and when it starts affecting her nightly hobby she starts to rethink her priorities for the first time in—she can’t remember when. Which then causes an existential crisis that she, at the ripe age of 21, should not be going through yet. Her crisis turns into an absolute nosedive of a tailspin when, of all the people in her life, Bruce “I’m Batman” Wayne notices that her help on the case is turning hindrance instead and tells her to take the next few nights off the case.

“It’ll still be there when you come back,” he says.

She may or may not stare at him for five minutes too long, and he may question his stance on asking her to work with them on the Falcone case of the week, but she goes home either way. Steph is not about to look this gift horse in the mouth, even if her entire view on life has shifted a solid eighty degrees to the right in less than two minutes.

And boy, does she not regret her decision to go home. A full night’s sleep, an actual breakfast that isn’t from a drive-thru on her way to her eight am class that she’s always been perpetually late to, and she is on time to her class for the first time. In all honesty, Steph is living her best life in the first two hours of her day.

And it didn’t stop there: she’s on time to all three classes she has, she’s actually awake for the classes, and her notes are helpful instead of hopeless scribbles of random key words and names of people. She’s feeling like the student she always knew she could be, but was always too tired to be.

When she gets home after her last class, she takes her time to shower and put on her comfiest pajamas, and make a dinner that isn’t frozen solid. The dinner is on the table, her books are opened and scattered around her, and Steph is feeling that ripe sense of productivity that has eluded her since she started offering the bats her help. With no risk of interruption—surely Bruce knew what a night off was when he offered her to take some—she eats lazily while working on some chemistry problems.

She abandons the chemistry homework when she’s finished eating, and cleans her plate instead of throwing it in the dishwasher without a care. This productivity shtick ain’t so bad, it at least keeps her apartment cleaner—not clean, but cleaner.

Her planner is propped up against her bag, the day’s assignments actually written down neatly instead of rushed abbreviations that take an hour to decipher, and she gives it a look-over. Steph realizes that with this new downtime she’s been given she can actually get a head start on an essay due in a few days. “Head start” is used loosely, but starting it two days in advance is a new experience for her. She usually rushes the day of due to late nights on the streets and hopes it doesn’t actually look like it was rushed.

Blanket on, pillows fluffed behind her, and laptop fully charged, Steph settles into her couch to start this thematic essay that’s been gnawing at her mind since it was assigned. The introductory paragraph is slow to set up, but she can feel her brain gaining momentum as she puzzles out her argument. Her brow is furrowed and her fingers are flying across the keyboard, with the backspace having the most hits. She’s getting there, she is, her thesis is coming together so nicely and her ideas are flowing freely, she hasn’t felt adrenaline from something other than freefalls in...months? Years? Her fingers stutter and she rereads her thesis. This is such bull—

A knock on her window almost has her sprawled on the floor, and her hands catch her laptop at the last possible second. Her head snaps over to the window and there, in all his black and blue spandexed glory, was Dick Grayson, in his stupid skintight spandex suit and his stupid sheepish but pained grin, bleeding on her fire escape. Which she just cleaned her own blood off of.

Irritated didn’t cover the slight boiling she could feel in her veins. She gives one last look at her document as she places her laptop on the coffee table, and another knock resounds through her living room.

“Okay! Okay. You win this round, Night-dork.” Steph goes over to her window and opens the hatch, letting the first Boy Wonder climb—more like fall—into her apartment. Her eyes follow his form as he all but crawls to her kitchen’s island, his domino being tossed onto the counter carelessly. She follows slowly, trying not to hate the man before he’s done anything other than exist, and maybe breathe, in her apartment. “Thanks for not bleeding on my carpet, too.”

Dick glances up at her before going back to his search for her first aid kit. “My pleasure, courtesy is my middle name.” His voice is strained, but his demeanor is purposely relaxed.

“Your middle name is John.” She watches him struggle, eyes darting from him at the cabinet above her fridge, where he’s reaching up even though it’s obviously hurting him, to the drawer beside her sink where her first aid kit is tucked away.

“It’s close enough,” he says with a tight shrug. He continues to search through her baking sheets and cooling racks.

Realizing he won’t be leaving that cabinet for a while, Steph sighs and pushes his body to the right drawer. He turns that sheepish-but-pained grin at her again, and she just pushes it away from her with a groan. Dick takes a heavy seat on one of her island’s stools, opening the kit with his non-bloody hand.

“It’s my day off. Do you know what that is?” she asks him, eyeing the needle and thread in his hands with mild interest as he misses the needle’s eye twice before taking it and threading it herself. Exasperation bubbles to the surface, and after Dick starts stitching his side she shuffles away to the couch. That grin seems permanently fixed on his face whenever she looks at him, so she stops looking at him and busies herself with folding the blanket that fell to the floor with her. “It’s this really cool thing where I stay home and not do what I would normally do. Like deal with your blood in my apartment.”

For a brief moment only Steph’s defeated sigh and Dick’s pained breaths are all that can be heard, and then Dick breaks it between stitches. “Yeah, sorry about this.” That grin is facing her and she looks at the blanket like it has a map that will lead her out of this conversation. Hell, out of this entire interaction. “You were the closest safe house, and I had a bit of a...situation.” He gestures to his side meaningfully with his head, as if Steph has no idea what situation he could possibly be referring to. “Hey, can you hand me the scissors?”

Dropping the blanket on the couch, Steph grabs the scissors from the other side of the island and hands them to him. He thanks her softly in that Earnest and Sincere Dick Grayson way, which makes it increasingly hard to be irritated with him, which in itself is irritating. He cuts the thread and ties it off a little sloppily, but effectively.

“There, all done and no one’s dead.” Dick stands up, grunting only slightly as he does so, and sets everything back in the first aid kit.

Steph notices that he puts it all in more neatly than it had been to begin with—she’s always in a hurry to get it back in the drawer and get to bed, don’t judge—and begrudgingly takes it when he hands it to her gently. She can feel Dick’s eyes on her as she puts it in its drawer, then she turns to face him, leaning against the drawer as it shuts. “Okay, you’re no longer in danger of dying, and I have an essay to write, so shoo.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands.

Her weight is fully being supported by her counter and Dick is looking at her with his kicked puppy eyes that make her give in sooner than she would like to admit. Steph slumps down a little more, legs stretched out in front of her and feet flat against the floor. She meets his gaze head on, feeling all the productivity and triumph from the day drain out of her so fast she’s a little dizzy. “What.”

His pout deepens, and she can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I feel bad, Steph.” Dick leans into the stool’s back and flattens his hands on the island’s counter. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

And there’s the Dick Grayson Guilt Trip.

Steph’s eyes trail over to her laptop one last time, the screen gone black from inactivity. She huffs a laugh, because this is her life, and it actually feels more real with a newly-stitched up dude in her kitchen than writing an essay early. For the second time in less than two days she finds herself having a mini crisis, but Dick’s puppy dog eyes snap her back. Steph rolls her eyes, dragging herself to her fridge. “You’re not intruding, Dick.”

Dick’s grin goes from sheepish to genuine with a touch of triumph, and he leans his body forward against the counter. “Great! So how does a nice midnight snack sound?”

She looks away from the orange juice she’s pulling off the shelf to stare at Dick in distrust. “You aren’t going near my stove, Grayson. I don’t need a small fire to deal with on top of my bloody fire escape.” A glass is taken from the shelf beside the fridge, and as she pours the juice into it she lets herself grin at Dick’s spluttering.

“I wouldn’t burn your kitchen down this time! I’ve gotten better,” he promises, pointing a red stained finger in her direction. Steph continues to stare at him with that deadpan expression she practiced from Alfred, though she knows hers isn’t half as successful as the stern butler’s. “I’ve been practicing!”

“Well, you can practice somewhere that isn’t my kitchen. I’ll make us pancakes if you stop looking at me like I took Jason’s gun to your favorite suit,” she says, bringing her glass to her lips.

Dick nods, pointedly looking away from her and over at the laptop on the coffee table, and wisely stays silent for the moment.

Steph whips the batter up as quickly as she can, flour settling on her shirt and the counter despite her careful measuring and whisking. The stack of pancakes towers on her chipped plate, and when the batter runs out she splits them between the two of them.

They eat in relative silence, until Steph breaks it when she finishes eating, feeling exhaustion seep into her bones. She eyes the clock on her microwave, the green numbers flashing 12:45; her 9:30 class crosses her mind like a neon sign saying go to bed, dumbass. Tense hands rub at her eyes before she pushes her chair back.

“This has been a lovely, if not bloody, visit,” she says, picking up her plate and stealing Dick’s even though he still had a couple bites left.

“Hey!”

She ignores this maturely, cleaning the plates and feeling satisfaction in her petty revenge. “But it’s getting late and I’m tired. You know the exit.”

Without waiting to make sure he actually leaves, Steph drags herself to her bedroom and kicks the door shut with her foot. In the next moment she’s face down on her bed and passes out when her head hits the duvet.

Surely tomorrow will be better is the last thought that dashes through her sleep-muddled mind.

---

Tomorrow isn’t better. She sleeps through her alarm, and misses her first class. She curses Dick’s name her whole drive to campus while she chugs coffee. She doesn’t even like coffee.

The one class she’s able to make it to sucks the joy of life out of her, and when she tries to heat up the leftovers she brought with her for lunch the microwave went up in flames.

(Yeah, Bruce will be the one getting that bill.)

Steph trudges into her apartment and just as she closes the door she realizes that she still has that essay, and she really doesn’t want to have to do it all on the last day possible. She doesn’t even have a complete introduction paragraph.

So she makes a nice batch of waffles to help lick her wounds, and when she’s full and feeling slightly better she sets forth to spite-finish her essay.

Her essay is actually coming along, one body paragraph finished and her argument set in stone, and she’s feeling that satisfaction building in her gut. A smile is tugging at her lips, and the idea of finishing it early is seeming more plausible.

But then her window is being slammed open and a small body is shoved through.

Stephanie most definitely does not scream, and she will forever deny it.

Timothy “Pain in Steph’s Ass” Drake climbs in after Damian—who’s becoming increasingly feral by the second—and the laptop is abandoned once again. Unlike last night, Steph has no hopes of getting back to the document and has resigned herself to her fate of finishing it all tomorrow.

Steph eyes the feral child practically vibrating with rage, then looks over at Tim, who appears to be as calm as can be when paired with a murderous child. After shutting the window behind him, Tim gives a little wave, pulling his domino off with the motion. “Hey, honey, I’m home?”

All that satisfaction left her in droves, and she stalks over to her laptop and shuts it with a snap.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Tim flinch just barely, and a smidge of satisfaction returns, but it’s quickly taken away when she notices Damian’s glare has settled on her. The sigh that leaves her body is heavy and tired, but she pushes forward and leans against the back of her couch to stare them down nonetheless.

“Tim, babe, what the hell do you want on my night off?” Steph crosses her arms over her chest, resting her chin in one of her palms. She glances over at Damian again but looks away from his piercing green eyes that promise pain. “And why does the bat-brat look ready to put me in a real grave?”

Tim turns to Damian with a grimace, and tries to start explaining, “You’re the only one technically available tonight, so—”

Damian cuts him off sharply. “So you need to help us with this lead so we can leave and attend more pressing matters. After all, crime doesn’t take nights off.”

Tim hides his face in his hands, muffling a groan. “I told you to let me do the talking.”

The smaller boy turns on his heel, his cape fluttering behind him, making him look just like Batman after a scolding for a night gone worse than it should have. “I agreed to nothing of the sort, Drake.” He walks like he’s commanding the room, rummaging through Steph’s fridge as if he has the right. Like he’s Bruce Wayne and could buy her out of house and home.

(Well, he actually could, in all likelihood.)

Steph doesn’t like the comparison her mind is making, so she interrupts before it can go any further. “I don’t care who does the talking, just give me the info so you can leave faster.”

Tim’s hands run down his face and he looks at Steph pleadingly. “I know it’s your night off, but no one else would answer their comms and we really need an extra pair of eyes on this case. We’re driving ourselves crazy looking at the same clues over and over.”

Steph sighs, and takes in the bags under Tim’s eyes and Damian’s tensed shoulders. She lets out a groan, leaning against the couch back even heavier and getting a sense of deja vu with this feeling of defeat. “Okay.”

Damian scoffs from his place at her fridge before he moves on to browsing through her cabinets. “Of course you will, it’s your duty.”

Tim interrupts before Steph can retaliate with her, arguably, witty and biting remark. “Great, thank you, I love you, please look at the file.”

She begrudgingly takes the folder from her boyfriend’s hand, moving to plop on the couch. Papers are strewn about within seconds, and as Steph scans the information her mind is happy to have something more familiar to focus on.

It’s quiet aside from pages shuffling and Damian finally finding suitable tea bags, filling her kettle with water. Tim settles down next to her, relaxing for what must be the first time tonight.

“Got stuck with Bruce Jr.? What’d you do to get that sentence?” she asks, eyes not leaving the pages.

Tim scoots in closer. “I was the only one who didn’t have an excuse not to work with him.”

Steph’s pen circles and connects a few sentences, and she hands the paper to Tim. She moves on to the next paper, scanning for pertinent facts, adding more circles and lines. “Dick wouldn’t take him tonight?”

He looks over her shoulder, taking papers as she passes them off and connects the dots she’s connecting. “He’s on medical leave. Stab wound, I think?”

Her pen stops mid-circle before she forces herself to finish the marking. “Yeah, that was a thing.”

“‘That was a thing’?” Tim asks as he leans back, staring at Steph in mild confusion.

“Yeah, he used my needle and thread last night. Didn’t think it would actually be an issue for him,” she says as calmly as she can, very aware of the unhappy child pouring boiling water a few feet behind them.

Sensing her forced nonchalance—and glancing back at Damian before looking back at her—he drops it.

“It’s the bodyguard, he’s the link,” she declares, pushing the papers into the folder and the folder into Tim’s lap. “Good luck, he’s built like a linebacker.”

Damian sniffs derisively, sipping his tea like the snooty brat he was raised to be. “If I had had another half hour—”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” Tim says loudly, giving Damian a look. Damian just huffs and turns back to his tea. Tim gives Steph a kiss on her cheek before standing and putting his domino back on. “Damian, we should get going so we can get some intel before we have to head home.”

Steph jumps up and slides the window open, happy to let the two walking headaches exit her premises. “Yep, you should get going, little demon.”

Damian sneers at her, but finishes his tea and puts his mug in the sink. “Thank you for your hospitality, brat-girl.” He walks past her to the window ledge, sliding out to the fire escape. “The state of your fire escape is appalling.”

“Yeah, whatever bat-brat, go annoy that bodyguard for a while,” she replies, giving him a slight push as she walks by to go put his mug in the dishwasher and avoiding the right hook thrown back at her. She passes Tim and gives him a quick kiss while pointedly ignoring Damian’s age-appropriate hiss of disgust.

“See you Friday?” Tim asks before he follows Damian out the window.

Steph looks back from the sink, and smiles. “Yep, as always.”

Tim disappears from her fire escape and Steph’s shoulders fall slightly. After the dishwasher is turned on because she’s a responsible adult and chores are her bitch, she falls into bed.

Tomorrow, she thinks, is another day, huh?

---

Steph wakes up to sunlight filtering through her curtains and 11:14 on her alarm clock. The light bugs her into getting up, but she feels rested enough as she stretches her joints. She takes a hot shower, and gets into comfy sweats and a sweater.

Thursdays will be her favorite day for the next two months. No classes make for a relaxed and mostly productive day, if not wonderful for her sanity.

So she takes her time making a nice breakfast of eggs and toast, and after unloading the dishwasher and putting her breakfast dishes into it, she’s feeling happy and productive. Her laptop is open and ready, and she settles in for the long haul to finish this goddamn essay.

She’s working at a steady pace, getting into the zone of writing about themes and connecting ideas and only semi-hating it. The time passes quickly, and she’s halfway to her six page minimum and mentally screaming because she’s gotten this far, she can finish it on time for the first time in years.

It’s when she’s just reached the middle of her fourth page that her window is smashed to pieces, glass littering her floor.

Steph is ready to cry.

But she’s been taught—well, she inferred from a few grunts—to use emotion as a driving force and grabs her slugger from under the couch and swings it at the figure, who is distracted by trying to avoid the shards of glass underfoot. Through his lapse of attention, he doesn’t dodge fast enough.

Jason now has a bruise blooming on his right shoulder blade, his face contorted in pain before twisting into a scowl aimed at Steph. Normally, it would have been effective, and it would have been if Steph wasn’t so angry and stressed. She drops her bat, and it rolls under her coffee table.

“It’s the middle of the fucking day, why the everloving fuck are you running around in your furry suit, you jackass?”

Jason’s scowl deepens, offense written over every inch of his face. He brushes glass off his shoulders, letting the pieces clatter against their kin on the floor. “I am not like the bat-freaks, Brown. I was trying to go undercover in a drug gang’s meeting, but I was found out. I lost them a few blocks back, so I had to move to a safe location before they caught my trail again. I caught sight of one of the guys just as I was climbing up so I was a bit rushed. You were closest, don’t be thinkin’ anything of it, you wouldn’t be my first choice if I had a choice.”

“Oh boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel special, Todd.” She stalks over to the closet in the hall, and when she’s back in front of him she hands him the broom and dustpan.

He takes it and just stares at it for a second before looking back up at her with an eyebrow raised. “You’re kidding me.”

Steph shakes her head. “Nope.”

Jason heaves a sigh, but starts sweeping the glass into a pile. As he cleans his mess, Steph looks over at the microwave clock. 4:06. She curses under her breath, rubbing her eyes for a moment to relieve the headache coming on.

“Did I interrupt something?”

She lowers her hands, crossing her arms, to see Jason looking up at her questioningly. She shrugs with one shoulder, glancing at her laptop. “Only an essay that the universe doesn’t want me to finish on time. No biggie.”

Jason hums lightly with a nod, brushing the glass into the dustpan, but doesn’t say anything more. An idea sparks in Steph’s muddled brain, and she eyes Jason’s hunched form with more interest.

“Hey, Jay, you like literature, right?” A content smile plays on Steph’s lips.

Jason glanced up, but stopped his motion as soon as he caught sight of the cat who ate the canary. “I...dabble.” He hesitates, as if he doesn’t want to finish his thought, but he does anyway. “Why?”

“Well, you see, my dear Jaybird—”

“—Don’t call me that—”

“—this essay is on Persuasion, which I didn’t actually read? Anyway—”

“—didn’t actually read, what the fuck is wrong with you—”

“—I’m writing about the theme of appearances, and my argument is actually kinda strong?”

Jason throws the glass into the trash can, then moves to sit on the couch and grabs her laptop. “All right. Open the doc.”

Steph grins, taking the laptop and doing as he asked. It worked. It was the longest of shots and it fucking worked. He reads what she has and gives honest—and really harsh?—critiques, picking her essay apart.

“Then fix it!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. She can only take so much criticism before it gets on her nerves. “How do I structure it, oh, master writer? If my quotes are so stupid, what quotes would be better?”

Off the top of his head, Jason lists three quotes. And she has to admit it: they fit her argument perfectly. She grumbles as she flips through the book to find the quotes.

As he rambles on about the theme and effective arguments, Steph absentmindedly reflects that this would have been a great punishment if he didn’t look like he was enjoying it so damn much. In fact, it makes her connect school to Jason, and how he was a really good student from what Alfred says.

His borderline monologue is cut off as Steph sits up and looks at him curiously. Jason realizes that she hasn’t been listening and gives her an unamused look. “Really?”

She ignores him. “Why didn’t you go on to college?”

Taken aback by the random question, Jason looks more like a deer in headlights than the terrorizer of Gotham’s crime syndicate. “Uh, because I’m legally dead?”

Steph rolls her eyes. “Please, your dad’s the wealthiest guy in Gotham, he can pull some strings in the right places.” She stops at the angry fire building in his eyes at the mention of Bruce and backtracks like the expert she is. “Or you could literally make a fake identity? You’re a crime lord, you aren’t above fake identities, are you?”

Jason looks lost in thought for a moment, before seamlessly returning to his essay argument-turned-rant as if he hadn’t even stopped. Steph notes the sore subject and actually pays attention this time around, fixing the essay with his help.

---

For the first time in weeks, Steph barges through Jason’s window with a crazed grin on her face.

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jason asks from his stove, water boiling beside him.

She doesn’t reply, just walks over to him with a bounce in her step, shoving a stack of papers in his face. The red A is clear as day, and Jason will forever deny the proud grin and high five that overtakes him in that moment.

19 notes · View notes

nexstage · 5 years ago

Text

LIMBO SILVAM - PART 8 (3/3)

However, her battered nerves told her to keep moving and she wrapped her arms around her crush, running even against a ruthless, chill wind and got both of them behind a bunch of rocks a bit beyond in the path. The hail and blizzards kept blowing brutally, but with the improvised shield the rocks gave them, the gems were safe.

The former technician looked at her romantic partner, a mix of bewilderment and astonishment imprinted in her eyes. Lapis caressed her right cheek shakily, a tearful smile adorning her face "You idiot. Heroic i-idiot". Peridot, in an instant, gave her the mother of bear hugs, crying like a toddler, not letting her go for fear of seeing Lapis disappear. The other gem rubbed circles in her back while the tears rolled down her cheeks. Lazuli was trembling, slightly, but trembling afraid of losing Peridot, of dying, of exhaustion and many other things. But holding onto the gem she loved so much brought her some peace, stopping her from going insane in this crazy adventure.

After some minutes hugging, crying and letting her emotions out, Peridot -although reluctantly- let go of her romantic partner and rubbed at her eyes, sniffing. Lapis got up and lent Peri a hand which she took fastly, her grip ironclad for obvious reasons. "I don't want to lose you. Don't leave me, please" she said in a small, pitiful voice. Lapis gave her a kind hug to reassure her everything would be ok, at least for now.

"Thanks for not giving up on me, Peri. It was dangerous but very brave of you. If it weren't for your words... I would have done something really stupid despite my intentions of saving you"

The green gem blushed at her compliments and smiled a bit at her, "You're important to me, Laz. We're important to each other, so, let's protect our backs with all we have AND mean it" the sudden seriousness in Peri's eyes told Lapis that this incident would be something they'd have to talk privately once they returned home. Still, the ocean gem just nodded accepting that and both kept walking through the paved path.

Or both gems tried to, because a strong, chill wind surprised them. Not wanting a repeat of the last near-tragic event, Lazuli and Peridot shielded themselves using the bunch of rocks, waiting for the blizzard to stop. When it did, they ran as quickly as they could, passing by the long, bizarre windows that were letting the cold air of the snow storm to hit them.

The wisps were more savagge the more they advanced. The stress, exhaustion, the marks on their bodies, the glitching and pain, were too much and sometimes they tripped on the stairs or got sweeped by the gales. Some minutes later, fortunately, the path ended in another entrance and they went through it, thinking things would be easier this time for a change.

Both Crystal Gems didn't know how wrong they were.

Once they got out of that dangerous zone at the edge of the side of that mountain, Lapis and Peridot faced an immense white desert. Kilometers of snow dunes where those weird signs were scattered but also many branches of trees, covered by the white, icy substance. Oh! And added to all of that was the enraged lightnings whose roars gave Peridot a big bad vibe. She was never a fan of lightnings.

"We're so close, Peri. The mountain's light is closer to us"

It was in indeed, though still far away. But the luminous pilar that came from the mountain's divided-in-two peak was more clear-cut than before, despite the raging storm and the powerful gales that went in circles like creating a frozen tornado. Peridot gulped at the idea of dealing with such monstruos weather and in the conditions they were in; however, an encouraging smile from Lapis was enough to lift her determination.

"Let's get this over with" both tightened their hold on each other's hands and walked through the snow.

The winds and the coldness was eating them for how painfully slow it made their journey. Lapis side-hugged her crush to prevent the blizzards to separate Peridot from her, though it didn't work with the star-shaped visor that went flying to another part. The only thing they could grab to not be sweeped abruptly was the rock-made signs, but those items weren't that strong to protect them.

Then an ominous shadow got their attention. Lapis and Peridot's eyes widened in horror at seeing the colossal monster. The creature roared and from its body 2, 5, no, 8! 8 robed-like figures came out. All of them flying towards them!

Both gems ran as black arrows were fired against them. Each time one touched the ground, it bursted into long spikes. Lazuli carried Peridot in her arms to protect her from them, taking a lot of damage in her extremities. The green gem pulled away desperately to try to defend her companion from those monsters, but the other didn't let her while she ran.

It didn't last, however, for the former technician was able to got out of the embrace and held both her comrade's hands to lead her to a refuge or anywhere very far away from the ruthless ambush. One of the clodded figures, though, tackled the engineer and the gales sweeped her some meters away from Lapis.

"PERIDOT!!!!" Against reason, the ocean gem rushed to her aid, fear like nothing she had felt consuming her mind. Losing her, such a thought sparked in Lazuli energy enough to rescue her love before those things killed her.

Peridot, on the other hand, had grabbed one of the rock-made signs so the gales couldn't leave her discarded in another place. Her visorless eyes were useless against the snow, hail and cold air blown into her face. Then Lapis' voice got her to open a bit her vision spheres, watching in awe and shock how the other gem was avoiding with the best agility she could show the black arrows of the shadow-y figures. But one of them, suddenly, stabbed her back, coming out from the chest.

Peridot yelled, her shrieks the embodiment of terror. The blue gem fell to her knees and two more arrows pierced each of the legs, from her mouth an agonizing scream escaped. One of the shadows tackled her cruelly and the gem collided with a rock-made sign which left her unconscious.

The mechanic fought endlessly against the blizzards to reach her romantic partner, many times being hit by the arrows but not stopping for a second until she was in front of a heavly wounded Lapis. Putting her over her back, Peri ordered her mind to energize her legs so running could save them both.

The eight shadows fly towards the gems, the engineer, meanwhile, focusing in two tasks while sprinting madly: protect Lapis and not losing from her sight the peak of the mountain. A rain of black arrows was directed at her from every angle, making it impossible for her to evade them all.

It was a living hell. Needles, nails, knives, any sharp object used hadn't been able to cause that kind of pain. And to make it worse, Lapis was receiving more damage, but in her back!

'Keep running, you clod! Keep running until they can't follow you anymore! You two have to live!' her mind yelled at her. It was the best encouragment she could create to not be swallowed by despair.

--------------------

How many steps had she taken? Her brain had lost the count already. How many arrows pierced through her and Lapis' body? She hoped not so many. How many times her eyes had to endure the icy winds? Stars, Peridot missed her star-shaped visor so much. How much it would take to reach the goddamn peak and go home?

...

Wait a second.

...

Where the hell was the mountain?!

"Where is it? WHERE IS IT?!" No no no! This was all wrong! It couldn't be happening! The mountain was there, the pilar of light shining, how it could disappear?!

Peridot searched for it but only got snowflakes in her eyes. An horizon obscured by dense fog and a grey-and-white sky above her and Lapis, the only two things she was able to see.

Kilometers and kilometers of snow dunes, nothing and no one else.

They were lost. She had gotten them lost. Ok... Ok... Calm down, it couldn't be that bad...

"Someone help me! Please!" No, it TRULY was bad. Really worse than ever.

"Please! I'm-I'm lost! I'm lost and Lapis is wounded! Please help!" Hopelessness and self-reproach clawed at her heart, guilt tainting her every thought. Idiot, idiot, idiot! Just when they needed most to find a refuge and keep going, she had to ruin it all! Now they were lost and going to die there! Their last chance of coming back home unreachable!

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Filled with rage and frustration, Peridot kicked the snow-covered ground mercilessly, helpless tears running down her cheeks. Her anger was so deep that she didn't notice when Lapis, still unconscious, fell from her back. Minutes passed with her outburst wasting the last bit of her strength, her body's glitches stopped her from a moment, the sharp pain they caused making her trip and kiss the floor much to her humilliation. She was so done with this shit.

"P-Peri..." Then, as if waking from a trance, Peridot looked at her right and saw her love barely moving, the snow covering her slowly.

"Lapis!" She ran to her companion and put her in her arms. The blue gem opened her eyes a bit, confusion written in her face.

"Where...are we? Have we...arrived...already?" The engineer's heart broke at those questions. She really wanted to tell her that they were close but lying was a mistake she didn't want to repeat, even if both were going to perish. "I'm s-so sorry, Laz... I'm sorry... We were so close but... I ruined it... I don't know where we are... I'm such an idiot, I'm sorry"

Lapis' body convulsed in pretty disturbing glitches, much to the other's horror, leaving the ocean gem more exhausted and weaker than ever. Still, she placed a hand in Peri's cheek and caressed it lovingly, "At least... I'm with you"

The little gem wept guiltily, hugging her comrade and laying at her side in the snow. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" she mumbled. Lapis wrapped her arms around her waist to comfort her but her weeping got worse. "If I-If I had been stronger, w-we would already be in the peak... Going home"

Lazuli put her hand under Peridot's chin so they could be face to face. "You dork... D-Don't you see? You're m-my home. I love you" the former technician kissed her passionately, deeply moved by those words "I love you too".

Both hugged each other more and stayed like that in the chill ground, letting the snow covered them. A deep slumber overtook their minds while a mass of darkness emerged from the snow beneath them and swallowed them whole.

#lapis lazuli #Peridot #lapidot #Dark #Angst #Mystery #Drama #video game inspired

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emotionally-imbruised · 6 years ago

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Friend Like Me

Just a little concept I thought up after seeing the new Aladdin and had to put out into the universe so I can stop thinking about it omg...

Despite the voices coming from outside of the lamp you’ve spent years inhabiting, you didn’t expect that it’d be because you were finally being summoned — but that’s exactly what was happening.

In a whirlwind of blue sparkly smoke, you were unable to prepare yourself before being dragged from the suffocating brass walls of your lamp and welcomed to the outside world. You inhaled a breath of fresh air instantly as you spun around, smiling widely as you took in your surroundings while continuing to float in the middle of the room. You weren’t in a cave, or a castle; you were in what seemed to be someone’s home... but one that was much smaller, cleaner, prettier and technologically advanced than you’d assume it to be.

“Huh, I’ve been in there longer than I thought,” you muttered as you cracked your stiff neck, stretching your tense arms out as well. The sun was beating down from outside, shining in through the multiple windows that scattered around the room — its light glistening off the shiny tile that covered the floor. Once you were done taking in what appeared to be a kitchen of some sort, your gaze moved to that of a man who stared back at you in complete and utter disbelief. “Oh, right. Hi there.”

“W-who, what are you?” The man stuttered between uneven breaths, as a laugh involuntarily left your mouth.

“You act like you’ve never seen a genie before.” You chuckled halfheartedly as a clink sounded from him setting down your lamp onto the nearby counter before slowly started backing away in fear, which caused you to frown while letting out a huff. “... you’ve never even heard of a genie before, have you?”

“Nope, can’t say I have.”

“Then why did you rub the magic lamp?”

“That thing?” He asked incredulously while pointing to your humble abode. “I-I didn’t mean to! It was just dirty, so I thought I’d clean it off before trying to figure out what to do with it. Wasn’t expecting you to just appear out of nowhere if m’being completely honest.”

You quickly moved towards your lamp, taking in the bit of shiny brass that showed through the rest of the dirty smudges surrounding it. The lamp was in much worse condition on the outside from what you remembered. It always had this mesmerizing glint to it, one that attracted those who seeked your assistance to the item; but now it was dirty, dingy and clearly not kept to its original beauty. With a small sigh, you slowly turned around to face the man again. “How did you find me?”

“I- I didn’t, that lamp was given to me in a box full of other old items like candle holders and other scrap metal. I didn’t need any of it so I was just going to give it away after I cleaned it all up.”

“Did you just call my home scrap metal?”

“I uh, no I-,” the way he stammered was rather amusing to you and the more he spoke, the more that deep British accent of his became rather endearing.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how flustered he’d become, finding it amusing how he took everything you said so seriously. “I’m just messing with you. Hmm of all my masters, you’re the first to not actually know anything about what I can do... and the most timid? Look at you, you’re practically shaking.”

“Master? I’m sorry, what?” He responded with a shak of his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Ok, so here’s the whole lowdown on this genie thing.” You started, cracking your knuckles before getting the show on the road. Trails of blue smoke left your fingertips as you began showing him different things your magic can do, him not being to look away from any of it. “As a genie, it is my job to serve those who have summoned me.”

“But I didn’t summon you,” he stated while staring at the tiny magic fireworks that formed and were exploding over his head. “It was an accident.”

“Accident or not, you rubbed the lamp and poof! Here I am.” You explained, causing his gaze to fall to you once the fireworks disappeared. “For years people have been sent on missions for others, or taken quests of their own to find my lamp and use their wishes for personal gain. But you, you just fell across the opportunity.”

“Wishes?”

“Man, you really don’t know anything.” You groaned dramatically, hoping to get some type of reaction from him — but no, he just stared back at you with a stoic expression. “Yes, wishes. You get three of them. They can be for anything you want. Power, money, to get yourself out of a little predicament you’ve found yourself in... there’s a lot of opportunity with them. The only thing you can’t wish for though is unlimited wishes; three is enough, for someone to fall in love with you, or to bring someone back from the dead. That’s all there is to it.”

“But what if I don’t need or want the wishes?” He asked, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Pardon? Why wouldn’t you use your wishes?” Was this guy crazy?

He gestures to the space surrounding the two of you. “I- I have everything I could ever ask for in life. I’ve been very fortunate to be where I am and as much as I appreciate your offer Ms.-”

“Genie.”

“Your name is Genie?” He questioned unsurely as you shrugged.

“I guess that’s not my actual name, no, but that’s all any of my masters have ever called me. No one ever cares about me, they care about what I am and how it benefits them. Which is fine, I’m used to that. Why are you acting so different from that?”

“Because that sounds terrible,” he stated firmly. “You’re still a person- kind of. How many people have you helped?”

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you that,” you explained casually. “I’ve spent hundreds of years serving whoever came across my lamp. Some good, some the most vile humans to ever walk this earth. You’ve probably read about some of the people I’ve had to work for in your history books. Have you ever heard of William Shakespeare? Marie Curie? Steve Jobs?”

“Y-you helped all those people?” The shock on his face was evident as he processed this information and it made you chuckle.

“I did. Some others I’m not so proud of helping as well, but that’s the catch of having these powers... I don’t get to choose who I help. It is my duty to serve whoever rubs that lamp regardless of who they are or what their intentions consist of. Believe me, if I had the choice I wouldn’t be doing any of this.”

“Don’t get the choice,” he repeated softly. “You’re stuck doing this, forever?”

You shrugged in response because that is basically the truth behind it all. A silent pause followed after as you used your magic to get rid of the smoke that covered your lower body and replaced it with legs, so that you could stand on the ground and have a more humanly conversation with this man.

Before you were done, you looked at the eccentric button up shirt he wore with simple black trousers, and decided to create an outfit based off his casualness. Once your feet touched the ground, you were wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a slightly baggy grey t-shirt that had the words The Rolling Stones with a large mouth that had its tounge sticking out printed across it; something you assumed was popular in this current day and age. Fashion has changed since the last time you were in the outside world, and you weren’t quite sure how you felt about it.

You finally moved your gaze back to the man, having to look up at him and cursing yourself for not making yourself at least a little taller. You then gestured to the the two thick, shiny gold cuffs that resided on each of your wrists before continuing.

“These are the reason I do what I do,” you began. “They don’t come off, I’ve spent my entire existence trying to remove them but I can’t. So yes, because of that, I am stuck doing this forever.”

“What are they?”

“They’re what keeps me linked to the lamp and what gives me my powers.”

“I-,” he stuttered. “That hardly seems fair.”

Again, you shrugged. There wasn’t much you could do but grant this man his three wishes before having to return to your lamp and the sooner he realized that, the better. “Life isn’t fair, you’ll learn that eventually.”

A pregnant pause resumed after that as he brushed his ring clad hand through his brunette curls, and shift his weight from one foot to another. “This is all so crazy. Can’t I just, and don’t take this the wrong way, pass your help off to someone else? Someone who may actually need it?”

“There’s always that option, but I ask that you don’t.” He looked at you oddly and it was then you knew this was going to take some convincing. “My powers falling into the wrong hands could be disastrous. And there’s other options, there’s no time limit for when you have to use your wishes. Why don’t you keep me around? You never know when you may need a little wish.”

And I really don’t want to go back in that lamp yet, you thought to yourself as he pondered your words. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you think about it, yeah?”

He looked at you and it was as though you could see the gears turning in his brain as he considered this. After a moment he let out a defeated sigh and looked away. “Ok.”

A wave of excitement washed over you, but was soon cut off when he spoke again.

“For now at least. People are going to question who you are, where you came from and if it gets too suspicious for others... things could get really bad.”

“I’ll blend in, I promise.” You insisted. “Anything you want, I can do it.”

“Can we start with making sure that you’re not blue?” His question comes as a surprise to you, but then when you glance down at your appearance— you nod in understanding.

“Fair enough.” You use your powers to make your skin a neutral colour that would blend in with humans, rather than the blue that would blow your cover instantly. Once you’re done, you look back at the man and smirk. “Now that we’re doing this, do I get to know your name?”

“Uh uhm, it’s Harry. Harry Styles. And you are?”

“Genie.”

“That’s not your name,” he replied firmly, causing you to roll your eyes. Genie is all you’ve ever been called, but no, that isn’t your name. In fact, your actual name is engraved elegantly onto the base of the lamp — so you told it to him. He repeated it, and you felt something immediately flutter in the pit of your stomach. The way your name fell so smoothly from his mouth struck something inside of you and you knew right away that you were in trouble. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” Despite how difficult it was, you tried to hide the blush you felt burning across your cheeks as you awkwardly looked away. You wanted to look at anywhere but him, which he was quick in noticing. No more words were exchanged as you moved around the room to take in more of your new surroundings. He watched as you did this, but you kept your gaze from him; letting your mind wander to the thoughts of how this certain exchange between you and a master might be a bit more than you bargain for.

#Harry styles imagine

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diyunho · 5 years ago

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The Joker x Reader - “From Above”

She fell from the sky. Literally. The Joker has no idea who Y/N is, but one thing's for sure: after the encounter his life will never be the same.

The loud splashing sound makes The Joker open his eyes only to see the pool water flooding the terrace, almost reaching the lounge chair he dozed off on.

“What the hell?...” he gets on his elbow, confused after being abruptly woken up.

The waves are starting to calm down a bit and J finally gets up from his spot, curious and intrigued about the shape he’s discerning on the bottom of the pool: there’s actually someone curled up in a ball, most likely a woman.

The protective, translucent barrier surrounding your body is already disintegrated by the time The Joker dives under the water to get you out. In a few seconds you are placed on the same chair he rested earlier, The King of Gotham increasingly pissed that the security downstairs didn’t do their job properly.

“Hey, hey!” he taps your shoulder, puzzled by the white, skin tight outfit you’re dressed with: every time he touches it there are small electrical charges following the complicated pattern of your outfit.

You faintly moan, slowly coming to your senses.

“Hey, wake up!” J insists while wondering if you’re one of the “fliers”, a term used for people thrown from planes: either they know too much or have to disappear for good. Mobsters would frequently use aircrafts in order to get rid of unwanted cargo; a little push at high altitude and the corpse would be found splattered all over the ground and often unidentifiable. Did that happened to you? Were you maybe lucky enough to have escape death by landing in his pool?...

The Joker grabs his cell from the tiny table by his deckchair, instantly yelling as soon as Frost picks up:

“Are you guys napping??? What am I paying you for, huh?? How did she sneak in?!!”

“Who sir?” the henchman replies, totally alert now that the boss seems in a very bad mood.

“The woman in the white outfit! How did she pass by unnoticed?! Or did you just let her in The Penthouse to see if I’m amused by your stunt?”

“Sir,” the goon defends himself and the team. “We patrolled the perimeter and I can tell without a doubt that we didn’t see a soul. We would contact you before sending someone to The Penthouse; we know the rules.”

“Do ya’???!!” J yells so loud you open your eyes. “Never mind!” he shrieks seeing the woman’s reaction. “I’ll take care of it!” he hangs up and throws the phone back on the table.

“You!” he pokes your waist, annoyed. “How did you get in here, hm? Who sent you?” the interrogation continues. “Where did you come from?”

He watches you direct your arm towards the night sky, your index finger pointing at the stars.

“Were you thrown from a jet?” he slams you against the cushions when you try to lift your head. “Answer me!” The Joker violently yanks at your hand.

You just glare at him, analyzing the strange man shouting things you don’t care about and it makes you happy.

“Oh!” you exclaim and he doesn’t have time to dodge when your arms go around his neck; the embrace is so unexpected it takes moments to recollect.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” J snaps out of it and shoves you away. “Don’t touch me!”

You frown and pout, upset he didn’t recognize you: how could he anyway? It’s been so many years and it appears life hasn’t been kind to him to begin with. The logic realization makes you smile and The Clown lets you touch his face simply because he plans to break your fingers for the transgression. You keep caressing his face and your fingers are still intact, but he’s going to snap them soon. Probably…

“Who are you?” The Joker growls, mad at himself for showing weakness: he didn’t hurt you yet and he sure feels the urge to shred you to pieces.

“Who’s that Mister J?!” Kira sulks and walks outside on the patio, jealous the man she spent the evening with has somebody else over. She heard the commotion from the master bedroom and since her partner wasn’t in bed she went searching for him. Only to find The Joker with another girl, apparently engaged in some kind of foreplay. Or at least that’s what she believes.

“I have no clue,” he snarls while distancing himself from the weird creature that landed in his life out of nowhere.

“Don’t lie Mister J,” Kira speculates on The Clown’s capability of twisting the truth all the time. “Is she your new toy?” the envious woman inquires.

“No,” and the simple reply is not even taken into consideration.

“It’s fine, I can work with that…You could have us both in the same time…” she seductively bites her lip since this is the only solution separating her from being chased out of the premises. “Just let me stay…yes?”

“Stop talking and go to sleep!!!” he lashes out because he’s fed up with the blabbermouth: J has more important matters to attend than a resentful, casual escapade.

“Is she a dominatrix or something? I could get a latex suit for you also if you’re into that,” she continues to gamble on his patience when in fact he definitely had enough.

“GET. YOUR.ASS. inside,” he mutters through his clenched jaw, “or I’ll make you!”

He is definitely angry and Kira halts her tirade, aware she’s walking on pins and needles.

“Hey, where are you going?!” The King of Gotham inquires when you suddenly jump of the seat before he can pin you down. You run by Kira and barge in, your wet hair dripping all over the expensive rugs in the Penthouse.

“What is she doing?” the lady asks a worked up Joker rushing after you.

You keep on running around the huge living room, touching and marveling at all the extravagant decorations scattered around the place.

“Oh!!!” you keep on exclaiming and the odd behavior makes The Joker forget his temper and watch the scene with a painful grimace.

Out of the blue, a deafening noise shakes the Penthouse; a few windows crack and car alarms start blaring on the streets nearby.

Already? you think and stomp towards The Joker, grab his hand and drag him outdoors again.

“Let go!” he slaps your arm when your white outfit glows with such intensity he has to squint his eyes: your free hand reaches for the sky and he instinctively looks up; there’s something enormous shining above Gotham with lights rhythmically pulsating each time you take another step.

“Mister J, w-what is that?” Kira gestures at the eerie apparition and shrugs in fear when the pool water is ascending towards the invisible force acting like a magnet for the strong beam of incandescence illuminating the atmosphere.

Although it’s not necessary, you cling to the man you came for because he must be paralyzed by now: the flash always has this effect on first timers.

“Don’t be scared!” you reassure J, “I’m here to save you!” it’s the last sentence he discerns as both bodies float in the air towards the ship meant to get you out of there before it’s too late. “Don’t faint!” you try to keep him conscious but The Joker blacks out immediately, not used to the advanced technology he is privileged to experience.

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

He groans in his dream, continuing to gaze at the transparent panels depicting stars and darkness steadily moving in the vast space. Maybe if he closes his eyes really tight and reopens them, he’ll be able to wake up from the bizarre hallucination.

Nope, it didn’t work.

“I’m in a padded cell at Arkham…I’m in a padded cell at Arkham…” he deeply inhales, repeating the words meant to aid him recover from the sluggish state he’s in. J manages to bring his fingers close to his face, not even noticing the tattoos on his hand are gone: the shimmering white attire he’s dressed with sticks out, adding to his astonishment. “Shit,” The Joker reprises his words, believing his brain is playing tricks on him: “I’m in a padded cell at Arkham…”

“You’re not in a padded cell at Arkham,” the woman’s firm yet calming tone informs and he turns his head instead of just looking up at the translucent ceiling: the sluggish state he’s in is starting to diminish, panic taking over.

“Where am I?” J mutters, his erratic breathing escalating the more he remembers about what occurred yesterday, unaware it was six days ago.

“Please calm down,” you smile and he attempts to stand up without success. “I know how it feels, I’ve been there before. Just take deep breaths and exhale, OK? You were in The Inc.Ubator for days but the process finally ended.”

“The…the what?” The Joker pants and you have to distract him otherwise he will hyperventilate shortly and it won’t help the situation.

“The Inc.Ubator fixes everything that’s wrong with someone at molecular level,” you press on his chest to assess his irregular heartbeat. “Do you sense a certain clarity in your thoughts? Like, they are not scrambled and distorted?”

J has no idea about the involved circumstances that lead to his redemption, but he’s about to find out.

“I’m not sure,” he justly concludes. “I think I completely lost my mind and I’m delirious.”

You chuckle at his affirmation since that’s what you thought also when you were saved by THEM 23 years ago.

“You didn’t lose your mind, I can assure you of the opposite: it’s fixed now. I’m sorry about the tattoos, teeth and hair though.The Inc.Ubator reads them as anomalies that shouldn’t be there: it follows biological imprints stored in its memory for each species, removing and repairing stuff that shouldn’t be there. Wanna see?” you offer to help him up and once on his feet you guide the dumbfounded Joker to one of the panels that reflects back as a mirror as soon as you draw a circle on its surface.

“Oh my God!” he covers his mouth in disbelief at the unusual sight: he has no more green hair, pale skin or tattoos; he looks exactly how he is supposed to look like without the Ace Chemicals incident. NORMAL.

“What did you do to me?” he fakely grins only to see white teeth instead of his silver ones.

“Not me, The Inc.Ubator; it’s an honor to be chosen as survivor of a dying world,” you draw the circle and the screen transforms back into the clear panel granting the two humans a visual of what is going outside the interstellar vessel.

“That’s Earth,” you point at a humongous cloud of debris in the distance. “What’s left of it…” Y/N’s voice dims at the visual. “The core had a surge in temperature and the globe imploded right before I took you. No warning for the people, nothing to stop it. But THEY saved us from that…”

The Joker has a hard time comprehending the insane concepts thrown at him, yet he finds the strength to utter:

“Who’s THEY?”

“Enhanced beings traveling around the Universe and collecting mementos of extinct planets. THEY can’t intervene, their laws forbid it,” you pause to sniffle. “THEY predict when catastrophe will strike and rescue a few samples before annihilation.”

J nervously digs his nails in your suit, unsettled by the news:

“So you’re one of them?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m from Earth, part of the First Wave they saved several years ago.”

“Why was I selected?” the former Clown Prince of Crime demands an explanation and he’s enlightened with the answer.

“Now that your mind was gifted back to you, do you recall the orphanage?”

His sudden silence confirms he does.

“Do you remember the mute little girl you used to play with?”

His eyes get big and you continue:

“You never made fun of me and my disability like so many other kids did,” you sadly recollect. “You always shared the sweets you stole from the kitchen and protected me from the boys that used to tease me. You didn’t know sign language but we understood each other, didn’t we?” your eyes get teary at the emotional past.

“… … Y/N?... “ J articulates the name he didn’t say since he was a child.

You nod a yes and provide more details to the stunned man standing next to you:

“I’m sure you also remember I disappeared. I didn’t. I was simply taken by THEM and brought here where The Inc.Ubator mended my handicap: that’s why I can talk. When THEY decided to save a few more before the disaster, I was urged to pick someone: the young boy that was so kind to me was the only one that stood out from my old existence. Thanks to their technology I was able to track you down and come get you,” you start sobbing and intertwine his fingers with yours. “I’m glad I had the chance to return the favor my dear friend,” you bury your face in his shoulder, incapable of letting go.

And the changed Joker squeezes you closer to him, shocked at the craziness that followed the first encounter with the lost and forgotten childhood friend. He doesn’t know what the future holds, but one thing’s for sure: his life will never be the same.

Also read: Masterlist

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: DiYunho

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker suicide squad #the joker jared leto #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker suicide squad #dc #mister j #Mistah J #Mr.J #joker jared leto

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crispychrissy · 6 years ago

Text

Bakery Blasphemy

Summary: Finally getting a lead on a case after two days, you and the boys set out to see what information this strange woman might have. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester, Agnes (OFC), Delilah (OFC) Word Count: 2459 Warnings: Sexuality, language, unsanitary things, rude old lady, implied smut A/N: This is for @winchesterprincessbride “Jen Said What?” Challenge! My prompt was hilarious to write and is in bold in the fic. I’m glad to be back writing again and I appreciate you guys sticking with me while I’m recovering from my surgery. This was beta’d by @saxxology, gif made by me. Enjoy!

“Come on, Sam, your hair looks perfect,” you grumbled from the motel bed. “Dean’s already out in the car.”

“I’m not doing my hair, Y/N,” Sam’s muffled reply sounded from behind the closed door.

“Then what the hell is taking you so long?” Sitting up, you glare at the bathroom door as if Sam could feel your icy stare through the wood. “Are you staring longingly at your reflection in the mirror?”

He snorted. “No.”

You paused for a moment, then smiled. “Are you touching yourself?”

“No,” he laughed. “You’d be able to hear me if I was. You know I’m not exactly quiet.”

A delicious shiver worked its way through your body at the thought of Sam touching himself, and you bit your lip to keep quiet. Even if Sam was doing any if those things, you were going to be late for your meeting with the first suspect you’d had on this case since you rolled into town two days ago.

“Baby,” you whined, “come on. We need to go. The drive is like twenty minutes and we’re meeting her in ten. Don’t make me pick the lock on the bathroom and drag you out to the car.”

The bathroom door opened in a whoosh of air, startling you slightly. Sam emerged, looking delicious in his navy blue suit, and raised a brow at you.

“I’d like to see you try to drag me anywhere. You know I’m stronger than you and bigger.” He pecked your lips with his own before wrapping his arms around you and turning you so your back was pressed against his front. “Remember last night?” He gestured to the front door of the motel room where, just twelve hours ago, Sam was holding you up against it and viciously fucking into you, whispering dirty things in your ear until you came apart in his arms.

“Yeah,” you whimpered quietly as your mind flooded with the memory of Sam fucking you.

Sam pressed a kiss to your temple and removed his arms from around you, steadying you as you swayed in your spot. “Come on, let’s get going.”

It took several long seconds before your body responded to any commands your brain was making, and Sam was already out the door. Quickly grabbing your coat, you followed after him, and made it outside right as he was sliding into the passenger’s seat of the Impala. Dean was in the driver’s seat, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and you smiled sheepishly at him before you made your way around the car and slipped into the spot behind Sam in the back.

“What the hell took you two so long?” Dean questioned, putting the car in reverse and gunning it out of the motel parking lot.

“I don’t know, ask Sam,” you replied, meeting eyes with Dean in the rear view mirror and sticking your tongue out.

Dean glanced at his brother, who only shrugged. “I was sewing up a part of my suit jacket. It ripped when I was putting it on.”

“Sammy the seamstress,” Dean chided, earning a patented bitchface from Sam. “Does that mean you’ll sew my clothes, too?”

“Have you seen Sam’s stitches, Dean? I don’t think I’d want him sewing anything, let alone my clothes,” you sassed from the back seat, earning a deep chuckle from Dean. Sam turned around in his seat and glared at you, betrayal in his eyes.

You were definitely going to pay for that.

Thankfully, Dean clicked the radio and dissolved the tension with some horribly off-key karaoke to AC/DC for the rest of the ride to this woman’s shop.

Several unexplained and bloody deaths in town drew the three of you there to begin with, and after coming up empty on every lead, you were desperate. When this woman, Agnes Stull, reached out and said she might have some information, you all but jumped at it. Dean was cautious about her, Sam was optimistic, and you were the glue that held the Winchesters together.

After a quick drive across town, Dean parked the Impala on the side of the road in front of an old bakery; apparently Agnes was the owner and preferred the three of you come to her job instead of her home. When you exited the car, you rolled your eyes at the deep exaggerated inhale that came from Dean.

“Mmm, I smell pie,” he smiled, licking his lips.

“Dean, we’re here to work, not eat,” Sam scolded, checking his watch. “Come on, we’re five minutes late.”

“And whose fault is that, Sammy?” Dean retorted.

Sam ignored his reply and you smiled at Dean, appreciating the wildly entertaining brotherly sass that was common between them. Following Sam, all three of you walked into the door of the bakery, a small bell hanging from the door hinge ringing to signal your entrance. The smell of pastries and freshly baked bread made you close your eyes and smile, and you caught Dean doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“How can I help you?” a cheerful voice chirped from behind the counter, making you open your eyes.

“Hi there, we’re looking for Agnes?” Sam replied, flashing his badge. “We’re the FBI agents she requested to speak with.”

“Oh, I’m Delilah. Agnes is in the back, go through those doors over there,” she pointed to a set of double doors across the shop on the opposite wall, “and you’ll find her.”

Nodding your thanks, you followed the boys as they walked over and stepped through the doors. Like Delilah had said, Agnes was sitting on a metal stool in front of a counter, kneading a ball of dough. She looked to be in her late seventies or early eighties, and she glanced up at you when you stepped inside.

“You the suits that were nosing around?” she grunted, voice deep and scratchy.

“Yes we are, ma’am,” Dean confirmed, flashing her a smile.

Agnes grunted and landed a hard punch to the middle of the dough sitting in front of her. “Don’t smile at me like that. It makes you look slow, boy.”

Right when Dean was about to counter her feigned insult, Agnes reared her head back and sneezed… directly onto the dough that was scattered across the table. She looked up at Dean and wiped a sleeve under her nose, raising an eyebrow at him as she continued to knead.

Dean’s grin instantly disappeared and he opened his mouth in a silent horrified scream. Thankfully, Sam was there to step in for his speechless brother. “So, what information did you have for us?”

“The last kid that bit it,” she waved her hand around, “whatever his name was. He used to work here as a cleaner. You know, dishes, sweeping, mopping… that shit.”

“Okay…” Sam said slowly.

“Don’t sass me, Redwood,” Agnes snapped, making Sam’s head jerk back in surprise. “I was just gonna let you know that back when he worked here, he ran with a bad crowd. Gangs, drugs, all of that bullshit. So his death might be related to that.”

Sam was still stunned to silence, just like Dean, so you stepped forward. “Thank you Agnes, but there are three victims that match the M.O. and there were no commonalities between the victims, and that includes gang affiliation. That, and most gangs opt for executions… these victims were… well, they were brutally slaughtered.”

Your skill as a hunter was second to your skills at reading body language, and you didn’t miss the small twitch of a smile on Agnes’ mouth after you finished speaking. Before you even had a chance to warn the Winchesters, Agnes stood up and reached into her mouth, pulling her dentures free. Dean was frozen in his spot as she reached out and plopped her slobber-coated dentures right into his palm.

It took a few long seconds for Dean’s brain to catch up with the action, and he immediately flailed, throwing the dentures in the air while gagging, frantically wiping his hand on his pant leg. “What the fuck?!”

Agnes faced you and snarled, several sets of sharp fangs protruding from her gums, making all three of you draw your guns. “God damn hunters, why can’t you just take a lead and fuck off?”

“Not a vampire,” you whispered, clicking the hammer back on your pistol.

“I’m a Manticore, fuck nuggets. I was enjoying retirement, but mama got hungry,” she said, patting her stomach with blue tinted claws jutting from the end of black fingertips. “That, and who knew blood added to cherry pie tasted so good.”

“Bitch!” Dean gasped, cocking his gun and pulling the trigger.

All three of you unloaded each of your clips into the monster. Dean had witch killing bullets, Sam had holy oil bullets, and you had the standard silver. It wasn’t intentional to have different ammo, but you hoped at least one of the special kinds of ammunition would kill a Manticore.

The Manticore hissed and growled, lunging at you while you fired, but one of the ammo types appeared to be working and she crumpled to the ground a few feet shy of you. You and Sam stopped firing when she hit the ground, but Dean fired two more shots into her corpse, a double tap to the head.

“Dean, she’s dead,” you said, holding out your hand.

He went to fire again, but his gun clicked and he growled, spinning to face you. “That lady handed me her false teeth, right out of her mouth!” He shuddered and made a noise of disgust. “And let’s not forget her sneezing on stuff… or what she did to the sanctity of cherry pie!”

Sam rolled his eyes and you laughed, making Dean huff in annoyance right when the door behind you burst open, revealing a wide-eyed Delilah.

“Agnes?!”

Sam stepped in front of her, holding out a palm to stop her from advancing further into the room. “Sorry, Delilah. Agnes killed those three people in town. She… she poisoned them with some kind of psychedelic drug that thinned their blood while making them brutally kill themselves. She tried to kill us and we had no choice.”

Delilah pressed a hand against her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh no. She… she killed those people? Why?”

“We don’t know, possibly dementia? She confessed to the killings right before she lunged at us with a knife,” you said, tucking your gun into the waistband in the back of your pants.

“She was a mean old lady,” Delilah whispered. “I guess life finally caught up with her.” She looked up and her eyes darted around. “What should I do now?”

“We’re going to take care of her. You own the shop from this point on, just make sure you throw out everything you have in the store right now,” Dean commanded, pointing a finger at her. “Especially any cherry pie.”

“Shouldn’t I call the police?” Delilah asked, mindlessly depositing the blood spray covered dough balls into the trash can.

“We work for a special part of the FBI, and this is not the first time Agnes has done this. She was a dangerous serial killer. It’s better for everyone if she just disappears, okay?” Sam placed a hand on Delilah’s shoulders and met her eyes. “We’ll help you clean up.”

“We will?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, we will,” Sam confirmed through gritted teeth.

With four people, the shop only took about an hour to clean up. All the pastries were thrown out and the blood was cleaned up from the back room. While Sam and Dean were moving Agnes’ body to the back if the Impala to burn somewhere far away from here, you helped Delilah sort the ownership papers and other documents in the small office inside the store. Luckily, Delilah had part ownership in the business so there was no paperwork that had to be forged. You told her to report Agnes missing in a few days, just to cover herself.

Once the Winchesters came back inside and said goodbye to Delilah, you all climbed back into the Impala and after a pit stop to some random forest about forty miles outside of town, you drove back to the motel. First one through the door, you immediately shuffled to yours and Sam’s bed and flopped down on your stomach.

“I’m gonna head out and try to forget what that crazy bitch did by drinking my body weight in whiskey. Anyone want to join?” Dean announced, grabbing his jacket.

“Nah, I’m beat, thanks though,” you said through a yawn. “If you come back with a bar skank, get another room, will ya?”

“What do you think the back seat of the Impala is for, Y/N?” Dean said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Huh. I thought it was just for me and Sam,” you sassed, laughing at the disgusted grunt from Dean.

“You two better not be -”

“Dean, relax. She’s kidding,” Sam interrupted. “Have fun at the bar. I’m wiped out and I’m gonna sleep, too.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, exiting the motel room door, letting it slam behind him.

Once the Impala roared to life and disappeared from the parking lot, Sam slid into your bed and gathered you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. You sat in a comfortable silence, taking deep breaths of Sam’s familiar scent while his warmth radiated into your body.

“So, I may have snuck into one of the shops near the bakery before we left,” Sam admitted, making you pull back and look up at him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I got some of those novelty chattering teeth. Was gonna leave them in his bed,” Sam grinned.

Throwing your head back, you laughed so hard you snorted, making Sam laugh even harder, too. “You’re so bad. He’s gonna kill you,” you said between fits of giggles.

“Yeah, maybe. But you love when I’m bad,” he purred, pulling you against him again, grinding his hips forward and pressing his bulge against you.

“Yeah, I do,” you whispered back, but it was cut off by a squeal when Sam moved, shifting you so you were under him and he was hovering over you, braced on his elbows.

Sam captured your lips in a kiss, and the entire hunt dissolved into a foggy memory as he rutted against you, making your entire body tingle with what you knew was to come.

“Don’t think I forgot about your comment about my stitches. You’re gonna pay for that,” Sam murmured, nipping at the skin on your neck.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I can’t wait.”

Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @trashimaginezblog @jensen-gal @spnbaby-67 @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @turnttoverr @kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @kararanae23 @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @imagining-supernatural @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @alexwinchester23 @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon @curly-haired-disaster

Sam: @ronja-uebrick @hunterswearingplaid @focusonspn

#JSW Challenge #sam x reader #spn fanfic #challenge fic #sam winchester x reader #sexuality #gross stuff #humor #dean winchester #fluff #bakery #blasphemy

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a-fools-jester · 6 years ago

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Hello there! I really love your writing! You capture the characters personalities and interactions very well and I always enjoy your stories. You said you wanted irondad prompts, so maybe something like Peter finds an abandoned kitten one day before going to work ((let’s be honest: just hang)) with Tony and doesn’t know how to tell him/worries he’ll be annoyed so he just tries to hide the cat while he’s with Tony, but Tony notices him fidgeting etc. and is just like “kid wtf?” Until Peter caves

In Peter’s defense, the kitten was alone and obviously abandoned, left in a box next to the garbage bin he used to keep his backpack webbed to while he was out being Spider-Man. The little fella had orange fur and pretty green eyes. “Hey, I’m Peter,” he whispered to the kitten, rubbing him behind the ears. “What’s your name, hmm?” He checked the back of the box for a phone number or a name, but alas, he found nothing but the words FREE TO A GOOD HOME.Problem: he was running late for his Stark Internship. He and Mr. Stark had always met at 4:30 on Tuesdays and Saturdays, an unspoken agreement between the two of them that Peter would come in for “work” that day. Problem number 2: he was most definitely not going to leave the kitten in a box next to some dumpster but he had no time to take it anywhere else. MJ was too far, he wasn’t close enough to home, and Ned was allergic to cats.

“What am I going to do with you, little guy?” he asked the kitten who did nothing but cling to his shirt with his little paws. Well, that was that then. There was literally no other choice. “Alright, alright. Stay in my backpack for a little while, okay? I’ll leave it open for you so you can breathe but you can’t jump out, okay?”Once little Jam was secure and content, Peter put the backpack on his chest, wrapping his arms around his little secret and running as fast as he could towards the compound. He made it in record time (thank god for being fast) and skipped security, going straight to the elevator. “Alright, it’s 4:37. Not bad, Jam. Not bad at all,” he cooed before he paused. “You’re gonna have to stay in my bag, alright? I’m not sure if Mr. Stark would… well, I’m not sure how he’d feel about having a cat around.”The moment he said it, anxiety filled his stomach with lead. Did Mr. Stark have a cat allergy?Would he be annoyed with Peter for being late and having nothing to show for it except for a small stray kitten?Was this Mr. Stark’s line of everything he was willing to accept? Peter shuffled from foot to foot, putting the backpack behind him. Mr Stark had accepted that he was a teenager with only a little bit of teasing, had accepted the fact that he was a mess and didn’t obey orders while taking down the Vulture with exasperation and mild frustration, but what if he thought this only proved how immature and unready Peter was to be an Avenger? What if he decided Peter wasn’t a good fit to be Spider-Man?Okay, perhaps this wasn’t one of his better ideas.He clutched the straps of his backpack with white-knuckled fists, keeping his head bowed when the elevator opened. The lab was as it always was, and Mr. Stark was hunched over one of the worktables, examining the robot he was working on building. Mr. Stark looked up, meeting his eyes with a nod before he turned back to the robot and gestured for Friday to turn on some of his ‘Brain Stimulating Music’- which, in Peter’s book, meant Old Man Rock.Thankful for Mr. Stark’s distraction Peter took a seat and placed Jam on his lap, opening the zipper a bit to make sure that the little guy didn’t have any trouble breathing. “I need to work on this bot for Pepper, so you go ahead and do your thing for now. I’ll call you when I need you.”Peter nodded, taking out his math book and breathing a small sigh of relief.It can’t be that hard to hide a kitten for a couple hours. Right?The minutes ticked by slowly as Peter did his homework, working on his Pythagorean theorem worksheet for Ms. Benny and studying the scatter plots for Ms. Ann. Some days, he really wished his school didn’t make all the students take math and “advanced math” at the same time, which really didn’t make very much sense. Why didn’t they just teach everything in one class instead of separating things into two subjects?Because now Peter was mentally questioning his existence in two classes instead of one. Smart as he was, he just really didn’t like math. Science was his favorite subject, but math? Torture. Ned would often roll his eyes when Peter let his opinion on the subject be known because even if it was torture, he usually got good marks. But still…Whoever invented math must have been a sadist.As Peter struggled and stared at his textbook with the blank expression of a student going through finals, Tony observed the kid arachnid. He was being weird. Less bubbly and talkative than usual, fidgety, not meeting Tony’s eyes, didn’t ask about what Tony was building. Something was off about him. Tony didn’t like it. It made him feel on edge.Was the kid hurt? Going through something? Upset?They’ve been in the lab for almost an hour now and the kid hadn’t done anything except sit at one of the worktables and do his homework silently which was so unlike him that it made Tony immediately suspicious. The lack of stories about his day and questions about whatever and quips only made Tony even more suspicious. And the fidgeting…“Alright, out with it,” Tony said after waiting another fifteen minutes for Peter to offer an explanation, eyes narrowing when Peter jumped and met his stern gaze with wide eyes. “What’s going on with you?”“Me?” Peter asked, frowning, trying to not panic as Jam crawled out of the backpack on Peter’s lap. “There’s absolutely nothing- nghhh! Um, nothing wrong with me. Sir.” Peter shifted, wincing in discomfort when little Jam decided on using his shirt as a scratching post. The shirt he was currently wearing. The thin shirt which did not protect the soft flesh underneath it in the slightest. Luckily, the work table was high enough that it kept his lap and lower body hidden from Mr. Stark across the room. Not so luckily, Jam kept on scratching his stomach and it hurt.Tony’s eyes narrowed further, looking almost like he was trying to use X-ray vision on Peter. “You’re being really quiet, you came in late, you’re being all-” he gestured vaguely over Peter as he shifted to try and inconspicuously get Jam to stop. “-this. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it May? Her new boyfriend? Some boy at school bother you?”“What? No!” Peter responded immediately, frowning sourly at the mention of May’s new boyfriend. Jake the Joke was what the name Peter put him down under in his contacts list. Ugh. “It’s got nothing to do with Aunt May or Jake or school. There’s nothing wrong, Mr. Stark!”His wincing was not helping his case.Tony walked forward, putting down the screwdriver and scratching his beard. He had a look on his face that Ned and MJ had once called the Dad Face when they came over and Tony saw the nasty bruise on Peter’s jaw. “Listen, Peter…” Tony began, crossing his arms that he suddenly had no idea what to do with. “I’m not usually a heart-to-heart type of guy, alright? Emotions give me acid reflux. They’re not my forte. But if you need someone to talk to, I am here and I will listen and probably give you advice. I’m not sure how reliable said advice will be but it will be given. You’re my mentee and I take my responsibilities seriously- or, well, seriously for my standards. So why don’t you tell me what’s wrong so we can figure out-”Tony stopped, blinking in bafflement, and Peter’s mind supplied him with a vine he saw that was relevant to his situation- the one with Jessie J going n-n-n-n-n-no no no no NO NO NONO.“Is that a kitten on your lap right now, Peter?” Tony asked, voice torn between being angry and laughing. “What the fuck, kid?”“Mr. Stark, I can explain-”Tony gestured to the cat. “Explain nothing! You’ve been here for an hour being all weird and I thought you had some type of problem and it’s- A cat! You brought a cat to the lab! Jesus. Anxiety issues, remember? I honest-to-god thought there was something wrong.”Peter nodded, shifting and placing Jam on the table now that it was out in the open. “I know, sir, and I’m sorry but Jam was alone and he was next to a garbage can and I was already- I was already running late so I just took him and ran here. I wasn’t sure if you’d let me take a cat in here or get mad so I just… didn’t tell you.”“Jam?” Tony repeated, bending over to look at the little ball of fur closer. “You named it?”“Yes?” Peter responded, looking sheepish, eyes soft in that horrible way that Tony firmly believed should be illegal. That was unfair. Peter using his puppy-dog eyes meant that Tony’s chances of being angry were greatly reduced by 40-50 percent.Jam took Tony’s lack of attention to move forward and nuzzle closer to him and he sighed. Goddammit. He really wanted to be upset about this entire thing but it seemed the universe wasn’t going to allow it. “Alright, maybe he’s not too bad for a little mouser. Are you going to take him home?” He looked up, catching Peter’s shifty eyes with a frown. “Well, actually…”“Oh no! No no no no, sir! Under no conditions is this creature going to stay here with me!” With his record, the thing would be dead within a week. Most things he came into contact with often suffered from that fate. Or maybe the kitten would make Tony fall into a false sense of safety and contentment and then run off with a team of strays, leaving Tony all alone again. Cat-tain Apurrica. “Mr. Stark, please? I’ve always wanted a pet and Aunt May always said no because our apartment complex doesn’t allow them-”“Then move. Easy peasy. I’ll pay for the entire goddamn transition if needed, but this-” “-and- and it would only be for a little while until I can either convince Aunt May or Ned or maybe MJ-”“-cat is not going to stay with me!”“-to let Jam stay with them. Please, Mr. Stark! I promise I’ll be super duper good on missions and I’ll do anything you want. Please.” There was a beat of silence. Tony met Peter’s eyes, which were cranked up to 11 on the puppy-dog scale. Again, unfair, but Tony was also doing his best stern glare so it might be a little bit more acceptable. Tony spent the silence telling himself every reason why he should not let the cat stay in the compound with him.He wasn’t fond of cats. (Not completely true, his mother had one.)He was too busy. (Not busy enough to keep his mind clear.)He was irresponsible. He wasn’t good at taking care of things. (True.)He couldn’t even take care of himself very well. (Also true.)He didn’t care about some stupid cat Peter brought in and wasn’t going to be the sole caretaker of it simply because Peter asked. (Well…)They stood there in a silent staring contest, a battle of wills going on between them. “Please?” Peter said after a few moments of silence, eyes pleading. “Anything?” Tony asked, putting his hands in his front pockets, his expression thoughtful. “Anything.”With a defeated sigh, Tony nodded. “Alright. You’re going to go with Pepper to the upcoming gala. You need some experience being at social events like that anyway, and I definitely do not want to go.”“Isn’t that the one that's… dedicated to you?” Peter responded, perplexed. “You're… not going to attend the party that’s specifically meant to show you how much you mean to the world?” Tony nodded jerkily. “Having hundreds of thousands of people confess their love to me got tiring after a few years. You’ll be fine.”Peter considered his options. He really, really didn’t like parties that were big and grand, but… “If I go you’ll let Jam stay here?”“You have my word.”Peter bit his lip, nodding. “I’ll go.”Tony flashed him a thumbs up, grabbing a screwdriver and tossing it Peter’s way. Peter caught it easily, not needing to break eye contact with Tony. “Come here, show me what you can do with this bot. Work your magic.” With a grin, Peter walked forward, carrying Jam and taking him to the other worktable so he could be nearby while Peter worked. Tony watched him with an intense look, but it wasn’t awkward like it would be if it was anyone else because it was Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark kept watching him as he attached the two servo ports to the serializer, only humming from time to time in approval or surprise at his choices with the robot. The hours passed quicker after that and when day turned into night, Mr. Stark suggested he stay and give May a text to let her know. They put on a movie and ordered a pizza, sitting in the lounge with Jam laying down between them. Mr. Stark got Happy to buy some cat supplies and the bemused man did so with only a few quips, bringing Jam some food, a bed, toys and a purple collar with a heart nametag that said ‘If lost, return to Spider-Man or Iron Man’. Peter remembered how the compound had been like when he’d first visited, how empty and gray, like the very walls were hungry for light. It felt like a lonely place to stay, let alone live in. There were too many empty spaces, empty rooms, empty silences with nothing but music and one person’s breath to fill it.Peter watched as Jam nuzzled up to Mr. Stark and Mr. Stark had rolled his eyes at that, but Peter saw the way he was smiling at Jam with a fond look in his eyes.Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Sorry this took a while to get done! I hope this is okay because fluff is sorta not my forte hahaha 😅

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thelastspeecher · 6 years ago

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For the Stay-at-home Stan au, how about Stan and Angie take their kids to Gravity Falls for the weekend to visit Ford, Fids, and Tate. Ford and Fids could take them around town and show them how it's like there, maybe even do some fishing or camping if possible (with Ford being a bit on control to protect the family from potential anomalies). Basically just a prompt for a mini vacation for Stan and Angie's family :)

Here you go, Anon. Warning: Major fluff and sappiness ahead.

Ford idly scrawled onto a page ofhis research journal. Normally, he satin his study when writing up research, but right now he was sitting at thekitchen table. It was quiet, the onlynoise coming from Fiddleford, who hummed as he did the dishes. Tate was in the front yard, weeding thegarden, per Fiddleford’s request. Thepeace was shattered by the front door slamming open.

“Hey!” a deep, gravelly voiceshouted. “Get back here!”

“No!” another, higher-pitched,voice responded. The first voice groanedloudly. Ford and Fiddleford looked ateach other curiously.

“That sounded like-” Fordstarted. He was cut off by a childrunning into the kitchen and promptly crashing into the door leading to theback porch. Ford closed hisjournal. “That door opens inwards, Emily.” Emily, who had bounced off the closed door toland on the ground, nodded.

“Yeah. I can tell now.”

“What was that noise?” the voicefrom earlier called. Fiddleford driedhis hands on a dishtowel.

“Yer daughter ran into a closeddoor,” Fiddleford answered. The owner ofthe voice – Stan – appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Em. You gotta slow down sometimes,” Stan said,exasperated. Ford snorted.

“That’s amusing, coming fromyou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan muttered. “Shut up.” Emily grinned up at Stan from where she was still sprawled on the floor.

“Ooh, you said a naughty word,”she sang. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Get off the ground.”

“No.” Emily laid down. She spread out her arms and legs. “I’m comfortable here.”

“Is that right?” Fiddleford askedgood-naturedly.

“Yep. The floor is my home now,” Emily chirped. Stan rubbed his forehead.

“…Whatever. Just- don’t set anything on fire, okay?”

“No promises,” Emily saidhappily. Stan grumbled wordlessly andleft the kitchen. Emily looked over atFord and Fiddleford. “He’s just grumpy‘cause he drove a long time.”

“Yes, the trip from San Diego toGravity Falls is a long one,” Ford said. He frowned. “A trip that I didn’trealize you two were taking.”

“Oh, it’s not just us,” Emilysaid. “Ma ‘n all my siblin’s ‘re here,too.” Fiddleford set down the bowl hehad been drying.

“…All of ya?” Fiddlefordasked. Emily nodded. “Wh- why weren’t we told ‘bout this?” Emily propped herself up on one elbow.

“Uh, I thought ya were.” She raised her voice. “Dad?”

“Yeah?” Stan grunted in response.

“Ya called Uncle Fidds ‘n Ford totell ‘em we were visitin’, right?”

“No. Your mom did.”

“I heard the word ‘mom’,” a newvoice shouted. Angie poked her head intothe kitchen. “Am I bein’ summoned by oneof my children?”

“Yeah.” Emily sat up and crossed her legs. “You called Uncle Fidds ‘n Ford and told ‘emwe were comin’ over, right?”

“No,” Angie said. “Yer father did.” Emily grinned. “What?”

“You both thought the othercalled us,” Ford said. Angie blinked.

“…Oh.”

“How did this happen? None of you thought to call ahead when youleft?” Ford asked. Angie turnedpink. “…You thought Stan did that.”

“And I s’ppose Stan thought I didthat,” Angie added. She rubbed herface. “Ugh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ford said, fightinga smile. Angie frowned at him.

�� “Are ya amused by this?”

“It’s such a cliché. I didn’t think it was something that actuallyhappened,” Ford said. “Let alone withyou. You’re typically very level-headedand organized.” Angie bristled. She put her hands on her hips.

“The zoo just got a new batch ofpoison dart frogs what need careful attention, and Stan just started up a newjob. Add to that our four children, andI think ya can understand why we might be a bit more scatter-brained than twoself-employed folk with one very well-behaved son.”

“Angie, Ford was just teasin’ya,” Fiddleford said reassuringly.

“Hmph.”

“Hang on,” Emilyinterrupted. “How come ya described Tateas ‘well-behaved’ but ya didn’t give any of yer own kids adjectives?”

“I specified that Tate waswell-behaved to emphasize that you and yer siblin’s very much ain’t.”

“Okay, maybe I’m not well-behaved,” Emily said, “but Emmett ‘n Danny are.” Angie raised an eyebrow.

“Compared to yer cousin?”

“Would you wanna raise someonewho always does what they’re told?” Emily shot back. A small smile quirked the corner of Angie’smouth. She shook her head.

“Lord, honey, ya test me ev’ryday.”

“I know.”

“Go help yer siblin’s unload thecar.”

“Yep!” Emily jumped to her feet and ran out of thekitchen. A few seconds later, there wasa crash. “I’m okay!” Ford and Fiddleford looked at Angie.

“If she broke somethin’, we’llreplace it,” Angie said.

“I should check that,” Ford said,getting up. “It sounded like glass hadbroken.”

“Yeah, she broke a bottle!” Stanshouted. Ford grimaced.

“Oh, dear. I hope it wasn’t my bottle of magicalsaliva.”

“Well, go check it,” Fiddlefordsaid. Ford nodded and exited thekitchen. Fiddleford smiled cheekily atAngie. “You and yer husband courtchaos.”

“Strong words comin’ from someonewhat literally started a cult,” Angiesaid. Fiddleford rolled his eyes. “Sorry, by the way, about the confusion. Now that we’ve got our four wild children, wetry to let people know in advance if we’ll be visitin’. But since we’ve got those four wildchildren…” Angie smiled ruefully. “Things tend to slip through the cracks.”

“I know, Angie. I ain’t upset about it. I always love seein’ yer kidlets. Might be a bit crowded in the house while yerall here, though,” Fiddleford said. Angie leaned against the wall.

“Sounds to me like that means weshould spend as much time outside as possible,” she replied. She grinned. “Does Tate still like to go fishin’?”

—–

“Say cheese!” Angie called. Stan looked over at his wife. While his back was turned, Emily splashed himwith water, completely soaking through his shirt. His head whipped around to glare at Emily.

“Em!” Stan growled. Emily grinned cheekily at him.

“Hey, you walked into the lake,you gotta be prepared fer the consequences!” she chirped. Stan glowered at her.

“You told me to come out here.”

“It’s called a trick, old man,”Emily said with a wink. Stan looked atEmily for a few moments, trying to decide whether to be impressed with hertrickery or upset. He finally trudgedback silently to the shore, where Angie was standing with her camera. Angie chuckled.

“She really got ya wet, darlin’.”

“Your daughter’s hell on wheels.”

“She’s yer daughter, too.” Angie stood on her tiptoes to give Stan apeck on the cheek. “I got a picture ofthat exact moment she splashed ya, by the way.”

“Great,” Stan grunted. Angie kissed him again.

“Aw, don’t be such asourpuss. We’re here to enjoy qualitytime with our fam’ly, not get grumpy ‘bout the misbehavior of our admittedlydifficult children. And ya got to admit,that’s somethin’ you woulda done yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Stan sighed. He put an arm around Angie’s shoulders. “I thought the point of us all drivin’ out to the lake was so we couldgo fishin’ together. But here we are,standin’ on the shore, not fishing.”

“Stanford and Fiddleford’s boatis too small.” Angie poked at Stan’schest. “We’re takin’ turns. I explained that already.”

“I was distracted. Daisy and Tate were doin’ somethin’…unsavorywith the lures,” Stan said. He looked atAngie. “Think our kids are a badinfluence?” Angie leaned against himwith a contemplative expression.

“Hmm. Sometimes.”

“Good.” Angie looked up at him curiously. “I don’t want my kids to be goody two shoes.”

“Stan…”

“Hey, you knew that when yamarried me,” Stan said. “Pretty sure itwas in my vows somewhere.” Angielaughed. The sound of a boat motor graduallycame closer. “Seems like we’re gonna getour turn to catch a shit ton of fish.”

“I don’t care how many fish we catch. I just care that we spend some quality timetogether as a fam’ly,” Angie said sweetly.

“Sounds like someone who knows theycan’t catch more than me.” “Oh, you want to go, Pines?”Angie said, her tone challenging. Stangrinned.

“You know I do, McGucket.”

#Stan and Angie somehow manage to catch an equal number of fish #Tate catches the most but insists he wasn't competing so therefore Daisy should win #it's a great time all around #Stay at Home Stan AU #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Emily Pines #Stanford Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Stangie Family #my writing #ficlet #my stuff #ask #Anonymous

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sexybluebox96 · 5 years ago

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It breaks my heart that you would do this without even trying to talk to me. I think it’s because you know 😕 You know what I would say about everything going on. That’s why you didn’t tell me, you didn’t want to hear it. But I knew what was going on. I tried to be patient. I didn’t want to push you. I tried to tell you about my life in hopes that you would open up about yours. I told you, over and over, that I will always support you. I love you, unconditionally, and I always will. I wish you had believed me. I still would have told you what I thought. I still would have tried to help you get onto the path thats best for you. All I ever wanted was to see you shine. That doesn’t mean that I’ll turn my back on you if you do something I disagree with. If you shut me out yeah I’m gonna have some issues. I’m going to worry, and I’m sorry but yes I’m going to get anxious and insecure. I tried to talk it out and just be patient rather than let it get in my head. I tried to help our friend in the meantime, who you seem to have turned your back on and I don’t understand why (because you’ve told me nothing) and you hate me for it? I can’t comprehend it. It still doesn’t feel real except for short moments when I completely break down. I thought I found my forever group. When that fell apart I thought I’d be okay, because no matter what I finally found my soul sister, my best friend, the person who would be there for me no matter what, and I could be there for in turn. I can’t believe that’s gone. It feels like I was finally on a bright path and it suddenly vanished out from underneath of me. As I wandered in the dark, trying to find my way back to the shining future I saw so briefly, pieces of my soul broke off and were lost in nothingness. I held on the best I could but it feels as if the last piece has fallen away and now I’m nothing but broken bits scattered in darkness. How can I manage this? I don’t know if I’m capable. But my word holds true even if yours does not. I will never abandon you. I will fight for breath forever, as I promised.

I love you and support you always. But I don’t always agree with you. So here’s some truths I wish I could have shared.

I watched you turn someone I loved into a villain in your eyes. I watched you do the same to someone you loved. Twice. Three times now. I understood two of them.

The person I loved hurt my heart and you wanted what was best for me, and he initiated a situation that brought you guilt. It was easier to blame and hate him than to face what you did. But you still had a hand in what happened. You dreamt with us. He wasn’t a bad person and doesn’t deserve hatred, yet you hate him.

The first person you loved was bad for you, and you were bad for him. It was easier to hate him so you could leave. But that was a trap because you didn’t really hate him and now you’ve convinced yourself that you only left because you thought you did. That’s not true. He was bad for you. You were bad for him. Like the one I loved, your issues clashed and you aren’t ready to communicate with each other. And the fact that he’s letting you (and I have no doubt encouraging you to) cut out and hate everyone tells me that not only has he not grown enough to understand you, but that he doesn’t want to. He wants things to go back to how they were before other people messed things up. You do too. But that isn’t what happened and you’re both deluding yourselves and each other and one or both of you is going to get very hurt. I’m sorry but I love you too much to lie to you about this, because all I want for you is for you to be healthy and happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.

The second person you loved tried to help you heal. He did what he could and it seems you basically spit in his face. That, plus the fact you never talked to me about it except to give me half truths and evasions “don’t trust him, I’m afraid” “if you were there I’d try but you can’t so he’s out of my life” led to me questioning your honesty and if I truly knew you. I mean. What is that? How fucking ridiculous is that?? If you genuinely wanted him out of your life, if you were genuinely afraid and truly hated him, there’s nothing my presence could have done to change that and you know it. You meant if I was there you’d try to act more sane, and that’s fucking wild. I don’t understand why you’d hate him. I don’t think you do. I don’t understand why you’re creating this hellscape for yourself.

The third person who loved you was me. I tried to be patient. I tried not to push you, but you know me. I still had to talk about things with someone. And I tried to help him too. Because that’s who I am and because I couldn’t understand why you’d hate him for trying to do what you asked, protect you from yourself. But somehow that turned into “talking shit” in your brain, and instead of even attempting an actual conversation you decided you were better off without me. How could you do that if you loved me even half as much as you told me? How could you do that when you know how much I love you? How can this even be reality?

Things like that are what made me question if I truly knew who you were. You acted like nothing was wrong and kept me a separate piece of your life. You once again treated someone who loved you like trash. Is this who you’re becoming? Is this who you are in times of stress? Or is this just who you’ve always been? I struggled with this. I still am. You blew up my life without any regard for how I would feel, without even a warning. Do you even care how far gone I am since that happened? All my moneys gone towards drugs and alcohol. I don’t feel like a real person anymore. I’m not entirely convinced I even am. Makes it hard to do anything when you’re not sure things are even real. Any time I think about reality and anything going on, I get this pain in my chest that feels like someone just took a cannon and blew me wide open. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t move. But it only lasts a few seconds before I go completely numb and block everything out and continue about my day. I can’t face this. I’ll survive but I don’t know if I’ll ever live again. I used to feel a flicker of myself deep down and I tried so hard to get to her but she’s gone now. Her flame died. She lost everything she had left and she couldn’t take it and now this shell is all that’s left. But I digress. We were talking about things you’ve done that I’ve been thinking a lot about lately. Things that have made me question if you ever really cared or if you’re just a great actress. For example, you’ve flaked on plans we’ve made more times than I can count, things you knew I was excited about, like my hair (which you were going to pay for as a birthday present but couldn’t afford so then it was a Christmas present. By Christmas it was my fault for not buying the dye.), or trips to see my family (well you haven’t seen yours in a while so you’re not gonna go anywhere else. Never mind that we’d planned these things weeks, sometimes months in advance, and you’d change your mind a few days before, or that you then WOULDN’T go visit your family). Plus you told me you couldn’t come visit me or get me for a visit because it was too far to drive alone, or your car couldn’t take it, or it was too much gas. How many times have you made that trip the last few months? Part of me thinks you just wanted the freedom to be around him without me there, because how could you face someone you knew genuinely loved you, and make them watch you destroy yourself? Part of me says you must just not have wanted to see me. That it was all pretend and you were just avoiding hanging out because you never truly loved me like you said. Typically thoughts like that have been easy to vanish. You’re my best friend, you’re a piece of my soul. Of course you loved me. It couldn’t have been a lie. But lately.. with how you’ve been acting and how you’ve shut me out, and how you’ve now basically spit in my face, I’m not so sure. Was it all a lie? Was it just an elaborate game? It must have been nice having someone around who trusted you so blindly. Who would defend you, and who would reassure you. I couldn’t do that when I had the other side, because I couldn’t understand your behavior. Is that why this happened? You knew you couldn’t convince me of your truth so it was easier just to drop the facade?

I want to text you. I don’t think you have my number so I know you couldn’t have blocked that and I still have yours memorized. I want to ask you how you could think I had any ill will towards you? Yes I wanted someone who you were mistreating to get out of that situation. You didn’t seem to want him around anyway so how is that so bad? Am I supposed to think you’re perfect? Am I supposed to worship the ground you walk on and never question a thing you say or do? I am my own person. I have my own thoughts. Just because I loved and supported you didn’t mean you were always right. And I told you. It was hard for me, I was so afraid you would hate me, but I did it, because I wanted what was best for you, always.

Despite how much I clearly have to say, I can’t bring myself to do it. I told myself once I had access to a better phone or my moms computer I would, so it wouldn’t crash a million times as we talked. But here I am and I haven’t don’t it. I’m afraid. If I say nothing then this is it. How can we ever mend this if we don’t talk? But you seem so unpredictable to me now. I don’t know who you are. You’ve kept me out of everything so long that I just don’t know how you’d react. Most of me seems to think texting you would make things worse. You’d see it as me pushing your boundaries and thus it would further solidify the idea that I’m a bad person.. part of me thinks maybe you’d listen. Maybe a few days have passed and you regret it and maybe now we can talk.. but just as my gut told me not to push you to open up it says not to text you.

Why? I don’t know. Does it mean that with time and patience you’ll realize how much I love you and you’ll try to communicate? Does it mean that I’ve seen your true colors and I’m better off without that manipulation..? I truly don’t know. You wouldn’t talk to me. As I further lost my grip on who I was, I lost you too. You seem like a stranger. Is this all a game to you? Was it all manipulation? Or is there a way we can talk and heal and move on?

I know who you want to be with. I doubt he’d let you be my friend. There was a time that wouldn’t have worried me but it has worried me. It seems i was right to be worried.. I don’t know what the point of this is. I don’t know if this is just an outlet for me, so I don’t lose my mind. Maybe I hope you’ll see it, and talk to me. I can’t find your profile so I’m sure you’ve blocked me on here too though. Whatever the reason I want you to know that despite all of this, despite everything that’s happened and the fact that Washington already feels like another life, I still love you. I will always love you, no matter what, and I hope that whatever happens, whatever path you choose, that you’re happy and healthy. I wanted to watch you grow and I couldn’t wait to see who you’ll become. Even if I can’t be there to see it though, that’s still true. If you stay true to yourself and do what is best for you and those around you, you’re going to do huge things. Even if you’re not in my life, I know I’ll see the ripples of your life worldwide. Your sunflower loves you. I hope this isn’t the end of our story. If it is, I’ll miss you forever. Please never forget that you deserve to be loved. Your life should be filled with light, settle for nothing less. Blessed be, bestie 💖

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whatdoyouthinkmyjobis · 8 years ago

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Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: This chapter was inspired by events in BTVS 7.10 “Bring On the Night.” Links to character sheets at the bottom of the story.

Warnings: Angst! Feels!

Chapter 29: Angels

The house was eerily quiet, save for a few scattered sniffles. Everyone had run out of questions and speculations after the first hour, and no one felt like moving while the Winchesters were out dealing with Annabelle’s body. No one wanted to know what dealing with meant.

Buffy sat on the steps mulling over the word they’d scrubbed from the door. Brothers. It wasn’t enough for The First -- there was no doubt about what had wrapped the girl up in a bloody bow -- to go after the Potentials. Now it wanted Dean and Sam too.

It would have to go through her first.

The back door banged, causing a couple girls to yip in surprise. But it was only the Winchesters returning from their gruesome task. Molly rushed to them for hugs. The crying started anew. Cloé, at barely fifteen the youngest Potential, clung to Giles’ jacket as he passed her tissues. Her eyes red and swollen.

Dean stared at Buffy over the crowd, trying to read her face. No doubt, he wanted to take her away from all of this. Clean up the mess on his own. But this death was her weight to bear, and the Potentials needed to know she was in charge.

Buffy stood and waited for the silence, all eyes on her. “Does this seem serious to you now? In here, you live. Out there, you die. I don’t care if you don’t like me or if you just want to see your family again. Leaving gets you killed.” She wasn’t numb to their fears and pains, but she couldn’t be their big sister either.

Her eyes landed on Grace, looking serene in the sea of tears. “Grace, raise your hand. You all see her? Talk to her about everything that’s going on in your heads right now. Revenge, fear, hatred, boys. I don’t care. Just get it out. Grace, I want an anonymous report later about the state of the group.”

She turned to her sister, calmly slumped against the door with the blank expression of someone who had already seen too much. “Dawn, call the rest of the Scoobies. I want to know everything you found last night. Then help Willow put up protection spells, okay?”

“Protection against what?”

“Everything. Go.”

A murmur waved through the girls. Via a series of head nods and pointed glares, they settled on Dani, the oldest and most experienced Potential after Annabelle, as their collective voice.

“Are we really safe here?” she asked.

Buffy took a moment to gather herself and replied calmly, “Something calling itself The First Evil is trying to kill us all. Safe is relative at the moment. Now, I need you all to either eat or get some sleep. You’re no good to me tired and hungry.”

“Coffee for everyone!” Andrew, be-aproned and carrying a tray of full mugs, sugar, and cream, invited himself into Buffy’s bedroom where the Scoobies were discussing the night’s events.

Giles, running on only a few hours of sleep, shot Buffy a quizzical look.

She whispered, “He wanted to help. I told him to keep the coffee coming.” As the sun wasn’t set to rise for at least another hour, this wasn’t a bad use of their hostage.

“What I don’t understand,” said Xander, taking a mug, “is why this thing went to the effort of bringing Annabelle’s body back. Clearly, It’s not feeling shy, but why not break in like last time?”

“Maybe the crazy graffiti is working?” Willow suggested with a yawn.

Giles latched on to different questions as he watched the Winchesters. Why do both angels and the First Evil find them significant? Why would they know any special symbols for warding off demons if they didn’t find themselves constantly besieged? Was the bloody word Brothers a threat or a request?

He started when he felt a poke in the ribs. “Normally, you’re chomping at the bit to correct research errors,” said Buffy.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to repeat yourselves for my sleep-addled brain.” To prove his point, he prepared himself some coffee from the tray on the dressing table.

“We were telling Buffy about how the Bringers are bad gardeners.”

Giles rubbed his eyes, appalled that was all the boys could remember. “They’re not gardeners; they are cursed. Wherever they go, plants die.”

“Good thing this isn’t a town with large slabs of concrete everywhere,” droned Anya, stretched out on the bed.

“Yes. No. I mean, this is good,” said Buffy, pacing excitedly. “I saw something like that. A weird dead clump of trees--”

“Outside of my office,” said Sam, locking eyes with Buffy. “They’ve planted new palm trees there twice this past month. They die almost immediately.”

“They’re under the school!” they said in sync.

“I thought the Hellmouth was under the school?” asked Dean.

Willow, blindly fighting for room on the bed, explained, “Well, yeah, but, like, way down. Sunnydale has been destroyed several times, so there’s miles of winding ruins forming man-made caves under the city. One of them runs right next to the high school.”

“Why can’t the mall be an evil lair for once; or a botanical garden?” Dawn complained.

“Okay, how is that even helpful, since it wasn’t a Bringer attack?” asked Anya.

“It was The First,” said Buffy, confidently. “Where the Bringers are, there’s The First. We still don’t know what killed Annabelle, but--”

“I do,” said Sam, looking at the pictures on Dean’s phone. “This is going to sound crazy to you, but this is a vampire bite.” Everyone stared at him.

Dean clarified, “Our kind of vampire, not yours. The goes-out-in-daylight-without-combusting, can’t-be-staked, laughs-at-crosses kind.”

“I don’t like your words,” said Xander.

“At least they don’t have superhuman strength,” Dean added.

“Better. That’s better.”

“It’s sending a different breed of vampires at us? Finally, something I can deal with,” said Buffy.

Neither brother asked how Buffy knew where to go in this series of caves, and she didn’t tell them about the evil anointed child who had lead her down into them, down to her first death at sixteen. The damp stench zapped her mind back to that night -- her white gown accessorized with a crossbow, helpless in the Master’s grip, the tear of his teeth on her neck, the burn of drowning. She had killed the Master, of course. A little thing like death wasn’t going to stop her from saving the world. Now she was back to keep the Potentials in her home from becoming another series of nightmares.

As the cave turned from natural rocks to rubble of bricks and stone, they saw a flickering light around the corner. They flattened against the wall and listened. Two or three somethings were waiting for them.

Before Buffy could give them orders, Dean winked at her and turned around the corner, shotgun at his hip. He didn’t even get a shot off before something threw him against the wall with a crack and a sharp, painful breath.

Sam rushed to his brother’s side as Buffy protected his back. Illuminated in the torchlight stood a tall creature, his blood-stained mouth in sharp contrast to his white skin, his brow disfigured from his extreme age. He was flanked by two grey creatures with white, deep-set eyes; long, needle-like fangs and claws. They looked like uglier copies of the Master.

The creature grinned, flashing fang. “Oh good. You got my invitation, and you brought snacks. Who says manners are going out of style?”

The vampire guard-dogs rocked back and forth on their feet, but did not advance.

“The fuck?” Dean was holding his side and sucking air through his teeth. “Those are not our vamps.”

Buffy swallowed as her stomach tried to leap from her. She’d had this nightmare countless times, but she’d impaled the Master. She’d smashed his bones to dust. She griped her axe tighter. “I didn’t realize this was a costume party. Why don’t you show me your real face?”

“I would more than love to do that, but, alas, I’m short on volunteers. However, I could slip into something more comfortable.” The jagged wrinkles and red eyes of the Master’s face morphed to the soft brown eyes of Angel.

All of Buffy’s energy was in keeping her legs from becoming gelatin, when Dean blasted his shotgun at Angel’s visage.

Angel smoothed his black leather jacket with his hands, shaking his head in disappointment. “Dean, you know shooting me is pointless.” He signaled to his snarling vampiric goons. “Goodbye, lover.”

They moved faster than anything Buffy had ever seen. Before Dean could load another shot, one swung him against the wall. With a sickening crunch, Dean’s limp body fell to the ground.

Sam fired another blast. No effect.

“Protect him!” Buffy yelled, swinging her axe at the nearest vampire. It snapped the axe handle in half and slashed her arm. She plunged her broken handle into its chest, but it -- it bounced off. The creature grabbed a fistful of her hair and launched her into the wall. Blood streamed from her scalp, and something shifted in her chest that shouldn’t be able to shift.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam, bleeding and panting, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of the second vampire. It blocked every swing, the blades bouncing off of its gauntlets.

The vampire grabbed her arm, yanking it from the socket. Using her arm as a painful lever, she pivoted the vampire around her, bashing its head into the wall. With a large rock, she hit the dazed creature over and over until bone started to peek through its skin. It slumped against the wall, stunned, but still undead.

She jumped on the other vampire’s back and bashed it with the rock. “We gotta move, Sam!”

The monster bucked and clawed at her while Sam picked up his unconscious brother, running as fast as he could for the entrance. The vampire slammed Buffy into the wall. She dropped, rolled, picked up Sam’s abandoned shotgun, and shot the monster in the face before running after the Winchesters.

The cave walls narrowed as it turned back into sewer. The entrance, glowing with the first light of dawn, was only yards before them when Sam cried out and fell. The vampire she’d shot, its face still smoking, had knocked him down.

“Get Dean!” Sam shouted as the vampire tried to pin down his swinging fists.

Dean, still unconscious, had fallen face-first into the shallow water. Buffy picked him up and finished carrying him into the light. Behind her Sam was screaming. Already cut and bruised, now he was soaked in blood as the vampire swiped across his stomach, exposing organs. Buffy grabbed it by the collar and pulled it, twisting and slashing, outside where it burst into flames in the morning’s weak light.

She helped Sam out of the sewer, his hands the only thing keeping his insides in. He slid into the backseat with a cry and bandaged himself with a blanket. After fishing the keys from Dean’s pocket, Buffy lifted Dean into the passenger side, moved the bench seat up, and jammed the keys into the ignition.

Rush hour traffic was just starting, but Buffy ignored stop signs and jumped red lights, the big car fishtailing as she sped around corners. Her arms coated with blood, making the steering wheel sticky. Whatever was moving in her chest made it hard to breathe. The edges of her vision were starting to go black as she spied the hospital. Her hands slipped off the wheel, and they crashed.

Buffy came to in a hospital room with Giles and Dawn hovering over her bed.

“Thank God!” her sister squealed, squeezing her foot.

Buffy tried to sit up, but it felt like a death metal concert was trying to mosh out of her ribs. She tried to speak, but her throat was dry and raw.

Giles handed her a glass of water.

“Dean? Sam?” She croaked after a few sips.

“We need to focus on you right now,” he said, setting the glass back on her night stand. “The last time you scared me this badly, I had to bury you.”

“Ta-da! Alive!” She tried to wave jazz hands, but her shoulder screamed at her. “What’s my damage?”

“Three broken ribs, a cracked sternum, a cracked vertebra, a black eye, a split lip, a dislocated shoulder, and over twenty stitches for the various lacerations. The one on your neck almost nicked an artery.”

“Pretty. Do you think a nice red lipstick would draw attention from the bruises?”

Dawn burst into tears. “You almost died! I can’t lose you again.”

“I’m sorry for the scare fest, but I’m okay, or I will be in a few days. Dean and Sam? They were worse off than me.” With a great amount of searing pain, she managed to push herself up. “If you don’t tell me where they are, I’m going to start roaming the halls.”

“Sam is in surgery. Dean is in intensive care.” His voice was too steady, like he’d rehearsed. Giles was hiding something, and if what he wasn’t hiding was intensive care…

“Then get a wheelchair and take me to intensive care.”

Despite the fact that they were in a hallway and easily overheard, Giles asked her for details on the fight.

“There were two of them. They kinda looked like vampires, but ancient ones, more like the Master than anything. God, they were so fast. Dean was knocked out immediately. I killed one in the sunlight, but nothing else was stopping them.”

“So we keep the sun up all the time. Totally easy. Why didn’t we think of that before?” said Dawn.

When the elevator dinged for the intensive care floor, Giles said, “Buffy, the Winchesters’ injuries were rather severe.”

“I know. I was there.” They were alive. That’s what mattered. But when they rolled her into Dean’s room, a cry caught in her throat.

Dean was connected to a large machine by a tube down his throat. It whirred and whooshed, his lungs expanding and contracting with it. X-rays of his broken ankle and his rib cage hung on a lightbox on the wall. She barely registered the fractured ribs through the bizarre carvings etched in his bones.

“Did he ever mention this?” Giles asked, pointing at the x-rays.

She ignored him, ignored the fire in her arms, the hot poker in her shoulder, the sharpness in her chest. Using every bit of strength she could muster, she crawled into bed beside Dean. He was cold, not surprising given his thin hospital blanket and even thinner gown. At least she had her bathrobe from home thanks to Dawn. She could feel monitors and electrodes taped to his chest, feeding numbers to the monitors by his bed.

“Hi, Baby. I’m here. Your Girly is here,” she cried into his shoulder.

“Buffy--” Giles started, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“Please...” She had nothing but pleading. The First had been pressing on them for a week. Triggering then abducting Spike. Attacking Dawn. Trying to kill Willow then blinding her. Her house was full of strangers she couldn’t save, and the person she trusted most to have her back was unconscious. “Please.”

“We’ll be in the waiting room.”

“Dean? Baby?” but he did not respond. “We never really talked about your dream, the one where we have our own place and a little girl. I mean, we talked about it. I told you it couldn’t happen, but I didn’t tell you I want it too. I dream about having our own place. Dawn off at college, you and me, snug in our home far away from Sunnydale and all its ghosts.

“I think about that little girl sometimes. Imagine us chasing her through the house, laughing. I imagine her helping you work on your car and snuggling between us as we read to her. Building blanket forts on rainy days. Her giggles fill the place.

“Sometimes I imagine a son, with freckles like his daddy, and even in my head he’s trouble. He’s a handful, but he’s ours. You’d be a great father, Dean.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and focused on the faint rhythm of his heart instead of the children they could never have. The machines continued their atonal symphony.

“I don’t even remember what the last thing was I said to you. It was probably something dutiful like ‘Gimme the axe’ or ‘Turn left.’ It should have been ‘I love you.’ I know it freaks you out, and you don’t like romance, but I can’t think of the future anymore without you in it. I love you so much it hurts, and I’m going to start telling you everyday.”

Dean did not respond.

Dawn tossed a magazine back on the table in the waiting room, picking up another to flip through too fast to actually be reading. “I’ve never seen so much Golf Digest. This is not good crisis reading.”

Giles fished around in his pockets and found a five. “How about you run down to the cafeteria for some breakfast?”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“Do me the favor then?” Dawn snatched the money and plodded toward the elevator. “Two creams in the coffee!” He fully expected her to return with donuts and soda, but the task was more important than the food.

In his lifetime of study, Giles had never seen marks like those on Dean’s ribs. Obviously, something had marked him, but what? Their story about being simple foot soldiers in the fight against evil didn’t hold water. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

Xander and Willow arrived. “Thank God, we worried when no one was in Buffy’s room.”

“It shouldn’t come as a shock that she wanted to see Dean. She’s in his room now.”

“So he’s awake?”

“No.”

“Sam?”

“Still in surgery.”

Xander and Willow sunk into the grey chairs.

It slowly dawned on Giles that Willow looked different. “No bandages, I see. Have the doctors given you a clean bill of health?”

“Oh! Oh yeah. Today was the big eye checkup.”

“She could see the E and beyond!” Xander said.

“We were still here when you called,” Willow added. “Buffy hadn’t mentioned they were going out to hunt The First this morning.”

Xander shook his head. “Why didn’t she throw up the Bat Signal? Get the whole gang together?”

“I do not know, but much hangs in the balance.” Giles tried to form the words. He needed the practice before telling the Summerses. “The doctors are currently waiting on Sam. Once he’s out of surgery and clear of the anesthesia, they are going to fill him in on the full scope of Dean’s condition. It appears his head injury was so severe, the swelling has already done irreversible damage.”

Tears filled Willow’s eyes, and Xander covered his head with his hands. Giles barely knew Dean, but felt much the same.

“He is essentially brain dead, and they need family’s permission to remove him from life support.”

Dean didn’t smell like himself. The scent of old leather was washed away by terrible hospital soap. It unnerved Buffy, as did the tubes in his mouth. It’s making him better, she told herself. In a few days, he’d be up, making inappropriate jokes and smacking her ass.

“Maybe when you’re better, we could go away again?” Their Halloween trip to San Francisco had been the most fun she’d had in years. Dean had been so relaxed and open, sharing stories from his childhood, his hopes and dreams. “You promised me you’d take me around the country. You said I haven’t lived until I’ve had deep dish pizza in Chicago and pasties in Minnesota. I know money’s tight and everything is crazy, but maybe in the spring? You’ll need the time to fix your car anyway. I’m so, so sorry about that.”

“What are you doing in here, honey?” said a voice in the doorway. Turning to look would have hurt, so Buffy stayed still. “Are you the girl from the car accident?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we need to get you back to your own bed so you can heal.”

“I want to stay here!” The tears came hot and fast. She couldn’t leave him like this.

The nurse tried to gently guide Buffy off the bed. “Say your goodbyes, okay?”

Goodbyes?! “No. No!” She clung to Dean’s arms. He had to know she was there.

An army of feet entered the room. She tried to push them off, but she was tired and broken. There was a sting in her neck, and everything went dark.

Someone far away was calling her name. “Buffy?” They may have been underwater. “Buffy?” But how could she hear them? “Buffy?”

She opened her eyes to see a blurry group of friends standing around her. She tried to wipe her eyes, but her wrists were tied to the bed.

The red blur started to fumble with the restraints. Willow said, “The nurses said you got violent when--”

“Dean.” She could hear someone crying. Dawn?

“None of us want to lose him, Buffy, but there’s nothing we can do,” said Giles.

“I don’t know,” said Xander. “You never did tell us how Dean and Sam beat death the last time.”

“What?”

“Buffy didn’t tell you? The First has Winchester costumes in both designs, because apparently they’ve died before.”

“It’s personal,” Buffy said. She rubbed her eyes, but everyone was still blurry. Her head felt thick and slow. She must have been drugged.

“Personal or not, that’s pretty damn important!” Giles snapped. “They are not the nobodies they say they are if someone has brought them back from the dead.”

An idea struck her. Buffy slid off the bed, her feet cold the moment she hit the floor.

“Where are you going?”

“Is Sam out of surgery?”

“Yeah, he wanted to see you.”

“Then that’s where I’m going.”

Sam was purple with bruises, eyes hollow and distant.

Buffy reached for his hand; both of his wrists sprained and splinted. “Hey.”

“Hey. I was going to ask if anyone had told you about Dean, but you look miserable, so…”

“Dean’s died before. He told me about selling his soul for you.” Her words made him flinch. “What brought him back?”

“Angels.”

Her heart sank. Sunnydale was certainly not an angel-friendly zone.

“Look, Dean’s died in front of me over a hundred times. Every time was the worst time, and I’ll be damned if I let him die again today. Here’s what you need to do...”

This time, Buffy had Willow and Xander stand guard while she was in Dean’s room. She climbed on the bed and cradled Dean’s broken head in her hands. She had no idea what she was doing. She’d have more faith in a spell, but Sam seemed confident this would work. Anything to save the man she loved.

Buffy, feeling like a desperate lunatic, closed her eyes. It seemed like the right first step. “Okay, um, Castiel, are you listening? My name is Buffy Summers. You probably have no idea who I am, but I know who you are. You’re Dean Winchester’s angel friend. I’m Dean’s friend, too.”

Was that such an understatement as to be a lie? If she lied while praying, would she be smited? She pushed the nagging voices out.

“Castiel, I’m with Dean now, and the doctors are saying he’ll die if we take him off life support. They said there was too much pressure on his brain.

“Sam told me Dean is important to you, and he’s important to me, too. Castiel, can you fix him? Can you please heal his head and bring him back to me?”

The machines forcing Dean to breathe continued to whir. Did she need to go through some sort of purifying ritual first?

“Castiel, please, I love Dean so much. I can’t lose him! I can’t picture my life without him. Please, heal him! Please!”

It started like a distant roll of thunder as Buffy’s hands grew warm. She kept her hands on Dean as the sound grew louder. By the time it screamed like a freight train in her ears, her skin felt like she was grabbing a firework. She opened her eyes to see a blue glowing light around Dean’s head like a halo.

Suddenly, the screeching stopped and the blue glow disappeared. She held her breath and watched.

Dean’s eyelids fluttered, and he slowly rocked his head. The monitors beside him started to beep and whine.

Buffy jumped off the bed as her friends and two nurses ran into the room.

Dean coughed and sputtered as they pulled the tube from his throat, muttering to themselves and shouting to each other.

“Heart rate’s strong. Blood pressure normal.”

“Someone get the doctor! He’s not going to believe this.”

“Get these people out of here!”

Again, someone grabbed Buffy’s shoulder, but she pushed them off. “Dean? Dean?!”

“Hey, Girly,” he croaked. “Hell of a day, huh?”

Read Giles’ dossiers on: Annabelle Dani Cloé Molly Lys Grace Wook Keisha Leticia Naomi

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theladypirate · 8 years ago

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More early Kimallura bc I couldn’t sleep last night. For @hawkeabelas and all Kimallura fans. Uh…. warning, there’s some gore in the beginning and canon typical violence throughout.

Drake grunted as he went down, a splash of red on the orc’s scimitar. Behind him, Kima cursed and redirected her attack at the one standing menacingly over her friend. She swung her maul and connected with his skull, which made a satisfying wet ‘thunk’ noise as she caved in the left side. Blood and brain smattered her armor. She glanced around taking stock.

To her right about 30 feet, Ghenn was slumped over against a tree having managed to land the killing blow to the raider that had poisoned him before succumbing. Breathing, but only just. Dohla had managed to tuck herself into a crevasse in the rocky hillside, shielding herself from anymore ranged attacks, but she was hurt bad, bleeding freely and barely conscious. Sirus’s right leg was bent at a painful looking angle, probably broken. He was trying to drag himself over to his pack for a healing potion. Or a bomb. If he was mad enough it could go either way. He was still about 15 feet away and moving slowly. Allura was…

Too close, she was too close to the rest of them, there were 4 orcs still in play and they were too close.

Getting closer.

Kima cursed again and broke into a run. She could make it, she thought, if she was fast enough. Dammit Bahamut, please let her be fast enough.

“Allie, look out!”

The nearest orc brought his spiked greatmaul down in a wicked arc, making contact with…. Kima’s armored midsection, as she threw herself into Allura, knocking her out of the way. The impact combined with her own forward motion sent her sprawling sideways and landing hard 10 feet away against one of the boulders strewn throughout the gully. Her vision went white and for a horrible moment she couldn’t breathe.

“Kima!”

Allura’s voice sounded muffled, coming somewhere behind the ringing in Kima’s ears. Her chest felt too tight and she gasped weakly, greedily. She needed air, and she wasn’t getting enough. Her sight was tinged with gray, but returning slowly. In front of her she saw Allura, eyes wide in horrified shock as she looked at Kima’s prone form.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kima thought. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.’ She couldn’t speak the words, so she thought them.

Allura turned towards the approaching orcs, and squared her shoulders. She reached out a hand and Kima’s vision went white again as lightning leapt from Allura’s outstretched fingers and danced between the three closest orcs. Smoke rose from their bodies as they stumbled, but did not fall. The closest orc, a female with a split ear and jagged lower tusks had blood coming out of her nose and ears. The farthest orc, this one also female, with blood red stripes painted down her face and a wide, ugly scar down one cheek, the one who had avoided electrocution, let out a guttural howl and aimed her crossbow at Allura.

“Fuggin’ SCAGS!”

There was a moment’s pause at the ragged and unexpected shout as the bolt went wide. In the seconds that followed a metallic clink sounded somewhere in the midst of the orcs, followed by thunderous boom as Sirus’s alchemical bomb exploded to brilliant effect. The three electrocuted orcs were blown to bits in the most literal sense; pieces of them were scattered over a 20 foot radius. The last orc was knocked back and her piecemeal leather armor was charred and barely hanging on, but she managed to keep her feet.

Allura advanced on her raising her hand again, a single lightning bolt shot out and struck the orc in the chest, finally knocking her down.

Dead.

Silence, except for Kima’s labored breathing and Allura’s ragged inhale as she turned on heel and ran for Kima.

She kneeled beside the injured halfling, worry close to panic etched into the way her brow furrowed and eyes took in her injured friend.

“All…ie… can’t…. can’t breathe” Kima wheezed.

Allura looked down at Kima’s chestplate, gasped, then nodded and began working at the clasps on her armor, which only confused her until Allura had managed to get one side undone and the pressure from the slightly concave middle section released and Kima gasped reflexively. Her vision wavered again and she felt her eyes well up from the sheer relief of being able to breathe again.

“Kima? What’s wrong? Where does it hurt? I have… You need a potion, I have one somewhere just hang on!”

Kima had the strangest urge to reach up and brush her cheek, to try to soothe the worry away. Her arms felt like lead though, and she was pretty sure she’d just smear blood on Allura’s face.

Must’ve hit my head, she thought.

“You’re head?” Allura’s frown deepened and her gently probing fingers moved to search for any wounds there. Kima blinked. She hadn’t realized she’d said it too.

“’s fine, just hurts like a bitch” she managed, wincing as she pulled herself up into a sitting position against Allura’s protest. She blinked again as Allura insistently cupped Kima’s hands around a greater healing potion.

Kima drank it, but kept staring at Allura.

“…I thought you said you studied the school of abjuration?” she said, with just a touch of bewilderment.

Allura straightened and clasped her hands in front of her, somehow managing to look elegant despite one of her braids having come mostly undone, and her robe being rather singed, and being covered in orc viscera.

“I do. However I make it a habit to carry more, shall we say, effectively destructive scrolls, in case of an emergency.”

‘That is incredibly fucking hot’ Kima thought, then coughed and clapped her hand over her mouth, nearly dropping the potion. At Allura’s concerned look, she drained the whole thing quickly, her face turning bright red. Apparently she hadn’t said THAT out loud, thank Bahamut.

“Right. Ah, we should, get everyone up and… yeah get everyone up. Good plan. Let’s go right now immediately.” Kima said as she clambered painfully to her feet. Allura was still looking at her like she was considering making her lie down and rest.

Kima’s fingers itched with the urge to reach out to Allura again. She made a fist and forced herself to look away instead. Gods preserve her, Kima had a feeling this was going to be a long journey.

#kimallura #early kimallura #critical role #hey party people hope you like fight scenes #i have a soft spot for near death realizations #followed immediately by firm and vicious denial

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dragonitafire-blog · 5 years ago

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I’m reposting this here because you need to see it. These are things that I needed to say. If you want me to trust you, if you really will explain, then that implies we’ll be friends again. If we are ever going to be friends again, you need to read and absorb every word of this. I wrote it right after you sent me that message accusing me of talking shit and then blocked me.

I love you and support you always. But I don’t always agree with you. So here’s some truths I wish I could have shared.

I watched you turn someone I loved into a villain in your eyes. I watched you do the same to someone you loved. Twice. Three times now. I understood two of them.

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