#I know the companions are usually the ones to do the doctor's dirty work here but like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dragbunart · 10 months

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Working on Trinity's story

so here's a little story

Robotnik kicked Metal Sonic's head. The robot had failed him again and landed in a local forest... If it could be called that. It was near enough to the Evil Geniuses base to be polluted, the flora around him dying.

Suddenly he felt eye's on him. He took out his gun out and aimed it in the direction of... A tiny fox... Holding that blasted Tails Doll he had made for espionage.

"Ah, a child." Ivo sighed. "Go, unless you want to become a robot." It stared up at him curiously.

"Is this yours?" Based on the voice it was a little girl.

"Put it on the bot and go." He ordered.

"You're not an egg..." She announced. "My name's Trinity... It means three. I was named that because..." The girl frowned looking at her... Three fox tails appeared behind her. Trinity huffed, sitting down and braiding the tails together.

"Go back to your parent's child before I change my mind." He marked the robot to be collected later.

"They're out getting food." Ivo took a good look at the kit. She was tiny, and couldn't be older than Starline's experiment, or Sonic's companion. Hell, she looked barely to be the rabbit's age. She was skinny too. Her clothes were dirty and torn.

They went out a long time ago and didn't return... He couldn't help but sigh. I'm not doing this because of her but because I can use the child in experiments. Not often I find someone no one will miss. Besides... Sage could use some sort of playmate. He reasoned with himself. The kit and Sage were probably similar in age maturity-wise.

"They won't be returning for you." He merely stated facts. The girl looked down at the doll in her hands. "You know this."

"They promised... They said they'd come back when Sonic... dealt with the monster that made me like this."

My pollution caused her birth defect. And her parents couldn't handle it. He didn't feel guilty. Honestly, Ivo was just surprised it took so long to see the passive effect he had on nature.

"I need a new pet project," Ivo stated. "If you come with me, you will be my new experiment." He left no room for argument. The girl had a choice, certain death out here, or be experimented on, and maybe die with him. Trinity stared at Metal Sonic. "You may be taken apart and put back together. Or even die." Her stomach grumbled.

"Will there be food?" Trinity's voice wasn't small, she wasn't scared, instead, she was very cautious. "Can I take a bath and change into clean clothes?"

"For your loyalty, yes." He gestured to Cubot and Orbot to make room for the kit. She stared up at him curiously... Then placed the doll on Metal Sonic and climbed onto the Egg carrier. "Trinity, this is Orbot and Cubot, for now, they are your superiors."

"Ooh and underling! Finally!" Cubot moved to poke the tiny cross fox, who responded by growling at him.

"Uh, sir, are you sure we should take her, she seems less than..." Orbot shrank into a ball as Trinity growled at him. "EEEP!"

----

The Cross-fox sat on the workbench swinging her legs. Orbot and Cubot entered and began examining her. She came here once a day for tests, she didn't know what the Doc wanted from her, but she was finally being taken care of.

"Reflexes good." Orbot began his usual shpiel. "She's finally up to a healthy weight for a child her species and age." He wrote stuff down as he examined her. "None of the three tails lay limp, the patient seems to have complete control over all three." Cubot acted as a nurse of sorts, usually making funny faces to keep her occupied. "All seems in order for the Doctor to begin his experiments."

"What is he going to do to me?" Trinity asked. Cubot and Orbot shared a look, they weren't sure if they were allowed to share the Doctor's plans.

"Code Name: Vixen." Sage appeared out of thin air. "Using Dr. Starline's failed research with Kitsunami and Surge, the Father is going to use cybernetics to advance you. He believes since you are willing to undergo the experiments, he believes he can perfect the process. Using her grandfather's research on Project Shadow he believes he can make you match Sonic and his companion's abilities."

"To what end?"

"Take over the world or defeat Sonic." Sage shrugged. "The file also states that he expects us to get along. That socialization would be good for me."

"Trinity."

"Trinity Vixen Robotnik." Sage clarified. "He went through the trouble of legally adopting you, so even if Sonic tries to take you away, you will be forced to return." Sage held her holographic hand out. "I suppose this makes us Sisters, of sorts, Sage." It was like shaking hands with a ghost, Trinity could see the hand and it moved along with hers, but she couldn't feel a thing.

"Sisters..." She always wondered if her parents had started over. Had another child without any defects caused by Robotnik. In a way, she was one of his creations. His base and pollution caused her to have three tails.

"Sage, Trinity is not yet ready." Ivo walked over holding something. "You two can play after I begin the enhancing process. Bonds form loyalty in living creatures like this kit."

"Are you my dad now?" Trinity asked.

"Legally I am your guardian."

"Can I call you Dad?" "If it helps instills loyalty in you, I see no issue."

------

Project Vixen was going smoothly. Especially with a willing participant. Ivo couldn't help but be proud of Trinity's progress.

She was no genius like Tails or Kit by any means, but she was a crafty kid. It was probably how she survived on her own when she was abandoned. The fox had no interest in hacking, for the better he supposed, should she defect he didn't want her hacking his systems. The child was quick to adapt.

The cybernetics he perfected off of Starline's research gave her the potential to match Sonic's speed, Tails' flight, and Knuckles's strength, in theory. Using his own grandfather's research he made her rocket shoes, similar to Shadow's. These would make it easier to control her speed and navigate when flying. The design of Shadow's inhibitor rings was used to make Power Core Rings, so she could access her new potential with the aid of the rings. Ivo even made a hear-aid-like device that would stay in her ear so she could receive orders from afar like any robot could.

Now it was a matter of training her properly. Currently, she was still getting the hang of using her new enhancements. She could only use one Power Core setting at a time, due to her own stamina restraints, and it took more energy to use one after another. Trinity was learning how to think fast enough to use her newfound speed, often running into walls on the obstacle course. But she had started using her tails to fly, focusing on using her rocket shoes to turn. And she figured out that if she used speed to build up force, she hit hard with the strength power core.

Currently, he had the kit sparing with Metal Sonic. He had told the bot to not use lethal force, he didn't spend all this time enhancing the child just to kill her.

He noticed Trinity wobbling on her feet. She was exhausted but lasted longer than he expected her to against Metal.

"That is enough." He announced.

"No! I can keep going!" Trinity shouted.

"Trinity, I said enough!" Ivo growled.

"Sonic and his team arn't going to stop when they see I'm tired!"

"Yes, they will. I want you to remember this level and energy. And use it as a means to escape if you encounter them... In fact, if you really aren't ready to stop..." An obstacle course appeared behind her. "Metal will chase you through that, make it to the end, or cause him to lose track of you, and you win. I'll even turn his connection to your enhancements off to make it more realistic."

Without waiting for his signal Trinity bolted off into the course.

"I didn't say go." He scolded.

"Will your enemies give me a 'go'?" Trinity challenged.

-----

Her first mission against Sonic and his friends. She was nervous. trinity held onto Metal's hand. Her uniform looked like a modified version of Ivo's.

"It's ok, they will hold back on you." Sage comforted in her earpiece. "They will see you as a child victim of fathers."

Metal stared down at her silently. He stared at his unoccupied hand for a second before patting Trinity on the head. Trinity stared up at him.

"Yeah, I got your back too!" Metal pointed at Tails, from their hiding spot, then Trinity. "You want me to attack him?" A quick nod. "You got it!"

She set her Enhancers to speed and lept onto Tails, knocking him into a rock.

"TAILS!" Sonic ran after the duo, only to be cut off by Metal. "Oh, you must have a new friend! Tails finally got himself a Metal counterpart? Took Egghead long enough. That doll was creepy!"

"OW! It's biting me!" Tails shouted trying to pull one of his tails from the other fox's grip. He froze upon realizing this wasn't a robot but another fox... with Three tails. Trinity used that opportunity to punch him in the jaw. "Wait! I don't want to fight you! I'm like you! See?" He hoped the shared trait of their multiple tails would stop her.

"Good for you!" She growled, this time biting his arm.

"Trinity I did not enhance you for you to use feral means!" Robotnik flew over in his Eggcarrier. Trinity's ears flattened on her head.

"Trinity? Is that your name?" Tails tried to get her attention. "Look Eggman's using you." She punched him again.

"Yeah? And?" She stood tall. "He's spent too much time on me and my enhancements to abandon me. And He's done more for me than anyone else! He can use me how he sees fit." Tails seemed shocked as she used the strength setting to throw him across the forest. It would take him some time to fly back.

"Good girl! Now go help Metal with that infu-" Metal's was thrown over eye's blinking to deactivation.

"Leave the kid alone, Eggface!" Sonic announced. He smiled down at Trinity. "Hey there, Trix, can I call you Trix?" He held his hand out. "Forget Eggman and his tech, we'll make sure we take you back to your parents, safe and sound."

Sonic soon realized that was the wrong thing to say as Trinity attacked him with feral vigor. Eggman had to pry her off with a robotic arm.

"Trinity Vixen Robotnik! I said cease!" Eggman scolded, plucking her from the arm. "You'll short out all my hard work at this rate."

"Let her go Eggman!"

"Not so fast rodent!" Ivo held a hand up. "You take the child, and you are kidnapping! I am her legal guardian. She was abandoned and I adopted her. Right, Trinity?" Trinity nodded with a smile. The exhaustion from using the power cores finally started to take its toll. Ivo plopped her by Orbot so he could perform a quick check-up. "I just wanted to introduce the latest member of my little family to you."

"I threw the fox pretty far, Dad!" Trinity announced.

"Yes, you did! Very good job!" He patted the top of her head.

-----

This continued on for years until Robotnik became too old to keep up, while he still suggested plans, he largely retired. Sage began to take over the analytical part of the Eggman empire, while Trinity, known to Vixen to the general public, took over the physical takeover under her sister's orders.

Ivo tried teaching her how to make his machines, but she was extremely uninteresting in the coding and programming side of things. She had Sage to do that after all. But she had become proficient at building things, a necessity when surrounded by robots honestly.

She came back from another failed conquest, Passing by Orbot and Cubot, she entered Ivo's office where he was finishing up the final touches of Sage's physical shell.

"I'm home!" She announced. Safe's hologram appeared in front of her.

"Welcome back sister. I'm sorry the plan did not proceed as we wanted."

"Just a day in the Eggman empire." Trinity shrugged.

#Dr. Eggman #eggman #ivo robotnik #dr. robotnik #Sonic #sonic oc

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alwaysspeakshermind · 1 year

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A-Z of Favorite Fictional Ladies C is for: Clara “Oswin” Oswald

Imagine my surprise the first time I got on the internet to check out the DW fandom, and discovered that a good portion of it cherished an intense dislike toward Clara Oswald. (Really, the surprise is my own fault. The internet tends to only like strong female characters in theory; in general, whenever it’s presented with a loud, bossy girl who’s clever enough to reasonably obtain most everything she wants through a combination of wits and self-made luck, it labels her either a bitch or a Mary Sue, no exceptions. while characters who bitch for no reason whatsoever are given free passes by fandoms and actual Mary Sues are hailed as Empowering To Little Girls! But I digress.)

I, however, am most definitely not the internet, and I disagree with all the Clara haters in the fandom. Clara is either my favorite or my second-favorite companion in Doctor Who, and I’m not embarrassed at all about that. In fact, if anything, it mystifies me how often I see people who praise characters like River, Astrid, Mme. Pompadour, and Jenny labeling Clara annoying and/or a lazy plot device. I mean, I’m a to-each-their-own type of person, but in what world is Clara or any non-villain Doctor Who character more annoying, contrived, or plot-device-y than River? And what makes any of those other characters better than the nanny/teacher who argues with the Doctor more than any character since my dearly beloved (but admittedly abrasive) Donna Noble?

Honestly, I don’t get it. I love Clara, and there is a less-than-charitable part of me that makes certain judgments about the confidence levels of people who despise her but, you know, that’s another essay. This is one in praise of my short little bossy bestie with an ego that rivals the size of the TARDIS’ interior, and an even bigger heart.

Why she’s my girl:

So. Again. It may bug the heck out of everyone else, but I love the fact that Ms. Clara’s character shifts drastically between S7-S8 from thwarted dreamer with sweet-but-fierce-but-kind-of-scared tendencies to seasoned, bossy-bordering-on-shrewish traveler who becomes so angry and terrified (and all the angrier because she’s terrified) at the sudden loss of control when a lot of unforeseen changes are suddenly heaped on her that she cries in the middle of negotiating for her life.

Hate her all you want, call her ‘convenient,’ ‘flat,’ or ‘a walking plot device’ all you want, but Clara is the best all-around companion in ten seasons of Doctor Who, and it’s not even close. If Martha had gotten more than one season I’d probably be making a different argument but here we are and yes I’m still bitter about how dirty they did my girl. Justice for Martha and a pox on that witch from The Family Blood who challenged my baby’s medical knowledge. She’s quick-thinking, decisive, stubborn, kind-hearted, loyal, domineering, and a delightful, more-than-is-strictly-healthy amount of conceited—in essence, a natural foil for the Doctor. She strong-arms her way into the role of conscience when the Doctor forgets human constructs like sympathy and compassion exist, and even the usual ditch-the-companion-because-their-life-is-in-danger-if-they-stay tactics can’t get rid of her…she has to be tricked into leaving the eleventh Doctor, and it doesn’t even work the first time.

The TARDIS dislikes her at the outset, and she retaliates by calling it a “grumpy old cow.” She is the companion who finally mentions the first thing I would mention upon being told to get inside a random blue box—in all seriousness, why, why did it take 6½ seasons for someone to be like, “What exactly are you planning to do with me inside that box, because…?”

She is a born adventurer and loves being in charge, but is willing to put her heart’s desires on the back burner to help those she loves. She is often afraid, but hates being afraid so much that she combats the fear by standing up and confronting it almost recklessly. She cares deeply for the Doctor and keeps him on track, whether it’s reminding him to focus in their early days together, or reminding him he can’t just run roughshod over people in their later days together. She resents the fact he seems to take her company for granted, but can’t stop the part of her that gets excited every time she hears the TARDIS arriving. She pranks—and has allegedly kissed!!!—Jane Austen. She stays with the twelfth Doctor even after he runs off and abandons her multiple times in the days following his regeneration because her Doctor—the fez-and-bowtie-loving Doctor she trusted her life to—asks her to please not leave him. She struggles to balance her tame, ordinary life-commitments with her dangerous, exciting life in the TARDIS, and finds herself caught between the life she wants to lead and the life sense is telling her she ought to lead.

I could go on about her for days, but the essence of it all is this: Clara is loyal, clever, and determined. She is never fearless, but she frequently pretends to be, and beneath her calm, cocky, put-together exterior lurks a girl who will always stay longer than she probably should because she is still not really over all the people she’s loved who’ve left her.

Favorite quotes:

Too many to count, but some of the ones I keep coming back to are:

“Is this what you do? You just…crook your finger, and people just jump in your snog-box and fly away?”

“I am the boss.”

“And do you know what? Run. Run, you clever boy. And remember me.”

“Why do I have to be the witch?”

“Hang on. Three of you in one room, and none of you thought to try the door?”

“Are you trying to scare me? Well, ‘cause I’m already bloody terrified of dying, and I’ll enjoy a lot of pain for a very long time before I give up the information that’s keeping me alive; how long have you got?”

“I am not a control freak!”

“That’s the look you get when I’m about to slap you!”

“Is that what I look like from the back?” [“It’s fine.”] “I was thinking it was good.”

“Speak for me again, and I’ll detach something from you.”

“Let me be brave.”

#clara oswald #doctor who companion #doctor who analysis #opinion #my girl #favorite characters #unnecessary but necessary post #favorite fictional character alphabet #favorite fictional ladies #meta post #disclaimer: this is an old post that's been sitting in my drafts since like 2019?#I have not seen any DW past the Moffat era bc I fell behind in S10 and now I have to pay to watch anything on the BBC I don't already own #therefore #any and all companions past clara are immune from my criticism on the basis of:#i haven't known them long enough to form strong opinions there

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higheldertala · 2 years

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spyfall pt1 salt commentary

i think a problem with ch*bnall’s writing is that he can’t seem to write two-parters. with both spyfall and the finale they feel like two episodes stuck awkwardly together, the first part will be it’s own thing and then second part will go on to do another thing. like here with spyfall, the first part is about barton and the kasaavin invading tech on earth and then the second part derails to become a run around through time trying to escape the master, it feels like a complete detour from the plot.

the fact that spyfall was originally an single episode that didnt feature the master is so obvious. this pisses me off so much that ch*bnall couldn’t even be bothered to write an original master story and instead just got an old story and stuffed him in it. the interconnection/ cohesion of the two parts also are not helped by having two directors for one story. i can only guess this was a production issue because i cannot see how anyone would favour this approach.

i’m not a big fan of the spy theme. i think it isn’t done as well as it could be but that could just be the story itself. i feel like it also comes across as quiet cheesy (bad) at times. anyway on with the episode.

as with other instances in dw, i don’t understand why organisations seek out the companions specifically. in this case, why the fuck would MI6 seek out these 3 random civilians who have no discernible skills for the situation. i feel like this was only put in here so graham could make an uber joke. and this is easily fixed, you just have MI6 approach the doctor first and then she says she not going anywhere without the fam etc episode goes along as normal.

yaz skipping work could be an actual conflict point for her character which could be explored but it’s literally never addressed again after this scene. (i mean in flux it’s unclear whether she still works for the police or not so idk 🤷‍♀️) also where is she getting the paperwork for her secondments from? is the doctor forging it for her? or is she forging it herself? idk this doesn’t matter because ch*bnall says so.

(additional point why does she need to skip work? she travels in a time machine).

as usual we have our classic exposition heavy ch*bnall dialogue where characters says everything that’s happening to them out loud. so glad to see this never changes(!)

yknow if a car had just gone out of control and tried to kill me, i would not continue to still drive said car.

Classic Ch*bnall Doctor Gender Joke ™️. isn’t the doctor being a woman so funny guys?(!)

i don’t understand why O has been kicked out of MI6/ is off grid, like this doesn’t add anything. just feels like an excuse to go to another location. like there’s so much location hopping in this two parter and it really doesn’t add much.

i have to ask why does the doctor hold the phone like that? Quirky™️ amirite?

O replies extremely quick to that message. i honestly don’t think he even had time to hear it! (okay so call me pedantic but i timed it, the doctor’s voice message is 17 seconds long and O replies within 3 seconds).

i find it funny the doctor sends ryan and yaz off on their own as they don’t really have much experience of handling things on their own especially in a situation where they are suppose to be undercover which they definitely don’t have any experience in. also ryan does not agree to this (and then yaz gives him a super dirty look for… some reason). even graham points this out lol. and then the doctor replies that it’s ‘minimum 40% safe’. lol as we know from the tsuranga conundrum the doctor doesn’t actually give a shit about her companions, if they die they die.

‘trust no one’ says the doctor who’s gonna trust a person she’s met once (i mean it’s not important the audience never saw this bc ch*bnall says so, i mean it’s not like the master is an important character or anything right?(!) like the whole O reveal would hit more if we as the audience had met O before. like it would make little difference to the plot if O was some random character the doctor hadn’t met before. but hey what do i know about writing?

don’t worry everyone sacha is here, so this episode just got 1000x better 😉 wow if only ch*bnall had thought to put sexy man in front of me to distract me i wouldn’t complain about his era nearly as much.

this is purely my own headcanon so i can’t really complain but to me i feel like the doctor would know if they were inside a tardis?

surely if you’re doing security checks you’d do that before they got inside the building?

i guess i should applaud yaz and ryan for actually doing something to contribute to the plot as this is rare.

why would you invite two complete strangers to your house for a party?? (i don’t buy it as ‘barton apologising’ nah that’s just weird) but pretty convenient for our characters huh?

wouldn’t they have someone to escort yaz and ryan out? barton literally just leaves them in that room alone?? wow security is right shit at this place. convenient for our characters though thank god.

‘is he just here for the running commentary?’ lol the master hates ch*bnall’s dialogue as much as i do. honestly though i don’t know if this is ch*bnall being self aware or him trying to be funny because if he was self aware surely he’d improve his dialogue, ugh it’s so frustrating.

the doctor’s interrogation tactic where she asks a dozen questions consecutively without the other person responding to any of them is back and is still very annoying.

what’s with this thing about ryan and yaz’s sister is a bit weird, i mean how old even is sonya?

yaz being kidnapped would be interesting if they actually did anything with it but as usual this is never brought up again. also if she was kidnapped for anything longer than 10 seconds it would give the episode yknow actual stakes. ch*bnall just refuses to commit to putting any the companions in any kind of danger without immediately undoing it.

and like why do the kasaavin return yaz so quickly? it’s feel so pointless like the situation is way too short to have any proper impact.

also im not sure what it is suppose to be that terrifies yaz so much? like i’d buy it that she felt alone and thought she had died if the situation was longer but it’s over so quickly, it literally only lasts a couple of minutes (with no indication that yaz spent a longer time in the other dimension).

i also find it weird that we don’t see the doctor comfort yaz on screen after this ordeal. but hey why would we see the doctor actually care about her companions?

okay surely the tardis would know if it were inside another tardis definitely, come on this has to canon right? like this has happened at least twice in classic who.

sacha is honestly the best actor here. like hospitalised for his back after carrying this era honestly.

all the men wear black tux… boo boring zero points.

the casino scenes are so pointless.

‘remember our trip to the great kalisperon bike off?’ yay more referencing things that happened off screen! that counts as character development right? just once i’d actually like to see someone that happens in a previous episode pay off in a future one, yknow because that’s how character development actually works in a satisfying manner to the audience not just being told a bunch of stuff happened off screen.

‘mate this is one of the quite days’ yes yaz because your adventures with the doctor have all been so thrilling haven’t they?

why would you get on a plane with no escape? nah what was the plan? what if barton just shot you all dead on the spot?

what i don’t like about the master reveal is that the audience is never given the information to work this out. the doctor only works it out because of a piece of information which is never told to the audience prior (and i don’t really count the ‘spymaster’ line. many times in doctor who have we used the word master and it has not been the THE master). O never does anything suspicious to make the audience question him. unless you notice O not running to the plane at the same time as the rest of the fam but the reveal happens 30 seconds so it doesn’t really count.

this reveal is very cheesy. i can’t decide whether it’s good cheesy or bad cheesy.

nitpicking but the master says ‘close to my heart’ instead of hearts. wow amateur hour chris amateur hour.

don’t know why the master says ‘stick with me yaz’ when this is literally never followed up on. why doesn’t the master kidnap her or something idk. so annoying that master doesn’t interact with the companions post reveal (although i guess this will change in the centenary).

and honestly the story on set where the others had to tell bradley walsh what had just happened when the master revealed himself, because he didn’t understand what was happening is just wild. honestly if the actors themselves don’t understand what’s happening in the story that is never a good sign.

#series 12 salt rewatch #I thought about putting both parts together but then that would have just created a 20 mile long post and no one wants that #so ill spilt two parters into two posts and give my concluding thought at the end of the 2nd part #sorry for any typos #dw commentary

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kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

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🖊 pretty please??? lol love you and your fics so much IT PHYSICALLY HURTS BYE-

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

Ahhh, ask and you shall receive! :D Thank you so much for the support, I hope you like this little snippet! I've been working on this one-shot for a bit so I hope it'll be done soon :)

Katsuki has a pretty serious concussion but that's okay because Kirishima is the perfect bedside companion <3

[...]

“Hey, man!” Kirishima appeared by his bedside like he’d been summoned from another dimension, and Katsuki jerked back to reality with a pained grimace and a stifled groan as the pounding in his head grew harder to ignore. Kirishima frowned at that, dainty eyebrows scrunching as he fiddled with his iron mask. “You good, bro? Are the lights too bright?”

Actually, yeah. They were fucking blinding. “Makin’ my headache fuckin’ insufferable.”

Kirishima’s concerned expression dissipated into a humorous laugh as he jumped back up to his feet and hustled towards the door, flicking off the light and plunging them into near total darkness save for the little lamp on the bedside table.

“It’s not a headache man, you’ve got a wicked concussion! Doctors want you to stay here the whole night, make sure you don’t fall asleep and everything,” Kirishima prattled on as he closed the door to mitigate the light filtering in from the hallway and even made the effort to close the blinds and shut away from the streetlamps before he finally sat down in the seat next to him again.

“Ain’t concussed,” Katsuki grumbled bitterly, raising a numb arm to press his fingertips hard into his eyelids. The dark helped, at least. “Polly jus’ dehydrated ‘n shit. I save people for a livin’, yaknow? ‘S a tough fuckin’ job.”

Kirishima grinned as he leaned back into his seat, lifting one of his boots to rest on the bed, and he didn’t offer any comment to that as he tossed his ridiculous face muzzle onto the bedside table with a careless clatter and ran his fingers through his falling hair.

“How’re you feeling now?” he asked, and Katsuki’s vision was blurry when he finally dropped his hand in his lap again.

“’M fine,” he grunted, scowling at him. “Could still kick your ass, if I fuckin’ wanted to.”

“Mhm,” Kirishima hummed absently, dirty fingers rustling casually through his vibrant locks as he gazed over at him like he was somehow being highly fucking amusing right now or some shit.

Katsuki would have made good on his threat if he remembered to be angry about it long enough to actually get the words out of his mouth. As it were, they got all caught up in his sore throat, and so he settled for a lackluster glower instead.

“Dude, relax, would ya?” Kirishima chuckled, the tip of his boot bumping into Katsuki’s knee hidden underneath the thin hospital sheet. “You’re making me feel tense just looking at you.”

“’M totally fuckin’ relaxed,” Katsuki snapped again before his mind had the time to really catch up with the words that they were saying to each other. Now that it was being brought to his attention, though, he couldn’t deny the obvious thrumming ache keeping his muscles locked in place.

“You’re so totally not,” Kirishima laughed again, giving him another purposeful nudge that Katsuki half-heartedly tried to swat away. “You look like you have to shit or something.”

“You look like shit,” Katsuki retaliated with tremoring snark and a weak sneer. “Fucker.”

“Hey! Harsh, bro!” Kirishima beamed a row of sharp teeth with another aggressive nudge of his boot. “I said that you look like you have to shit, not that you look like shit!”

“Tch,” Katsuki raised another slow hand to rub tentatively at his temple before he finally released the strain of his muscles and fully relaxed back into the pillows of the hospital bed.

“That’s better,” Kirishima praised with a little goading grin.

Katsuki lifted a middle finger in his general direction and glared up at the shadows on the ceiling. “You don’t have to fuckin’ babysit me. Go back to the dorms.”

A thick silence settled in the air around them after such a stern order, followed by the brushing of fabric shifting in the plastic chair that fought with the low subtle ringing in the depths of his ears.

“I can’t do that, dude,” Kirishima mumbled under his breath, suddenly sounding much more subdued and withdrawn. That damn oaf was probably exhausted, he’d no doubt fall asleep and leave him there to stay awake on his own anyway.

Katsuki kept his gaze laser-focused on a black speckle of something or another in the monotonous patterns swirling above his head. “Yea, ya can. Jus’ take the damn elevator and waltz on outta here.”

Kirishima sighed a heavy sound, and Katsuki managed to rotate his neck enough to look at him. “No, I can’t. And you already know that I can’t, so just–”

“I dunno shit, you should fuckin’–“

“Stop, dude,” Kirishima demanded sternly, and his jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth together. His fingers dug hard into the meat of his shoulder as he rested his chin against his chest and stared down at the sterile tiles with a frustrated pout sticking his bottom lip out. “Just stop. Okay?”

Katsuki’s eyelids were heavy as he blinked over at him. His nostrils flared impatiently, still rearing for a fight, but his head was pounding again, and the warm prickling of pressure crawling up the back of his neck was distracting, and whatever.

If that damn dumb moron wanted to spend his entire night crammed into that tiny shit chair, then that wasn’t Katsuki’s fault. It was Kirishima’s fault for being an idiot. Fucking… loser.

“Hope you fuckin’ cramp up over there,” Katsuki mumbled with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Kirishima huffed an exasperated breath with a roll of his eyes, letting his arm drape along the back of his chair before he bumped Katsuki again with his foot. “Be nice, dude… it’s been a long day for me too.”

Katsuki grunted something unintelligible in response to that, whatever he was initially planning on saying simmering down to mere smoke and mirrors when his groggy brain finally registered the downtrodden undertone seeping into Kirishima’s tired voice. How come he hadn’t noticed that before? He could usually read that dumbass like a children’s book – he wasn’t very good at hiding things.

“Fuck you bein’ so mopey for?” he tried to push out with a firm tone that sounded a bit more slurred than he would have liked it to. “’S pissin’ me off.”

“Everything pisses you off,” Kirishima quipped nonchalantly as he raised up his other boot and crossed his ankles on the bed.

“Well you’re pissin’ me off times a thousand!” Katsuki yelled, muscles tensing in some form of aggressive display, immediately followed by another painful grimace.

“Oh no,” Kirishima muttered under his breath sarcastically, failing to conceal the upward hitch of another amused smirk. His fingers found their way back up into the drooping locks of his hair, and Katsuki would’ve had more to say if his eyes hadn’t been drawn to the calming movement of it.

“Oi,” Katsuki’s knee jerked up reflexively when he realized where his gaze had wandered to and knocked hard into the dirty boots that Kirishima had so flippantly soiled his bed sheets with. “Be nice to me, fucker. ‘M the one with the damn concussion.”

Kirishima blinked in surprise at that, fingers stalling in his hair before his red eyes swiveled over to lock with his. “I thought you weren’t concussed?”

“Tch!”

Shit.

Maybe he was fucking concussed.

Fanfic Ask Game - send me a question! ☺️

#kiribaku #sick fic #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bakushima #bnha #fic ask game #writing #personal #asks

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arcademoonlight · 3 years

Text

could we just kiss (like real people do) || childe x harbinger!reader

wow this is very very self-indulgent aughhfshf. i would call it a new writing style but wth is a writing style anyways lol. based off of like real people do by hozier warnings: proofread but not well (please ignore errors), spoilers for childe's story, mentioned drinking, both childe and the reader are emotionally constipated, and the reader + childe kiss at the end word count: 1201 part one (you are here), part two content under the cut!

You were a harbinger. You weren’t as feared as La Signora, nor as disliked as Scaramouche, but you were still on a pedestal. Everybody was watching you. Everybody was wary. It felt... It felt unreal. You couldn’t even walk down the street without stares or whispers. You couldn’t get food in a restaurant without the waitresses whimpering to each other with the fear you would harm them if they messed up your order. You were coveted for your healing abilities to the point where doctors would turn you away if you needed them, telling you to ‘fix it yourself’. Very few people even treated you like a real person anymore. You were a feared monster and an expendable soldier all in one. You were a harbinger. So when your best friend was sent off to Liyue Harbor alone you couldn’t complain. You couldn’t say anything. All you could do is engrain every detail of his goodbye hug into your mind hoping that he’d give you another less bittersweet hug soon. As you laid awake in your room you could only think about how his cocky laughter made you smile. Or about how when he spoke fondly of your talents your heart would hammer in your chest. You thought yourself into a tizzy as you began to reflect more on your feelings for him. You were a harbinger. You had no time for these foolish feelings. They would only get in the way. To try and hope they would leave you scribbled down everything about him that made you feel like you were floating. Page after page of that notebook got filled, each with incredible detail. The night you finished it you took it into the woods and buried it. The next day you didn’t feel any better. How frustrating. You went back and buried the book deeper. It still didn’t help. You were a harbinger. When you were sent off to join your companion you were overjoyed at your inability to argue. You swiftly packed you bags and you left as quickly as Tsartia would allow. A feeling similar to relief flooded you as you stood near the entrance to the bustling dockyard. “Hello, Childe.” You spoke calmly, trying to hide the joyful quiver in your voice as your friend approached you. “Heyyy~” He chuckled with his usual smirk. He was quick to pull you into an embrace, your face flushing as he held you against his torso. “For what it’s worth I’ve missed you.” “I missed you too.” You beamed. He grabbed your hand, starting to drag you towards the crowds of people lingering around. “I can’t wait to show you the harbor!!” The red head beamed as he pointed out each store and place he had been in the past few months, nodding to civilians he recognized despite their fear. If you two weren’t here to do Tsartia’s dirty work it would almost be like a date. As you returned to your temporary living quarters you tried to drift off to sleep, sighing with dread as you realized that wouldn’t be happening tonight. You were a harbinger. You are just doing your job. Yet you can’t help but stare at the ceiling of your current sleeping chamber replaying the events of the day in your mind. How Childe smiled when he greeted you. How warm and comforting his hug was. How his hand was laced in yours as he showed you around the city and how nicely your hands fit together. Every smirk and every comment and every touch bounced around in your head. With a sigh you sat up and slipped out of bed, fishing around in your desk for a journal you had bought earlier that day. You began to fill the pages with your writing about Childe once more. You filled the bound book over the course of a few days. You were a harbinger. Harbingers were supposed to be sure of themselves. Then why did you feel so in the wrong as you snuck out to bury your book again? Childe noticed your absence and decided to find where you went. As he saw you digging he gave you a worried, almost apprehensive, glance. You stared back at him with glossy eyes. He left silently, but you dreaded the questions he could ask. Not to worry though, he won’t be asking anything directly. In some sad way, he already knew what you were doing. You weren’t the only one with notebooks filled to the

brim with loving notes and lament-filled realizations. You were a harbinger. It was a surprise for you and Childe to get enough free time to sit on a balcony and just chat while looking at the stars. You enjoyed the downtime and the drinking. You enjoyed Childe’s voice. You both exchanged many drinks that night. The more drinks you shared the more secrets began to spill. You despised your job. Childe missed his family. You resented your vision. Childe didn’t join the fatui one hundred percent willingly. It wasn’t long until two of the biggest secrets were to be revealed. It was your turn to say something. Taking another drink of whatever intoxicated beverage was in front of you, you shakily sighed. “You know, I really uh- I really like you. That's my secret for this turn I guess.” “That's not a secret silly!! I already know you like me, why else would we be friends?” Childe snickered, giving you a confused look. There was tension building in the air regardless of his laid back attitude. “I- for Archon’s sake Childe! I have romantic feelings for you!! In fact, I’ve been festering these feelings for a while- I’ve just refrained from vocalizing them because it’s strongly unlikely that I’ve been blessed with enough luck for you to feel the same.” Your voice shook and you avoided his gaze, your lower lip quivering as you anticipated negative judgement. You didn’t mean for your confession to be longer than a few words but you did tend to ramble when nervous. You just hoped Childe wouldn’t be a jerk about it. “Ajax.” He corrected, a newfound glint in his eyes. “Huh?” You glanced to the ginger beside you, a bit confused at the sudden name being thrown out in the air. “My name is Ajax. If you want me to accept your confession then do it right~” Childe, no. Ajax, mused. He was just trying to drag it out for his own satisfaction, even if he was already overjoyed to hear that you felt the same. “Damn it Ajax! Why can’t we just kiss like real people do?” You groaned. At your exasperated words he yanked you toward him. He was careful but still as rowdy as always. Almost as if time was moving slower, he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was too short for either of your likings but sweet nonetheless. It meant a lot to both parties to just be real. For their only audience to be the stars. Maybe for once you weren’t the only one with your career weighing heavily upon you. Maybe for once you were a person. You were a harbinger. But so was Childe.

#childe x reader #childe x gn!reader #childe x harbinger!reader #gn!reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #tartagila #childe #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #genshin impact spoilers #childe story spoilers #cw//mentioned drinking

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doctenwho · 3 years

Text

Talk Me Down

Oof, not me disappearing for like a two months. I’m so sorry! I have the attention span of a goldfish and I’ve been fandom hopping. I sadly hyperfocus in and out, and then I’m back (currently stuck on Prodigal Son again, if anyone’s interested!). D: Still working on the prompts in waiting, if I haven’t gotten around to yours yet!

Anywho! Thank you so much for the prompt! It was a lot of fun to work on, and I’m sorry it took so long! Hopefully this was what you were looking for, I thought it was pretty fluffy!

Warnings: Panic/ Anxiety attacks, light angst

Word Count: 2,731 (Sorry it’s a bit short!)

Summary: Read the prompt above!

(Gif is not mine! All credit goes to the creator! :D)

You hated when you and the Doctor would get separated. It always filled you with a sense of dread. You knew he didn’t mean it—he'd never try to intentionally hurt you, but the two of you always somehow broke apart.

It wasn’t as bad when you were on earth—defeating whichever alien decided that earth and humanity was an easy target—but in space, when the Doctor would get carried away and leave you to fend for yourself like he tended to do with companions, you always felt like you were suffocating whenever he did that.

You loved travelling with him, and you were confident in your ability to fend for yourself, but you were just filled with a sinking feeling of doubt whenever he’d leave you alone on a planet you didn’t know.

Today was no different than any other day.

Then any other adventure.

You couldn’t for the life of you remember which planet the Doctor had been raving about when he’d landed the TARDIS. You’d followed along like you always did, excited for the adventure, but with that small inkling of doubt in the back of your mind.

He’d taken your hand with a wide smile and led you along. He talked your ear off, telling you of the planet’s history, the inhabitants. His personal favorites about the planet. You liked listening to him, listening to him ramble and gesture enthusiastically about what interested him.

And then you were running.

You were starting to think that there wasn’t a place in the universe where the Doctor wasn’t at least one person’s target. Where he hadn’t accidentally wronged someone.

He’d dragged you along by your hand before you’d come to a fork in the road. He’d looked both directions calculatingly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before chancing a glance back at you. Then, his eyes seemed to go through you and to whomever happened to be chasing you, which seemed to make some sort of decision for him if the way his eyes hardened was anything to go off.

His hand broke away from yours, and then he was giving you the slightest push towards one side of the fork with flustered order of “Go!” falling from his lips as he turned hurriedly and shot down the other road.

Your feet moved on autopilot as you sprinted down the path he’d directed you towards, instantly missing the warmth and comfort of the Doctor’s hand in your own. You weren’t sure how long you continued down the road. How long you ran—how far you got.

You were sure no one was chasing you. You couldn’t hear any other sounds besides your own feet pounding along the gravel, and you heart thrumming in your chest in both exertion and anxiety.

They wanted the Doctor, not you. Whatever it was the man had done to wrong these people, it had been long before you’d started travelling with him. Long before you’d even met the man.

That still didn’t stop the clawing worry in your stomach. Was the Doctor okay? Would he come find you? Would he find you?

What if he wasn’t okay? What if you’d be stranded here forever? Not only did you not think you’d ever be able to make it back to the TARDIS, but there was absolutely no way you’d be able to get her to fly even if you did somehow make it back.

You weren’t a Timelord. The TARDIS wouldn’t fly for you, even if you tried.

You’d be stranded here.

Somewhere deep in the back of your mind a tiny voice was whispering to trust the Doctor. He hadn’t gotten the two of you into any serious danger yet. He took care of you, and you’d never been injured beyond bruises and scrapes. He always came for you. Always found you and swept you back into the TARDIS and far away from the threat.

He’d always taken care of you--

But the larger, louder calling in your head shouted your fears. He wouldn’t find you. He was dead. They’d captured him. You were alone. Alone on a planet you didn’t even know the name of. You’d never see the Doctor again. You’d never see your friends and family, or planet again.

You were stranded.

Your movements slowed, and before you could fight to keep yourself up, your knees buckled under you. You fell to the dirty road below; your knees and hands scraping on the gravel.

You were stuck here. On this strange planet. Without the Doctor.

Alone.

You crawled to the side of the road, hiding yourself the best you could manage in a bush of some sort. It dug uncomfortably into your body, but you couldn’t be bothered. What did it matter?

A gaspy cry fell from you lips as you coiled in on yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as you buried your face in the fabric of your pants. It was a sinking feeling of loneliness—fear of the unknown environment.

You could barely force in any air. It felt like you were dying. This was it. You were going to die of lack of oxygen—which was weird considering the Doctor had told you this planet had the same atmosphere as earth. There was plenty of oxygen, but you couldn’t manage to suck any in.

You struggled for each gasp of air you got.

Your head was an uncomfortable mix of lightheadedness and pounding headache, and you were sure you were crying. Tears slipping down your cheeks as your thoughts consumed you. The bigger, louder voice washing over the tiny pleading one like a title wave.

How were you going to make it out of this? How would you survive this strange alien planet without the Doctor by your side? Your fingers subconsciously dug into your forearms where they were wrapped around your legs, holding your knees snug against you.

“(Y/N)!” You heard, but it sounded far away. Far away and drown out. Why did it feel like you were underwater? You struggled to suck in another breath as a foreign touch settled on your hand, curling to just slightly grip around yours, “you need to take a breath, c’mon, deep in...”

You tried to steady your thoughts, taking a stuttery intake of air like the voice suggested, and it was quick to cool your lungs down. That suffocating feeling eased the slightest amount. The soft voice talking you through this was steadying you—anchoring you back, “good, good, my dear, now out? You’re doing perfect.”

It took a second before you let yourself blow out the air in your lungs, “perfect,” the voice told you, soft and comforting, “very good, another one? Nice and slow, alright? Breath with me, in and out.”

You sucked in another breath, waited for the hand around yours to tighten just the slightest before blowing that breath out too. Now that you could breathe through the mist of anxiety, you were desperate to pull in more air. You weren’t sure how long you’d been lost—unsure how long you’d gone without a decent breath.

“Good,” the voice whispered lowly as a second hand settled on your forearm, thumb rubbing softly along your arm, “you’re doing brilliantly, (Y/N). Come back to me now, alright?”

You weren’t sure where you’d gone, but you’d try for the voice.

You forced your eyes open, unsure when you’d really shut them. You couldn’t remember squeezing them shut, but it was almost a relief when you let your face relax. You continued with the deep breaths, replaying the words that had been spoken to you in your head—in and out.

Before you, dropped in a panicked kneel, was the Doctor. He looked out of breath, and frantic. Worried eyes searching your face for... you weren’t sure what he was looking so intently for. The worry didn’t look quite right on the usually so confident and narcissistic man.

It was definitely the Doctor though.

“Doctor?” you wheezed out, uncoiling just enough to settle a hand on his chest to test if he was real or not. You hand flattened against him, and then one of his hands was pulling away from you to settle over top of your hand.

“I’m here,” he promised, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I’m here now. You’re alright.”

You let yourself fall forwards into him with the confirmation that it was him. That the Doctor was real before you. Alive. Here. You weren’t stranded. You weren’t alone anymore. A rush of that suffocating separation anxiety flowed out with your next heaving breath.

You buried your face in his suit jacket as his arms wrapped tightly around you, “keep breathing, love, alright? Deep breaths for me.”

It was easier to suck in the breaths with the Doctor in close proximity. Even if it really should be harder to get any air through his clothes. You managed to wrap your arms around him too, holding him close.

The two of you were at an awkward angle, the Doctor still on his knees in front of you, and you in an awkward mess of desperate limbs. Neither of you seemed to mind the odd position much. The longer you sat, the stiffer you got, but it was the furthest thing from your mind.

“You’re doing so good,” the Doctor whispered into your hair, “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

“You’re okay,” you whimpered out against his jacket.

“I am,” the Doctor agreed tenderly, “it was a misunderstanding. I’m okay, and you’re okay. We’re both okay, alright? Deep breaths.”

You just curled yourself in closer to him, afraid that you’d lose him if you let go. Your thoughts still ran rampant in your head, anxious and panicked, but the longer you forced in breaths, and sat in the Doctor’s arms with his hands trailing along your back and petting down your hair, the more everything eased away.

The Doctor didn’t say much else as you slowly calmed down in his arms. With your breaths finally starting to even out, he didn’t keep reminding you. But whenever you slowed, or swallowed a shallow intake, he’d calmly remind you again.

You didn’t know how long the two of you sat there on the ground, on some planet you didn’t even remember the name of. The Doctor made no move to get up, to move, and to speak until you’d calmed. Until you were okay, and breath steadily.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor told you once more, his chin settled on the top of your head as he held you close.

“What for?” You finally asked when it no longer felt like you were fighting for every breath. His heart beats below your ear calmed you down, focused your attention. Reminded you he was here. That even if your head was telling you that you were alone, that you definitely weren’t.

“We shouldn’t have split up,” the Doctor told you, “I should’ve kept you with me, but I needed you to be safe, and I knew they were after me, and not you, so I sent you away.”

“I thought you were gone,” you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing another breath just because you could, “I thought you were gone, and I didn’t know where I was. I... I thought I’d be stuck here forever. I was alone.”

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your head, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. We should’ve stayed together. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). It was stupid, I know you’re different from other companions, and I still thrusted you into something that made you uncomfortable. I just needed you to be okay.”

“I’m okay,” you breathed out, but you weren’t sure if that was his sake, or a reminder for yourself. You’d never had a panic attack quite as heavy. Never one that broke you down like this one had.

“You’re okay,” the Doctor repeated, tightening his hold. You didn’t know if he really believed your words—his tone was pretty neutral. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you. I’ll always come for you okay?”

“Okay,” you swallowed, letting your forehead settle against his chest.

“Think you’re okay to stand? You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“No,” you shook you head, pulling away enough to look up at the Doctor, “I’m okay... you were right, no one came after me. I... I just, I tripped, I think.”

You pulled your hands away to look down at them, frowning at the scratches from the gravel. The Doctor took your hands into his own, leaning away just enough to look down at your palms. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you told him with a small laugh that didn’t sound quite right. Not as okay as you’d hoped it would’ve. You ignored the kicked-puppy look the Doctor shot in your direction as you pushed yourself up, using the Doctor’s shoulder as support before offering a hand to help him up too.

It wasn’t his fault—he'd been protecting you. You’d always been a bit clingy anyways. The separation anxiety wasn’t new either—you'd just... never expected it could get so much worse on a planet that wasn’t your own. Being alone on a planet that you didn’t know; one not even in your own galaxy had hit you harder than ever.

The Doctor took your offered hand, accepting the help up, but he didn’t look convinced by your words.

The need to not let go was clearly just as evident in him as it was in you. You went to pull you hand back after he was standing, but he didn’t let up his grip. You didn’t mind though, just squeezing his hand in return.

He pulled you closer by your hand, only letting go when you were close enough to wrap his arms around. This hug was a lot more comfortable, standing instead of whatever odd sitting thing you’d been doing before. You could push closer, and he held you tighter.

You tucked in against his body much easier.

You melted into the embrace, letting him hold you. You weren’t sure if it was for your sake at this point, or his own, but you didn’t question it. Whether for him, or for you, it was a tenderness you needed right now. Comfort and protection from the Doctor.

“You scared me,” the Doctor whispered against your head.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you murmured.

He pulled back enough to cup your face in his hands, thumbs trailing under your eyes with a feathery touch, wiping away the tear tracks with a frown, “I didn’t think my plan through, and it put you at risk, even if it wasn’t my intention. The need to make sure you were safe was stronger than the logic that you don’t know this planet. That I was pushing you into the unknown.”

“I know you were trying to protect me, I just...”

“Not the right way,” the Doctor decided. You felt him gave a light shake of his head, “it’s not protecting you if it manifests like this, (Y/N). It was the wrong choice because you panicked, because of me. I won’t do that again, I assure you.”

“No more splitting up?” You tilted your head at him. It made you feel very clingy, and you were sure your voice sounded more relieved than you would’ve liked, but the Doctor just gave you a tiny smile, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“No,” he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, “no more splitting up—especially not on planets you don’t know. I can’t promise we’ll never get separated again, but I can promise I’ll always keep you safe, and I’ll always find you again.”

“I know,” you swallowed, nuzzling up against him and pulling him back into a tight hug. “I trust you.”

“I’m glad,” you could hear the playful smile in the Doctor’s voice, “now, what do you say we head back to the TARDIS and get off this planet. We can clean your hands up too.”

“Sounds good,” you returned the small smile. You wiped your hands against your pants halfheartedly.

The Doctor wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side easily. You curled in close, pressing the side of your face against his side. His thumb swept along your shoulder, arm keeping to tight and sheltered against him.

Protective, but comforting all the same.Comforting to the both of you.

<><><><>

Heyy! Thanks for taking the time to read this! I hoped you liked it! As always, if it wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again!

Hopefully the anxiety/panic attack was realistic enough, I’ve only got me to go off, but I know it’s different for everyone! Also, alternative title suggestions would be appreciated if you’ve got one!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #ten #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #dw #doctor who 2005 #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #TARDIS #writing prompt #writing requests

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hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years

Note

Hello doll, it's Minty! 💚 I saw your requests are open and I simply had to dance into your inbox! I would adore a Bad Batch Western AU fix with Crosshair and the sentence prompt "If that wound doesn't kill you, then I will". I love you friend! 💚💛💚💛💚

Crosshair – Dust and Blood (TBB Western AU)

Summary: Every story need a beginning, a middle, and an end. This is the beginning, and it starts with a man who calls himself Crosshair.

From the sentence prompts:

22. “If that wound doesn’t kill you, then I will.”

Word Count: ≈1535 words

CW/ TW: Angst? Idk if you could say it’s angsty - it’s not happy that’s for sure but angsty? Idk anyway; western stuff, wounds/ injuries, (death) threats, pain, scars, blood

Tags: @mintywriteswritings @chaoticvampirejedi @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s (thank you again for the help!) @dusk-dawn-and-stars @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117 @99squad @equalityforcats

@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023

Notes: This is so exciting for me you can’t even imagine; thank you Minty for the request! I’m really happy to dive a bit more into the stories of the boys, and Crosshair’s arc is one I’m really happy to explore ^^

Also feel free to check Little One – Highly Suspect (you’ll find out a lot of their songs help me dive into that AU)

Dust.

This is how everything started, and how everything would end. He knew it the moment he jumped down his horse, a grimace of pain twisting his face as the dry coat of blood on his ribs ripped open once again. He tried to take a deep breath but stopped halfway, the pumping in his head becoming too strong to focus on anything else. He almost tripped on his feet, grabbing the beige mane of his companion to keep himself up; which made the horse neigh.

“Sorry, pal.” He barely muttered, unable to do more than loosen up his grip a bit.

Above him, an old sign falling into pieces, and a barely readable inscription on it; bleached by the constant exposure to the sun and the occasional rains.

Marauder Valley.

He walked through the entrance of the abandoned village – if one could call it a village – and wandered next to his horse, looking for shelter and a new shirt. His was tainted with red; dark and dried, smelling like iron and sweat. His wound wasn't bleeding too much anymore, but he could still feel a thin dash dripping against his skin when he was turning around or raising his arm.

It took him a few minutes to find the abandoned saloon, and the sight made him hum in a mixture of disgust and relief. A thick coat of dust was laying on the floor, and most of the bottles and tables were left to be; frozen in the middle of their usual occupations. A deck of cards was spread on one of them, and he came closer to take a better look.

Poker. And it was a good hand. Whoever played it knew what they were doing.

The wooden floor was lightly creaking under his feet as he walked around; and hadn’t it be for the few footsteps he was leaving behind, no one could have guessed he came here. He took a small hallway, leading to a few unsanitary rooms – barely big enough for a bed and a chair for most of them – and looked under the beds for a medical wallet or something he could use to patch himself up. His head was spinning a bit, but the clicking of a gun’s chamber and the cold metal tickling the back of his neck felt more important in the moment.

“If that wound doesn’t kill you, then I will.”

He slowly turned around, hands barely raised to show he intended no harm, and came face to face with a lady; probably in her mid-forties, small and chubby, and visibly determined to fulfil her promise.

“I need a doctor.”

“You won’t find any ‘round here.”

“Then a drink will do.” he shrugged, unimpressed.

“We’re going out and get you a drink then.”

She moved the cannon of her gun toward the main room, letting him open the way. He went in with the hope of getting some rest and medicine, and got back outside empty-handed and under the threat of an armed lady; bathed by the burning sunrays of a hot afternoon, in the middle of nowhere.

Nothing had changed during his little visit in the saloon but his state. He tripped on his feet, unable to focus on the stairs and the figure next to him, and fell on his knees next to his horse. The pain was getting worse; stinging and burning, the sensation of warm blood dripping from his open wound and straining his shirt even more; and the headache, the heat, the shivers-

“Alright, sit down.”

He dropped his weight on his behind, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Stay here. And don’t faint!” the woman warned as she walked away from him, disappearing behind the horse. His head felt too heavy, his veins pumping too hard to let him think straight. He let himself lay back against the dusty wooden floor, closing his eyes under the bright light burning above him.

He woke up when cold water splashed his face, making him jolt and grimace in pain.

“ Told you not to faint.”

“I didn’t.” he groaned, trying to sit again, the coat of blood ripping itself a bit as he did.

“Feel like y’can walk?” she looked down at him with a sort of irritated worry. He nodded, grabbing the guardrail to get up, slowly. “Good. Follow me.”

He stumbled a bit, trying to catch up with the woman. He thought he could handle it; he had gone through a lot to get here, and it couldn’t be worse than what he had left behind.

Or maybe it could be.

The loud thud of a body falling on the ground caught the woman’s attention, and as she turned around, a sigh escaped from between her lips.

“Great… Now I have to get the big guy.”

Waking up was painful, sudden. His ribs were on fire, his eye stinging – though the light was filtering through old curtains – and the remaining of his headache was still blurring his vision. He didn’t noticed the comfort of the mattress right away, neither the voices filling the room he was in.

“Ha, coming back to us. Told ya ‘t would work.” A deep voice commented in a smile.

“And that?” the woman’s voice asked, and he guessed she was pointing at his wounded ribs. He brushed the tips of his fingers against his own torso, realizing he was bare skin and wrapped in a bandage.

“Can’t do miracles. ‘Have to rest for a few days, go easy with manual tasks for a while.”

He let out a groan when he heard the recommendation, and tried to move his arms to push himself up and sit in the bed.

“I wouldn’t do that,” the voice advised in a laugh, “Unless ya want to open that wound ‘gain.”

He blinked a few times, and managed to see who was talking to him; a man, tall and visibly strong, dressed with dirty clothes and a squared shirt – probably a farmer. A scar was covering the side of his bald head and reached his left eye. The man was neither scary nor impressive, and seemed friendly enough.

He abandoned the idea of sitting, letting go of the light pressure he had put on his elbows and falling down against the mattress. His head gently buried itself in the pillow, and he let out a long, tired sigh.

“Who’re you?” he muttered in his breath, turning his head their way to look at them.

“’Name’s Cid,” the woman told him, “and he’s the big guy.”

“You know that’s not my name.” the man chuckled, and his voice filled the room with warmth and amusement as he looked at Cid.

“Don’t know your name, and couldn’t care less about it.” she shrugged.

“And you are?” the big guy asked, shifting his attention back to him.

He had expected the question, and he knew the simple answer would be to give his name. But he couldn’t stand the sound of it anymore, and his spite told him to go for that one instead. After all, it was “made for him”.

“Crosshair.”

“Well then, welcome to Marauder Valley Crosshair.” The man smiled at him.

He didn’t feel like returning the gesture, but nodded nonetheless, out of respect and gratitude for their help. He scanned the room, bringing a hand to his face; a light grimace twisting his mouth as he felt the skin stretching on the side of his body.

His fingers ran against his scar around his eye, trying to sooth the stinging pain. It was still recent, bright red, not quite blending in with his warm skintone.

“Well, ‘gotta leave now,” the big guy smiled, grabbing his hat in hand as he walked toward the door, “but if you need anything, I won’t be far.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cid pushed him out of the room, following his steps, “we know. You,” she pointed to Crosshair, “don’t play stupid, stay in bed.”

And on these words, she dragged the door behind her, slamming it before her heeled steps hit the apparent stairs outside the room. Crosshair stared at the door for a moment, contemplating once again getting up, but he was tired, and the bed was comfortable; and these people didn’t seem to want him any harm.

He didn’t seem to want any harm either, right, “Crosshair”?

He groaned faintly at the thought, and his hand dropped from his face to his chest, barely grabbing the thin blanket above him. He was far from him; from them, and now he just needed to sleep the pain away.

Sleep the pain away. Sleep.

Don’t let them get to you. Because they will get to you.

He will find you, you know he will.

They did this to you. They will do worse.

You know that, don’t you, Crosshair?

He let out a frustrated sigh at the thoughts, and slowly turned his head to look at the window. The sun was shining bright behind the curtains, and he could see the dust floating in the rays of light filtering through. It was peaceful.

For now he was safe, far away in a lost, abandoned town, in the middle of nowhere.

For now.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb western au #mesa writes #yousa request mesa #crosshair #western crosshair #i forgot the tags when I posted it lmao #minty 🤠#hope you'll enjoy it!#sw tbb #star wars the bad batch #sw #tbb crosshair

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annecoulmanross · 3 years

Text

Top Ten Historical Figures Done Dirty by The Terror (2018)

So, we all know and love Dave Kajganich and Soo Hugh’s beautiful show, right? Of course. But it’s important to set the historical record straight, especially when there are real people’s life-stories and legacies on the line.

(NOTE: this list is biased heavily toward upper-class individuals because the historical record does a better job preserving those voices for us. Was the real Cornelius Hickey as nasty a person in real life as he was in the show? Almost certainly not – which is why we’re given “E.C.” as a nod to the fact that we shouldn’t assume these characters represent real historical villains, even when the narrative makes them antagonists; HOWEVER, not everyone in the show was given the same courtesy as the OG “Cornelius Hickey.” Which is why this post exists – to show you the best sides of some people you might not otherwise appreciate for their full humanity. That being said, keep in mind the sources used – and, for instance, who has surviving portraits and who doesn’t.)

Thus, below the cut, I give you this list, (mostly) in order from #10 (honorable mention, only somewhat slandered) to #1 (most hideously maligned) – my list of characters from The Terror who deserved better.

(Please don’t take this too seriously – I know there are reasons why choices had to be made in order to make this show work on television, and I do very much love the end product. But I also genuinely think it’s a good idea to remember the real people behind these characters, and think critically about how we depict them ourselves.)

Bottom Tier – The Overlooked Men of the Franklin Expedition

#10. Richard Wall – & – John Diggle

We’re combining these two because they had a lot in common, historically speaking! Both were polar veterans, having served as a Cook (Wall) and an AB-then-Quartermaster (Diggle) on HMS Erebus under the command of Sir James Clark Ross in the Antarctic expedition of 1839-1843. Certainly we do get some good scenes with them in the show, but there was plenty more to explore there – for instance, Captain Ross was apparently so taken with Richard Wall that he hired him on as a private cook after the Antarctic expedition. (One imagines that Sir James may have regretted letting his friends of the Franklin expedition steal Wall out from under him.)

(If you want some more information on Diggle, the brilliant @handfuloftime found this excellent article on him – fun facts include the detail that Diggle’s only daughter bore the name Mary Ann Erebus Diggle.)

#9. John Smart Peddie

Now, I don’t think we should go as far as the Doctor Who Audio Drama adaptation of the Franklin Expedition, which makes Peddie into Francis Crozier’s oldest friend, someone “almost like a brother” to Crozier (no evidence of ANY prior relationship between the two existed, contrary to whatever the Doctor Who Audio Dramas would have you believe!) but Peddie probably earned his place as chief surgeon, however fond we may all be of the beautiful Alex “Macca” MacDonald, who was, in fact, the Assistant Surgeon, historically speaking. It’s hard to find information about Peddie, but someone should go looking! I want to know about this man!

(If you want to know more about the historical Alexander MacDonald, there’s a short biographical article on him from Arctic that you can read here.)

#8 James Walter Fairholme

The only one of the expedition’s lieutenants who doesn’t really get any characterization in the show, which is a travesty! The historical Fairholme (pronounced “Fairem”) was, as they say, a himbo, and the letters that he wrote home to his father are positively precious. He loved the expedition pets (lots of kisses for Neptune!), and he needed two kayaks because he couldn’t fit into just one with his beefy thighs. Fitzjames loaned him a coat when all the Erebus officers had their portraits taken, and then called him a “smart, agreeable companion, and a well informed man,” and Goodsir singled Fairholme out as “very much interested” in the work of naturalist observations. Just a lovely young man who could have gotten some screen time, you know?

(Also, as @transblanky discovered, four separate members of the Fairholme family gave money to Thomas Blanky’s widow when she was struggling financially in the 1850s, making them, combined, the most generous contributor to her subscription.)

Middle Tier – Franklin’s Men Who Didn’t Deserve That

#7. William Gibson

Alright, I want to talk about how uniquely horrible the show’s William Gibson is: this is a character willing to lie and accuse his partner of sexual assault that didn’t happen. I get there were extenuating circumstances, but if I were a historical figure who died in some famous disaster and someone depicted me doing something like that? Let’s just say I’m deeply offended on the real Gibson’s behalf.

What do we know about the historical William Gibson? Not much – but we know a little. Gibson’s younger brother served on an overland exploratory venture across Australia in the 1870s… from which he never returned. (God, the Gibson family had the worst luck?) This description of a conversation that young Alf Gibson had with expedition leader Ernest Giles only days before his death is VERY eerie:

[Gibson] said, “Oh! I had a brother who died with Franklin at the North Pole, and my father had a deal of trouble to get his pay from government.” He seemed in a very jocular vein this morning, which was not often the case, for he was usually rather sulky, sometimes for days together, and he said, “How is it, that in all these exploring expeditions a lot of people go and die?”

I said, “I don't know, Gibson, how it is, but there are many dangers in exploring, besides accidents and attacks from the natives, that may at any time cause the death of some of the people engaged in it; but I believe want of judgment, or knowledge, or courage in individuals, often brought about their deaths. Death, however, is a thing that must occur to every one sooner or later.”

To this he replied, “Well, I shouldn't like to die in this part of the country, anyhow.” In this sentiment I quite agreed with him, and the subject dropped.

(From Giles’s Australia Twice Traversed which you can read here)

Beyond that, one thing we do know is that William Gibson was probably friends with Henry Peglar – they had served on ships together before, and Gibson may possibly have been the poor fellow found cradling the Peglar Papers, according to researcher Glenn Stein. So we might imagine the historical Gibson as a much kinder man than the show’s depiction of him – this was someone who befriended the clever, playful Peglar we all know and love from the transcriptions of his papers, so full of poetry and linguistic jokes. It’s a shame we didn’t get a chance to meet this real Gibson, who actually knew the Henry Peglar whom we love so well.

#6. Stephen Stanley

Look. There’s that one famous line in James Fitzjames’s letters to the Coninghams about how Stanley went about with his “shirt sleeves tucked up, giving one unpleasant ideas that he would not mind cutting one’s leg off immediately – ‘if not sooner.’” And certainly Harry Goodsir had some mixed opinions of the man, saying was “a would be great man who as I first supposed would not make any effort at work after a time,” and that he “knows nothing whatever about subject & is ignorant enough of all other subjects,” whatever…. that means….

But Fitzjames also had some rather nicer things to say about him, that he was “thoroughly good natured and obliging and very attentive to our mess.” Also, the amputation comment? Very likely had a quite positive underlying joke to it – Stanley may not have been much of a naturalist, but he was actually an accomplished anatomist, who won a prize for dissection in 1836, on account of his “bend of the elbow,” which was “a picture of dissection,” according to Henry Lonsdale, who also called Stanley his “facetious friend” and “a fine fellow” (Lonsdale 1870, pg. 159). So, the real Stanley probably was rather droll, but the perpetually cruel Stanley of the show misses some of the real man’s major historical virtues and replaces them with historically unlikely mass-mercy-murder.

#5. John Irving

Now we’re getting into the territory of characters who did get some good development, but are missing a bit of historical nuance. As I’m sure many of you know, the historical Irving was indeed very religious, but the flashes of anger (i.e. against Manson) we see from Irving in the show don’t seem terribly consistent with the Irving depicted in this memorial volume, where John seems more like a quiet, bookish, mathematically inclined young man, with a self-deprecating sense of humor and a gentle sweetness. It’s really not at all far off from the version of Irving we see with Kooveyook in the show – I just wish we could have seen more of that side of Irving.

Top Tier – The Triumvirate of Polar Friends

So, these three DO have many good things to recommend them in the show, but because I’ve done such deep research on them, it can be quite jarring to watch certain scenes in which they behave contrary to their historical personalities, and I find myself pausing when watching the show with friends or family to explain that NO, they wouldn’t do that!

#4. Sir James Clark Ross

First thing – we LOVE Richard Sutton. He did a beautiful job with the material given to him. (This is true of all the actors on the list, frankly, but it’s doubly true here.) But that scene at the Admiralty where Sir James tells Lady Franklin “I have many friends on those ships, as you know,” to shut down her argument for search missions? At that time (aka 1847), historically, Sir James Clark Ross was actively campaigning for search missions, planning routes and volunteering his services in command of any vessel the Admiralty even vaguely contemplated sending out. You could see this real-life desperation in Sir James’s morose attention to his whiskey glass in that scene if you’re really trying, but I think the more historically responsible thing would have been to make vividly clear that James Ross risked life and limb, as soon as he possibly could, to try to rescue Franklin and Crozier and Blanky, men he’d known and cared about and bitterly missed – and, in the case of Crozier, “truly loved.”

#3. Sir John Franklin

The historical Franklin had plenty of flaws – his contributions to British colonial rule certainly harmed no small number of people, and we should question the way that heroic statues of Franklin are some of the only memorials that serve to honor the lives lost on Franklin’s expeditions – especially considering the steep body count of not only Franklin’s final voyage, but his previous missions in Arctic regions as well. (DM me and I’ll scream at you about counter-monuments! Is this a promise or a threat? Who knows!) With that said, most contemporary accounts agree that Sir John Franklin treated his friends, his family, and those within his social orbit with kindness, and his cruelties were systemic, not personal. In this light, the image of Sir John viciously tearing into Francis Crozier’s vulnerabilities in the show feels very off. Though there was certainly some friction over Crozier’s two proposals to Sophia Cracroft, historically speaking, there’s no evidence at all that Sir John discouraged her from marrying Francis – Sophia may have had many reasons of her own (*clears throat meaningfully in a lesbian sort of way*) for not accepting any of the several marriage proposals offered to her (from Crozier as well as from others), and we ought to keep in mind that she remained unmarried all her life. The notion that the real Sir John would have considered Crozier too low-born or too Irish to be part of the Franklin family isn’t grounded in historical fact.

#2. Lady Jane Franklin

Again disclaimer: the real Lady Franklin left behind a legacy with much to critique. Those who rightfully point out the racism of her treatment of the young indigenous Tasmanian girl Mathinna should be fully heard out. Observations of her own contributions to imperialism are important and valid. Though I tend to see her feud with Dr. John Rae as somewhat understandable – given that Lady Franklin didn’t have the benefit of our hindsight knowing Rae was correct – the levels of prejudice that she enabled and even encouraged in the writing of Charles Dickens when he attempted to discredit Inuit accounts of Franklin’s fate are inarguably deplorable. These things being said, everything noted for Sir John re: Sophia Cracroft goes for Lady Franklin as well – there’s no reason to imagine a scene where Jane would bully Francis Crozier within an inch of his life, seconds after a failed second proposal, when, historically, Lady Franklin felt the situation was so delicate that it required the quiet and compassionate intervention of Sir James Clark Ross, a dearly loved mutual friend to all parties. Tension does not imply aggression; conflict is not abuse. We know this can’t have been an easy experience for the historical Francis Crozier, but the picture is a lot more complicated than what can be shown in one small subplot of a ten-episode television show. Because of this complexity, however, Lady Franklin’s social deftness suffers in the show. (I could also write an entire essay about Jane Franklin’s last shot in the show, at the beginning of Episode 9: The C the C the Open C – TL;DR is that framing is very important, and, at the very last moment, the show reframes Lady Franklin as a mutilated corpse, a speaking mouth without a brain, which is….. a choice.)

And, at number 1, the person done most dirty by The Terror (2018) is….

#1. Charles Frederick “Freddy” Des Voeux

Look. I’m biased here because I am fed daily information about the historical Freddy Des Voeux from @frederickdesvoeux so I’ve become, I think understandably, a bit attached.

But this is very plainly the clearest cruelty the show does to a historical figure – the historical Des Voeux was a very young man (only around 20 when the ships set sail) known always as “Frederick or Freddy” to his family, and described by all parties as bright and sweet – Fitzjames said that he was “a most unexceptionable, clever, agreeable, light-hearted, obliging young fellow, and a great favourite of Hodgson’s, which is much in his favour besides,” and described him cheerfully helping to catch specimens for Goodsir. Des Voeux is named “dear” by Captain Osborn in Erasmus Henry Brodie’s 1866 poem on the Franklin Expedition (43) and Leo McClintock reported the young man’s well-known “intelligence, gallantry, and zeal” in his 1869 update to his account of the Franklin Expedition’s fate (xlii). None of this is consistent with Des Voeux’s behaviour in the show, especially in the later episodes.

To reduce Des Voeux to an easily-detested figure, over whose death one might cheer, is not a kindness – the creation of a narrative where his death is satisfying does damage to the memory of a real person, a barely-more-than-teenager who died in the cold of the Arctic and left behind only scraps of a shirt and a spidery signature in the bottom margin of a fragmentary document.

Television shows may need their villains, but it’s important to remember that real life isn’t like that. Surely the historical Frederick Des Voeux was most likely not a perfect person, and, as an upper class officer contributing to a British imperial project, he does bear some responsibility for the harm done by the Franklin expedition, but it’s not accurate to assume he was any less worthy of sympathy than the other officers who considered him a friend – those men whom we now venerate, like James Fitzjames. So as far as I’m concerned, Freddy Des Voeux deserves at least as much consideration, care, and compassion from us.

#franklin expedition #franklin expedition fictions #the terror #the terror amc #terrorposting #long post

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helaintoloki · 4 years

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Could you do a Five Hargreeves x reader fanfic where the reader and Five are mean to each other because they like each other. The night that Hazel and Cha Cha invade the Hargreeves mansion,the reader distracts Hazel from kidnapping Klaus and ends up getting kidnapped. Then Five saves the reader and they kiss. Thx

a/n: kinda changed it up a bit here for plot convenience but nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

warnings: language, five being a little sh*t as usual, brief mention of claustrophobia

Well, this certainly wasn’t how you expected your night to end, but you couldn’t exactly say you were surprised considering the complete chaos you’d managed to throw yourself into. Want a little word of advice? Stay far away from the Hargreeves siblings, you’re better off.

“Where’s Number Five?” Your female captor interrogates. They’ve had you as their hostage for about an hour but still hadn’t managed to extract any information from you. It was frustrating, being bested by a stubborn little girl, but Hazel and Cha Cha weren’t about to give up just yet.

“Kiss my ass lady, I’m not telling you shit,” you retort, and for good measure you make sure to spit in her face. It isn’t very ladylike of you but it riles her up and gets the job done.

“Oh, you little-“ she begins to say only to be held back by her counterpart.

“I don’t know about this, partner,” he confesses uneasily. “She’s a kid.”

“And so is Number Five. Are you forgetting we have a job to do?!”

“Look, maybe we should take a breather. Get some donuts, have some coffee, figure out the next move before we do anything irrational. There are gonna be people hot on our trail if we kill a kid.”

Cha Cha stares at Hazel for a long while before finally letting out a sigh, the tension releasing from her shoulders as she looks to you. You’re tied up and helpless with no one coming to save you; those freaks at the academy are probably too mixed up to even notice you’re gone. It’ll be fine.

“Alright,” she resigns, but not before harshly grabbing the back of your chair and nearly throwing you into the closet. “If you try to pull anything funny I’ll kill you.”

“I look forward to it,” you reply sarcastically, a small grunt of annoyance leaving you as she slaps a strip of duct tape over your mouth to keep you quiet. Your words are muffled, but you still make sure to call her every name under the sun as she locks you away in the dark and leaves the motel room with her partner.

A small huff of air leaves your nose as you shut your eyes and try to remain calm despite how extremely claustrophobic you feel trapped in that tiny closet. Perhaps you should have listened the first time Diego tried to shoo you away from him, then you wouldn’t be in this mess.

You’d met the Kraken about a year ago at the boxing ring he’d been working at when he’d caught you trying to steal from the locker rooms. Normally he would have turned you over to the cops and made you their problem, but after seeing how dirty and hungry you were he took you down to his room in the basement where he promptly fed you and forced you to tell him your business. You were an orphan who’d ran off from a shitty foster family, and with no money or family you’d resorted to pickpocketing to sustain yourself. You were granted one night of refuge under his roof and one night only, but then one night turned into one week which then became one month, and now a year later you still found yourself following him around wherever he went. No matter how much he tried to shoo you off or insist you return to the orphanage you stayed, and soon Diego found himself stuck with a new though unwanted companion.

You stayed out of each other’s way for the most part, and sometimes when he was in a good mood he’d help you train in case there was ever a time he wouldn’t be there to protect you and you’d have to fend for yourself. You kinda grew on him after a while, and though he could be a hard ass sometimes he really cared about you. Unlike his relationship with his other siblings, the bond you two had created was relatively healthy and stable. But then the looming threat of an apocalypse came along and suddenly the somewhat quiet life you’d been living for the past year or so had been turned upside down as you became acquainted with his younger— or is it older? You’re still not quite sure— brother.

Five didn’t like you, that much was clear from the get go. He thought you were a nuisance and a distraction and your involvement would only hinder his family’s efforts to save the world. You, on the other hand, found him to be obnoxiously snobby and unbearable to be around, and the fact that he was a trained assassin didn’t impress you in the slightest. You could never be in the same room for more than five minutes without arguing or insulting each other, and now you couldn’t help but feel infuriated with the fact that it was his fault you were in this mess. They were looking for him, after all, and they came to the academy to find him, and instead they’d managed to nab you to get information on his whereabouts— Klaus owed you big time for that one, by the way.

It feels like you’ve been stuck in that closet for hours when the door slams open, though it isn’t Hazel and Cha Cha that greet you on the other side. Five stands before you, annoyed and impatient as he drags you out of the closet and yanks the piece of duct tape off your mouth in one fluid motion.

“Ow!” You cry out in pain, your skin stinging from the sensation as you glare up at Five. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“No time,” he offers before getting to work on untying you. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to get caught. Once again you’ve proven my theory that you’re just a hinderance to my plans.”

“You know, I think you should see a doctor about the stick you have up your ass. Could be serious,” you quip back sarcastically. You let out a breath of relief when the ropes fall from your limbs and onto the floor allowing you the chance to stand up and stretch after the uncomfortable position you’ve been sat in all night.

“Just stay out of my way,” Five says firmly.

“God, what is it with you?! You’ve been nothing but an asshole ever since you got here! I’m only mean to you because you’re mean to me, you know,” you retort agitatedly. “I don’t understand you or why you’re so cold but would it kill you to be nice for once in your life?”

“You don’t know anything about me, about the things I’ve seen,” he seethes, getting up and close and personal as you stare each other down face to face. “You wouldn’t even be able to comprehend it!”

“Maybe I could if you’d let me try instead of shutting me out all the time! I’m not the enemy here, Five. I want to help-“

“The last time you helped it got you killed!” He finally blurts, shoulders heaving from the ragged breaths he has to take in order to soothe himself. Your brows furrow softly in response to his sudden outburst, and you find yourself taking a step back from the boy.

“What are you talking about?”

“When I landed in the future it wasn’t just my dead siblings I saw lying there, but you, too... You tried to help them and it got you killed, and I’m trying to stop you from making the same mistake but you’re too god damn stubborn to realize it.”

“Well why the hell didn’t you just lead with that!” You exclaim exasperatedly. “I die?!”

“I bet you’re starting to regret ever meeting my idiot brother, aren’t you?”

“I started regretting things the moment I met you,” you reply with wry smile, one that Five can’t help but return. You’re pretty alright, he decides. But that doesn’t mean he likes you, so don’t get any ideas. You’re not enemies but you’re not friends, at least not yet.

“Come on, we’ve got to go before Hazel and Cha Cha realize you’re missing.”

“Yeah, she did mention something about killing me if I tried to pull anything,” you note with a shrug.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Five replies gently, and his eyes are the most sincere you’ve ever seen them since meeting him.

“Hey, Five, I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you...” you say meekly, your face heating up slightly with embarrassment. You’re not really used to apologizing.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a barely visible smile. “I’m sorry, too.”

He takes your hand in his own before jumping you both back to the academy, and though there’s an impending apocalypse Five feels hopeful for the first time since his return. You’re going to be alright, he knows it, and things are going to work out just fine.

#this is so messy i’m sorry #eek #five hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #number five x reader #number five imagine #five x reader #five imagine #diego hargreeves #hazel and cha cha #the umbrella academy #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine #request

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djarrex · 3 years

Text

Countermeasures || 1

Archives

Fives x ofc!reader

x | next chapter ->

| main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 |

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of lust? is that a warning? otherwise, nothing yet ;)

chapter summary: Renna (you), an intern who spent the entirety of her internship thus far filing paperwork in the archives of Tipoca City’s medical wing, finally is able to work with a real patient - that patient just so happens to be Fives.

note: Renna will basically be taking the place of AZI-3 in the Conspiracy arc. A lot of the dialogue I wrote is from the episode, and of course I added more to dig deeper into Renna and Fives as characters. When this idea came in my head I was only planning on writing it as a oneshot. As I starting writing this, however, I realized there was so much more that could be done with it since this arc is both a good one and a sad one. If you’re ready to go on this journey with me, then keep going under the cut! <3 Also, I wanted to add that there will be POV changes in this chapter. I don’t know if I’ll stick with that going forward, but we’ll see.

* tbh special thanks to @bvcketfvcker for coming up with the series title and being da Best™

***

The archives of the medical wing in Tipoca City, the capital of the watery planet Kamino, were always so cold and lonely. Every single day of your internship thus far has included you being nearly drowned in paperwork, no real field experience to show for it.

You’ve been on Kamino for your medical internship for what, close to six months now? You were still stuck doing paperwork. Maybe at the six month mark you’d be moved up to sterilizing all the medical equipment, which would seem terrible to anyone else, but at least you’d be in proximity to anything remotely “medical”. You were longing to get your hands dirty, to start real field experience, to learn how to heal. You wanted to help people, to help anyone in need. You wanted to learn the practices for saving someone’s life. Everything you wanted, you could not get if you were stuck in the archives with paperwork as your only companion.

You decided within your first month that you would not let the paperwork and lack of real purpose get to you. So, you made your situation better by wearing - to the best of your ability - a positive attitude. On the day that marked the end of your first month here, the Kaminoans told you that music can be played in the archives as long as it’s not too loud, so you brought in a small radio the very next day. The start of your second month was a little better than the day before. You hummed to the music playing on the radio as you tried to make a game out of filing the paperwork. Turns out, not even a simple game could be made out of something so boring and tedious as filing paperwork.

You lost count of the days you’ve been in Tipoca City, within the archives shelled by the stilted dome structures, after your second month. Every day was exactly the same; you filed and shredded paperwork, organized reports, and finished filling out medical reports that the Kaminoan doctors didn't even want to bother with. Every day you woke up early, headed to the archives, and spent your entire day there in solitude until it was time to head back to your quarters for the night. Lunch was always dropped off to you by a couple of guards from the Kamino Security Team. The guards were always in full grey and white armor but you already knew what they looked like; they were clones, and you’ve seen their face in every file. They were handsome, sure, but there were literally hundreds of thousands of them out there.

You were pretty sure you were coming up on month six of your monotonous internship. Waking up and getting ready was a routine ingrained in your bones. You were taking the regular route to the archives from your quarters when you were stopped by a couple Kaminoan doctors on the way. To your surprise, they asked you to follow them, which you were hoping translated to you not having to work in the archives anymore. Maybe month six was the lucky number.

You walked behind the tall and slender creatures through unfamiliar halls. You had no idea where you were following them to, but anywhere was better than where you were originally heading.

They kept walking, with you in tow, when you passed by the only Jedi you’ve ever really spoken to - Master Shaak Ti, a calm and collected Togruta who was known to have a soft spot for the clones here on Kamino. The Jedi nodded in greeting to the Kaminoans in front of you, then over at you. With no words spoken, you were now following the Jedi through the halls, still unsure of the destination.

Just around the corner, you saw two very decorated troopers coming towards you. They donned blue and white armor with a ton of other accessories. As they got closer, the one trooper removed his helmet and carried it at his side. This trooper had the usual dark brown hair and kept the common clone cut style. The way this clone walked with his helmet pressed to his hip had awoken something in you, though you couldn't put your finger on exactly what that something was.

“General Shaak Ti.” The other clone removed his helmet as he greeted the Jedi. He was blonde and sported a closely shaved cut; despite having the same face and body, the two clone troopers looked completely different. They were unlike any clones you’ve ever seen.

That’s when you noticed another trooper laying on a stretcher behind them; his hair was long enough to be worn in a bun, a tear drop was inked underneath one of his closed eyes. He was also unlike any clone you’ve ever seen - especially since he appeared to be unconscious, He was hooked up to oxygen, you also noticed, as two guards pushed his floating stretcher right by you and around the corner, out of sight once they went down the hall.

You realized how zoned out you were and quickly snapped back to reality - only for only a second, though - as you became transfixed on the clone in front of you on the right, the one with dark hair. You scanned his features a little more now that he was closer; he had a dark goatee that framed his chin and his right temple had the number “5″ inked on the skin. His armor was crazy different from the armor the guards here wore. He looked... good. Uh oh.

For just a brief moment, the “good looking” trooper’s eyes broke away from his conversation with the Jedi and met yours. Slightly embarrassed, you snapped your head forward and glued your eyes to the Kaminoan’s ankles in front of you.

Just as you started listening in on the conversation, the two clones, the Jedi General, and Dr. Nala Se broke away and turned the corner in the same direction they took the unconscious trooper.

Kriff. You missed the entire conversation. The Kaminoans started moving forward, and you assumed you were still supposed to follow them, so you did. You still had no clue where you were going, but you’ll get there eventually.

***

Fives’ POV

Fives walked to the left of Rex, a long-neck doctor in between them, while Tup’s unconscious body was guided by two Kamino guards behind them.

“You will have to say goodbye to your friend now.” The long-neck broke the silence. Fives was worried for his friend. No one, not even Kix, could figure out what was wrong with him. Why would Tup shoot and kill General Tiplar? Fives noticed Tup was acting somewhat strange right before it all happened, but didn’t think too much of it at the time, Now, he’s racking his brain, trying to understand what set Tup off. He’s a good soldier, a good man. He’d never do such a thing in his right mind.

It was suggested that Tup be sent to Tipoca City, to Kamino, back to his roots, for a better chance of figuring out what was wrong with him. Fives gladly accepted the offer to escort his friend there, and was overjoyed that Rex came along with them.

General Shaak Ti came into view, and the troopers came to a halt. Captain Rex greeted the General, and she turned her attention over to Fives.

“Fives, am I correct?” He nodded. Tup was being pushed from behind them and then around the corner in front of them, quickly going out of view. The General spoke again, her eyes glued on the unconscious trooper being led down the hall. “You’ve served with Tup?”

Fives was desperate to be by his friend’s side right now. “Yes.”

Then he saw you. You, a foreign species to Kamino. What were you doing here? It had been a while since Fives was last on Kamino, but he was sure there weren’t any others like you here before unless they were Jedi - but the only Jedi known to hang around Kamino was General Shaak Ti.

He had noticed you tailing the long-necks before you had even come entirely into view. Fives let his eyes flicker over to you as Tup was being taken away, only to have locked eyes with you for but a second. He noticed you blushed right before you snapped your head forward, obviously embarrassed that you’d been caught staring. General Shaak Ti’s voice broke Fives’ trance - didn’t even notice he was losing focus once he caught your eyes - and it was all over in less than five seconds.

“You must come with me.”

Fives quickly snapped his attention back to General Shaak Ti, “with... all due respect, General, I can’t just abandon him now.” The Jedi General smiled reassuringly, and turned to lead Fives and Rex down the hall in the same direction Tup was taken.

Fives knew where his undivided attention should be, and that was on Tup - his friend - his friend that for some reason just gunned down a Jedi in the heat of battle in the space station just outside of Ringo Vinda, only to come to with no memory of what he had done. Fives cursed himself for thinking of you when his friend was about to be strapped to an exam table, being poked and prodded like some kind of lab scurrier.

***

Renna’s POV

Dr. Nala Se, the Chief Medical Scientist on Kamino, approached you once you had gotten to the head medical lab and informed you that you’d be the one who would start procedures on a clone trooper who had potentially been exposed to a virus of some kind. You nodded, all too giddy as you gladly accepted the task.

You were escorted by two guards to where you’d be working with the patient. When the door whisked open, you slowly made your way into the quiet room, the door shutting quickly behind you. You glanced to the right, noticing the window that would normally allow you to see into the room next door was blacked out - put into the privacy setting. Strange.

“You?” The deep voice - a voice that sounded like honey in your ears - put a halt on your thoughts about the darkened window. You knew it was the voice of a clone; the only voices you ever heard were either the slow, drawn out words of the Kaminoans or the clones’. Of course a clone would be in that room, of course a clone would be the subject of your testing.

Who you didn’t expect to see was the clone trooper you saw in passing not even a half hour ago - the one with the dark goatee and number 5 tattooed on his temple - the one who made you blush when he caught you staring.

You felt yet another blush heat your cheeks before you even registered it was happening. What the hell were you blushing for? He’s a clone, and you’re here to take blood samples and body scans to make sure he’s okay. You knew you were staring at him like a fool, and for way too long. You shook your head slightly in an attempt to reorganize your thoughts.

“You ok, Miss... miss?” He stood up from his seating position on the cot, and cocked his head to the side with his arms folded across his chest. You nodded your head slowly.

“Renna,” you nearly whispered your name to him - the words almost came out choked - for some reason you had forgotten how to speak in Basic for a moment.

“Look, Miss Renna, I am not a threat. Neither is Tup.”

Your brow raised as you studied the clone’s expression. It was hard; his eyes were piercing and his brows were furrowed. Crossed arms flew to his sides, hands tightening into fists. No doubt he was feeling angry and confused.

“T- Tup?” Was that the name of CT-5385? “You’re referring to CT-5385?”

“Tup! The trooper in that room right there?” He pointed over to the darkened window, “He’s a good soldier, my friend, and he’s in the room next door getting - getting tortured by those long-necks.” A beat. “None of us clones go by numbers anymore, by the way.” You closed your eyes for just a moment, trying to think about what to say next. You inhaled deep through your nose, then slowly out through parted lips, watching as his expression went from angry to more... afraid? Worried?

“Trooper, I promise Tup is in good hands. I’ve been briefed on his- his condition... they - we - just want to find out what made him kill Jedi General Tiplar, that’s all. They’ve asked me to do a couple of procedures on you, take some notes, since you were close with Tup. Maybe we can find something in you that will help your friend.”

The trooper’s expression changed again, softening as his fists unclenched at his sides. Surely he had to understand the gravity of the situation; when you were briefed, it was mentioned that no one on Kamino had any idea why CT-53 - Tup - shot a Jedi General in cold blood, or why he keeps floating in and out of consciousness, murmuring things like “kill Jedi”. Clone trooper Tup seemed to have no memory of what he had done; and so far, no scans were showing anything wrong with him, though his health was deteriorating.

You walked over to the counter where the sterilized needles and scanners resided and started to prep the equipment, reading over notes to see what it is you needed and what you were supposed to be testing him for. Reading through the notes, you realized this trooper’s designation was ARC-5555, and the tattoo “5″ on his temple made sense now. It was actually kind of... cute.

It was silent for a couple minutes while you were getting everything ready when a loud, airy sigh coming from behind you made you turn around to face ARC-5555.

“The name’s Fives.”

***

Fives’ POV

Fives was getting more worried for Tup by the minute. His rising frustration didn’t help, either. General Shaak Ti had engaged the privacy setting on Fives’ only view of his unconscious friend, leaving him in the dark as to what the long-necks were doing to Tup in the room next door.

Fives sat in the room in silence, alone with his worries and doubts. You were out of his thoughts at this point; the worry and fear he felt for Tup swallowed him whole - until you were the one walking through the door. It could have been any Kaminoan, any droid, yet you were the one they had sent.

His eyes wide, he watched you slowly walk in as you immediately set your attention to the darkened window to the right side of the room. Fives wanted to know if you knew what they were doing to Tup, why they were hurting him, why Fives wasn’t able to be there by his side. He had a million questions, almost all of them relating to Tup, except for the ones he had about you.

Fives was sitting on a cot on the other side of the room, and you hadn’t noticed him yet. What is she doing here? Who is she? She definitely isn’t a long-neck. He wanted to ask you all kinds of questions, a mix between wanting to know more about Tup and wanting to know more about you, but all he could muscle out was one word.

“You?” Fives shook his head in disbelief as the first word he said to you left his lips. It did manage to get your attention, though, because you turned away from the dark window and were now staring directly at him. Fives felt his heart beat just a little harder when he could finally take in your whole figure in more than just a quick glance. You were beautiful - more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen, and wearing the same thing he saw you in earlier; a tucked-in dark grey skin-tight top that came up your neck like clone under-armor blacks did, a white lab coat that came down to your ankles, hugging your curves in all the right ways along the way. The coat was open in the front, save for the one buttoned part right at your waist, just barely keeping the coat together. Your black boots were knee-high, your black leggings tucked into them. You stepped closer to Fives and his heart started racing; he was completely in awe of you, but there was something else, and it made warmth head straight to his groin.

***

Renna’s POV

Fives. That was his name. Not ARC-5555 , just like Tup wasn’t CT-5385. “No clones go by numbers anymore,” he had informed you. Being waist-deep in paperwork all the time never gave you an opportunity to actually work with the clones. All you knew about the clones were their designations, along with whatever the paperwork was filed for. It didn’t occur to you that they had names.

“Look, is Tup gonna be alright? Have they found anything out?” Fives’ eyes were pleading, begging for some kind of reassurance.

“Please, sit down.” He huffed, but obeyed. “We’re using hyper level tests, so we should get the results fairly quickly.” He nodded his head, thankful for any little crumb you could give him. “I’m gonna need to get started now, okay?”

Needle in hand and ready to go, you preemptively apologized.

“Wh- ow!” You jabbed the needle into the side of his neck, a sympathetic smile on your lips.

“I said I was sorry!” You chuckled quietly. Fives rubbed at his neck and you made you way back over to the counter, inserting the needle into the port next to the computer.

“Well?” His hand still rubbing at his neck, you squinted your eyes to read the results displayed on the screen.

“Everything... seems normal.” You weren’t exactly sure what to expect, but you were happy your very first patient wasn’t immediately dying on you.

“Oh, great! That means you can let me out, right?” The excited tone in his voice made it quite difficult to relay the next part to him.

With an apologetic smile, you walked back over and sat on the cot across from him.

“Actually... I’m afraid that’s not possible right now, Fives. I was instructed to keep you in quarantine until we’ve pinpointed the exact cause of Tup’s breakdown. We can’t risk any further casualties.” You couldn't bear to look at him now, so you glued your eyes to a fresh scuff mark on the toe of your boot.

“Like I told you before, I am not a threat, and neither is Tup!” You looked back up at him when his voice raised. Fives wasn’t angry, or at least it didn’t appear that way. He was worried for his friend.

“I- I believe you, Fives. Unfortunately, I’m not the one to make those kinds of calls. I’m just- just an intern. This is my first day not filing paperwork in the archives. I don’t- I don’t want to mess this up. You’re my first real patient.” You stood up to leave the room, letting your hand rest on his shoulder for just a moment in an attempt to comfort him. Something you never thought you’d be doing - comforting a clone. You told him you’d be back later to check up on him and to perform any tests the doctors deemed necessary. Then you left.

***

As you headed for your quarters for the night, you couldn’t help but think back on your introductory meeting with your very first patient. You replayed your short conversation over and over in your head; you transfixed on his voice, the raw emotion in it that went straight to his facial expressions, and the way he looked at you. You’ve seen his face many, many times in the files you were doused with daily, but most of the clones on Kamino didn’t have anything significant to mark them apart from one another - no scars, tattoos, different hair styles, and were generally clean-shaven. When you first saw Fives, his tattoo and facial hair was what did it for you. You hated to admit it, but you may have just accidentally gotten a crush on the ARC Trooper.

This was all new to you. You never realized clones had such... emotion. Or capable of such emotion, for that matter. You were kept in the dark for the entirety of your internship on Kamino, and now you understood why. You weren’t Kaminoan, you weren’t a Jedi, you were just an intern. In their eyes, there was no reason as to why you should engage the clones, so they kept you busy with paperwork every day. You wondered if you were physically kept away from the clones because you were also human, and therefore were able to share the same emotion and ideals as them. That idea wouldn’t have made sense to you if you thought about it earlier today, but now that you met Fives, it made sense.

Maybe the Kaminoans were fearful that you would be a distraction to them, or them to you.

***

Tags: @bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567

#djarrex writes #countermeasures series #arc trooper fives x you #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x oc #fives x reader #fives x oc #fives x you #fives smut #arc trooper fives smut #the clone wars fic #conspiracy arc #the clone wars conspiracy arc #arc trooper fives #captain rex #clone trooper tup

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benedictsvestcollection · 3 years

Text

Toepick!

Bucky Barnes x female reader AU

Summary: Bucky’s a hockey player turned pairs figure skater partner for reader who’s kind of a pain in the ass. (aka this is a Cutting Edge AU if anyone’s seen the movie)

Chapter warnings: Cursing, mentions of hockey violence, reader is a brat, Bucky is a sarcastic asshole (just like in the show!)

Author note: Unbetaed chapter, I don’t have a taglist for Bucky fics but send me a DM or ask if you want to be added to it I’ll make a taglist for my Bucky fics! Please reblog this and tell me what you think in my askbox!

Also thanks to @pisss-offf-ghostt for her hockey insight b/c I don’t know shit about hockey.

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes sat in a doctor’s office, two weeks after taking a puck to the face in a Winter Olympic game. It had hit him way too close to his eye and Coach Pierce had benched him the rest of the Games.

What’s worse is that it was his own fucking teammate who’d given him the injury. Brock Rumlow, their Enforcer, had always had it out for Bucky. God knows why, but maybe Rumlow had never forgiven his NHL team for beating theirs in the playoffs the year before. Or that Bucky had scored the winning goal of that same game.

Steve and Sam had always said Rumlow was a bad apple in the NHL and his Olympic spirit sucked too it seemed. So now, he was waiting on news from the doctor, telling him when he could start training for the next NHL season.

The doctor entered the room with Bucky’s file. “Well, doc? When can I get back on the ice?” He asked.

The doctor frowned at him and put his x-ray up on the lighted board to show him. “Son, I’m afraid you won’t be able to play hockey anymore.” He told him frankly. “You took quite a hit to your occipital bone and it hindered 80% of your peripheral vision in your right eye.”

“What?” He asked, unsure if he heard him right.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go into retirement from hockey.” He told him, looking at the man with sympathetic eyes. He was a great player, had a lot of years left in him. He had watched that game, this wasn’t his fault.

Bucky sat there, shell shocked for several moments before slowly rising and putting his coat on. “Thanks doc.” He muttered before finally leaving the office and building. Fucking Brock Rumlow. He had seen the smirk on his lips after he’d opened his eyes from taking the hit to his face.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Steve’s number. “Hey, meet me at the usual place?”

“Everything okay Buck?” He’d asked his childhood best friend and now teammate.

“Just… I’ll tell you at the bar.” He growled out and then made his way to their favorite haunt. “Call Sam. I have news.”

Thirty minutes later, Bucky was nursing a beer at their favorite New York bar. Sam and Steve stared at him, shocked. “So what, now you have to retire? That’s bullshit man.” Sam shook his head.

“You think I don’t know that?” Bucky growled at his teammate. “My publicist wants to make an announcement soon.” He told them. “But I told her to hold off. I want some time to just… Absorb this.” He ran his hand through his hair frustratingly.

Bucky loved skating, how could he give it up? And Brock Rumlow gets to just keep playing? What a load of bullshit.

“Rumlow should be fined for that shit he pulled on you at the Games.” Steve shook his head.

“You really think being fined is what he deserves? Everyone knows it was a dirty move but Pierce is his coach in the NHL, he’s not gonna do shit about it.” Sam reminded Steve.

It was true, even the announcers had called it a dirty shot, and everyone who followed the NHL knew that Brock Rumlow had it out for Bucky Barnes. But Rumlow was Pierce’s guy and he wasn’t going to do anything to his player to jeopardize the next season of the NHL.

“Speak of the devil.” Sam whistled out and Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Rumlow entering the bar with his flavor of the month on his arm. Some up and coming model or something. Not that any of them kept track anymore of them.

“Hey boys! How’s the post-Olympics life treating you? As good as me?” He winked at his newest companion. “She’s a model.”

“Shocking.” Sam snorted from behind his beer. Smirking when Rumlow shot him a dirty look.

“So Barnes, how’s the eye?” Rumlow asked him casually, as if he hadn’t given him the very injury that now forced Bucky into early retirement.

Bucky’s grip tightened on his bottle. “It’s fine.” He ground out and gave him a hardened stare. It was true, physically he felt fine. But, he was about two seconds away from beating Rumlow to a pulp though. Hell, Steve and Sam would probably help him if he asked. But he also didn’t want any added press than the impending ‘early retirement’ announcement in the coming days.

“Look man, sorry about that. Guess the puck just got away from my stick, you know?” He said easily.

Holy shit, he was really just going to pretend it wasn’t his fault? Guess he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Yeah, you seemed real torn up about it.” Steve snapped at him. “The whole hockey world knows you have it out for Buck.” All four men, stood. All imposing figures as hockey players. “And everyone knows that was a dirty shot you took. The Olympics are supposed to be about coming together but you just used it for your own personal gain. You’re a disgrace.” Steve told him.

“You letting your pals stand up for you Barnes? What’s the matter? Too chicken shit to say anything yourself?” Rumlow taunted him.

Bucky stepped closer to him, almost chest to chest with the Enforcer. “Nope, I just know you’re not worth my time. You never have been, not even on the ice.” After several tense moments, Bucky finally stepped back. “I gotta go. I have a call to make. I’ll talk to you two later.” He looked at Sam and Steve before leaving some bills on the table for his beers and he purposely bumped into Rumlow before leaving the bar.

Once he was safely in his Brooklyn apartment, he called his publicist. “Mel? Hey, let’s just…. Make an announcement. Tomorrow. Just get it over with.” He told her. “There’s no point in delaying it.”

“Sure thing, we’ll just say you’re mulling over your post-hockey playing options. Maybe take a year off and figure out what you want. Book deals, coaching job, hell even a sports commentator.”

“Yeah. I’ll think about it, Mel. Thanks.” He hung up and tossed his phone on the counter and sighed.

Fucking Brock Rumlow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What part of locked arms don’t you fucking get?” You snapped at your latest partner ‘audition’ as you got up off your ass from being dropped again. “Where in the hell are you finding these idiots Maria?” You snapped at your coach as you skated away from the latest guy. “You’d think none of them knew a simple lift.”

Maria Hill, your coach for several years now was at the end of her rope. You’d rejected partner after partner for the past month and a half after you’d parted ways with your Olympic partner, from a disastrous showing at the Winter Olympics.

“Probably doesn’t help that you berate them before they even get their skates on.” She called from the side of the rink as Tony Stark, your guardian since you were fifteen years old (although you were in your twenties now and didn’t need a guardian anymore) and practically your big brother, entered with his five year old daughter Morgan in his arms.

“How’s it going?” He asked.

“You’re insane.” Your latest pairs auditioner told you as he hastily removed his skates and shoved his feet in his sneakers and grabbed his bag. “Good luck finding someone willing to put up with the ice princess.” He snorted and left.

“That good huh?” Tony asked with a sigh and watched you skate around the private ice rink on their property.

“I can’t help that they’re all idiots.” You told him and Maria sighed, rubbing her temples as Morgan giggled at your comment.

“You know, unless you work with any of these guys and Maria. You’re going to have to go to singles skating.” Tony warned you, knowing you hated singles skating. It always felt too lonely for you out on the ice alone. You had trust issues since you were a kid. Which was a double edged sword because you also had trouble trusting partners to not let you down.

“Alright, let’s just call it for the day. I have some calls to make for some more options.” Maria told you as you continued to skate. She turned to Tony. “Talk some sense into her. I don’t have many options left.” She muttered and then left.

Morgan sat at the edge of the rink putting her skates on to get ready for her private lesson. “Ice Princess, come on… Work with me.” Tony called to you.

You shot him a glare at the nickname but skated over to him, stopping promptly and showering his legs with ice. “Yes?” You asked him innocently.

“Don’t give me that shit. What’s your deal? You’ve rejected nearly eight perfectly good skaters in the past almost two months. And always over stupid shit.” He told you. “They’re either not strong enough, not fast enough, not graceful enough. None of which have been true.”

You wanted to curse back at him but knew Morgan was beginning to repeat everything and Tony was being hushed and you really didn’t want to hear Pepper ask why Morgan learned a new curse word from you. “I’m just particular, that’s all.” You defended yourself.

“Is that the word we’re using?” He snorted at you. “I know you have trust issues because of what happened. But you can’t keep using that excuse for skating. Not all those men are going to let you down. But they will if they pick up on your attitude and tension. You need to start giving some of them an actual chance.” He glanced over at Morgan who was starting to warm up on the ice before her lesson. “Just… Think about it, okay? And you’ll bring Morgan to the house after her lesson?”

You sighed and nodded at him. “Yeah okay, fine. I’ll think about it. And yes, I’ll stay here during her lesson.” You promised as you got off the ice and changed shoes while Morgan started her lesson.

“Thank you. Dinner’s at six.” He reminded you and kissed Morgan goodbye before leaving for a meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maria Hill was looking over all the options she had on her desk. None of them would be able to take any of the shit that you were dishing out. She needed someone who could dish it right back to you and who could skate. “Jesus this is a nightmare.” She muttered to herself.

“Might have a suggestion for you if you’re interested in hearing it and going to meet with him.” Nick Fury’s voice came from her office door. Nick was the trainer for you. Responsible for keeping you in shape and healthy.

“Yeah?” She asked him curiously and leaned back in her chair.

Nick walked over to the television and turned it on, turning it to the sports network talking about Bucky Barnes’ retirement and what his options were now. The news had been out for a week now and everyone was speculating what he was going to do now.

“Barnes? You expect me to get a hockey player to be her new partner and not have her throw another fit?” She asked incredulously.

“Hear me out Hill.” Fury told her and sat across from her. “He’s strong, a phenomenal skater. Actually graceful even in hockey. And, he won’t take any of her shit lying down. Everything else, you can teach him.” He mused with a shrug. “Besides, rumor has it that he wants to keep skating. Sure, this ain’t hockey but it’s better than nothing.”

Nick had made several good points. He was a great skater. And he was disciplined. It meant that he would stick to any regime of training and skating they threw at him.

“She won’t like this.” She told him bluntly.

“Does she like anything anyway?” He countered with a snort.

He had a point. You hadn’t liked any of the partners they’d brought you till now. So throwing Barnes into the mix wasn’t going to make it much worse.

“Fine. Let’s go talk to him.” She relented.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You want me to what?” Bucky asked Maria and Nick. The two of them sat across from him in his Brooklyn apartment. Staring at them incredulously.

“We heard you wanted to keep skating. And while this isn’t hockey, we’re training someone who wants Olympic gold just as much as you do.” Maria told him. “I’ve seen you skate. You’re talented as hell and strong.”

Bucky looked back and forth between the two of them, expecting this to be some kind of joke. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. You’ll be paid, there’s a guest house at the Stark estate for you if the audition goes well. So you can live and train and not have to commute. You’ll be well paid.” Nick told him as he casually leaned back in his seat.

Bucky snorted. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know that there’s always a catch.”

Maria and Nick exchanged looks before looking back at him. “She can be… Difficult to get along with.” She told him carefully.

“So she’s a pain in the ass.” He clarified flatly and snorted again. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a pain in the ass on my team.” He muttered to himself.

“So you’ll come try out?” Maria asked him curiously. “Look, I know you don’t take any shit from anyone. So you and her might work because you can dish it out. You won’t put up with her attitude.” She explained.

Bucky considered his options. He didn’t want to stop skating. And it’s not like there were any open coaching positions currently. And he sure as shit didn’t want to write a memoir or work for ESPN while all his buddies were still skating. This was something for him. Plus he’d get to work with some hot girl instead of staring at Rumlow’s ugly face everywhere he went.

“When’s the tryout?” He finally asked.

Bucky Barnes’ fic taglist: @pisss-offf-ghostt

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #My writing #Marvel fic #MCU #I'm not tagging all the characters in this fic b/c that's so annoying #anyway #Please reblog this and tell me if you like it #xoxo

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whittakerjodie · 3 years

Text

Ex Machina

Request: Can u pls do a 13 x reader where when first judoon catch 13, reader is with her and ended up in prison too when u tried to shield the doctor? But 13 negotiate ur release from prison despite ur protest. She assumed ur safe back on earth. After jack broke her out, she found out from the fam that they never see u again. What happened to u?

Words: 1.7k

Authors Note: This isn’t like, super explicit love stuff I guess? but I really liked the concept and stuff. I hope you like it regardless! Thank you for requesting. SPOILERS FOR REVOLUTION OF THE DALEKS

Nothing was ever supposed to get onto the TARDIS, through its defenses. Yet the Judoon had broken in with extreme ease, with the sole intent of taking the Doctor away. Although she was usually the one protecting you, the roles were reversed since she was the target. You stepped in front of her as they vaguely stated her sentence, not realizing what exactly you’d just gotten yourself into.

With a flash, you were no longer on the space-time machine but in a dark room. The only light source was a small window, if you could call it that. In reality, it was just a small rectangular cut out of the wall, which appeared to be made of rock. Slowly, though, other lights worked to make things visible for you. You were standing on another rock, in the center of the room. Quickly you stepped off of it, looking around frantically.

The Doctor and the Judoon were nowhere to be found; you were alone.

“Hello?!?” You yelled. You sprinted over to the wall, setting your hands against it. It was cold to the touch and non responsive. Knocking against it hurt your knuckles, but you couldn’t give up. You shouted again, hoping to catch the attention of someone nearby. The only response you got, though, was a loud snarl from the other side of the wall. You jumped back with a gasp. You were alone in the room, but not in the entire building. (Assuming you were in a building in the first place)

“Where am I?” You whispered to yourself. There was another underlying question at the forefront of your mind: where was the Doctor?

______

Immediately when she arrived in her own cell, the Doctor thought of you. She knew you weren’t dead; the Judoon had simply used a teleportation device. But you had jumped in front of her, and likely experienced the effects of that. At that point, she had to assume that you were in the same place as her, just in a different room or area. If not- no, she didn’t want to consider the idea of you being lost somewhere.

It was a couple of days later when she was able to talk with a Judoon representative. Just asking wasn’t enough, but her questionable behaviour- such as attempting to eat part of her cage- was enough to earn some scolding. It was annoying, but a nice enough opening for her to be able to ask about her situation.

“Where is my friend? Y/N, they were in front of me when you brought me here. I think they might have come here too.”

“Judoon officers are not allowed to disclose prisoner information,” The Judoon grunted. The Doctor tensed against her chair. She could deal with whatever punishment they thought necessary for her. But she wouldn’t accept your imprisonment for no reason. They’d also mentioned a life sentence when they took the both of you. Her life sentence in particular- and that was significantly longer than however long you could last.

“What if I give you something in return?” the Doctor tried. It was her last bargaining chip- her only bargaining chip, in fact. “Y/n didn’t do anything. They don’t know as much as I know about the universe. For all they knew they were protecting me from danger. They don’t deserve to be here, please.”

The Judoon paused, then looked at what the Doctor assumed was one-way glass. They nodded at the glass after a few moments. “What information can be offered?”

“Information about me. Who I am, what I've done. I don’t know everything but I’m willing to tell you everything you do know.”

Almost a day and 7000 extra charges later, she had finally finished telling the Judoon whatever information they asked for. Nearly her entire life; everything she knew to be true as of that moment. It was a lot, and she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the consequences of admitting it. But the Judoon promised that they would release you, and that was enough for her to justify it all.

______

Promises are rarely ever kept, unfortunately, especially when it comes to law enforcement and the justice system. Completely unaware of what the Doctor had just given up for you, the days dragged on. At one point, a Judoon officer came. They explained that your charges were minor enough to warrant an exchange to a smaller, less solitary prison.

Your heart rate was nearly strong enough to drill through the rock walls as another Judoon joined you. The two officers lead you through the corridors where you could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing except for your own fear. How were the Doctor or your friends supposed to get you out when they were moving you? They would have no idea where you were going…

Your throat felt tighter than the shackles around your wrist as you were brought further and further away from the cell you’d already spent a couple weeks in. Panic was beginning to fully take hold of you, preventing you from making any decisions or ideas of escape. You weren’t sure what to do, if anything could be done at all.

“Prisoner 5506, yes?” A familiar voice.

________

“Hi, I was in space jail!” The Doctor said cheerfully. Yaz, Graham, and Ryan were staring at her with wild eyes, the contents of the flat tossed about in the wind the TARDIS had created. She could’ve landed in a better place, but she was much too excited to see you and her other companions.

The confusion set in, though, when she noticed there were only three people in the flat. That confusion was exacerbated when Yaz roughly shoved her back, yelling that they were worried about her. As her face fell, the reality settled in. Clearly she’d been late again. How could she have been so careless flying the TARDIS? She had imagined that everything had been programmed right. She was wrong- and her best friends had paid a hard price because of it.

“How long have I been gone? A week?” the three shook their heads. “Two weeks?”

When they told her that she had been gone 10 months, she felt even more weight be suddenly added to the one she was already struggling to bear. The gap, which she had initially assumed to be small, had expanded into a massive chasm. With you not in the room, she began to feel worried that you’d fallen into it.

“Where’s Y/N?”

Neither of them needed to speak; the confusion in their eyes was enough to answer the Doctor’s question. Any following words were a courtesy that only served to pause her hearts in her chest.

“They were with you,” Ryan said darkly.

“Th-They left, ran after you-” Graham added. The Doctor broke through his words with her own.

“No, no, I know that, they were in jail with me, then the Judoon sent them back” She searched the faces of Ryan, Yaz, and Graham. Even Jack, who seemed just as confused. “They sent them back.” She finished with a whisper.

“I only came there for you,” Jack said. Before the Doctor could protest, he clarified: “I only came there for you, because you were the only one there.”

“No, no, that can’t be true,” She shook her head, panic starting to build. “I was in there for- for years, decades and if I was..”

She trailed off, unable to finish the question. The room felt silent as the horrible probability crawled across everyone.

Had you…?

_________

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have gone with him. You could’ve told the Juddoon who he was, what he did, why he did it. What he was probably going to do with you now. But your mouth would not open, your tongue would not move. Your legs, however, were operating on a different agenda. You followed him into the transport vehicle, knowing that it was not such a simple transport.

When the door shut, you felt like your fate had been sealed.

“Why?” Was all you could ask.

“That’s a stupid question,” The Master scolded. “Not sure what I was expecting, though.”

He grumbled his way through the sentence, though his face portrayed a dangerous level of glee. Like he’d laid a trap. He hadn’t, though. He was simply reaping the benefits of another's. How fitting of the Master, to essentially get another to do his dirty work for him.

“Sit.” He commanded. His TARDIS was still mostly the dirty shack that O had lived in. You were surprised, given the Master’s flair, that he had not improved on the design. The couch nearly sunk to the floor as you followed his command. You supposed, with the speed you followed his orders, that he could’ve hypnotized you. But truthfully, you were just too scared to do anything else. “First try, hm? Is this how far her pets have fallen...?”

“I’m not her pet-”

“But you went to prison for her didn’t you? And you know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t come to get you, don’t you.” By this time, he had walked across the length of his TARDIS to stare down at you from above. Another way to show who had the upper hand here.

“I would’ve…” Hell, you didn’t know. You’d been in there for a week, at least, judging by how many times you’d slept and done the odd daily routine. How much longer would they have kept you in there?

“Aww,” The Master cooed mockingly. “Too bad. One prison to the next!”

“But I’m not worth anything to you,” You tried, voice accidentally dripping with anxiety. “You can’t even fight the Doctor, she's still in prison.”

“Oh, but not for long.” The Master pointed out, returning to his console. The space time machine was in flight, taking you far away from the prison you’d been kept in. Far away from the Doctor. “I think we both know she’ll find her own way out. And when she does, I have a nice little bargaining chip for our next meeting”

You shrunk back into the couch as he threw his head back and began to laugh, wondering when exactly this next meeting would be- and how it would end.

#13th Doctor #13th doctor imagine #13th Doctor x reader #thirteenth Doctor x reader

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

TA, dr and other abbreviations

Neil x Reader

summary: some time ago, Neil was a TA at your uni, now you meet up again when he needs your help with his next mission

+ song: Chase Atlantic - Friends

warnings: language, alcohol mention, things get steamy so let’s say 18+

author’s note: that request was fun! 👀 I’ve enjoyed the dynamic between those two, so I decided to try something different in terms of the writing style.

This is also the first one-shot not related to Stuck in Reverse series, can you believe?

Let me know what you think!

___

Your eyes dart towards your lab’s door, your brows raise at the sight of a familiar face. Your day just got a whole lot better.

“Good afternoon, I’m looking for doctor-...” a man at the door glances at you and he skips a beat, clearly trying to remember where does he know you from.

You don’t feel like helping him to figure it out though. To be fair, you’ve changed quite a lot over those last 10 years. You smile to yourself as you think about your younger self, always so anxious and flustered in Neil’s presence. If only she could see you now. She would appreciate the glow-up, that’s for sure.

God, you used to have the biggest crush on him. Not that he knew about it, of course. He was 8 years older than you, also he was a TA during your uni time. You talked sometimes, but that was all, you knew he was seeing someone back then; you settled down for daydreaming about his blue eyes and dying a bit inside whenever you saw him.

And now he’s here, still as hot and gorgeous as ever.

You put on your most polite expression, fighting the smug grin from appearing on your face.

“While I kinda enjoy seeing your puzzled face, I’m also quite busy, so I'm gonna give you a tip – your little TA gig a few years ago.”

Neil’s gaze flares up as he looks you up and down, still a bit confused, trying to match the image he remembers to your present look.

He blinks twice, composes himself, and proceeds with his request for your aid.

When he leans over your desk and shows you the mission’s brief on his tablet, you notice that he wears the same cologne as he used to all those years ago. Your heart flutters in your chest, but definitely not in that old, nervous way. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to stay focused on Neil’s words. You must admit, the sudden change in dynamic is thrilling. As you help him go through some of the details regarding his next assignment, you wonder if you’re gonna see him more frequently from now on.

You certainly wouldn’t mind.

This time, the Universe smiles upon you.

Neil pops into your lab more and more often.

At first, it’s all related to work.

After some time, you begin to wonder if he doesn’t look for just any excuse to come over. You don’t care though, you really enjoy his company.

And it seems like Neil’s grown quite fond of you himself.

Now that he’s finally wrapped his mind around the new you, his blue eyes always light up in your presence. You don’t even realize the exact moment when his usual charming demeanor becomes straight up flirtatious.

But when you notice that change, oh my, the game is on.

Well, he still keeps it all professional, of course.

It’s the little things. That slight change of posture. The accidental brush of his fingers on your hand when he passes you things. Or that light touch on your shoulder when you both lean over the desk and go through some papers needed for his missions.

The intense stare right into your eyes, with a corner of his lips twitched in a half-smile.

But you can give as good as you get.

The way you tilt your head and expose your neck when he’s standing close. Taking that little extra step in his direction when you talk, stopping at the verge of his personal space as you watch him hold his breath for a second. A bit of playful teasing, sometimes involving light tugs at his tie.

And that last thing always ends up with Neil almost forgetting the tongue in his mouth. Almost.

...Sometimes you ask yourself if you’re not having too much fun when he’s around. You’re at work, after all.

It’s one of those evenings. You should’ve gone home a long time ago, instead, you’re hanging out with Neil, talking about everything and nothing in particular.

Your phone beeps. You read a short message and you muse over it for a moment. You know that your companion is gonna leave soon, late-night mission or whatever; the suggestion to blow off steam you’ve received sounds like just what you need.

You meet Neil’s curious look and you realize you’ve let a sly grin appear on your face.

You shrug.

“A booty call,” you say in the most casual tone.

A hint of satisfaction flashes in your eyes when you watch Neil’s very conflicted expression. You bite your lip to stifle a giggle. He’s adorable.

He crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth curl.

“Does that happen often?”

“Oh darling, a lady never kisses and tells. Why, do you want in on the list?” you tease, narrowing your eyes.

His eyebrow quirks. “There is a list, huh?”

“Is that a yes?” you grin, mimicking his raised brow.

He walks up to your desk and slowly reaches past you for his jacket, hung on the back of your seat.

And as his face gets right next to your ear-...

“Maybe.”

When he pulls back and you see his blue eyes, how dark they are, it takes all your self-control to keep a straight face. But the question escapes your mouth anyway.

“See you later this week?”

You mentally kick yourself for this moment of weakness.

“Hm,” he gives you a peculiar smile on his way out.

Well, that wasn't exactly a yes.

At the door, he shoots you a quick look over his shoulder.

“Have fun.”

...does he seem a little pissed-off to you?

And you have fun that night, all right.

Even though all you can think about are those blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

Then, Neil doesn’t show up for the next couple of days.

For a moment, you get tempted to check on him at the HQ, but you scoff at yourself. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.

When he finally walks into your lab, something feels different.

You can’t put your finger on it.

In the beginning, he’s just so official and it irks you. But you look into his eyes and… it almost seems like he’s taunting you. And it makes your heart increase its pace.

Oh, you see how it is.

On top of it all, he’s so annoying today.

He sits on the chair, loosening his tie, his legs spread, his gaze locked on you.

After yet another snarky comment, you grit your teeth, trying to focus on the documents in front of you.

“Neil, if you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

And he does. He does, leaning back on the chair with a smug smile.

So... now what?

You scoff and close in on him.

“Why are you like this?” you utter, reaching for his tie.

The innocent look in his eyes.

“Like what?”

You give his tie a tug.

“Rude.”

And then that bastard runs the tongue over his lower lip and smirks.

Next thing you know, you straddle him on the chair, burying your fingers in his hair as his mouth crushes on yours. Neil wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. The urgency of the kiss takes your breath away. You rock your hips and you brush against the bulk in his trousers, and oh god, it feels so good. Your head arches back. Neil’s breath and his lips on your neck drive you wild. You need him, right here, right now. You cling on to him for your dear life as you move your hips again and a sharp moan escapes his mouth.

The abrupt knock on your door makes you both jump at your feet, trying to level your breaths.

“Mate, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why the fuck are you not answering your phone, eh?”

As Ives enters the room, his eyes dart between the two of you, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Ah shit, I hope I am not interrupting?”

You roll your eyes as Neil simply glares at him.

The moment is gone, and so are they, leaving for yet another emergency operation.

A few days later, your friends take you out for drinks, and you definitely have one too many.

…Or a few too many.

You end up standing at Neil’s apartment door, pressing the doorbell excessively long.

He opens up, looking you up and down with an amused smile.

You poke him in the chest.

“Consider yourself booty-called.”

You giggle as you watch his eyes widen.

Neil clenches his jaw and takes a step back.

“Jesus... Come in?”

He takes your coat and you make your way inside.

You are way past caring about small talks and whatnot. You pull on his shirt, trying to guide him towards that rather comfy looking couch.

One more step.

You want to kiss him, but Neil puts a finger on your mouth and shakes his head.

“What? I thought you wanted in on the list?” you ask as you sit down on the couch, your brows furrowed.

“Not like this.”

Wow, now your pride is hurt a little.

“Fine, I’m going home then,” you pout and try to get up quickly.

You underestimate the amount of alcohol in your system though, so you yelp and fall back.

“You’re not going anywhere in this state,” he scoffs.

Why is he the way that he is?

“I’ll get you some coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

And so you do. You toss your shoes away and rest your head on one of the pillows.

You close your eyes just for a second.

You open them up again when Neil covers you with a blanket.

To be honest, you’re way too tired and cozy to argue.

When you notice the soft look in his blue eyes, your heart melts in your chest.

And because all your filters are off at this point, you say, “I really like you, you know?”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Tell me that when you’re sober.”

The next morning… well, let’s just say that you wish the sun was shining a bit more quietly.

Neil glances at you from the kitchen.

“Morning.”

You don’t know what hits you first – the pounding headache or the nauseating dread at the thought of what’s happened last night.

“Fuck me,” you groan, hiding your face in your palms.

And what do you hear in response?

“With pleasure. But how about we eat breakfast first?”

#neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #robert pattinson #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet #tenet fanfic

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useless-lesbian-writer · 3 years

Text

Mc did not have a very good day. Her pancakes for breakfast didn’t bake properly, her lunch tasted like reheated leftovers, her night's work was monotonous and to make it worse, her truck took about 10 minutes to start.

Perhaps her terrible mood contributed to this. Since Grace went to college, JD has accused her of being a little too melancholy. Something that was easily answered with a "fuck you" (which proves the theory of variant humor). But mc mainly blamed her monotonous life, the same routine can always be tiring and even when your little sister flapped her wings and you are still stuck in this hole that is called Havenfall, there is no way your mood can be one of the best.

Despite the circumstances, she managed to make good friends... supernatural friends, to whom she pretends that she does not know each other's secrets and they pretend that she does not know to maintain the "harmony of ignorance" (as she herself named).

It can be a little difficult to hide a demon who let fire in the night sky, a doctor who only drinks a specific drink with a very peculiar color, a werewolf with a habit of running through the forest. Even your boss has very inexplicable events around you that always come down to dust and green smoke. You might think MC is crazy, but, hey! She already thinks that about herself, get in the line!

The drive home was tedious without her usual companion, it was something she was trying to get used to and, sometimes, a distraction. The road was deserted and poorly lit, but Mc could still be proud of never having been in any accident. Animals on the runway were frequent, but it was just a matter of attention and reflection (and not being distracted by the flaming demon that could pass through the sky with a frightening frequency. Really, how did no one notice?).

Mc knew she wasn't far from home when she heard wolf howls. They were tall and very close, so she kept an eye out for any unforeseen events. She just didn't foresee a woman falling (being thrown?) On her moving car. The impact was inevitable and the woman was thrown for a few meters, even with a sudden stop. Mc tried to understand the situation well, while the car's headlight illuminated the female body thrown on the ground. Her brain seemed to take a long time to respond, but in a few seconds she was already jumping out of the car to help the poor woman stretched out on the floor.

It was impossible not to notice the curved ears on top of the woman's brown hair. The girl also didn't seem to be older than MC. But the most surprising thing about her (something mc didn't need to kneel beside her to notice), is that she wasn't hurt, in fact, it looked more like she just took a shove. Her robes were dirty and her pants tore a little, but she definitely didn't have a single scratch.

"You... Hm" MC didn't quite know how to deal with the very-beautiful-flying werewolf who sat under the ground and scratched the back of her neck as if trying to situate herself "You sure are fine, but you want me to take you to the hospital?"

The girl who didn't seem to have noticed (or cared) about MC’s presence, raised her head and MC could notice that the claws and ears weren't the only non-human things the girl had. Her eyes were a magnificent golden and carried a strength within it. Eyes that looked at her in amusement when she noticed that the MC was just impressed.

"Aren't you scared?" the werewolf's voice was soft and had a slight accent, which MC found a charm. Her gay ass couldn't be crushing an unknown runaway werewolf, could it? "And are you still worried?"

"I'm scared of how much bill will be to fix the dent you made in my car!" MC pointed with her thumb at the big dent in the bodywork and with the same hand, reached out to help raise the odd "You are not the most bizarre thing I have ever seen here, you can be sure!" MC's smile was confident as if to say 'look how cool I am dealing with supernatural things', but she wanted to say 'you may not be the most bizarre, but the most beautiful is a strong candidate'.

The werewolf accepted her hand and stood up quickly, as if she didn't even need help, but didn't want to leave MC in a vacuum. Already standing, MC could notice that she didn't even was taller than her. It was even a little cute, actually.

Suddenly, the werewolf seemed nervous and looked around as if looking for something. Mc noticed and looked to the side where the girl came from and among the vegetation, she noticed a pair of bright eyes that moved away quickly when she was noticed. Mc didn't understand the girl's fear, since whatever it was, it seemed to be gone very quickly.

"No one was supposed to have seen me like this, but at the same time..." the werewolf looked awkward "You at least were the person who helped me up and didn't pass the car over."

The stupid joke drew a light laugh from the MC, who coudn’t help but notice: that was her first smile of the day.

"Okay, werewolf-prone-to-flight, do you have a name?"

The werewolf twitched her ears in curiosity, while her own eyebrows went up in surprise. You don't expect to find someone so open and sympathetic to the supernatural as well. The girl seemed to process the question for a few seconds, before smiling and extending her hand.

"My name is Annabelle"

The peculiar resident of Havenfall, returned the smile and the friendly handshake, before answering "MC".

#havenfall is for lovers #lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #annabelle sheppard #annabelle x mc #lovestruck fanfiction

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440mxs-wife · 3 years

Text

Merry Ketchmas

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x reader. Other characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 5600-ish (I seem incapable of writing anything short)

Warnings: Slight description of injuries, a kitchen mishap, a little angst but mostly fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was mid-morning, and you were partway through your to-do list for the day. You took a basket of dirty clothes to the laundry room then loaded them into the machine to be washed. You added soap and set the dial for the correct cycle, humming as you left the room.

You had returned to the library and were about to resume reading when the bunker doors flew open. Sam and Dean were trying to maneuver down the spiral staircase, carrying someone in between them.

"Sweetheart?? A little help please?" Dean called.

You ran to the bottom of the stairs to see who was wounded and the extent of the injuries. Your heart flew into your throat as you recognized the man being carried down the stairs. It's Ketch. He's been hurt. Your mind went into overdrive with worry as the trio reached the bottom stair. "What happened?" you asked.

"Werewolf's claws got Ketch in the left leg, and we think he also might have sprained his right ankle," Sam informed you.

"I certainly hope you lads have stocked up on the good anesthetic this time. Not that cheap swill you usually drink," a distinctly British-accented voice drawled.

"All right, I'll meet you guys in the infirmary," you called over your shoulder. You raced ahead of the boys to get everything ready.

"Oh, good, a pretty nurse is here to doctor me back to health. Or, is it a pretty doctor is here to nurse me back to health? Hmm? Lads?" Ketch asked as he began to chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, pretty nurse, pretty doctor," Dean muttered. "Let's just get you to the infirmary in one piece," he grumbled. Dean was thankful that you were out of earshot before Ketch made his 'nurse/doctor' comments.

By the time the boys arrived in the infirmary, you had the medical supplies set up, such as suture kits and bandages. You also had a washcloth with a basin of warm water on standby.

When they entered the infirmary, you took a quick glance at what you could see of Ketch's injuries. Although he was wearing black pants, you could see the sheen of fresh blood splotches on them. A makeshift bandage was tied around his leg to try and reduce the blood loss.

"All right, fellas, let's get him up on this bed so I can get to work," you directed.

"Darling, shouldn't you allow me to take you out for dinner and dancing first before you get me into bed?" Ketch smirked.

You rolled your eyes at his remark, but your lips were twitching, trying to hold back a grin. You grabbed the scissors to cut his pants leg away so you could see what his wound looked like. You cleared your throat and stared straight into his ocean-blue eyes before speaking.

"Now, be still Arthur, and don't move. If you don't do as I say, I might 'accidentally' slip with these scissors and rid you of something you'd rather keep," you warned. Your voice sounded so ominous that even Sam and Dean backed away from you. "Will you two please hold him so I can cut this away and see what I'm dealing with?" you asked.

From that point on, Ketch mostly behaved himself for the rest of the time it took you to clean his wounds and stitch him up. He was quiet, except for the occasional hiss of pain, at which you mumbled your apologies. Ketch assured you he knew you were doing your best to tend to his medical needs.

You saw that his right ankle was a bit swollen, but determined that it was only lightly sprained. As a precaution, you wrapped it in a flexible bandage, then propped it up on a few pillows to keep it elevated.

As you finished, his adrenaline seemed to have worn off, because he was starting to fall asleep. He was also grumbling about being in pain, so you gave him one of the pain pills from the cabinet. Ketch popped it in his mouth and washed it down with the bottle of water you gave him. You gestured for Sam to hand you one of the extra blankets laying on the other bed. You then draped it over Ketch to keep him warm and from possibly going into shock.

Before you could completely escape, Ketch sat up a bit and caught your hand in his. "Goodnight, Love. See you in the morning," he replied with a drowsy smile, then collapsed back on to the pillow, fast asleep.

You grinned back at the handsome--now snoring--Brit and turned to lean over him. You placed a feather-light kiss to his forehead and directed your attention to Sam and Dean. They both eyed you with quizzical looks on their faces. "What? Oh, shut up," you muttered.

Dean chuckled. "We didn't say anything, did we Sam?" he asked, to which Sam shook his head in amusement.

"Let's just go see about you two idjits, hmm?" you grumbled.

Fortunately, Sam's and Dean's injuries consisted of cuts and scrapes, nothing major or requiring stitches. While they showered and changed clothes, you got to work preparing a pot of chili for dinner. As you put together the components for the chili, you thought about the man currently recovering in your infirmary.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You first met Arthur Ketch after he rescued Gabriel from Asmodeus, and had brought the archangel to the bunker. At the time, Ketch was working for the Prince of Hell as a means of survival after the final battle with the British Men of Letters. When Ketch saw what was happening to Gabriel, he felt it was worth the risk to his own safety to rescue the archangel. Although Ketch wasn't fully trusted by Sam and Dean, he was at least no longer considered an enemy. You, however, had always found him somewhat fascinating.

Arthur Ketch....certainly a handsome devil, with his dark brown, almost black hair and captivating, aqua-colored eyes. His suave and confident demeanor, not to mention that sexy accent drew women in like a magnet. You were no exception, but considering the type of women he was used to being with, you knew you didn't stand a chance. So, you settled for working with him on a few cases here and there. And you tried like hell to keep in mind that his attempts at flirting with you didn't mean a damn thing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you didn't even hear Dean come into the kitchen. He placed his hand on your shoulder, which caused you to jump a little, but you quickly recovered. "For cryin' out loud, Dean, warn a girl next time. Scared me half to death," you chided, putting your hand on your heart.

Dean chuckled a little, but apologized for scaring you. "Hey, you okay?" he asked. "You seem a bit distracted right now. Doesn't have anything to do with you having a crush on a certain British patient in the infirmary right now, does it?" he wondered with a smirk.

"I'm fine, Dean. And no, I'm not distra--wait, what are you talking about?!?" you exclaimed.

"I'm talking about your crush on Ketch. It's not like it's the first time I noticed something there, either. Remember that one time you were paired up on that siren hunt, where you were a singer in a nightclub?" he asked. "I could tell that Ketch was definitely 'intrigued' as he would say," Dean remarked.

Sam appeared in the doorway, and had heard what his brother said to you about Ketch. "Yeah, I remember that case. He seemed like he was interested in you, told me that you had the 'voice of an angel'. AND said he was a bit jealous of the guys in the audience you paid attention to during your performances," Sam added.

You continued to stir the chili, not exactly sure what to say to Sam's and Dean's remarks. You remembered the hunt they were talking about. At one point, you thought there might have been something between you and Ketch. Then as soon as it was there, it also seemed to quickly disappear, as did the man himself. Today was the first time in months that you had seen or even heard anything from Arthur Ketch.

"Guys, I hear what you're saying, but I don't think he has any 'feelings' like that for me. Anyway, he's used to being with a higher caliber of female companion. You know, more worldly and refined. I'm just....me," you finished softly.

"Sweetheart, you know--" Dean started but you interrupted.

"No, Dean. I'd really rather not talk about it anymore, so change of subject. Christmas is coming up, and I want to know, what kinds of special foods do you guys want me to make?" you asked, then held up your hand. "Before you say it, Dean, I already know you want pie. I'm asking for other ideas, because I'm starting a supply list," you said.

The boys each thought about it while you continued to work on making dinner. In the end, Sam requested chicken wings and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. In addition to pie, Dean requested meatballs with barbecue sauce and chili-cheese dip.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You wondered if you should ask Ketch about his food preferences, but you didn't want to wake him. With any luck, he was still getting that much-needed rest from his werewolf encounter. With his injuries, there was no way he was going anywhere until well after Christmas, possibly even New Years.

After some research, you found that there were some subtle differences in American vs. British traditions at Christmas. To pull this off, you would be needing supplies not only from the supermarket, but also from a craft store. You made note of these items as you worked.

Making this happen for Ketch had grown to become very important for you. Chances were, it had been a long time since he'd celebrated Christmas properly, if at all. You were determined to show him that he has a family of sorts with you and the Winchesters.

For your grocery list, you wrote down what you would need based on what Sam and Dean had told you earlier in the day. You added a few things for yourself, like for making cinnamon rolls and a breakfast quiche. Your list also included a small turkey, parsnips, Brussels sprouts and tea as items for a British Christmas meal.

In addition to the food, you needed supplies from a crafts store to make Christmas crackers. You'd seen them enough on those British rom-com TV shows and movies you love to watch. You were familiar with the concept of a paper tube covered in foil and twisted at both ends. Two people each take an end, then you both pull until it pops open. What comes out from the inside the tube is usually a small trinket and a paper crown.

After dinner, you stopped by Dean's room and gave him your list. Although he grumbled a little, he agreed to find a craft store that would have what you need. You gave him a hug and thanked him for seeing how important this was to you. He teased you a little more about your crush then got serious for a moment.

"Hey? For what it's worth? I think you are just as beautiful and worthy of Ketch's attention as any of those other type of women you talked about. You're smart, funny, caring and do an amazing job of running this place.

"You have one of the biggest hearts out of anyone I know, because you're always thinking of others first. All of that is part of what makes you beautiful, and if Ketch can't see that, he's not worth your time," Dean finished. He pulled you back for one last hug and kissed the top of your head.

"Thanks, Dean. For everything, running my errands and for everything you said. Goodnight," you replied.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he returned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After leaving Dean's door, you went back to your room to change into some pajamas. Your plan for the evening was to check on Ketch, then hang around for a while in case he woke up. You grabbed your book from your nightstand and headed for the infirmary.

You walked over to Ketch's bedside and could see that he hadn't moved much since you put in his stitches. You touched your wrist to his forehead to feel if he had a fever, which could indicate an infection, but his temp felt normal.

Your hand caressed his face as it slid down from his forehead, with your thumb gently stroking his cheek. He seemed to lean into your touch and a noise of contentment escaped his lips. You withdrew your hand, but placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Once you were satisfied with Ketch's condition, you pulled a chair up close to the right side of his bed and sat so you were facing him. You opened your book to read, but it wasn't long before your eyelids began to droop closed from exhaustion.

Your grip on your book eventually relaxed enough to let it slip off your lap and onto the floor. Eyes still closed, you turned in your chair so that you could lean over and place your crossed elbows on the side of Ketch's bed. Then you rested your head on your left elbow and drifted back to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You woke to the feeling of someone gently running his fingers through your hair. A couple of times, you'd swear a soft pair of lips pressed themselves to your temple in a lingering kiss. You smiled then opened your eyes, gasping in surprise to find Ketch propped up on one elbow, grinning at you.

"Good morning, darling," he drawled. "I see you drew the short straw for patient watch duties," he quipped.

You giggled. "Good morning to you, Arthur. We didn't draw straws, I came down here of my own accord," you assured him. "Now that we're both conscious, what would you like for breakfast? I can make eggs, pancakes, French toast, omelets so take your pick," you remarked.

"I see this is a full-service infirmary," he chuckled. "In that case, I would love an omelet with whatever ingredients you have on hand, along with a few rashers of bacon? Perhaps a few slices of buttered toast? If I may, that is," Ketch replied.

"Absolutely, it's no problem at all. I think I have some onions, mushrooms, some diced ham and definitely cheese," you remarked, rising from your chair. "Give me a few minutes to take a shower, then I'll get all that put together for you and bring it in here," you said.

"Sounds wonderful, love. In the meantime, could you perhaps help me to the toilet facilities?" Ketch asked.

"Here, I've got it," Sam called out, much to your relief.

"Thank you, Sam," you replied. "I'll be back as soon as I can with your breakfast," you said over your shoulder as you left the infirmary.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Did she stay here all night?" Ketch asked as Sam helped him to the bathroom.

Sam shrugged. "She might have, I dunno. All I know is that after dinner, she was researching something. Next thing I knew, she had given Dean a list of stuff to get at the supermarket and a craft store today," he replied.

"A craft store?!? What on earth would she need from there?" Ketch asked incredulously.

Sam hesitated before answering. It was a perfectly normal question, but to answer it would give away your surprise of a British-style Christmas for Ketch. "She has a project she's working on, and I can't tell you any more than that right now," he answered.

Ketch eased his way back into his bed, being careful to prop up his sprained ankle. "Hmm. Certainly very mysterious, Sam. In any case, whatever it is she's working on will undoubtedly be a rousing success," he remarked.

After about 30 minutes, you reentered the infirmary, breakfast tray in hand. "Here we are, breakfast is ready!" you grinned. You waited until Ketch seemed settled and ready to be served. "We have an omelet with onions, diced ham, mushrooms and cheese, six slices of bacon and four slices of buttered toast. Let me tell you, getting six slices of bacon set aside for you with Dean around was nothing short of a miracle," you chattered.

Ketch looked at the plate of breakfast fare before him and his mouth began to water. "This looks fabulous, darling. Thank you," Ketch remarked softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the compliment and the endearment. "Well," you replied shakily. "Ring when you're done or if you need anything else. I have some Christmas preparations to attend to. A surprise for you-um, I mean, ev-everyone," you stammered.

"What are you up to, my little minx?" Ketch said as he playfully narrowed his gaze.

"N-nothing, Arthur. Well, something, but you'll see when the time is right," you replied with a wink as you left the infirmary. You tried to slow your hammering heart from his flirting in the amount of time it took to walk back to the library.

While you waited for Dean to return from the errands you'd given him, you tidied up the kitchen from making breakfast. By the time you had finished the dishes, Dean had returned from the supermarket and the craft store. He assisted you with preparing the fresh turkey for roasting in the oven and helped clean and cut the vegetables.

Once dinner was in the oven, you turned your attention to making the Christmas Crackers and paper crowns. Sam popped in to check your progress, and to see if he could help you with anything. You sent him to one of the bunker's storage rooms, #12, because you had seen some Christmas decorations while snooping around one day.

What Sam had found was a tree, lights, some garland and you added your box of ornaments from your childhood. He called Dean in to the library, and the two of them got to work putting up the tree and decorating it. You continued to work on constructing the Christmas Crackers until you had a decent supply of them, all ready for popping.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You took a short break and went to your room for some packages you'd bought earlier in the week. When you returned to the library, you brought out your stocking and the ones you had purchased for each of the boys. One for Sam, one for Dean and one for Arthur, because you knew they were hunting together around the holiday. You bought Arthur a stocking in the hope that he would maybe stick around the bunker and celebrate.

After bringing out the stockings and ornaments, you went into the kitchen to check on dinner. The closer you got to the kitchen, the more something didn't smell quite right. "Oh, no no no no no," you panicked. You quickened your pace and yanked open the oven door, only to have a cloud of thick smoke come rolling out of it. “Dammit!” you shouted.

Sam must have been right behind you and reached the kitchen in time to see the cloud coming from the oven. He yelled for Dean, who gently but firmly ushered you out of the way so he could help Sam to get rid of the smoke. They brought in a couple of large industrial-sized floor fans to push the smoke from the kitchen and out the back door.

You sank into one of the chairs at the Map Table, numbly staring at the floor. Silent tears streamed steadily down your face. You couldn't understand what went wrong, how Christmas dinner was now ruined. As soon as it was safe, you were going back to the kitchen to clean up your mess and figure out what happened.

Sam and Dean walked over to you at the Map Table. Each of them laid a hand on your shoulders and knelt in front of you. You slowly lifted your head to look at them. "Are you guys okay? Anyone get burned or anything?" you asked, your voice thick with emotion.

"No, we're fine. We had to throw out dinner, pan and all. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know what this meant to you," Dean replied softly.

You gave a half-hearted shrug. "It's not your fault, Dean, or yours Sam. It was mine. Somewhere I made a mistake, and now dinner is ruined. I really wanted this to be a special dinner. For all of us, but especially for Arthur.

"I really wanted to give him a bit of home, observe some English traditions. I doubt he's had an opportunity to celebrate many Christmases in his current and former line of work, much like us. I guess I can't even do that right," you sniffled. "If you guys don't mind, I think I want to be alone for a while," you said as you stood up from your chair, headed for your room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ketch cleared his throat as a way to announce his presence. "Lads? Is everything all right? I heard shouting and smelled smoke," he asked. Ketch had found a pair of crutches and hobbled his way into the War Room.

Sam explained to Ketch what had happened, that you had researched British Christmas traditions. He said you were trying to make a traditional British Christmas dinner for all of them, but that it somehow went wrong. "She went to check on dinner, but when she opened the oven door, a bunch of smoke came rolling out. She's pretty upset about it, too. Wanted to make this special for all of us, but especially for you," Sam finished.

"So that's what the little sweetheart was working on, with the craft store list and all," he mused. Ketch felt a warmth in his heart to know that you had gone to such lengths to try and make his Christmas special. Then, he recalled everything you'd done for him since he limped in from the last hunt. You did seem to pay particularly close attention to him and his medical care after the werewolf injuries.

Before Sam mentioned it, Ketch didn't know anything about the type of research you'd done. However, he did remember that you were a bit flustered this morning when talking about your plans for the day. When you add it up, he realized that you'd done those things because you care for him. Maybe even have feelings for him, seeing him as more than a friend.

Ketch started to examine his feelings about you. He's seen how you interact with people, how you give the best of yourself to each and every person. When he limped down the bunker stairs, he noticed how scared and worried you were for him. He saw how you pushed those thoughts to the side in favor of focusing solely on the job of healing his injuries. He knows you're tough enough to run this bunker as well as you do.

But Ketch knows you also have your softer side, with your smile and your laughter, which lighten his heart. When you talk about a particular subject that interests you, your eyes seem to sparkle like the stars in the night sky. And though your hands appear to be soft and delicate, he knows from experience that they are strong and steady. Hands that he wouldn't mind if they explored his body as his hands took their time to learn yours.

"Where is she? I need to speak with her," Ketch asked.

A grinning Sam and Dean both pointed in the direction of your room. They each took a side and escorted Ketch to your bedroom door to make sure he got there safely. Once they were at your door, Sam and Dean left Ketch to speak with you alone, because they had their own mission.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You sat on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, going over in your mind how things had gone so wrong. The Christmas Crackers had been made, and you thought maybe you should at least share that with Ketch and the boys. You decided to end the self-pity party, and salvage what was left of your attempt at a British Christmas.

As you opened your door, you gasped when you noticed Ketch, standing at your door on his crutches, hand raised as if ready to knock. "Arthur? What are you doing out of bed? Are you all right?" you asked. You took a deep breath to keep yourself from rambling any more. "Please, come in," you said as you guided him into your room and closed the door.

There wasn't anywhere available for Ketch to sit in his current condition, so you helped him to sit up on your bed. His back was against the headboard, with the pillows you put behind him. "I'm just fine, love," Ketch affirmed as he watched you climb up onto the bed, facing him. "Well, I was fine, until I heard about dinner," he replied.

You dropped your gaze to your hands in your lap. "Yeah, me too. I'm so sorry, Arthur. I really wanted to give you a traditional British Christmas. I made Christmas Crackers, which is why Dean had to go to the craft store," you chuckled lightly.

"I confess, I was a bit curious about that when Sam mentioned it," Ketch chuckled in return.

"Well, dinner was supposed to be an oven-roasted turkey with parsnips and Brussels sprouts. That went up in smoke, and I have no idea what I did wrong," you sighed. You looked away, because tears were threatening to start again.

Ketch leaned forward and reached for you to tilt your face up with his index finger. "Maybe it wasn't anything you did, sometimes these things just happen, darling. But, do you know what the upside is?" he asked, to which you shook your head. "You get a chance to make new traditions," he replied with a wink.

"Thank you, Arthur. I appreciate your understanding," you answered shyly.

"I must say, though, I'm flattered. No woman has ever gone to such lengths to capture my attention," he started. "But then again, you've always had it, along with my heart," Ketch remarked softly.

You felt your cheeks get warm again as the meaning behind his words sunk in. "Arthur, what are you saying? That you like me, as in more than a friend?" you whispered as you shifted nearer to him on the bed.

Ketch carefully moved forward, his hand sliding around to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. With your eyes trained on Ketch's face, you inched closer until your mouths were nearly touching. "So beautiful.....," he said as he smiled softly before closing the gap and capturing your lips with his own.

You sighed into the kiss, reveling in the softness of Ketch's lips as they moved in tandem with yours. His tongue swept across your bottom lip requesting entrance, which you readily granted. Your hands moved up to cradle his face, with your thumbs caressing his cheeks. A small moan escaped your lips, which encouraged Ketch to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss broke, it left both you and Ketch trying to catch your breath. "Wow," you whispered. "That was amazing, Arthur," you remarked.

"Even better than I had imagined," Ketch murmured. "Ever since that siren case, I've been thinking what a mistake it was to have left you, my darling. I hope you can forgive me for being away so long," he said.

You shook your head. "Nothing to forgive, Arthur. I understand the nature of this life. As long as you know that there's a heart, right here, waiting for you to come home to," you affirmed.

"How fortunate I am that you have entrusted me with this heart of yours," Ketch murmured. He took your hand and held it to his chest, above his heart. "Then it is only fitting that as I have your heart, so shall you have mine," he declared.

"Sounds like a perfect arrangement. And have no fear, because I will keep it safe," you promised.

You and Ketch continued to talk in your room, with your conversation occasionally punctuated by kisses and tender touches. Some kisses long and luxurious, designed to take your breath away and succeeding in their mission.

Some kisses were hot and feverish, only going so far until you reluctantly pulled back. You were mindful that Ketch was still recuperating from injuries. However, he hinted that he was looking forward to picking up where he left off after receiving an 'all-clear' on his recovery. Ketch was pleased to see the color rise in your cheeks at his suggestion.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

While you and Ketch were sorting things out between you, Sam and Dean had run into town to replace the ruined turkey dinner. Fortunately, your favorite Chinese restaurant was still open, so they brought back a variety of entrées and appetizers to choose from.

You fixed a plate for Arthur, complete with a little of everything. You placed it in front of him and leaned down for a slow, tender kiss, which he was all too willing to give. This turn of events did not go unnoticed by Sam and Dean, though neither of them said anything. Dean, however, gave you a knowing wink and squeezed your shoulder as you fixed a plate for yourself.

After dinner was finished and the leftovers were put away, you suggested for you all to watch a Christmas movie. You helped Arthur to get situated in a corner of the couch, his right leg stretched out parallel to the back cushions.

Once he was comfortable, he held out his arms, inviting you to snuggle with him. You carefully positioned yourself between his legs, your back leaning against his chest. You covered your bottom halves with the quilt your mother had made for you. Ketch closed his arms around you and took both of your hands, intertwining your fingers with his. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, drawing a sigh of contentment from you.

For some unknown reason, Dean was allowed to pick the movie for the evening. For a moment, you thought he was going to pick Die Hard. However, he picked White Christmas, because he knew it was your favorite. From within Ketch's arms, you turned as best as you could to catch Dean's attention and sent him a silent thanks. He winked back and settled in to watch the show.

When the movie was over, Sam and Dean noticed that you and Ketch had both fallen asleep. The boys chuckled, but were happy that you'd found each other and finally confessed your feelings. "They look so cute together," Sam remarked.

"Disgustingly so," Dean agreed. He reached down and gently shook your shoulder, which was enough to wake you.

In turn, you nudged Ketch to wake him up. "Arthur?" you mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Mmm, yes darling?" he replied.

"Time to wake up, so we can go to bed," you murmured as you slowly stood. You held out your hands to assist him in getting up from the couch. Once Ketch managed to maneuver into a standing position, he wrapped his arms around you.

"Shall we, sweetheart?" Ketch asked, then he pecked your lips.

"Right this way, my love," you answered, handing him the crutches. When he had them under control, you slowly walked to your room. You nudged open the door with your foot as you guided Ketch through to the inside. "Bed's big enough for two. Unless you'd rather sleep alone in the drafty infirmary?" you questioned.

"No, no, this is fine. I know I said something about dinner and dancing before you get me into bed. But I suppose it would be all right, since we've done dinner and a movie," he quipped, a sly grin crossing his face.

You giggled, remembering his earlier attempts at flirtation while injured. "You're right, we have had dinner and a movie. Not sure you're ready for dancing quite yet, though," you replied. "Can't wait for that," you remarked huskily.

Ketch climbed back up into the bed as he had done before and waited for you to come out of the bathroom in your pajamas. You were dressed in red plaid flannel pajama pants and a rock band T-shirt. Ketch held his arm out for you to snuggle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder. Once you were settled, he curled his arm around you, holding you close to his side.

You wrapped your left arm around Ketch's midsection and tilted your head up to catch a glimpse of his ocean-blue eyes. Ketch leaned in to press his lips to your forehead, then pulled back a little to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. "What are you thinking, my love?" he asked.

"I'm thinking....we didn't get to celebrate with the Christmas Crackers I made," you pretended to pout, then broke into a shy smile. "Nah, what I'm really thinking is how happy I am to have you in my life. I love you, Arthur," you replied softly.

"Well, I was kind of anxious to see how your Christmas Crackers turned out, so I could compare them to what I remember from childhood," he remarked. His response earned him a playful swat on his chest from you, then he tightened his embrace a little. "I also am happy to have you in my life, darling. I love you too," he declared, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, sweet kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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#arthurketch x reader #ketch x reader #ketchmas #spnimagines #spn christmas #supernatural

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