#i coulda made three more patches in this time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

smoke and fire (06)

word count; 11,884

summary; after a startling experience, you seek and receive comfort from the last person you would’ve expected to turn to.

notes; I will literally be taking the stairs for the rest of my life.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to panic attacks.

Placing your foot up on the dashboard, your body swerved to the side as Newt flung around a corner, and you cursed loudly, turning to look at him as you held onto the laces of your shoes. “You know, for an ambulance driver, you drive like you’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never.” He gasped falsely, and you continued trying to tie up your laces, before swapping over to the other foot, and doing that one too. “I promise, I would never hurt you.”

The tone in his voice made you groan, rolling your eyes at the snickering boy beside you as he chuckled away to himself, and you reached out to flick at him roughly on his side. He yelped, swerving a little as he drove, before he was chastising you for your behaviour and following the bright red fire trucks ahead of you.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re seriously going to keep pretending like something wasn’t happening there?”

“I’m not pretending, because nothing was happening!” You huffed your words out a little, placing your foot back onto the ground of the van and adjusting yourself in the seat. The inner city was beginning to grow around you, shorter buildings that formed houses growing in size and stature, towering over you now in a concrete jungle as you approached the large city building you’d been called to.

“I know my best friend, okay? And I like to think that I’m getting to know you, too.” His words held a slightly teasing air to them, woven into his tone subtly, and you sighed at him.

“You’ve been saying this for a week now, but nothing happened!” He shot you a look, taking his eyes off of the road for only a second, but one of his brows was raised, and there was a smirk on his face that made your head fall back into your seat, and you realised you were fighting a losing battle. “We were talking about the argument, and agreeing to start over, without bitching at one another, I thought you’d be happy about it!”

“So, where did holding hands factor into that equation?”

“We weren’t holding hands! We were shaking hands!” A laugh left him, disbelieving and unconvinced and he began to slow down, pulling up in front of a very professional looking building, a large logo printed across the glass of the lower few floors, all of which were blacked out and reflected the light of the sun brightly. “It was just some stupid thing we did. Like, reintroducing ourselves, or whatever. Starting again.”

“And you just happened to be backed up into the kitchen counter, huh? I have a pair of eyes in my damn head, love, I saw those longing glances and the whispered conversation, and the holding of hands between you both.” He scoffed, pulling the truck up into park, and turning to look at you for only a second, speaking his next words before hopping out of the van; “Shaking hands, my arse.”

Hopping down front heaven yourself, Newt grabbed his go-bag, swinging it onto his shoulders and so you left yours where it was, simply grabbing your jacket and pulling it up your shoulders as it got a little cooler. Taking place beside him on the pavement, you nudged Newt with your elbow, before crossing your arms. “The only things you were seeing is what you’ve made up inside your head.”

He hummed under his breath, seeming to accept the statement for now, and you watched as the teams both began to unload from the fire trucks. They grouped on the pavements, staring up at the building, not bothering with any equipment except for their coats themselves, names printed across the bottoms as you all stared up at the height of the skyscraper.

The call had stated a broken elevator shaft, three people trapped inside, and in need of rescue, and so you and Newt weren’t facing much of a task. It was simply a challenge to the teams, you and Newt would patch up a few cuts on bumped heads and be there to check for concussions, but you didn’t face much of a task.

Glancing over the group, you caught honey-brown eyes, offering the man a smile in return when his lips flicked up at the sides for you, his head tipping as he offered you a soft nod of acknowledgement. The stare lingering for only a moment longer, before he was turning to check over his team, and you turned back to your partner. Newt was already staring at you, a single brow arched and a smirk on his face. “Oh, yeah, I’m totally seeing things.”

“It was just a smile. Will you drop it? We’re friends.” You scoffed, and he shook his head but let it go for now, and you set off to follow the firemen as they headed into the building. Following them inside, there was already a group of people beginning to gather, the elevator doors being pried open and pinned that way with a chair, the purpose of which, you weren’t exactly sure, because if the elevator was on the ground floor, it wasn’t exactly an emergency, and you really hoped nobody was stupid enough to stick their head inside and take a look.

As you approached, a man came forwards, an older gentleman with a receding hairline that was shining with a layer of sweat, stress you presumed, and you made a mental note to check over him as his hand trembled while he came forwards, a hand pressed over his heart, and Newt shuffled beside you, tugging his bag a little further up on his shoulder.

“Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re here.” He sighed, voice more like a wheeze, and you winced, taking another scan around the crowd and relaxing just how angry they all looked, minorly put out of their way as they were forced to take the stairs or be turned away, and there was an angry group of less formally dressed citizens around the reception desk, the phone to the room echoing front he marble floors and glass walls, and you realised they must all be being turned away for appointments.

The elevator on the other side of the lobby seemed to be working perfectly, the sign above signalling for staff only, and there was a scanner beside the door, flashing from red to green as you watched a woman in a smart pencil skirt and matching blazer swipe her ID across it, before stepping inside.

“The elevator itself is stuck at the twelfth floor.”

“It’s not a problem, we can just pry the door open and bring everyone out.” Thomas shrugged, and the man let out a sigh, shaking his head a little, and wiping a hand over his forehead, and you glanced over at your partner, your brow raising a little as you subtly dipped your head towards the panicked man who’d greeted you all, and he nodded in response, agreeing that he could do with taking a quick time out to catch his breath and take his heart rate back down. “That’s the problem, you can’t get at the elevator from the twelfth floor.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“This is a block of private offices. Only certain floors are open to the public, you have to have an ID for the elevator to get to the others, that elevator only stops and opens at certain floors.” He looked like he might collapse at any moment, and you wandered away from the group, searching for a chair around the room, and finding a row of neatly set, leather-lined seats on the opposite wall, a coffee table with magazines stacked on in a makeshift waiting room, and you picked one up.

As you made your way back over, to him, placing the chair down behind him, the firefighters were grouped up, and Newt was knelt on one knee before the man, checking over him carefully, with two fingers recessed over his wrist and the other two to his neck.

“What’s happening?”

The blond looked up at you, a frown on his lips, and he rolled them together, considering his words carefully, and glancing at the manager who was practising deep breaths and counting along upon your partner’s instructions to bring his heart rate back down. “The elevator is trapped on the twelfth floor, but the closest entrance to it is the twenty-fifth?”

“Did you just say the twenty-fifth floor?” A strike of cold fear ran through you, the math being done in your mind within an instance, and you swallowed thickly. “How far did it drop from?”

“It got stuck around about the fifteenth floor and dropped about three floors, not too bad, coulda’ been worse. The brakes kicked in, but they’re not holding up so good.” Newt stood to his feet, brushing dust from his knees, and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The firemen you worked with were already beginning to separate into groups, and Thomas was twirling an ID card in his hand anxiously, a hand rubbing over his jaw as he continued to divide up the squad team, Gally already having headed back outside to start finding equipment. “We should head outside, we probably want to grab some emergency stuff, a board, maybe, the stretcher for sure. Three neck braces, and a monitor.”

“We can call it in while we’re out there, just in case they need to head over to Med.”

“Okay.” You rubbed a hand over your forehead, your mind spinning a little as you hung on the situation, and you let out a sigh, shaking your mind clear and nodding. “Yeah. You’re right. Boards, stretcher, all that, let’s go.”

His eyes narrowed on you for a second, before you were following after him, trailing back out to the ambulance, and you were biting on your lower lip until it was raw once again, finding yourself getting lost in a spiral of your own thoughts once again.

Gally passed you by, a lazy wink to tease you with as he held up the ropes slung over his shoulder, and your stomach churned a little as you looked at it, knowing that he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help at all. Newt opened the back of the van, the ramp folding down and clanging against the road as he unclipped the bolts on the wheels, rolling the stretcher down towards you for you to receive, and you positioned it in front of you, turning it longways and beginning to undo the straps that held the cushioned padding down, to be able to thread on the blackboard for security too.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?”

You turned to look at your partner, realising you’d drifted again, grabbing onto the solid yellow plastic board he was holding to you, balancing it on the stretcher to create a table to place everything else on top of. “Nothing, just a bit apprehensive, I suppose.”

“For what?”

You pulled a face at him, moving to grab your own go-bag and pull it up your shoulders, making sure it was comfortably settled onto both arms this time, and beginning to unload equipment with him as you forced your mind to be occupied. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the abseiling down into the abyss of an elevator shaft that’s freaking me out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to do it then, huh?” You paused, turning to look up at him, confusion evident on his features, and he hopped down onto the tarmac before you, hair flopping into his face for a second, before he was blowing it away, and reaching for the ramp once again. “It’s my turn, right? You took the plunge last time, so it’s only fair I go this time.”

His tone was light, making a joke out of the situation you were both looking at, but the truth was resting strong between you in a thick layer of tension as he locked up the van, hands locking on either side of the head at the top of the stretcher, ready to push it along, and waiting for you to take the feet, but you placed a hand on his forearm gently, bringing his attention back to yours. His gaze was curious, sparkling a little as he stared at you, before the gaze was softening, flickering between remorse and pity, before finally settling on acceptance.

“It’s my turn.”

He whispered the words, and you shook your head a little, your gaze flicking down, the toes of his shoes touching against yours as he turned to face you a little more, and his shoulders slumped as he looked back up. “We both know I’m the one going down there.”

“It’s not fair, it shouldn’t have to be you. My physiotherapist cleared me; I can do it.” He sighed, flexing the knee of his injured leg subconsciously, and you chuckled a little, squeezing his arm softly.

“Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should have to. I know that it makes your leg ache when you hold heavyweights for too long, and just because you can take the pain, you shouldn't have to. I wouldn't be a very good partner, if I let you do that, would I?”

He sighed, staring at you for a moment longer, before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a smile, and he gave in, something like disappointment making itself known on his face as he tried to hide it. “You know I love you, right?”

“You’ve known me for, like, four months.”

“Ouch, the harsh sting of rejection.” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart as he faked a wound, before stepping forwards and knocking the trolley into action, prompting you to take the foot of it and guide the way. You stepped ahead of him, a hand finding the cool metal and beginning to lift it up and over the curb to the sidewalk, heading back inside of the building. There was an ache on the inside of your cheek, your teeth biting down to contain your smile, the affection shown to you by your coworker making you heart race a little, and you glanced back at him over your shoulder.

You didn’t have to say it back, you hoped it was evident simply in the actions you took, the texts you shared and the jokes that were given in hushed laughter between you both, that you did love him too. You weren’t ready to say that to anyone yet, even if it was just a friend.

Jeff was holding the door open for you both in the staff elevator, helping you to gather everything inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut, you swallowed thickly, the numbers on the panel above the door beginning to click up. It felt wrong, to be riding in a contraption that on the other side of the building was broken, and endangering the lives of three people. Your fingers messed nervously with the straps of your backpack, listening to the men behind you shuffle as they sorted through the belongings on the stretcher, and as the box dinged and the doors laid open, you were walking through them and onto solid flooring one again, a somewhat relieved breath slipping from you.

Glancing around the scene, it had all already been commandeered, and you barely had time to process it all over the noise that was being made by the bustling teams. Gally was anchoring weights into the ground, the marble flooring cracking a little as the metal was drilled into place, before he was pushing his feet against it to test the weight, and ropes were being threaded around the beams of the upper ceiling. It was impressive, it truly was, but none of it was making you feel any better.

A collection of harnesses was laid out on the floor, an even more complex pair abandoned on the floor by the doors that were being held open by a thick rod of metal, denting from the clams wrapped around them, and you sighed, nails digging into your palms from the fists you were holding just to contain the shaking of your hands.

Staring down at the straps and bondings on the floor, you were completely lost, nudging it a little with the toe of your sneakers as you took it all in, and a deep chuckle sounded in your ear, making you jump, before you were watching a familiar head of dark brown hair dip down, picking up one of the harnesses, and picking it up, showing it to you.

“You’re gonna’ want to lose the backpack, for now, we’re wearing full-body harnesses.”

It made more sense, there hadn't been nearly this many clips and straps on the one you'd worn last time, and you let your bag slide down your arms clattering on the floor loudly. Picking it up and mimicking the way the lieutenant before you was holding it, he crouched won, spreading it out on the ground before himself, waiting for you to mimic the actions, and it began to look less like a pile of fabric scars and more like something slightly reassuring the more you adjusted it.

Four circles became evident, adjustable straps on them, and a belt that would clip around your waist with a set of match straps that would all connect elsewhere over your body. He stepped into the first two, and you took a deep breath, every action taking you closer into literally throwing yourself down into an elevator shaft with nothing but a rope to keep you alive.

Matching him, you placed your feet inside of the circles, before reaching down to the ground behind yourself to find the other two circles, holding onto them tightly and beginning to inch the contraception up your body The gem of your trousers caught for a second, and you shook your leg, adjusting it all back down comfortably, before you were hooking your first arm through the strap, the band on your right coming up to sit on your shoulder, and the buttons of your shirt were catching on the fabric, stiff and uncomfortable work shirt, and you cursed a little under your breath at the restriction of movement that ti wall offered you.

Dropping the edge of the harness, it hung loosely at your waist, and you were thankful that you’d chosen to wear more than just a tank top under your shirt today, the chill in your apartment having promoted a long sleeve shirt, and you undid the buttons on your uniform shirt, dropping the crisp material to the ground, and trying again to adjust the harness on your arms.

Once it was on both, it was hanging limply on your body, unadjusted and unfastened, but the thick strap of material running up your back and pressed between your shoulder blades did feel strong, and make you feel a little more secure, and you tried to let your worries go, watching Thomas’ fingers fly smoothly over his front as he did up all of the clips and straps, no struggle as he was trained to do the equipment up, and you lifted each side of the belt, clipping it over your stomach, and struggling to tug the loose material through to tighten it around your waist to hold tight and secure.

“Struggling a little, there?”

“Just a bit.” You mumbled, and he grinned, lifting a hand up to take a hold of the straps on your shoulders, adjusting it better on your arms to sit comfortably and not dig into you, yet holding snugly to your skin as he fastened it all up, fingers flying over the bolts to tighten them. Hands smoothed down over your sides, checking each point of weakness, and your breath hitched a little in your throat as he did, before the backs of his fingers were smoothing over your hips, downs the fronts of your thighs, and he took a hold of each strap, the final material sitting loosely.

Gripping one in each hand, he tugged harshly, your body jerking forwards a little closer to him, a gasp as you did, before the material was tight along your thighs, and he smirked a little, eyes finding yours as his gaze trailed along the harness to make sure it was all done up correctly. “Tight enough?”

“Mhm..” You swallowed thickly, head nodding on a second’s delay, and he grinned, taking a step away from you as he reached away for the first rope. Looping or through both of the hooks on the front of your body, sealed over your ribs as he brought it all together, hooking it into the carabiner and screwing the clip up tightly. Giving it a test tug for security, you huffed a little as your body was jerked forwards towards him again, and you glared up at him weakly as he simply grinned in response to you tripping over your feet, a cheeky look on his features. “You did that on purpose.”

“What can I say? You’re just falling for me already.”

“I think I want to go back to hating you.” You grouched, and he laughed a little, doing up his own ropes, and firemen around you were putting their kit on. You knew he was distracting you, and you appreciated it, but as he pulled on a piece of headgear and adjusted the torch on top, it only made it all a little more real. Nearing the edge of the elevator shaft, you peered inside, unable to even see the box that had fallen, it was so far down, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not feeling so good about this whole height thing.”

“You’ve already down this once, you’ve got it this time, too.”

It was supposed to be reassuring, and you felt him come up to stand beside you, but you only scoffed, shaking your head. “Thomas, that was, like, fifteen feet down. This is more like one hundred feet.”

“It’s one hundred and thirty, actually.” You turned to look at him, a grimace passing over his features as pale skin over his cheeks turned a little pink, and he shook his head at himself. “I don’t know why I said that, it didn’t help, at all.

“No, it didn’t.”

“I admire you, though.” He turns you around, the two of you standing only a couple of metres away from the gap, backs to the gap as you watched the team finally be prepared, and while you knew only a few minutes had passed in this whole amount of time, with your stress, it somehow managed to feel like both seconds and hours all in one. “I know you’re scared, and you’re doing this for Newt to save him the pain. I think that’s really brave.”

“I suppose so..” Your words were whispered, and he nodded his head, adjusting your hands on the rope attached to your waist as it no longer lay slack on the ground. Brenda was anchored to the ground before you, holding onto your rope as she wore her own harness, feet pressing to the metal on the ground as she took a seat. Behind her was Gally the two offering you and Thomas a nod, and Minho and Fry took up place on his side, the signal telling you that it was time to go. You grabbed your bag, lifting it onto your shoulder as Thomas pulled on his backpack, and with that, you were holding the breath your lungs as nerves took over.

“They won’t let anything happen to you, alright?” Your attention was drawn back to Thomas, and as you looked up at him, he offered a smile. “Just keep your eyes on me, alright? We’re just going to walk backwards slowly, keep your eyes on me, and as we go over the edge, keep your feet on the ground.”

You nodded your head, nothing but honesty and compassion in his eyes as he made you a silent promise to keep you safe, and your hand twitched a little as you felt fingers smooth over your palm. His hand took yours, squeezing tightly as his fingers wrapped over the back of your hand, and you held onto him tightly, before following his guidance, and taking a step back.

You did as told, keeping your eyes locked with his, slow and cautious steps, and your breathing only picked up in rent as the feeling dragging your body down changed.

Your feet were teetering on the precipice of the shaft, wobbling a little, and you snapped back to look at Brenda, everything suddenly feeling unsafe again, and you froze up. “Hey, hey, c’mon! Look at me, eyes on me, remember?”

You choked up, feeling the squeezing around our hand, and you looked down, fingers wrapped warmly around your hand, and you wondered if he could feel how hard your blood was pumping through your veins and how fast your heart was racing right now. Looking back up to him, honey-coloured eyes were fixed on you, and he squeezed again, nodding his head.

“Just look at me, okay? You’ve got this.”

His brows raised a little, and you force yourself to take a breath, following after him and lifting one foot, placing it at an unusual angle as your leg bent, foot pressing flat to the wall on the inside of the elevator shaft, and as your other followed, you let out a soft sound, something between fear and relief at taking the first step.

“You’re doing so good.” His words were whispered, a few more steps being taken as you began to inch your way down into the darkness, slowly gaining a pace as you began to gain confidence in your movements.

The further down you got, the darker it got, surrounding you as you began to lose your vision. Slowly, it all faded away, until you could barely even see the rope in front of your face, and you couldn't hold the gaze of the man beside you anymore, the darkness shrouded around you. The elevator shaft above you that was the only thing that now connected you to everyone else was simply a sliver of light, and the temperature had dropped rapidly within the cold metal tunnel, making you shiver a little as only your undershirt remained on your body.

The hand wrapped around yours loosened, and you held on for a second, before he was tugging it back, your movements coming to a halt for a second as you hesitated, before releasing him, and your hands fumbled to find the rope in front of your body, wobbling a little bit as you searched for something else to hold onto, your breath hitching in your throat as your food scraped a little against the wall, and you fell forward.

Catching yourself against the wall before you smashed into it too solidly, you grunted, a slight spark of pain running along your wrist, and you winced as bright light filled your vision, Thomas messing with the head torch on his forehead, lighting up the small bubble of air around the two of you.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s alright, just needed some light.” The radio on his shoulder crackled, checking whether he was okay as the two ropes stopped lowering you both down, and he looked below himself, the metal of the elevator reflecting back to you, only thirty feet or so from you now, and he looked back up, raising his brows. “Look how close we are, you’ve come so far, look at that.”

You swallowed thickly, not daring to look down, shaking your head adamantly as you hung in the air, gripping onto the rope, lips pursed and blood running cold. The radio crackled again, and he lifted his hand, pressing the button on the side to continue lowering you down slowly, and you opened your mouth to protest, fear washing over your once again as the ropes jerked, but you were being shushed slowly.

“Do you remember what you said to me the day you ran into that burning building?”

“Not really. I remember a lot of yelling, that's about it.” You mumbled, a tremor in your voice, and Thomas chuckled, his hands finding your ankles and lifting them up, placing your feet flat against the wall, and forcing you to take the proper stance once again.

“Well, I remember. I was yelling at you, being scary, and you told me that we saved a life. You didn't take any of my shit, and then you called me out on it all, but you made me look past our actions to the life we saved. Sometimes I forget to do that, and you made me realise.” You huffed, the joke he’d slipped in there making you roll your eyes, and you took a step with one foot, regaining your momentum again as one of his hands smoothed over your clasped palms, holding onto your hands tightly as he used one on his own rope. “We’re going to go and save some lives, you’re going to save some lives, and I’m just here to help you. You need to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes coming back as you dared to look up at him, catching his gaze in the brought light for only a second, before he was nodding his head. “When we get down there, it’s going to be a little scary again, alright? I need you to stand on the top of the box while I open the hatch, and I’ll go down first. I’ll help you inside, but the rope is going to go slack, because they’re going to give you enough space to move around. You think you can handle that?”

“I can do it. I’ll be okay.” You took a deep breath, not quite having faith in yourself yet, but forcing your heart rate to calm down with every deep breath to steady your nerves, before you were finally beginning to trust yourself. The elevator became clearer, the staining on the wall of an old set of numbers, a faded ‘12’ on the wall, before you were stretching your legs out underneath yourself and finding the metal of the elevator to land on.

Just as Thomas promised, he gave your hands a final squeeze, before he was stepping back and tugging on the rope to let them know that you’d both landed. Just like that, the pressure of the pull holding you up went slack, extra rope pooling around your feet, and it only looked to be around ten foot worth of material.

“Not a lot to work with.”

He glanced up, looking at the rope that had gone spare as you were suddenly dependent on your own two feet without support, and he indeed his head. “Ropes are one hundred and fifty feet, but they need at least ten foot of rope to work with up there, and we’re close to a hundred and fifty feet down.”

You shuddered a little, that fact along bringing panic surging back, and your arms wrapped around yourself. The torchlight was overwhelmed by the flickering light on the inside of the elevator when the hatch came loose, the panicked crying of a young girl and the shushing from her mother sounding out, before Thomas was switching off his headlight.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?” You watched, the ay her face peeled back form recessed into her mother’s shoulder, tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, but the badge on Thomas’ uniform and the smile on his face made her trust him, the soft nod she gave him being enough to get them to step back towards the edges as he lowered his feet inside.

The cage shook as he landed, a sharp intake of breath that made your head spin as you panicked for just a second, before Thomas was calling out to you, and you were taking tentative steps over to the edge of the hatch. The lieutenant was staring up at you, nodding his head, and reaching up to tap at the edge of the hatch.

“Legs first, I’ve got you, just drop down.”

Choking down the lump in your throat, you tried to blink away the thin line of tears you held, knowing you needed to be brave for the people on the inside of the elevator. This was your job, you were saving lives, you were inspiring a young girl, and you were damn well going to be proud of yourself for it.

Taking a seat carefully, your legs swung over the edge, shuffling a little until your hands were pressed to the opposite side, and his hands were wrapping gently around your calves, stopping your legs from the swinging motions they’d been taking. You focused on that, on the touch of his fingertips into your muscle instead, the way he was holding onto you tightly, reassurance, instead of the way you were risking dropping down into a metal deathtrap over a hundred feet down from where you were being held up by just two people and a metal anchor.

Inching forwards again, you lowered yourself over as the metal under yourself slipped away, those same hands smoothing a little further up your body, until you were lowering yourself down by your upper arms. Smoothing over your hips, his hands found your waist, burning hot through the thin material of your shirt, and lowering you down until your feet found the ground, a small sigh slipping from you as you took a minute to control your fears.

“I told you, I got you.”

Your eyes cracked open, looking up to find honey-brown eyes fixed on you, and you offered him a small smile, taking a deep and calming breath, before turning to face the family before you, and his touch fell away. “Okay, let's get you all checked out, huh?”

The little girl nodded, and you peeled your backpack from your arms, placing it down and crouching beside it to open it up, watching as the child, who couldn't be any older than ten sank to her knees before you. As she did, the front of the mother was relieved to you, large and swollen, a pregnancy that was early third trimester or late second, and your actions paused as you tried to assess the next course of action.

Thomas had brought spare harnesses, and yet there were no spare ropes, you could hear him behind you as he worked, setting up the next set to be equipped, but there was no way that you would be able to carry a woman that far along in a tandem harness without posing a risk to the child. Turning back to look at him as you snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, his brows raised at you, pausing what he was doing for a second to look over, and his jaw dropped a little, the anticipated addition clearly bringing his mind to a short-circuited halt.

Your focus went back to the young girl, the mother now with a hand resting over her stomach, and the father was sitting in the corner, popped up against the wall, eyes a little half-lidded and a cut on his forehead, but he was lucid, and so you knew he’d be alright to wait until his family was checked out.

“Okay, this light is going to be a little bright okay, I just need you to follow it with your eyes for me, can you do that?” She nodded, and you put on the best smile that you could, before clicking the light on the end of the torch and lifting it up. Dragging it slowly from left to right across her vision, you monitored the speed at which her pupils flexed, and how capable she was of tracking the source. Returning it the other way, you watched for the same signs. Up, and down, she was alright, and you ran your fingers gently over her head for signs of bleeding or bruising, feeling under her hair for swelling. “You’re doing so good! You’re even braver than I am!”

“I cried a lot, I’m not brave.”

She sighed sadly, her mother reaching out to place a comforting hand on her head and brush her hair out of her face gently, and you leaned in a little closer, offering her a smile. “That’s okay, I wanted to cry on the way down here, too. But, you see the firefighter behind me?” She glanced over your shoulder, her eyes flicking over him for a second, before she nodded. “He’s great at this, he’s the bravest, and he’s going to get you back up to the top, okay? He’ll help you put a harness on, and then you’re going to do some climbing, think you can do that?”

She hesitated, before a look of determination was passing over her face, and she stood on weak and unsteady legs, before rounding to him. His voice faded into the background, deep and soothing as he began to get the young girl roped up, and she would undoubtedly be fastened to his chest, so that he could climb back up with her, brushing your knees off a little as you stood to talk to the mother.

“How are you feeling? Any unusual headaches, blurred vision, whiplash?” She shook her head whispering her ‘no’ on a hoarse through, and you felt awful for what she’d had to endure today, the rhythmic pattern of her hand rubbing circles over her stomach, soothing you both, and she traced the flashlight with her eyes just as commanded, and there was no delayed reaction in her responses either, all showing up with a good sign. “How about the baby, anything you want to ask?”

“No, I know my little one is alright.” She cracked a smile now, and you raised a brow at her, the hand on her stomach leaving her bump to take your wrist, pushing her cardigan out of the way until just a cotton t-shirt was covering her, and she placed your palm flat over her skin. You waited for a second, before a sharp jolt pressed to your palm, and she winced a little, the hard kick from within making you chuckle. “He’s doing just fine. If anything, he’s mad he didn’t get his lunch yet, we had reservations that we’ve missed.”

“Well, you’ve got a little fighter in there, huh?”

“You can say that again.” She teased, wrapping herself back up warmly, and you did a quick scan over what of her you could see.

“My boy is going to be a football star with energy like that.” The father grinned, wheezing a little on his words as he pushed himself up to sit a little straighter, and your attention turned to him. Before you could move onto him, though, a hand was wrapping around your forearm, tugging you back slightly, and you turned to face Thomas. He pulled you aside, to the edge of the elevator, as much privacy as you were going to get, but his back was to the family, leaning down low, and voice barely a whisper;

“We’re not going to be able to get her in a harness. You’re going to have to climb back up on your own with the mother and the girl, and come back to me with the harnesses.”

It was a reasonable decision, but the longer you waited, the more at risk of a concussion the father was growing to, the cut on his had needing attending to as blood beaded along his hairline and dripped in a single steady path along his skin, a red trail left in its wake before it was sliding down his neck and into the fabric of his shirt, his head leaning a little to the side.

“No, I think you have to be the one to go.”

He shook his head, a frown taking over his lips. “No, no, absolutely not. I can’t leave you down here witho-” Your hand found his wrist, wrapping around it delicately and squeezing a little, bringing him to silence as he glanced down, before his eyes were searching through yours as he tried to understand. “You’re terrified, though.”

“I know, but I’m saving lives, remember?” The edges of his lips flicked up a little, a sigh through his nose as his jaw clenched, before he was looking over his shoulder to the father as you nodded your head a little. “He needs medical attention, and you need to take the girl and the mother back up. I’ll wait right here, and you just get back to me as soon as you can.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear.” He didn’t look convinced, watching as your hands went to the straps of your harness, beginning to undo them as you looked down, trying to work them all out. He sighed, his own hands moving to begin undoing the clips and seals quickly, helping you to loosen the safety equipment, until it could drop down your arms and pool at the floor. Stepping out of it, you gave a final squeeze to his arm, nodding your head. “I got this.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You grinned a little, stepping away from him, and the mother looked between you both, worry in her eyes, and you let Thomas do the explaining once again, as he loosened all of the straps and adjusted the harness to be able to take her weight securely without harming the baby she was growing.

As soon as she was fastened into it, he was pulling on her rope, fastening his hands and crouching down to be able to give her a boost, lifting her up to be able to climb out from the hatch and onto the roof of the elevator. Her footsteps were loud and clanging for a moment, before they were gone, and she was clearly on her way of climbing up back to safety, taking your only escape route with her, and you felt like you were going to suffocate on your fears.

Thomas’ gaze caught yours, worried and unsure, his jaw dropping, but there was nothing he could say, knowing that this was the best way to go about it, and instead, he dropped his head in a single nod.

“I’ll be back for you real soon, alright?”

You gave him the most convincing smile you could muster, before he was telling the little girl to jump up, lifting her until she could sit on the edge of the box, and he followed as soon as she was clear, her legs out of the way. As he jumped, the box creaked a little, the force of his movements making it shake, and your eyes went wide, body tensing up, fear once again surging through your system, before Thomas was disappearing too.

The pair lingered for an extra few moments, and you knew that he was making sure the girl was properly attached to him, all secures done up tightly, before their footsteps faded too, and you were left alone, nobody to catch you this time.

Taking a seat on the floor beside the father, his eyes studied you for a tense moment, before he was offering you a supportive smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m just as scared as you are.”

You offered him the most reassuring look you could, trying to use it for your own relaxation too, and you started by running your hand gently along the back of his neck, a hiss leaving his lips as you did, and you paused all movements.

“Sorry, your hands are cold.”

“You’re lethal, do you know that?” You mumbled, lips quirking up at the sides, and you shook your head, your fingers twitching against his neck as you got back to work, and he let out a weak chuckle. “No more noises like that unless you’re in pain, or you know something wrong, alright?”

He closed his eyes, head barely moving in a nod, but it was enough to secure his confirmation, and you began the movement of your fingers along his neck once again. He didn’t make those sounds, keeping his promise, but he did wince and pull the occasional faces as you moved, the swelling frowning around the tissue and the tense feeling under the tips of your fingers being slightly concerning, but not enough to be an immediate concern. When you were finished, you placed a palm on the back of his neck, cupping carefully and lifting your thumb to press into the back of his head.

Pulling his head forwards, you placed the softly cushioned support of the neck brace behind his head, the plastic holding strong as you lay his head back into it and as you released him, finding it holding secure, you brought the front around carefully. The straps hung loose, and you adjusted it under his chin, holding his head up at the correct angle, and just like it always did with patients, a small sigh of relief left him he was no longer tasked with holding up the weight of his own head.

Placing it over his shoulders, you tightened the straps, fastening them correctly, and letting out a little sigh as one job was checked off of your list. You moved onto testing his reactions next, and bringing up the flashlight to look into his eyes, studying him. His reactions were slower than you would have liked, his pupils dilating with a paused reaction and it was sluggish in his movements, but he was able to clearly react to the light, tracing it in all dimensions, and to read the title of the notice on the other side of the elevator clearly, no blurring present.

Lifting your gaze to the cut across his forehead, you pushed back the slightly blood-matted hair of his fringe, dirty-blonde hair going a murky red-brown at the tips, and you lifted it out of the way, tucking it back in hopes that it would stay, the strands sticking up unevenly.

Pressing around the edges, and watching the consistency and speed of the blood flow, it wasn’t too bad, slow and somewhat clotted as it tried to repair itself, darker in colour as the fresh blood under the surface began to flow the way it should, and it was simply a laceration.

“Skin wound, nothing too serious. I’ll get it cleaned up for you, won’t even need stitches. Looks way worse than it is.”

“Stings like a bitch, though.”

“Well, you’re not going to like this, then.” You warned him, holding up the small foil packet with an antiseptic wipe sealed inside of it, and tearing it open. Letting the wrapper flutter away to the floor, a loud groan left his lips, ones that tails of into a whiny noise as you wiped over his skin, his hands becoming fists by his sides, before he bit down on his tongue to try and contain the noises, lips sealing shut, and a grunt rounding it out. “I’m sorry, Mr, uh..”

“You can just call me Clint.”

“I’m sorry, Clint. It’s not all that fun, but it’s a hell of a lot worse than a skin infection, that’s for sure. You’d hate it if this thing got gross and had to be scraped clean.” He grimaced a little at the idea, and you knew the feeling. On more than one occasion, you’d been called out to a call for a person who hadn't called for an original injury, and were now at risk of collapsing, passing out and omitting and sometimes even spasming when the infection got too bad. You hated those trips, when you arrived and tried to work out what was wrong, only to find a finger on one hand completely discoloured and flowing with pus from a simple cooking accident, or a scratch from a pet that hadn't been cared for and was now oozing and bruised. “All done, now, okay?”

You cleared down along his skin, doing the best you could to wipe the dried blood away from his skin and help him to feel a little bit cleaner, and he mumbled a ‘thanks’ as you did. Putting down the wipe and searching through the small plastic box on the floor that you had open, you found the half-empty and folded tube of cream to apply to it, squeezing some onto the tip of your finger, and warming it by rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger to warm it, before smoothing the healing solution over his skin.

Just as you were screwing the top back on, you flinched, pausing for a second as you tried to listen out to see whether you’d heard correctly, and much more clearly this time, your name was bouncing from the walls of the elevator shaft.

Peeling your gloves from your hands and dropping them down to the floor in a ball, you studio up, brushing the dust staining your pants away from your knees, and moving to stand underneath the hatch in the elevator roof.

“Thomas?”

“Yep, that’s me.” You squinted as bright light flashed in your eyes, the light swinging a little from side to side as Thomas moved, but as you peered out into the darkness, you couldn't see anything except for the swinging little spot of the torch. “How’s he lookin’ in there? He going to be able to get in a harness?”

“It’s not ideal, but I think if we climb carefully, we’ll be just fine.” Your voice cracked a little with the sudden shout, but you offered the man a small smile, turning to look at him. “We’re good, right. Clint?”

“We’re great, kiddo.” He mumbled, holding up a weak hand with a thumb stuck up, and you grinned, a reassuring nod for both of you.

“Glad to hear it.” The torch disappeared from your sight once again, and you figured he was looking up, back to the elevator shaft entrance that was obscured from your view, and you twisted your head away as he looked back, the light catching your eyes again, stinging at your retinas. “You’ve both done real good today, we’re almost through with it all. I just need you to come out and grab the harness that Brenda is lowering down beside me, so you can drop it through the hatch.”

“Uh, come out as in on top of the elevator?”

“Can you handle that? I’m only two or three floors away, but if you can get yourself roped up first, it’ll save a lot of time.” It made sense, it was logical, and you didn’t want to be down here any longer than necessary, because, despite the bravery taking you over, you were still in a broken metal box that was hanging precariously at thirteen floors above where it should be, with no safety measures in operation.

“I can do it.”

He gave some kind of reply, something you didn’t catch as you stared up at the entrance of the hatch, the sighs around you becoming clearer as you began to notice the grungy grey walls that were coming into clarity as Thomas’ silhouette got closer and closer to you. Lifting your hands up, you were only a few inches shy of the roof, and pushing off of the floor, the elevator creaked a little in a way that made your stomach twist, but you gripped onto the edge, and you were able to hold on.

As you swung in the air, it wasn’t too much to handle, but your arms trembled as you tried to pull yourself up, not having enough strength to do so, and you dropped back down, the box around you rattling as you did, a grunt leaving your lips as a shock ran along your leg, a jolt of pain at landing on it awkwardly, a flash of heat following it.

“What did you just do?”

“I tried to climb out?” You shouted back, not understanding the rushed sound to his voice, before there was a loud screeching sounding out, and the ground beneath you moved by a few inches, before coming to another solid stop, your arms flying out around you in a panic.

“Don’t move, okay? Don’t move even a step!”

“I’m not! I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to at this point!” There was a shake in your voice, nausea filling you once again and your entire body was tensed painfully tight, fear taking over again. “What’s happening?”

“It shifted. The movements made it come loose, but it's alright.” He was closer, voice no longer needing to shout as much as he near you, and you could now pick out the colours on the logo of his shirt, and the outlines of his features, close enough now that you could speak without shouting. “Just stay real still, and it’s going to be just fine.”

“Okay.” You took a shaky breath, running your breathing routines in your head as you tried to calm yourself down, and you turned on your spot, slowly and carefully to face your patient. “We’re okay. We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, we will.” He sounded just as scared as you, but the fatherly-instinct within him was prompting him to calm you, even though that was what you should be doing for him, and you hummed.

What couldn't have been anything longer than a minute passed you by, before the box you were in was creaking again, a shudder running under your feet that travelled along your spine, chilling your blood instantly in your veins, and your head snapped up. “Thomas?”

“It’s moving again, I’m ri-”

The box shifted, dropping once again, and you felt bile rise in your throat as your feet left the ground for a moment, feeling the air whipping around you.

There was no sound, you couldn't even muster a scream, the entire event happening so quickly that you barely even had time to process it as the fear in your body made you feel like you were blacking out. Your grip on everything slipped away, the lights inside of the box flashing, and then, just like that, you were finding gravity once again.

You collided with the floor roughly, the side of your body aching as you hit against it, the side of your head throbbing angrily only a split second later, and your vision was spotting. It was like a weight sitting on your chest, unable to breathe, fingertips digging into the floor as you tried to support yourself, and push yourself up to sitting up. Your ears were ringing a little, your hand coming up to smack at the side of your head as you knocked yourself back to consciousness and forced your senses to realign, shaking off the dizziness to look around.

Clint had keeled over, eyes wide as he now lay on the floor, his eyes searching for yours, and a groan left you as you rolled over onto your hands and knees, gasping and spluttering for breath as your head spun, an array of different aches raising along your body, and you made your way over to him. Kneeling back and sitting on your heels, you adjusted him carefully, laying him on his back and thank your earlier self that you’d already applied a neck brace to the man, keeping him safe there, and he lay out, staring up at the dimly flickering lights.

“Thomas?” Words came out croaky, your throat sore and dry, the pain of holding in tears as you tried to be the strong one making it painful to talk, and you cleared your throat, trying again to call out to him. “Lieutenant?”

“Oh, thank fucking God. Are you okay?” There was a panicked rush to his voice, and you patted yourself down a little, running your gaze over the man before you, and licking at dry lips to stop them from cracking.

“We’re both still in one piece.” He was far away once again, the light dimmer and his voice more distant, and it only scared you more, making you feel alone, and like you were sitting on a ticking time bomb. “How far did we drop?”

“Uh..” He paused, the lights flashing around the tunnel for a moment, before it was disappearing again. “You’re somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor.”

“Okay, how long until you get to us?”

“I can’t.” The silence was thick between you, the tone in his voice conveying exactly how he felt, and it matched your own mood exactly. Helpless, scared, alone, frustrated, the list could go on, and you pressed down roughly with your nails into your palms, hands shaking as you tried to hold it together. “The ropes can’t get that far down. “Minho and Fry are going to pull me back up, Newt is on his way to the sixth floor, and so are the rest of the truck and squad team. We’re going to have to pull down the wall, okay? They’re already on their way.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just hold on, and be brave. Can you do that? For me?” You absolutely could not, everything inside of you was rattled and terrified, and you were barely holding it together, but you didn’t want him panicking either, and so you held the trembling in your body off long enough to give him a smooth response;

“Yeah. I’ll manage. Just hurry, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle, empty and weak but it was there, and he agreed, the sound barely reaching your ears as it made its way down the dark elevator shaft. “I’m already on my way to come and get you, I promise.”

Looking back down and around you, the possessions from your bag were scattered around, and you lowered yourself down to the hands and knees, inching your way down slowly until you could reach out around yourself, scarcely crawling at all when you needed to, until you were beginning to gather up the possessions that belonged there. Packing away the kit, you sealed it all up, making sure you didn’t construct any sudden movements, and beginning to pack up your bag.

There were muffled voices on the other side of the wall, what you assumed would be loud shouts was almost a whisper through the layers of metal, concrete and scaffolding, but the cracking and splintering of drywall soon followed it, and you let out a sigh of relief. Packing away the various containers and boxes inside of your bag, you zipped it up, pushing it over to sit in the corner beside where the doors would open, and rocking back to sit with your legs folded before you, hands holding you up.

A hand felt out along the floor, a calloused palm patting the back of your hand gently, before settling over it to squeeze, and the dam inside of you broke. A sob left you, loud and freeing as the tears you’d been blinking away finally formed fully, and leaked along your cheeks in large droplets, a shake moving along your entire body as you did.

He squeezed once again, sitting with you quietly as you gasped for breath, letting out the terrifying mixture of emotions with you. He was shushing you quietly, and you wanted to laugh at how the roles had been reversed, how it as supposed to be you comforting and helping him, but you couldn't help him, breaking down with the overwhelming terror of the situation you were trapped in.

The sounds outside of the elevator were getting louder, voices becoming clearer, and you could hear the clattering made by chunks of the wall being ripped away and scattered across the tiled flooring of the executive building, but you didn’t care, because you had been keeping everything bottled up for so long that you were unable to hold it back any longer, and your body shook with the intensity of your emotions.

Your lungs were once again burning for breath, head spinning and heart racing and you took gasping intakes of air, swallowing down only to splutter and hiccup as you tried to exhale, and the man beside you never said a word, his hand rubbing soothingly over yours beside you on the floor as he tried to remain steady, much in the same way you were.

“I’m so sorry.” Your words were broken up and stuttered, and you tried to get a grip on yourself, wiping at your cheeks and hating how your eyes were stinging, throat raw, feeling like you’d swallowed a ball of fire from the burning within, and you felt like claustrophobia might be a fear you now had to add onto your list, the walls of the box seeming to get smaller and smaller.

Like some kind of blessed relief, there was banging against the doors of the elevator, a tap of a knock, and Chuck’s voice was ringing through to you loud and clear, asking if you were alright. Leaning forwards and pressing your hand to the cold metal, a chuckle of ecstatic relief was released.

“We’re okay, Chuck. You guys planning to get these doors open for us soon?”

There was no verbal response, but instead, a second later, the doors were cracking open, the slight humming of the set of spreaders as it was cracked open, a sliver of natural light piercing through from the lobby, and you caught sight of is flushed cheeks and darker brown curls, a worried face that was trying to ease you by smiling. “Soon enough for you?”

You nodded your head, before he was being pushed aside, blonde coming into view, and as the gap widened enough, you could make him out. His brows were furrowed, a guilty look on his face as he met your gaze, and you shook your head. “Don’t do that to yourself, Newt.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, one of his hands slipping up to rest on the edge of the elevator, his head at the same height as yours when you leaned down, only the bottom third of the elevator actually making it onto the sixth floor, the rest still raised above. Reaching down and resting your hand over his, he frowned even further, the gap almost wide enough for you to get to work, but the elevator was shuddering a little again at the action, and you pushed Newt’s hand away, just in case, squeezing it before letting go.

“Just so you know, I love you, too. You’re the best friend, like, ever. Even if sometimes I hate it.” His lips flicked up at that, and he nodded his head, before you were glancing away just for a second, he whispered conversation only needing to be shared between the two of you. Grabbing your med-bag and pushing it through the door gap, he took it, accepting it and dropping or down. “I’m going to need the board, and you need to be ready to go. As soon as he’s out, get to the ambo’, okay?”

“You’ll call once you’re out too, right? So I know you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You swore it, and he backed away, preparing the blackboard to be slid up to you, holding it over his head as the gap finally became wide enough, and you backed out of the space to be able to receive it. As you rolled out of the way, the elevator creaked again, dropping a couple more centimetres, and you swallowed thickly, annoying the straps as quickly as you could.

There was so much commotion going on outside of the elevator, your mind spinning as you tried to focus, and you heard Brenda and Gally arriving, clearly having pulled out their anchor and received their ropes, and you laid the plastic board out carefully beside Clint.

“Okay, there’s normally two of us for this, so I’m going to need your help here, okay?” He hummed, his eyes finding yours, a look flashing through that told you he understood, and you placed a hand flat under his shoulder and hip. “I’m going to roll you, and I need you to tense up, hold it for as long as you can, and I’ll push the board under you, then, when you roll back, try to shuffle onto it, okay?”

He did as told, his body going tense, despite the pain it caused as he winced, and you rolled him over onto his side as much as you could alone. Freeing one hand from his body, you pushed the board under him, and as he rolled back down, he groaned, but the shuffle had worked, because he sat squarely in the middle of the bard where he should be, and you wasted no time.

Pulling the first strap over his waist tightly, you did it up, sealing him down, and moving to the one over his chest. Once there were secure, you wrapped one over the top of his head grinning a little as he stared up at you, holding his head still, before you were tracing along his feet and arms, doing up every fasten you could think of for his safety. “You ever been crowd surfing, Clint?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Your joke was well-received, barely a second of silence before he was letting out a pained chuckle, and you looked back to the door. Gally and Winston were first, stood on either side and ready to receive the board, lifting him carefully above their heads to lower him down, and Newt had raised the trolley up as high as it could go in order to collect him.

You held in your grunt of pain at the exertion of sliding the board across the floor, hearing the scraping of the plastic along the ground, before the elevator was shaking again. Their hands sealed around the end, and the pressure was taken off of you as it began to inch out further and further again, letting them pull it as more bodied came to join, more hands stabilising the mix, and the movement at the end of the hall caught your attention.

The opposite elevator opened up, carrying the final three bodies; Minho, Frypan and Thomas. You could at least breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the rest of your team were all safe, with their feet flat on the ground and not dangling precariously hundreds of feet off the ground. The former two raced forwards, each hooking onto the stretcher board and helping to pull it the rest of the way out, and then, he was disappearing from your sights, strapped to the stretcher and ready to be wheeled away.

A final glance from Newt, a nod of your head, and then honey-coloured eyes were filling your vision as Thomas popped up in front of you. The sudden change it weight and all the added movement was making it unstable once again, his jaw dropping, mind seemingly going blank, and you gripped onto the edges of the doors as it trembled, tipping a little to one side as metal ground against concrete, the ropes on one side of the elevator beginning to give way and snap, the subtle sounds of the metal fraying sounding in your ears as small cables began to tinker on the metal roof as they fell free.

“You need to get out, like, now.”

You could only nod, trying to adjust yourself on the tilted angle to swing your legs through the gap, and you got one out, before the lift was jerking again, dropping down to become even, and the metal was caving under its own weight. “Oh, fuck it.”

A large hand found your ankle, tugging you forwards, your body jerking at the motion and the lift moved too, but before it could drop away, another hand was finding your waist, tugging you free, and you tumbled forwards enough to stumble as you dropped down the gap, but you never landed on the ground. That same hand dragged along your body as he fell back a little from the impact, holding you up the hand from your calf found your back and the hand from your hip was circling under your arms to hold onto you tightly, staggering backwards and away from the danger.

When your feet found the floor again, your toes were brushing against it, before your entire body was sagging into Thomas’, knees going weak, and you were relying upon him to hold you up everything seemed to go numb all at once. Your head fell forwards, too heavy to even hold up as your eyes fluttered closed, and your forehead pressed into his shoulder as you let him support you entirely, legs buckling underneath you.

The arms around you only tightened, the one under your arms relaxing to simply hold you, fingers spreading as his hands sat between your shoulder blades, and he rubbed slowly, the hug unexpected, but exactly what you needed, and your hands moving around him too, bunching in the back of his shirt as you took a shuddering breath and held on for dear life.

“Told you I was coming to get you.”

You could only laugh, a pathetic sound that barely made itself known in response to the words he’d whispered in your ears, but it didn’t matter, because you were soon being pulled back, Thomas’ hold on your dropping down to simply having a hand settled on your lower back as Brenda cupped your cheeks, wiping away any residual wetness sphere with her thumbs, before shaking her head.

“You scared the shit outta’ me.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t all that fond of the experience, either.” You muttered, a wave of laughter going up around you, from the other team members, and you jumped a little at the creaking of metal once again, the box dropping a foot or so further down. Reaching behind your back, to the hand that was still rubbing motions that were barely detectable into your skin, you took his wrist, pulling it away from you as he paused upon the contact.

You couldn’t keep up with the conversation around you, questions and observations about it all being thrown at you, but you could focus on the way Thomas had been able to calm you down so well before, and how you needed a little more of that now. Taking his hand in your own, just like he had done when you’d still been in your harness, you breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers wrapped around your palm in welcome return.

There was still a lot to be done, the job here was far from over, but right now, you were taking a pause to let yourself calm down, and as Thomas squeezed your hand in comfort, you squeezed back.

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #firefighter!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF #tomuary #tom-uary #tommy month #thomas the maze runner #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader

177 notes · View notes

jayeray-hq · 3 years

Text

He’s My Best Friend: Miya Atsumu

The start of a new series celebrating having 50+ followers thank you all so much! 😊💖 Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff

Choose your own ending platonic or romantic!

He’s My Best Friend Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Big thanks to Bri from our Haikyuu Headquarters discord server for beta reading for me she’s amazing! 😊💖 The Past : How You Met

The day you’d met Miya Atsumu for the first time, you never would’ve guessed he’d become your best friend. After all, you’d been at an age where you were utterly convinced that all boys had cooties and were absolutely gross and boring. However, you’d just moved to Hyogo prefecture with your family and you’d honestly been feeling a little lonely.

It was the end of summer break and you were going to be starting school in just a week, in what would technically be the middle of the school year as a second grader, and the whole thing had made you more than a bit anxious. Luckily one of the perks of your new house was that it was right next door to a nice park, which meant your parents were more than happy to send you out to distract and entertain yourself.

You’d done so with aplomb setting on to one of the swings and deciding to see if you could break your personal best for how high you could go, fully believing that if you just pumped your legs high enough you might actually be able to go over the bar the way some older kids had told you and your friends from your old school.

There’d been a few other kids at the park that day, but you hadn’t felt the need to approach them, though nowadays you couldn’t remember whether that was from shyness or because you’d been too focused on your aerial goals. What you did remember though was him, or them actually; the Miya twins.

They’d caught your attention because they’d taken up seats on either side of you. They hadn’t had a choice because there were only four swings, you’d chosen one in the middle, and the other one on the far-right end was clearly broken, the seat dangling from one of the chains. It wasn’t until later that you’d learn that the broken swing was their fault in the first place.

The two boys had barely seemed to notice you, swinging in between them, shouting over your head about how one of them was going to beat the other. You weren’t sure who’d said what, all you could remember was how incredibly annoying the two of them had been, so much so that you’d quickly gotten over your awe that there were somehow two of them that looked just alike.

It had been especially annoying because, despite their argument, it was very clear that you were the one who was going the highest, being the lightest of the three. Finally fed up with them ignoring you, and shouting over your head you’d decided to perform the neat trick you’d always done with your friends back home.

With all the absolute fearlessness of youth you let the swing get to the highest point of its arc and leapt free, landing in a perfect crouch in the sand. Your little maneuver had managed to shock the twins into complete silence, and you’d turned to look at them in surprise as you dusted off your shorts, freeing them of sand. Both had been gaping, and you’d managed to catch the eye of one of them, the twin you now knew as Atsumu. You’d given him an absolutely haughty look before sticking your nose in the air and stalking away, completely ignoring their shocked cries, and their calls to wait up, figuring it served them right for ignoring you in the first place.

Much to your dismay it turned out the loud twins lived nearby, and ever since your little stunt they’d been determined to befriend you. Atsumu in particular was relentless, chasing you everywhere and insisting on being your friend. You’d even ended up in the same class as him once school started, much to his delight.

In the end his persistence had paid off, and the two of you had become good friends once you’d gotten used to his loud, unabashed, blunt personality. The two of you just fit together well, though it helped that you were far more willing to be dragged into Atsumu’s schemes than his much more realistic twin. While you did become good friends with Osamu, an inevitability given the twins were practically attached at the hip twenty-four seven, you were always Atsumu you were closer with, who you considered your very best friend.

The Present : Your High School Days

“What happened to your face?” you demanded shocked and a little appalled that your friend had shown up on your doorstep his face covered in scrapes and a nice bruise forming over one eye, “Did you try to receive a volleyball with your forehead again?”

Normally you walked home every day with the twins, as you still lived close to one another, but you’d had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day and so had left school early. It just figured that somehow in the scant hours between the time you’d last seen him and now he’d somehow gotten himself into trouble. Honestly, trouble probably should’ve been his middle name; bold and brash Atsumu could be entirely too impulsive at times and Osamu tended to either egg him on or ignore him entirely. You, on the other hand, had taken the firm stance of compromise and while you did allow yourself to be dragged into his schemes far too often you also did your best to discourage some of his wilder ideas to keep both of you safe.

“I only ever tried ta do that once,” Atsumu protested in response to your accusation, as you stepped back to let him into your house and ushered him toward the bathroom.

“Once was one time too many,” you informed him dryly, “Especially since you’ve accidentally received with your face before and should’ve been well aware that it was an incredibly dumb idea.”

“A man screws up once and ya hold it over his head fer ever,” he grumbled unhappily, as he hopped up on to the counter at your urging, folding his arms over his chest, a slight pout on his lips that had you rolling your eyes in fond amusement.

“So, if you weren’t practicing receiving with your face, what were you doing?” you asked as you dug in one of the cabinets for the first aid kit. You’d had more experience with the thing than you cared to remember, patching up both yourself and the twins after all the scrapes you’d gotten into over the years, and made sure to keep it well stocked.

Of the twins Atsumu had always been quicker to anger, though he was also quicker to cool down and forgive, unlike Osamu who was a bit of a grudge holder. It meant you had lots of practice patching him up, not that you could complain as half the fights from when you were younger were started on your behalf. Despite how he would tease you at times, often viciously, only he was allowed to do it, not even Osamu was allowed to make fun of you without Atsumu taking extreme offense and getting vicious on your behalf.

It was why you never got angry at him when he got a bit snappy or came to you to be patched up. You knew you could always count on him to have your back though you were infinitely grateful he’d gotten much better at using his words over using his fists as the two of you got older, saving the physical fights almost exclusively for Osamu.

He grumbled something unintelligible in response and you pulled your head from the cabinets to give him a look, one that long experience meant he interpreted perfectly as ‘spill your guts or else’.

“I got in a fight with Samu,” he repeated a little louder so you could hear the words properly.

“What did you do this time?” you asked as you set the kit on the counter, flipping it open and pulling out some disinfectant.

“What makes ya think it was me? It coulda been Samu, it’s not always me!” he protested annoyed.

“Because if it was Samu you’d be with him gloating over what a terrible person he is and whining to your parents, but instead you’re moping around here at my place and clearly hiding,” you informed him bluntly, ignoring his indignant spluttering as you demanded, “hands.”

He offered the appendages without complaint, letting you gently clean his scraped knuckles, even as he sulked over what you’d said. You’d cleaned him up after fights both with his brother and with others he didn’t get along with more than once, so you knew despite how utterly vain he could be his priority was always his hands. Which was why you always started there, and were most careful with them.

He’d told you more than once that a setter was nothing without his hands, and he was always incredibly meticulous about their care. Funnily enough it was also only you he’d ever trusted to help him with his hands. Not even Osamu was allowed to touch, and certainly no one was allowed to wrap his fingers or put bandages on them but you.

“So, what did you say to Samu that ticked him off bad enough to try to break your face?” you asked, as you carefully dabbed his hands with the antiseptic.

“He was bein’ scrubby,” Atsumu protested clearly still moping, “My sets were perfect, he shoulda been able ta get them.”

“And let me guess, instead of just shrugging it off as him having a bad day, you decided to tell him he sucked to his face,” you finished with a sigh, already able to predict how your best friend would’ve behaved in a scenario like that. Honestly you wouldn’t be surprised to look up the definition of tactless in the dictionary and find a picture of Atsumu’s face next to it considering how utterly inconsiderate and blunt he could be at times. It was a good thing you’d managed to grow a thick skin over the years, otherwise your friendship probably never would’ve lasted as long as it had or been as strong as it was.

“So, what if I did?” Atsumu protested, annoyed, though he didn’t pull his hands from your grip as you carefully bandaged them, doing your best to ensure he’d maintain proper mobility of his fingers.

“Pretty sure Osamu would know he was having a bad day Tsumu,” you told him with a sigh, finishing up with his hands and moving on to his face, “He didn’t need you to rub his face in it.”

“What so yer takin’ his side then?” he demanded petulantly, eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger, his quick temper rearing its ugly head.

“Don’t be stupid,” you told him flicking him hard on an undamaged part of his forehead, “You’re my best friend Tsumu and you know it. I’m always on your side, even when you’re being a scrub.”

“I ain’t a scrub,” he muttered sullenly, “An ya shouldn’t go beatin’ on me. M’ already beat up enough, what kinda best friend are ya anyways?”

“The best kind,” you told him completely unbothered by his whining and well aware he didn’t mean it, amused at the pout he gave you in response, even if he would vehemently deny ever doing something as unmanly as pouting at you, “The kind that tells you when you’re being an inconsiderate jerk to people.”

“Nope,” you cut him off before he could open his mouth, “You were a jerk and you know it Tsumu, otherwise you wouldn’t be here moping.”

“I ain’t mopin’,” he protested half-heartedly, the fact that he didn’t protest the other part of your statement was as good as a confession and you both knew it.

You hummed in amused agreement not saying a word, simply patching up his face with infinite care, and absently ruffling his hair when you finished, laughing at his protests off with practiced ease.

“Can I hang out here for a little bit?” he asked quietly, the words almost inaudible as he refused to meet your gaze.

“Of course, you can,” you told him fondly, “You don’t even need to ask.”

He slumped forward, nearly making you stumble as he leaned on you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder in a rare moment of vulnerability, the ones that as his best friend you were privy to, his quiet ‘thanks’ muffled into your shirt. You rolled your eyes at him fondly, and gently pet his hair for several long moments until he lifted his head up and hopped off the counter fully prepared to pretend the moment of weakness hadn’t happened and loudly challenging you to defeat him at videogames.

You huffed in amusement but allowed yourself to be sucked in, well aware that this was what it meant to be best friends with Miya Atsumu.

The Future : Platonic

You grinned down at the court, decked out as usual in your MSBY jersey that had Atsumu’s number on the back. These days you didn’t always get to go to every game the way you had in high school, even if Atsumu always made sure you had a ticket if you wanted one. You honestly just couldn’t, as the two of you were living very separate lives. Still that didn’t stop you from trying to go to every game you could, even if it took you a little out of the way at times.

Your lives after graduation had been pretty hard on your friendship, what with Atsumu deciding to go pro right away and you off to fulfill your own dreams as well. Atsumu in particular had, had it rough as neither you nor Osamu could be there all the time for him anymore, and you knew he’d struggled to find and stand on his own two feet.

You’d done all you could for him at the time, keeping your door open and your phone on you, ready to talk him through his temper or chew him out if he needed you to, the same way he always made time for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear, even if his advice wasn’t the greatest.

Honestly, you’d been a little worried that your friendship would fall apart, that the two of you would grow apart because of the distance between you. You should’ve known Atsumu would never let that happen. He held on to your friendship with the same dogged persistence he’d used to procure it in the first place, reminding you of his presence and his support, brutal though it sometimes was, at every moment he could.

In turn you could do nothing but return his fervor, reaching out to him and ensuring you scheduled things like meet-ups, phone calls, and more. The two of you had a snap streak that had lasted almost five years and counting, and neither of you had any intention of breaking it.

The only small bit of trouble you’d had over the years was when the two of you had significant others. You’d noticed right away that the people surrounding Atsumu could be incredibly jealous and suspicious of you, the same way you’d had a partner or two who hadn’t liked how close you were to the nationally ranked pro athlete.

However, Atsumu had always been possessive and protective of what was his, and your relationship was something he treasured just as much as he treasured the one with Osamu. It meant that if his partner so much as hinted that they wanted him to stop talking to you or hanging out with you, he dropped them, oftentimes ruthlessly and with no remorse.

You did your best to do the same, hanging on to your friendship, and telling the people you dated flat out that if they had a problem with Atsumu then you wouldn’t continue to date them. After all you’d been friends with him for over a decade at that point, and there was no reason why you should put more value into a new relationship over the one you had with him even if one was strictly platonic and the other romantic.

Your combined stubbornness meant your friendship was still going strong even now, enough so that Osamu often referred to you as his twin’s other twin, because the two of you had proved to be inseparable.

Yes, he was rude, blunt, and still a little temperamental despite maturing a lot in the past few years, but he was also fiercely loyal, supportive in his own way, and goofy adorable dork. He was your best friend, one you knew you’d someday be sitting with side by side in the future, the two of you old and wrinkled as you argued over whose grandchildren were better as you reminisced about the good old days. Honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Future : Romantic

The fact that your relationship had bloomed from a steady strong friendship into something romantic had surprised absolutely no one except for you. Even Atsumu, who you’d thought to be completely and utterly oblivious to pretty much everyone’s feelings, had known before you had, much to your eternal shame.

You weren’t exactly sure where it had started. If it was in the moments where he’d lean on you physically and emotionally showing you the vulnerable moments he went out of his way to hide from everyone else. Maybe it was the way he’d go out of his way to touch you, ruffling or gently tugging on strands of your hair, an arm over your shoulder or around your waist, hugs everywhere in public and in private, completely and utterly shameless. Or it could be the times when he’d listen to you, simply making time, even when the two of you were busy, even when he wasn’t close by, pursuing his career as a professional athlete while you chased your own dreams, to hear anything you felt you needed to say. Whatever it was it had all come together in one moment, hitting you with startling clarity.

You remembered it clearly, you’d been sitting in one of the booths of Onigiri Miya, you plus the team and their significant others, all celebrating Osamu’s success at finally opening the restaurant of his dreams. Atsumu had been sitting next to you, a casual arm slung over your shoulders, gesticulating wildly with the onigiri in his other hand, talking with his mouth full as usual, and showing no table manners whatsoever.

Despite that you’d seen the way the light had caught in the gold of his hair, the brightness and clear joy in his eyes, and the wide smile on his lips and your heart had flipped over in your chest and squeezed near painfully as you looked at him. It had hit you then with all the force of a freight train. You loved him, you were in love with your best friend, with Miya Atsumu, the man who’d been by your side since that very first moment you’d met on the playground over a decade ago.

You must’ve had an odd expression on your face because Atsumu had abruptly stopped talking, and turned to you with clear concern in his eyes, and demanded in his usual tactless way to know what was wrong with you.

In a stunning moment of sheer blunt bravery and absolute recklessness that proved Atsumu had probably rubbed off on you a little too much over the years, you’d turned toward him looked him in the eye and blurted out ‘I love you’ right then and there.

Osamu would later congratulate you on managing to do something no one had ever managed to do before by stunning his twin absolutely speechless, but in that moment, you’d been too focused on Atsumu’s eyes to notice how quiet both he and the rest of the restaurant had gotten at your confession.

No matter what, Atsumu’s eyes had always given away exactly what he’d been feeling, and in that moment, he’d been staring with such blatant hope, and longing in his face as he searched yours for any sign of deception that you hadn’t been able to look away. Though you couldn’t help the way they fluttered shut as he leaned forward to press his lips to yours, cupping your face sweetly and holding you more tenderly than most probably would’ve thought he was capable of.

The kiss was everything you’d looked for in previous relationships, warm and sweet, with a feeling of rightness and familiarity that made you feel safe and completely and utterly loved. You’d broken apart to the sound of cheering from the rest of the restaurant’s occupants, all of whom had been extremely happy for the two of you, even if Osamu and Suna did tease you rather relentlessly over it.

Apparently, everyone knew the two of you were head over heels for one another, and Osamu had been listening to Atsumu pine over you since high school. That you’d finally realized your feelings had come as a major relief for the younger twin and you and Atsumu had been together ever since.

It was almost strange how easily the two of you fell together, years of experience meaning nothing surprised you. There were no ugly habits or dirty secrets to hide. You knew all about his temper, how blunt and vicious he could be, you knew everything about him, and he knew everything about you. It was comfortable, warm, and everything you could’ve asked for because there wasn’t anything better really, than being in love with your best friend.

#miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #haikyū!!#haikyu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyu fluff #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #atsumu headcanons #miya atsumu imagines #inarizaki #he's my best friend #JayeRayWrites

120 notes · View notes

lettersnorth · 3 years

Photo

It didn't surprise Aislinn an onze that Mivo'to had up and disappeared on his attendings one sun. Nor was she all that concerned. He had knocked himself out due to a miscalculation. It certainly wasn't the worst thing the clinic had seen. And he had clearly recovered. Win-win all around. She got to work stripping the sheets from the bed and cleaning up the now vacant room.

Cravendy wandered into the clinic in search of fresh bandages and ointment. She could still feel the pressure pushing down on her bones, the smell of ceruleum burning after the explosion...and it didn't seem like it was going to go away any time soon. When she stepped in, she noticed Lin and called out to her on instinct. "Lin!"

An armful of sheets, Aislinn rounded the divider just as Cravendy called out. She halted, surprise flitting over her face for a brief moment before her expression pulled back to neutral. "Cravendy." she nodded a greeting and then scooted around the Seawolf to the waiting laundry basket. "What brings you in here? Everything alright?" she asked as she shoved the ball of sheets down into the overfull basket. Guess the wash was next on her list.

Cravendy awkwardly pressed herself against the infirmary partition to give Lin more space to walk, and got the feeling that she's not exactly a welcome sight. At best, a nuisance to entertain while there were chores to be done. With a shrug, she headed over to the cabinets and began pulling out all kinds of medical supplies. "Oh, ye know. Smartin' after the battle, lookin' for somethin' to make it all feel better. What about yerself? 'ow are ye 'oldin' up?"

"Me?" Aislinn asked as she straightened and brushed a flyaway wisp of hair from her eyes. "Aside from pulling Mivo'to out before the whole place went up I didn't do a damned thing that woulda caused me to be banged up." She eyed the collection Cravendy was haphazardly pulling from the potions cabinets and picked up a bulbous glass jar filled with a warm, golden liquid. This, she passed to Cravendy. "Drink two spoonfuls of this. Three if it doesn't take the edge off." she then nodded to the drawer below the cabinet. "You need a patch up? Afraid G'lewra is out so if you do, I can do it the mundane way. Or you can wait for her to aether-heal it."

“Could ye?” Cravs muttered as she gave Lin a curious stare. “I’m used to patchin’ myself up at this point but...I bet ye could get the ‘urt out faster.”

Cravendy grabbed the jar of golden liquid before heading back to take a seat. She twisted the medicine open and gave it a good sniff or two. "Bleh. Anyway, even if ye didn't do a thing, it's not every day ye survive an explosion. So, well, there's that. That and..." Cravs trailed off. "Well. I was surprised ye didn't use yer fancy math shields."

Aislinn paused, shooting the Seawolf a look of concern as she pulled the needed bandages and supplies from the drawers. The pain must be bad if Cravendy wasn't willing to wait. She went and joined the woman on the couch, setting a tray of the necessary items next to her. Careful not to meet the Seawolf's eye, she gave a half shrug at the observation. Silence reigned as she gingerly gestured for Cravendy to show her the burns. It filled the space until finally, with her time at the hot spring fresh in her mind, she let go a sigh and broke it. "I can't." she admitted, finally. "I can't use my shields or...any of it. Not since....not for awhile."

Cravendy unbuttoned her shirt, revealing bandages tied across her chest and around her back. There's also a significant scar on her lower abdomen that looks like it's healing weird, but healing nonetheless. "I applied ointment a few days ago, but it's 'ard to reapply it to my back. If ye could..."

Cravendy trailed off at Lin's admission, unsure what to say. She was originally going to poke fun at the situation, joke that Lin needs to practice the basics again. "Oh. Well, uh. What're ye doin' about that, then?"

The conversation was momentarily forgotten as Lin gathered the full measure of Cravendy's injuries. "Gods above, Cravendy. Why the hell didn't you come in the moment you got back? Or say -anything- out there in the field. I coulda done something -then-!" To be fair, Cravendy had done a decent job, all things considered. She obviously wasn't new at this. Even so, the oddly healing scar drew Aislinn's attention and she carefully inspected it closer, her aether sense stretching out. She could, at least, still do that much.

"I assumed everyone got just as roasted! Figured, I could still move, so I could treat my own wounds. Bah, this was a mistake..." Cravs leaned a little away from Lin, nervous to show vulnerability. But when she noticed Lin drawn to the scar on her stomach, Cravs brought a finger to her lips. "Risin' gave me that one. Don't tell 'er though."

Cravendy tugged her shirt around herself so she's wrapped from the elbow down for the sake of modesty, though it really doesn't add much. "Anyway, ye were sayin'? About yer magic bein' broken?"

Aislinn jerked her chin up as Cravendy began to draw away, the look on her face all but daring the Seawolf to just try and keep it up. Small as she was, she wasn't letting Cravendy out of there without proper treatment. "No. Waiting to come here was the mistake." she chided. She shook her head in exasperation at the mention of the weird wound coming from Rising.

She could only imagine what raucous bout had caused that. "I have this way about me," she said, quickly surmising that if she kept talking, Cravendy would stay put. "Of absorbing curses. Cursed energy, hexes..." she trailed off as she motioned for Cravendy to turn around so she could get the ointment on her back. "Turns out, a person can only do that for so long until all that bad energy needs a place to go. It's made my aether...a touch unstable. I *could* cast a spell. I just don't know what'll come out."

Cravendy saw the face Lin was making - the same sort a parent would give a fussy toddler - and pouted. But she was already here, bandages exposed, back turned and ointment ready. It'd be even more dumb to get up and leave after getting so far. "Fine, but be thorough, eh? I want to be better by the time we 'ave to get blown up again."

Cravendy obliged to whatever Lin needed her to do in order to work and listened quietly, face forward and staring unfocused into the room. "Weird. So if I put ye in my room, would ye absorb all of the bad vibes? In the east, there's all this shit about Feng Shui and harmonizin' with yer surroundings."

Cravendy glanced back at Lin to see if her joke landed.

Aislinn blanched at the thought, even though she knew it was more than likely that Cravendy was just being a smart-ass. "Who knows...probably. Apparently I've been walking around for years just absorbing ambient refuse. Now I'm full up. Or close to it. It's...painful to be close to anything like that. Like I'm burning up from the inside. That's when I first realized something wasn't right." she said quietly as she cut away the old bandage and carefully pulled it back with delicate fingers.

Cravendy let out a disappointed breath at Lin's reaction and went back to looking forward. "That sounds...painful. I wish I could 'elp, but don't know the first thing when it comes to magical ailments. But I will say, ye should 'ang back until ye get this under control. Last thing ye need is suckin' up more bad energy and makin' worse."

Cravendy scowled as she revisited what Lin had just said. Burning up. Absorbing curses. A worrisome theory forms. "'ey, uh. When did this start? Just casually one day?"

"That's me, a walking bad luck charm." Aislinn muttered as she dressed the new bandages and applied them to Cravendy's back. "Don't worry, I've asked someone to fill in for me on the next job in Coerthas while I try and get this problem sorted." The ointment was cooling and numbing all at the same time and would dull the pain of the burns as the medicinal herbs got to work healing the skin underneath. Aislinn was quiet long enough that it was obvious she was trying to decide how to skirt the question.

She started reassembling the supplies back on the tray. When she rose to her feet, she figured the only way any of this between her and Cravendy was going to work was if she stopped hedging and just be honest. No matter what. "Probably ramped up while we were trying to find the Helm." she said as she took the tray over to the sink.

Cravendy tensed when the ointment is first applied, but breathes a sigh of relief quickly after. "Ah, thanks, already feels better. And the person coverin' for ye...is it that string bean fella I saw ye talkin' with in the library? What's 'e like? Don't often see 'im around. Guy looks painfully serious, the kind to take offense at small talk."

Cravendy was silent for a while after, staring at the partition rod as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. Finally, loudly and suddenly, she groaned. "Shit.”

"Shit! That really pisses me off!" Cravs stood up, shirt still dangling around her arms, and paced around in a circle. "Fuck! Goddamnit. Ahhh, bloody...Lin, why didn't ye say somethin' earlier?!"

Turning away from the basin, Aislinn leaned back against the sink with a faint air of amusement. "Aye, the string bean fella." she waved a hand up through the air. Anything more she might have had to say on the subject was lost in the wake of Cravendy's agitation. Caught up short, her eyes flicked away and then back to her. "Because I didn't know what the problem was. Only that these sudden burning sensations would flare up every so often. And then once I did, it was all said and done. What good would it have done to bring it up to you after the fact except to put you in a state like this?" she gestured to the anxious pacing the Seawolf was currently succumbing to.

Cravendy wanted badly to grab Lin by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, or maybe, just shake her until somehow she got better. Cravs nearly snarled, hearing reason in Lin's words but not having it. She clenched and unclenched her fists, not sure what to do with this sudden anger.

"Even worse, ye die a slow an’ painful death! I like to know when I've messed up so I can do somethin' about it!" Cravs huffed. You could practically see the steam hiss out of her ears.

In the face of Cravendy's anger, Aislinn breathed easy, slow breaths. Matching the Seawolf's temper had never worked for either of them in the past. It was on the tip of her tongue. The correction that if this would kill her, it wouldn't be slow but violent and sudden. She decided that really was besides the point right now. "How did -you- mess up? You weren't there. And what would you do about it?" she asked, trying to get Cravendy to see reason.

"Ye don't understand. This whole shitty business with the Helm...If I didn't suggest raidin' that Garlean ship. If I 'ad the balls to stick around and save my crew. If I didn't summon 'er, then, maybe..." Cravs breathed heavily until she was light-headed, but it worked to calm her down. She fell back down into the couch with a hand over her face to cover her reaction. "...Shit, I don't know. Maybe ye'd find some other stupid way to get yer fill of cursed energy and die anyway. I don't know. Maybe.”

Cravendy spoke, words muffled in her palm. "Lin, I. The fireball. That..." Cravs shook her head. "...doesn't matter. I don't know what I'll do about it, just that I'll do /something/ about it."

Aislinn heaved a sigh and pushed off from the sink, coming to join Cravendy on the couch. "And then you'd be dead, right? Isn't that how it all worked? Honestly, it was only a matter of time. It was always going to catch up to me at some point. The Helm business just ushered it along." she paused. "Which isn't to say that fireball that Wyda hit me with didn't hurt like hell. Hard not to take something like that personally." she said, in a rare attempt to lighten the mood.

She turned to look at Cravendy, mustering a smile. "Look. I'm working on it. A friend and I are tracking down someone in Ishgard that'll know about my problem. And...hopefully what to do about it."

Cravendy puffed up her chest, about to come up with a rebuttal to Lin's answer. As usual, she came up empty, and then similarly let out a tired sigh. "Feh, yer always so logical, even about all heavy shit like this. I....guess that's what I like ye for though. Just - just. I don't know. Leave the stupid to me."

Cravendy would take comfort in the fact that Lin was actively looking for someone to diagnose the issue, though this would linger in the back of her mind for long after. With or without Lin's blessings, she'd find a way to help. This was either going to lead to great success, or equally great disaster.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #rp snippets #Distortion #Flashpoint #Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North

9 notes · View notes

thetomorrowshow · 3 years

Text

Slower Than Words Ch. 26

First - Previous - Next

Me, writing this chapter: I am going to create a situation that is so awkward,

cw: food

~SHARON~

welcomes you

Remus eyed the sign suspiciously as he drove past. It was set low in the ground, as if it had sunk a bit over time. It didn’t look familiar at all—none of this did. Did he have the wrong place?

Patton shifted a bit in the seat beside him, looking around with interest. They’d reached their destination, after all. Remus couldn’t help but doubt himself. There were other Sharons in the country, after all. Maybe they’d just gone to the wrong one.

Something about this city called to him, sure. But that didn’t mean anything—the cult had called to him too. Remus’s instincts weren’t the best.

He was roused from his thoughts when Patton softly tapped his shoulder. They were passing a grocery store—Save A Lot. It was time for lunch, wasn’t it?

Remus pulled left into the parking lot of the store, which was fairly empty for midday Friday. Only three cars, and a fourth pulling in at the same time as them. Remus parked in between two of the other cars there (mostly because he could) and hopped out, taking a moment to stretch before entering the store. Patton got out too, walking around to the driver’s side while Remus continued to reach toward the sky.

Patton led the way, holding the door open for Remus, who looked up as the bell jingled. An older man waved from behind the counter. A shopper milled about in the nearest aisle. Classic rock played quietly in the background. It was nice, in a weird way. Very peaceful. Very easy.

Pat headed for the bathroom and Remus watched him for a second, before turning down one of the aisles at random. They probably needed some fruit or something. He followed the aisle through to the small produce section on the other side of the store. Another employee leaned against the meat counter on the other side of the section, eyes glued to his phone. Remus froze and stared at him, waiting to be told that he wasn’t allowed back here. Nothing happened.

Remus fully exited the aisle and checked out the fruit. Oranges, apples, different apples, a handful of pineapples. The oranges were the cheapest, and Patton needed citrus too. There was a vitamin in citrus, right? Vitamin D? C?

Whatever it was, he was pretty sure that Patty needed it. He needed every vitamin, actually. Remus picked up an orange, about to pull a plastic bag from the roll.

“Oh my gosh. No way!”

Remus dropped the orange, spinning on his heel and straightening up. His heartrate spiked, breathing quickened, and he stood at attention, keeping his eyes on the linoleum floor.

“Remus?”

He chanced a quick look up, forcing his eyes almost immediately back down. He saw . . . a woman. Young, probably about his age. Tall. A shopping basket over her arm (probably why he hadn’t heard her coming. No squeaky wheels). Smiling. She was completely unfamiliar, but by now the watery reflection of the lights on the floor had gotten into his head where he was. In a grocery store. In his hometown. Not back there.

With effort, Remus wrenched his head up, meeting the woman’s eyes. “H-hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s up?”

“So it is you!” The woman laughed a little. “I haven’t seen you in years. How’re your parents?”

This woman knew him. So he had definitely lived here. But this wasn’t a very big city, and if she knew him, then she had to have known his family, right? Why would she have to ask him how they were? Had they moved away? Cold clutched at his heart as he considered that option. They can’t have. He can’t have lost them before he even found them.

“I-I dunno, just got in town. Haven’t even dropped by yet.”

The woman nodded. “Where do you live now?”

“Other side of the country,” Remus hedged, “Desert-y place.”

“Oh, I grew up in Arizona,” the woman said, almost commiseratingly. “So hot. There were days that I’d just go stick my head in the freezer.”

Remus laughed nervously. “Yep, wish—wish I coulda done that.”

“Mhm. Really, I haven’t seen you since—gosh, since we graduated! You didn’t even come to the graduation itself, I heard that you skipped town practically the day after school got out.”

Okay, someone he’d gone to high school with. Remus remembered being sorta close with the other kids on the soccer teams, but he mostly hung out with the stoner kids to annoy his parents. He couldn’t see how he would know this chick. Maybe they’d been lab partners? Or maybe she’d been someone he hung out with?

The woman seemed to be casting around for something to say, her eyes eventually falling on his face. “Wow, that mustache has really filled out, huh?”

Remus’s hand flew up to smooth it unconsciously. “Yep, this is a couple years’ hard work,” he boasted. The woman chuckled.

“No offense, but it used to be this terrible shrimpy little thing,” she said. “I remember prom night when you picked me up you were all grumpy because your mom made you shave it off. You didn’t even talk to me until we got there!”

Oh shoot.

Oh no.

This was an old girlfriend.

Remus hadn’t dated anyone in years. He’d tried for a while, those first months in the cult. But the gals weren’t interested and the guys were too scared, so he’d given up. He hadn’t really minded it, honestly—he had dated all through high school, but looking back he only did it to make his parents mad. They didn’t want him steady dating until he was an adult, and definitely didn’t want him dating dudes and stoners, so he had done both over and over again between the ages of thirteen and eighteen.

Now, though?

Maybe it was just the cult stuff talking, but Remus wasn’t interested in a partner. The romance part sounded cute (he’d never admit it, but part of him really wanted to curl up with his partner and watch a romcom, teasing each other lightly), but the rest of it sounded like way too much of a hassle. He didn’t have the time, not when he was carrying the load of three different people’s trauma. And while he had a feeling that the commitment might help ground him, he just wasn’t interested in the rest of it. If that made sense. Heck, this was his own head and it didn’t really make sense.

Anyways, he remembered this woman, just a little. Not much about her, or how well they worked together, or if they had truly been in love. He mostly remembered that he had left without breaking up with her, without even telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, I was a terrible kid,” he said, secretly waiting for her to agree with him. Instead she shrugged.

“Sure, you were always hanging out with weird people,” she replied, “but you were very kind. I definitely don’t think we were meant for each other, but I had fun with you.” She winked and Remus almost physically recoiled. He didn’t like when people winked.

A hand tapped his elbow and Remus jolted, turning his head. Patton was there, smirking a little bit.

The woman’s eyes traveled between them, clearly trying to figure out their relationship. “Boyfriends . . . ?”

“Kidnapper and victim,” Remus said, turning back to her fully and smiling toothily. He felt a little bit more in control now. She barely seemed uncomfortable, instead sharing her own smile.

“Right. Well, tell your parents I said hi,” she said, waving slightly. Remus noticed the ring on her wedding finger, but before he could ask, she answered.

“D’you remember Claire, from the swim team?”

Remus opened his mouth to lie, but she continued to talk.

“Well, after you left, she comforted me and helped me decide what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and the answer turned out to be her!” the woman laughed at her own joke, and Remus laughed along, not quite sure why. It was obviously a practiced line, and he didn’t really find it funny either.

The woman reached out and patted him on the shoulder, a warm look in her eyes. “Seriously, it was great to see you. Everyone was really worried about you, we thought you’d died in some ditch. Take care!” And with that, she was turning down another aisle, quickly out of sight.

“Who was that?” Patton asked as soon as Remus turned to him. The smirk was gone, his eyes now wary.

“A friend from when I was a kid,” Remus signed distractedly, looking at the oranges again. He grabbed two, then a third one just in case and led the way back to the cash registers. On the way he snagged a package of beef jerky, grimacing at the price.

That was the weirdest encounter he’d had, probably ever. At least it was proof that they were in the right place.

“No clue where we are,” Remus sang under his breath, checking the street signs as they passed a church. The area looked vaguely familiar, so that had to mean something, right? Apparently not, because after the grocery store experience, everything looked familiar. He pulled to stop in front of a stop sign, patting Logan’s car as it groaned. For a moment, he let his eyes close and his head rest on the steering wheel.

Patton tapped his arm, waiting for him to look. “Trust your instincts,” he signed, finger-spelling the last word. He smiled softly at Remus, then turned back to the window, pulling the patched hoodie closer around his shoulders. Remus took a deep breath. He could do this. He’d survived a cult. He’d saved a whole kid from the same cult. He was awesome.

Remus took his foot off the brake, letting the car carry him from street to street, waiting for something to happen. If this didn’t work, then he’d go street by street, knocking on every door until he found his parents and brother.

Then, as he turned right in a somewhat busy intersection, his hands spasmed. Muscle memory took over, and he turned right again onto a smaller street. Memories of driving this road far too fast in the darkness of late nights and early morning flooded his mind, overlapping and playing simultaneously. In the memories, he followed this street through, then turned left at the end of it.

So he did, his arms turning the wheel almost without conscious input. Another two turns, and he was Euclid Ave, a street name that made his heart jump into his throat. Just two houses down, there it was.

150 Euclid Ave.

Suddenly, the home phone number was on the tip of his tongue—he’d memorized them together. He recalled his parents, sitting on the sofa, clapping for a miniature version of him reciting the full address and phone number.

He stared at the house so hard stars appeared in his vision, surprised to feel almost nothing. It was familiar of course, just like everything else, but it was also . . . normal. It almost felt like he’d never left. Or like he’d gone back in time, back to when this was right. Back to when this was who he was.

“Home?” Patton asked out loud, the middle of the word slurring a little. Remus’s eyes misted a little bit.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Home.”

Knock-knock-knock.

Remus rocked back onto his heels, shooting a reassuring smile to Patton. He could do this. No sounds came from inside the house, but there were two cars in the driveway, so someone had to be home. Hopefully both were his parents, then he could see everyone together.

But his brother could drive now, right?

They were five years apart. When he’d left, his brother had been in middle school. Now he was probably in college. If he was away at school, he wouldn’t be home right now, would he?

Remus knocked again.

Now there was sound from inside, the creaking of footsteps on floorboards, the running water. Adrenaline suddenly pumped through his veins, and the wild thought of running back to the car crossed his mind. He could get out before they ever knew he was here, just leave and nothing would change.

Did he want it to change?

Click-click. The door unlocked.

Swung open.

Remus composed his face the best he could, trying to smile and look as normal as possible. He could do this. He could do this.

He looked up.

A face, lined, clean-shaven, framed with close-cut dark hair that was greying at the ends. A face that Remus saw from the stage of a talent show, sitting in the audience, smiling and clapping along with his clarinet rendition of Jingle Bells.

The shoulders were broader than Remus ever thought his own would be, proved otherwise by time. Remus saw the shoulders from the closet of his parents’ room, where occasionally on Sunday afternoons the boy was allowed to try on suit coats that swallowed him completely.

The left hand had a simple silver band, one that Remus could see resting on the aluminum foil ring holder he’d made in class as a Father’s Day present. He’d always been afraid that it would catch his fingers when they played the hand stacking game.

Remus’s eyes traveled back up the arm, the shoulder, the neck, the face, back to the eyes. Blue, almost grey, a color that neither he nor his brother had inherited.

“Hey dad,” he croaked. “I'm home.”

The eyes widened.

Taglist: @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck @larkiaquail @anteonnix @fantasticfander21

46 notes · View notes

jesawyer · 4 years

Note

Can you define bushido breaking cheats/glitches??

In my mind it’s anything that “breaks the frame” of gameplay: using console commands, rule- or stat-altering mods, anything involving data manipulation outside of the save/load interface.

Console commands are obviously meant primarily as dev/debugging tools. We leave many of them in there for player curiosity, personal debugging, and goofing around but they aren’t intended for use in normal play. Mods are obviously manipulating how the game works; that’s the whole point. Using mods for any sort of ordinary play is fine, but they’re banned from the Ultimate because they’re against the spirit of the challenge. Similarly, hopping out of the game to back up an Ultimate run save game is against the spirit of the challenge. However, forerunning a parallel save game with an identical character build and progression strategy isn’t against the spirit of the challenge.

Let me ramble for a while about personal challenges and standards.

When I was young, I lazily attended some taekwondo and kyuki-do classes. For a brief period, I was somewhat disciplined about going to kyuki-do and eventually I was ready to test for my green stripe (fairly low-ranking belt between yellow and green). Side note, but my friend Jeremy was testing for his blue belt (IIRC) and eventually went on to be a 2nd Dan black belt because he’s epic.

Anyway, there was a regional test in Janesville and the grandmaster of the federation showed up to run things. Naturally, he was a stonefaced older Korean guy. Second side note, but Troy Denning, of Dark Sun fame, was also on the review board because he’s a black belt in kyuki-do. Jeremy and I joked about wearing Dark Sun patches on our uniforms even though it would invariably mean doing 100 pushups (Korean martial arts... strict).

Before the tests kicked off, there was a red belt or black stripe who had to do a ceremonial opening. And you know what? This dude did a really bad job. Sloppy form, mumbling, inattentive. About 80% of the way through, Grandmaster Kim stopped him and said (paraphrased), “This is not how you do this. Do it again.” He wasn’t mean, but he was very clear and direct: there is a standard, and you are not meeting it.

When the baby belts (like me) did our tests, Grandmaster Kim was pretty chill and applauded everyone because it’s like, okay the test was to see if you could do the martial arts equivalent of tying your shoes and you did it, great.

When it came to the advanced belts (blue and higher), I noticed that Grandmaster Kim applauded people who did exceptionally well. If they met the bare minimum to pass, he would nod but he would not applaud. If they did not do well enough to pass, he would calmly tell them what they needed to improve on and continue with the other tests. I don’t recall him ever being harsh or mean-spirited, but he was firm and consistent: there is a standard. You are an advanced belt, so you know the standard. If you greatly exceed the standard, I will applaud you. If you meet the standard, I will acknowledge you. If you do not meet the standard, I or your instructor will tell you what you need to do to meet it during your next test.

Because I was a low-ranking belt but was friends with someone who eventually became a full black belt, I was aware of the time and effort it took to achieve that. For a while I “woulda shoulda coulda”’d about reaching higher ranks but the fact was that I simply didn’t put in the time and effort. There was an external authority to recognize if I did, but also, internally, I knew that I had not met the standard because I did not do the work.

When you’re playing a single-player game, there’s no one there to judge you for how you play (and I took measures to remove judgmental language from difficulty modes), but I think people also understand the spirit of playing the game - especially when it comes to optional challenges. If you opt into Trial of Iron, you’re doing so because of the challenge it poses, the change in the experience, and the satisfaction you will get when you complete it. If you manually backup your save game, you’re blunting the impact of all three of those things, especially the satisfaction at the end.

When we (Obsidian) review submissions for the Ultimate, we are an external authority verifying (or disqualifying) those submissions. We’re doing that because we intend to hold those players up as exemplars of extraordinary planning and perseverance for the rest of the community. When we first got the woven patches for the Ultimate, someone at Obsidian asked me if I made any more than the 50 for the first 50 to complete the challenge (for those keeping track, we have verified that 10 people have completed the Ultimate).

I said no, of course not. Why would I? He said well, so you could keep one for yourself. I had never even considered that because the patches are only for people who have completed the Ultimate. If I wanted a patch, I would have to do the work, the same as anyone else.

There’s always room to debate what is or is not fair play, but I think most players implicitly understand essentially the same standard.

75 notes · View notes

dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

Text

Coastal Waters (1/8/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates and Madame @usedhearts meet underwater, talk about Madame’s history, eat an eel, and head to the library when Valera discovers to his horror that Madame, an octopus, doesn’t know shit about octopuses. octopodes. octopi.

Madame

The sea. She hadn't even seen the ocean since she was just a girl, let alone swam deep in her waters. The water was warm against her skin, and she flowed through it with an effortless grace that she honestly didn't know she had. It felt good. It felt right, to be among the waves of this alien planet. This was were a giant octopus of a lady should be.

Madame just sat there, under the water, watching curious fish and other creatures flit towards her. She was far larger than any of them, so they were either brave or foolish. A few of the more foolish ones found their way inside her mouth for their crimes. She intentionally kept her skin a pinkish red, wanting to stand out among the reef. A color that said 'Here I am, and I'm bigger than you, so watch out!' It was perfect really. She kept a look out for anyone else going for a swim-- she'd be sure they got a little kraken scare, just for fun.

Valera

Funny, how even on an alien planet, the ocean is still comforting to anyone who loved it. Colorful fish were abundant, the reddish light of the suns lending a faintly pink tinge to the rays coming down through the water.

And here comes Valera to torment innocent wildlife, a flash of silver followed by pink as he chases a mirror bright eel adjacent creature past Madame's resting place.

Madame

Madame's head snapped to the side as Valera passed, and quick as anything, she's off after him. That eel is the target, hm? Well, she wasn't about to let their host have an easy go of it. Tentacles opening and then thrusting back to get her speed, she closed in, trying to get it first-- or at least, make a little game of it for Valera.

Valera

It takes a few seconds for Valera to notice the appearance of a competitor, movement in the corner of his eyes nearly distracting him enough to lose track of the eel. But then the slippery menace turns on a dime, diving into a crevice in the rocks for all its worth. Valera's forced to brake, fins flaring out dramatically as he backpedals just to not smash into the rocks.

He perches on the coral, snorting out a few bubbles as he looks up at Madame. "Damn! Ah well, it'll have to come out eventually. Hello! What's an octopus like you doing in a place like this?"

Madame

Unfortunately, Madame doesn't catch herself quite as quickly as Valera, but she does slow herself enough to not smash hard against the rocks. She winced as she pulled away from them, rubbing her arm.

"Ouch. Them eels are slippery fuckers, ain't they?" She smirked at Val, swimming over to them and perching in a similar manner. "That it does. And thought I'd go for a swim, enjoy it while I can 'n all that. The closest I get to all this is my aquariums at home. This is...heaven, honestly."

Valera

Valera frowns, leaning in to sniff at Madame. Any blood? He can patch up a scrape no problem! The praise for his planet makes him purr, a soft buzz in the water that makes nearby fish start swimming closer to nibble at the pink fish's scales.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself! I was hoping my home would be a place of relaxation, but it seems like it's getting even more of a positive response than expected. If you really like it though, I'll see about inviting you back sometime!"

Madame

No blood, luckily, but she'd probably have a bruise or three later. Octopus skin is durable but not the best when it comes to impacts.

"Oh, I'd simply love that-- even give ya free drinks for life at the Cabaret if that'd sweeten the pot." She winked and laughed, before turning to look up at the surface, watching the sunlight glitter through. She was glad they were surrounded by salt water-- a few tears wouldn't be noticed down here.

"It truly is beautiful. Reminds me so much a home-- I ever tell ya, me 'n Alastor hail from the same place? Good ol' Nawlins, right there on the gulf. Gorgeous city, full of wonderful people 'n the best food 'n the south. When I went west with my husband, I knew I'd miss the ocean, but I didn't think I'd die without ever seein' it again." She smiled as she turned towards him.

"Ya really put some joy back in an ol' lady's heart, Valera, invitin' me here. Didn't think it'd mean as much as it does...but here we are." She laughed, and wiped at her eyes-- before remembering there was nothing to wipe. "Forgive me, gettin' all emotional. We supposed t' be lookin' for an eel, right?"

Valera

"Oh, that eel can go tie itself in knots for all I care, we're talking about this old lady here right now." Valera leans in, a clawed hand delicately patting at Madame's shoulder. "I didn't know you were from New Orleans! I've been there a few times. Lovely place. Very...." He pauses to think, plucking a wandering shrimp off the reef to gesture with. "Lively? Vibrant! You can really lose yourself in that city"

His tail winds around an outcrop, the fish settling down like he was lounging on the finest swooning couch. "So, you were married? Happily, I hope!"

Madame

She took a few breaths, the water filling her chest with warmth, and nodded.

"I was, born 'n raised. Got married a fresh faced youth 'n me 'n the husband decided to try 'n make our fortunes out west. We made it out there too, 'n then he caught ill 'n passed. Left me with a house built and some livestock bought 'n not much else. Started up doin' work on my back, 'n then collected some other girls, some a them like me, others on they own from the start. Home my husband built became my saloon 'n brothel, 'n a whole town sprung up around it. Lovely lil' place.

"But with people come folk what think they the law in a lawless patch a ground. Dumb fucks didn't like me much, and I ain't care for them neither. Startin' smugglin' for local outlaws, hidin' some. The quote-unquote 'law' got it in they heads to burn my place down, cause I was hidin' some poor boy they wanted-- surprised them when the whole thing blew to smithereens cause we was sittin' on a couple boxes a dynamite. Oh, if I coulda seen their faces...." She trailed off and then cleared her throat, laughing a little.

"But then I landed in Hell. And they did too. Strung 'em up by they own insides for I staked a claim on the land I landed on. That's where the Cabaret sits now. The asshole's skeletons're in the aquarium now, housin' crabs and whatnot. Serves 'em right."

Valera

Valera makes a sound more like a dolphin noise than a whistle, crossing one leg over the other as he listens to Madame tell her not especially tragic backstory. "It certainly does. Though I'm sure the short time they spent in Hell came as a rather nasty surprise, if they were going around calling themselves the *law*."

A snort. "It sounds like you've been a woman with a talent for business since day one, Madame. Can't say I'm surprised with the way you run things, but what a story. Sorry to hear about the husband though, losing someone is never easy."

Madame

She nodded, crossing her legs as daintily as someone who was fifteen feet tall could.

"Oh yeah, real nasty surprise for them-- shame I didn't keep 'em around longer, woulda been fun to have 'em strung up on the dart boards or somethin'."

Madame shrugged. "I did miss 'im but, after he died, I realized that I never _really_ loved him. Not like a woman 'n a man 'should' love each other. Dunno why, always been like that I suppose. But we was best friends since childhood 'n it made sense back then to marry someone y' at least liked, instead a some stranger."

Valera

"Hah! I can see it now! Are you a sadist? Five bucks a pop and you can throw your darts at the living dart boards! Ten points if you get them in the eyes, fifteen if you throw hard enough to knock a tooth out! Oh, Hell would have loved that." He cackles, popping the shrimp into his mouth for a quick snack. Mmm, crunchy!

"...Is there a 'should'?" His face twists in confusion. "Maybe it's an alien thing. I was set to bond with my own best friend before I cut that short in favor of running the Autocracy. Romance seems secondary in favor of... You know. Benefits."

Madame

"Dunno. With humans there's always a 'should', it seems. 'Ya _should_ love a man. Ya _should_ marry 'n have kids. Ya _should_ pick yerself up by yer bootstraps 'n get shit done. Ya _should_ know all the right things ta say'." She sighed and shrugged.

"Never much cared for the shoulds. Married because it seemed better'n bein' alone-- and I ended up alone anyways. So, what was the point 'n the first place? I sure as shit don't know. Just lost my best friend, that's all." Madame leaned her chin on her hand, elbow on her knee. "Think I woulda fared better with aliens then humans."

Valera

An eyebrow is raised as Valera turns what Madame said over in his mind. "I don't think marrying your best friend directly resulted in him dying, Madame. But I will admit, you wouldn't be the first human, former or otherwise, to say they would have likely been happier with an alien partner." He's absolutely talking about Pentious. And maybe a few others. He's a popular fish!

"Humans are silly creatures, and I do say that fondly! I've seen very few races as determined to bind themselves to strict social rules and roles that none of them seem to actually enjoy. It's baffling."

Madame

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I know whatcha mean. Most people seem happier when they break social conventions. Makes ya wonder why we even got 'em."

Madame took a breath and smiled. "And I didn't mean it so much as an alien partner as, well, maybe I was just meant to not be a human-- alien in a human body or some such. Maybe it's why I adapted ta bein' a weird giant octopus demon so well!"

Valera

"Your guess is better than mine, I'm only a human when it suits me."

He grins, all teeth. "It wouldn't surprise me. You never struck me as especially *human*, tentacles nonwithstanding. A lovely person? Yes, absolutely. You take good care of all your girls. But human? Not really." Well that's cryptic. But good luck getting him to elaborate, he's already distracted by trying to shove his arm into the crevice where the eel is hiding.

Madame

Madame let out another laugh, smirking as she shrugged and waved a hand.

"I'll take the compliment, and y'know, that reminds me a one of my go-to numbers." She slid off the rock she sat on and floated down a bit, twirling as she went.

"_I admit that in the past I've been a nasty, they weren't kidding when they called me well, a witch_...." She trailed off, giggling. "One of my favorites. That and 'When You're Good To Mama', acourse."

Valera

"Mm, I had you pinned as a contralto day one, my dear Madame." Valera glances over, against the rock up to the shoulder as he scrabbled for the eel. "You run that routine at the cabaret, right? I'll have to swing by to see it sometime! Maybe with my beau, though I don't know his opinion on burlesque just yet."

Madame

"Oh yes! Just tell me when y'all are droppin' by and I'll be sure to add myself to the night's roster." She winked and swam closer, looking at Val's arm, stuck deep in the rock.

"Any luck findin' the squirmy bastard? Or do ya need something a little more dexterous?" She wiggled a tentacle at him.

Valera

He frowns, then pulls his arm back and gestures for Madame to take his place. "I think you may have better luck, my dear. And for more than just that dexterity of yours! Mind the teeth though, those eels aren't the sharpest around, but they bite and do NOT let go."

Madame

Her arms crossed as she slid the tentacle inside, and Madame's face screwed up in concentration. A few moments later she let out a shout.

"Ow! Fucker got me, but I got him too!" With a mighty yank, her tentacle pulled back out, the eel wrapped tight in it, even as it chomped down on her. "What now, Val?"

Valera

"Now you eat him!" He crows, clapping his hands together as the eel gives the most hateful look it can muster. Though, underwater, there wasn't actually any sound to the gesture. "It's your catch, just bite him behind the eyes, nice and clean kill!"

Madame

She arched a brow, but brought the eel closer, moving to get a good angle. Madame opened her mouth and snapped down on the eel's head-- and it released it's own bite on her. She took it in her hands and bit it in half, swallowing down the front half.

Madame offered the other half to Val, grinning. "Here. Only right a guest share with her host."

Valera

He affects a dainty gasp, accepting the eel with a coquettish fluttering of his lashes. "Why THANK you, my dear Madame. Such a gracious guest, my hearts are warmed by your consideration."

And that chunk of eel is gone in a flash, yam yam. "Gods, always a tasty little morsel. Those have a lot of interesting names in various languages here, but my personal favorite is the one that translates best to..." He taps his chin, trying to think of the closest words. "Something like Bastard Snake. Bastard as in abandoned son, not the insult."

Madame

"Nah, I think the insult worst better, cause he sure was a bastard ta get outta there." She gestured toward her bitten tentacle.

"Think he mighta torn a chunk outta me. Ouch..." She brought it closer to inspect and while the chunk wasn't _gone_, it was barely hanging out. "Oh, that's a doozy..."

Valera

He leans in, taking a closer look at the damage to Madame's tentacle with a sympathetic hiss. "Oooh, that looks painful. Want me to fix it?"

A waggle of his fingers, and he extends a glowing hand. That's probably not ominous, right?

Madame

"Can ya?" She asked, her head tilting. "I'd love ta not have to whip out the scar cream for somethin' so small."

Valera

"I can! Healing and barriers are actually my specialty." He trills, looking VERY pleased with himself about that fact. "No strings attached for you, of course."

Madame

"Well, then, thank ya kindly. Yer a lovely 'n gracious host." She beamed.

Valera

He takes her tentacle in hand, smoothing over the wound with a slow sweep of his palm. A brief flash of numbness, heat, and there, good as new. No dramatics necessary! But he's still going to deliver with some SPECTACULAR jazz hands and the cheeriest grin he can muster.

"There, how's that?"

Madame

Madame let out a little 'oh!' at the numbness and heat, and as soon as her tentacle was released, it flexed and wiggled of its own accord.

"Well, that was sure somethin'! Never had a healin' like that."

Valera

"Never? Is healing magic not common in Hell?" Well, either that or Madame just didn't get hurt often. Either seemed possible.

Madame

"Oh no, it's not that. Usually gettin' somethin' healed costs-- usually a soul, or a favor, but always somethin'." She shrugged. "Try not to get into too many fights, cause the healin' is usually worse than the damage."

Valera

He squints, planting his chin on his open palm as he stares at the fixed tentacle. "I mean, I guess it cost something? All I did was encourage your natural healing. A few cell divisions to smooth over the damage, replace the torn up cells. Something that small didn't require actually replacing any massive swaths of material. You'll be hungrier than usual later, but that's about it!"

A shrug. "It would have been worse if you'd actually lost a chunk, but even then, I could have just converted a pebble to matching flesh or something. No biggie!"

Madame

"A pebble? Huh!" She tapped her chin. "That is somethin'. Yer magic's a lot more powerful than anythin' I can channel. Usual I go to good ol' Al for any real punchy magics."

Valera

"You know, people keep saying that. I never thought of myself as especially powerful." He holds up a finger. "Well, no. I have plenty of RAW power. But as far as efficiency goes, I'm absolute garbage. My magic isn't nearly as finely tuned as it could be. I burn tons of it on even small spells. Like, embarrassing amounts. Horrendously sloppy."

A sigh. "What kind of magic do you usually need from good old Alastor?"

Madame

"If I need a costume on the fly, he can magic up some pretty good threads. He's fairly good at some basic healin'-- like if ona my acts sprains somethin'. And of course, the best magic of all-- his reputation. Ain't nobody gonna mess with the Cabaret none if I got the Radio Demon in my back pocket." She paused.

"Don't tell him I said that, he wouldn't take kindly to it."

Valera

He waves a hand, grin turning downright impish. "What, me? Tell an Alastor that his reputation is helping protect his friends? My dear, I would *never*."

Madame

Madame giggled, and winked at him. "Yer a peach, shug." She put her hands on her hips.

"Anythin' else ya wanna tag team, huntin' wise? I'm down for a lil explorin' 'n huntin', if you are."

Valera

Valera sticks his tongue out, slowly unwinding his tail from his anchor point. "No, I'm a fish! But I understand the confusion. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your mistake." A wink.

"We'll have to browse the local selection, Madame! If you're amenable to a bit of window shopping, that is."

Madame

"I dunno about that, ya ass is pretty peachy!" She cackled, swimming closer to take his arm.

"I'm a fan a any kinda shoppin', includin' the window kind!"

Valera

Oho! Quick on the sass with that one, was she? Good! Keeps things interesting. He politely flutters his fins, turning his head this way and that to scout out a meal.

"You're more of an ambush predator, no?"

Madame

"Think so! Don't know too much bout octopuses honestly? Only what I've been able to figure out, mostly. But it worked earlier!" She laughed.

Valera

... He turns his head back to look at Madame, eyebrows inching up slowly but surely.

"Pardon? You don't know about octopuses? The very animal your soul was moulded after for your eternal punishment?"

Madame

She laughed, oh that look on his face!

"Yup! Thinka how surprised I was when I dropped inta Hell lookin' like this!" She gestured to herself. "Knew things like fish 'n gators 'n the like, 'n even the tiny little octopuses, but never one as big as me!"

Valera

He squints, slowly turning them back towards the shore. Sounds like they're about to make a trip to the *library*.

"I'm sure. So you're not familiar with how octopus brains work? Or the semi-independent "minds" of their tentacles?"

Madame

"Oh, is that why they sometimes do shit on they own?" She giggled again, going along with Val's movements.

"And no, I ain't. Never thought to look it up, too busy buildin' my business 'n keepin' it."

Valera

He snorts. Yes, this library visit is sounding more and more necessary. But he's not above setting a sedate pace. A couple of friends on a relaxing swim, no need to flip.

"Yes, Madame. You'll also be pleased to know that were you an octopus of the male persuasion, one of your tentacles would also be your penis." A pause, and he amends. "Well, theoretically. It gets wibbly when you mix humans and other species. I doubt you'd lay four hundred thousand eggs and then die from a single mating."

Madame

Her eyes widened and she can't help but laugh again. "Oh fuck! Yeah, sure glad I don't do that! Woulda double died a long time ago!"

Valera

"If it makes you feel any better, the Earth fish I most resemble, the lionfish, can lay..." A tap at his lips, give him a moment to recall... Oh, yes, there we go. "Fifteen thousand eggs every four days?"

That's so many. He shudders at the very thought. "I'm not *quite* so prolific. But fret not, my dear. All those facts and more can be safely tucked into your noggin once we find you a book that doesn't read like watching paint dry. I know there's SOMETHING about octopuses being able to tamper with their own biology on the fly."

Madame

"Oh? That sounds interestin'. And yeah, glad we ain't out here layin' thousands of eggs, that's just too much." She laughed, giving his arm a squeeze in hers.

Valera

And off they go, back to shore and beyond, to educate an octopus woman on her own partial biology. How lovely.

#((Internet is still ASS but i managed to get this up yay))#extermination party palace #autokrates #usedhearts

8 notes · View notes

nothingbutfangirlsmut · 4 years

Text

The Girl Out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader and Sam x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

Chapter 32

Tony had started to shake next to me. He was livid and I couldn't blame him. I would be too if I was him. He lunged for James but Steve was quick to grab him. I just stood staring at the now blank screen.

"No, Tony" Steve whispered.

"Did you know?" Tony asked quietly turning to face Steve.

"I didn't know it was him." Steve said simply.

I could see the lie in Steve's eyes. Apparently so could Tony.

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?" He shouted in Steve's face.

"Yes" Steve sighed.

Tony took a shocked step back. I knew right before it happened that this was going to be bad. I could see the crazed look in Tony's eyes. The next second he hit Steve so hard it sent him flying backwards. I knew that he had turned to James but I kept my focus on Steve. I ran to him dropping to my knees in front of him.

"What do we do?" I whispered.

"Don't let him get Bucky." Steve groaned as he got to his feet.

Steve didn't hesitate to throw his shield hitting Tony in the back of the Iron Man suit. Tony knock Steve back again then pushed a button on his suit causing a device to come out and wrap around Steve's ankles. I was frozen in shock as Tony grabbed James and lifted him into the air.

"He didn't have control. It wasn't him." I told myself harshly.

I knew that fact but watching him do it with my own eyes was something I will never erase. Just as Steve breaks his shackles a shot is fire that causes part of the building to start collapsing. Steve runs trying to get to James as the crumbling building separates the three men.

"Get out of here! Willow! Go with him!" Steve shouts at the two of us.

I force my legs to move. I jumped over the rubble landing right behind James as he turned to corner. I was hot on his heals. We run into another large room where James punches a button on the wall. The ceiling all the way at the top of the room started to open revealing a snowy blue sky.

"Come on doll we gotta climb." James says as he grabs onto the closest ledge.

I don't hesitate to follow him. He's climbing fast trying to reach the top and I'm right behind him following his lead.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." James says as we climb.

"Not your fault" I tell him.

"No, but still. I coulda went a millenium without you ever seeing that." He spoke in a strained voice.

We climbed another ledge. This time he stopped and waited for me to be beside him before he spoke again.

"You probably think horribly of me now. I don't blame ya but all I ever did was try to protect you." The look in his eyes was enough to shatter my heart.

I leaned forward grabbing his face then pulled him to me. His lips crashed against mine in a desperate, panicked kiss.

"Nothing would ever make me look at you horribly." I whispered.

"We should keep moving." He said softly.

I nodded as he started to reach up to the next ledge. Before I even touched the metal Tony came out of no where kicking James hard. He fell down several ledges landing with a thud.

"Jamie!" I scream about to jump down to him.

Tony moves to blast James but Steve is between them with his shield. A breath a quick sigh of relief as I move to help James back up.

"He's not gonna stop. Go. Both of you." Steve said glancing between us.

Steve moved to keep Tony busy as the two of us continued upwards towards the opened ceiling. I could hear the fight below us but I forced myself to keep my eyes forward. Keep moving. Keep climbing.

"Almost there doll." James panted.

He was one ledge ahead of me. He grabbed the top of the opening starting to pull himself out as an explosion went off to his right. The opened part of the ceiling groaned then fell back down with a crash and a strong gust of wind that knocked both of us back down all those ledges. I hear James land with a thud and a groan but I'm still falling. When I do land everything goes black.

Every bone in my body feels broken when I come to. I groan forcing my eyes open. The sight in front of me has me Sitting up straight instantly. All thought of pain and injury gone. James is on the ground several feet away from me. His metal arm blown off. Steve and Tony are throwing punches at each other. This is insane.

Tony lands a nasty punch sending Steve to the ground. I try to pull myself to my feet but I only fall back down. Steve sets up on his knees between Tony and James. His face is bloody and he's panting.

"He's my friend." Steve says in exasperation.

"So was I." Tony said coldly.

I force myself to my feet as Tony picks Steve up then throws him against the wall. The captain groans as he body crumbles to the floor.

"Stay down. Final Warning." Tony warns him.

I take a step forward but my legs go wobbly and my vision blurs. I drop to my hands and knees. I blink barely making out the blue outline staggering to his feet.

"I can do this all day." Steve says weakly.

Tony steps back putting his red metal covered foot right in front of my blurry eyes. I reach out and grab him then give a hard tug. He's distracted turning around to look between me and James trying to figure out which one did it. Steve lunges grabbing Tony then throwing him hard to the ground. I crawl over to James' blurry figure on the ground.

"You alright?" I ask softly.

"Could be better." He hisses.

I hear a loud breaking noise then a grunt and a groan. I turn my head trying to blink away my blurry vision. It doesn't work. From what I can tell the fighting stopped. A few seconds later a dark blue figure rose to his feet. The scraping of metal told me he had picked up his shield. He stepped over to us. He helped James and me to our feet grabbing both of us around the waist. He started to walk away guiding both of us with him.

"That shield doesn't belong to you. You don't deserve it. My father made that shield!" Tony shouted from behind us.

Steve stopped walking. There was a sound of metal clattering to the ground then we were walking again. He had dropped the shield. He gave it up. What has happened to us?

Steve gets us back to our seats on the jet as my eyes finally start to clear. I keep blinking over and over trying to clear them. When they are clear again Steve is kneeling in front of me.

"There's something I gotta do real quick then we will find a place to get you two patched up." Steve told me softly.

"I'm fine Steve but he definitely needs it." I said nodding to James.

There were light footsteps then Steve was on his feet.

"I might know a place." A familiar thick accent said.

I turned in my seat to see T'challa in his Black Panther suit, all but the mask.

"I heard you inside. I know your friend didn't kill my father. I can help him. My people can help him." T'challa explained.

Steve and T'challa shook hands before the king departed out jet. He was waiting on us to clear out so he could inform Ross he'd caught the real bad guy. Steve didn't tell me where we were going until we had been flying over nothing but ocean for several minutes.

"Sam and the others are locked up out here. We gotta get them out." He said softly.

I immediately agreed with him. He had me take control so he could slip in and out of the prison as quick as possible. I kept the jet running and ready to go. When he returned he had Sam and Wanda. I didn't question him about the others. I knew there had to be a good reason he'd leave them behind.

When we entered Wakanda I was in total shock. This was nothing like what we'd been told. It was just suppose to be a country of farmers but clearly there was a bit more going on. Steve landed the jet right outside what looked like a palace.

"You two stay here. We won't be long." Steve ordered Sam and Wanda.

They both nodded. I stepped over to Sam then hugged him tightly.

"God, its good to see you." I smiled up at him.

"You too beautiful." He said with a charming smile.

"We'll be back." I told him then ran off to catch up with Steve.

I accompanied James into the room to see the doctor while Steve waited in the hall. James sat on the table while that man looked over everything, not just her metal arm.

"Doc, could I ask you something?" James asked suddenly.

"Sure" the man said nodding.

"Do you have the technology to put me back under? Freeze me?" He asked glancing over at me nervously.

A young woman suddenly appeared next to me making me jump.

"Why would you want to do that Sergeant Barnes?" She asked him.

"Give you time to figure how to get this Hydra shit outta my head." He said with a pained expression.

The woman shrugged.

"We can put you back in stasis if that's what you wish. I can work on some brain technology to help you when you next come out." She told him with a told.

"Good, do it" he nodded at her.

"Wait, are you serious?" I asked him stepping forward.

"Sorry doll, but I think we both know it's for the best." He said softly.

I didn't know what to say so instead I left the room. Out in the hall I told Steve what had just happened. He hugged me tightly but I wasn't as upset as I thought I would be. I already knew what I was going to do. What I had to do. This time everything would be different. The two of us walked back into the room just as the doctor and the young woman walked away from James.

"You sure about this?" Steve asked James.

"I can't trust my own mind. So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing. For everybody." James explained.

"You want to go tell the others? I'll be right behind you." Steve suggested.

I chuckled softly making both men look at me in confusion.

"Sorry Stevie, I'm not going anywhere." I told him shaking my head.

"What are you talking about?" James asked.

"I'm not leaving you. I don't care how long it takes. I'm gonna stay right here. I'll help them if I can but I'll be here by your side. I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not gonna let you be alone. Not again. Not ever again." I told him grabbing his hands and squeezing reassuringly.

The small smile that appeared on James' face warmed my soul. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. I stood next to Steve as they put him inside the chamber. We watched through thick glass.

"Will you tell Sam I'm sorry?" I asked Steve softly.

"You know I will." He nodded.

"Call me when you can. I'll keep you updating on everything." I told him.

He nodded then kissed the top of my head. A few seconds later he was gone. I was left standing in front of the glass watching James be frozen once again. But it's okay. This is not the end. When he wakes up we'll have his fix for the brain washing and I'll be here to help him through it. This time we can do things right. Live out a peaceful life here. A peaceful life with James Barnes.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #fanfiction #the girl out of time #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #tony stark #black panther

20 notes · View notes

johannstutt413 · 4 years

Text

(requested by anonymous)

“Hoshiguma?” Bagpipe was on her way home from work when she spotted the Oni making the same trip. “Do you know where I could find Chenchen?”

“‘Chenchen?’ She’s still at the office, but she could probably use a visitor. Try to get her out of there before she sleeps in her chair again.”

The Vouivre nodded. “I’ll do my best! Have a good’un, Hoshi!”

“You, too.” As they went their separate ways, she looked behind her, watching the office door swing open and shut. “I wonder if she knows just how uphill of a battle she signed up for.”

-- -- --

“Now where in tarnation is her desk...” Bagpipe glanced around a central room that had three doors. After a bit of deductive reasoning, she determined it was the one with light coming out from under it and pushed it open.

Ch’en, as Hoshi had suggested, had her head on her desk and was breathing softly - dead to the world after a long day’s work.

“Heh. You always treated yer desk like yer pillow, didn’cha?” She cooed over her for a moment, vivid memories of trying to study with her late into the evening only to fall asleep mid-paragraph, waking up on top of her covers because the Lung had put her there only to study even more herself. No, she hadn’t changed one bit...at least on the surface. “I ain’t lettin’ you sleep like this tonight, though. Let’s getcha home.”

“...Hoshi? You feel different...” Ch’en muttered as the somewhat familiar feeling of being taken mostly-asleep back to her room registered mid-hallway.

Bagpipe smiled, not wanting to jar her with a laugh. “Tonight it’s me, Chenchen.”

“...Wait...Pippy?” She stirred, not enough to fall out of the Vouivre’s arms but enough to remind her of the Lung’s strength.

“I knew ya missed me.” She certainly had. “Ya never stopped burnin’ the candle at both ends, didya?”

Ch’en pouted. “I have even more responsibility than I did back then-”

“I know, I know. I’m just glad ya didn’ go and try reinventin’ yerself like some of the girls did.”

“Why change what works?” Perhaps without realizing what she was doing, she settled into Bagpipe’s arms as if expecting to snuggle. “How are you? Rhodes Island treating you well?”

The Vouivre chuckled. “Can’t complain too much. Doctor gave me a potato plot to take care of, she’s lettin’ me help whe’er I feel like outside that, and I ain’t out in the field if I don’t wanna be. Besides, yer here...” Even as she said it, the lingering note that neither of them acknowledged aloud stuck in both their ears.

“...I never did find them.”

“Hmm?” She blinked a few times. “Didn’ fin’ who?”

Ch’en blushed. “Never mind.”

“Ah come on, ya can’ tease me like that! ‘Specially when I’m carryin’ ya ‘stead of the otha’ way ‘round fer once.”

“For once?” The Lung shook her head, grinning. “What do you call all the times you had to take me out of harm’s way to patch me up, hmm?”

She shook her head right back. “Now that’s dif’rent-”

“I don’t see how - we both needed rest after a hard fight, didn’t we?”

“But ya only let me carry ya when ya were cut up finer than a mound of hashbrowns!” The Vouivre’s face was turning almost as red as her hair. “But I woulda...eh...nah, no good dwellin’ on what coulda been.”

Ch’en’s eyes gravitated to Bagpipe’s as if magnetized. “What could’ve been?”

“Well, I mean...always were pretty close, weren’t we? Shared a dorm, shared meals, fought together, studied together...Got to know each other pretty well, ya know? I just, well...I wu’n’t in the right mindset for it.”

“We both just wanted to graduate back then.” The Lung smiled. “But that was then, and this is now, Pippy.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know, Chenchen-”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Eh?” A hand cupped her cheek, and suddenly she did. “Oh...Yeah, had that completely backwards, didn’ I?”

She clicked her tongue. “You sure did. I guess you did forget that one talk we had, though.”

“That ‘didn’ find ‘em’ talk? Yeah, sorry. Had so many late-night chats since then they all kinda slipped out ‘tween my ears.”

“It’s fine, Pippy.” Chen’s thumb was idly running up and down her cheek. “You asked me why it was that all the other officers didn’t think you were cute.”

Bagpipe groaned. “I really haven’ changed much.”

“I said that all that really matters is having one person who looks at you like that, and you said that I wouldn’t know because everyone couldn’t keep their eyes off me. Which was funny, because I was so worried they were going to take you from me I never even stopped to look around.”

“...Eh?” She blinked. “‘Take me from you?’ Why on earth-”

The Lung tapped her cheek twice. “We’ll get there. We went back and forth for a bit, beating around the bush like we always did, until you said that, if you never found that person that looked at you that way, you’d take me out for a drink and we’d see what happened. I made you that same promise.”

“And ya never found that person? Shucks, I shoulda just made a move when I had the chance.”

“I should’ve, too.” Ch’en’s eyes began to sparkle. “Especially since I still think you’re the cutest Vouivre to ever set foot on Terra.”

...Rhodes Island just never stopped given’, did it? “Still? Ya mean-”

“I’ve always looked at you like that, Pippy. When we split up after we graduated, it felt wrong, but I always hoped we’d meet again. It’s not like my taste in women changed - I mean, you saw Hoshi, right? Might not look like it just walking past her, but she’s pretty adorable at times, too. Still not as cute as you are just being yourself.”

“...I dunno what to say, Chenchen. I’m just...really glad we feel the same, I reckon.”

She kissed her cheek. “You want to stay the night, since we’re heading to my room anyway?”

“How’m I gonna say no to that?” Bagpipe squeezed her a little. “Just uh...ya know, don’t try to use them city tricks on me, alright? I just wanna take it nice and slow.”

“I’ll make whatever time I need to for you, Pippy. Whatever time you need.”

Looking in her eyes, ‘Pippy’ believed it with every fiber of her being.

#arknights #ch'en (arknights)#bagpipe (arknights)#still a lil' salty i don't have her #another couple for Lungmen's finest #also completely unrelated but who do y'all think is the most-shipped character in AK?#as in who has the most different ships attached to them?#curious on who's the airship bicycle in other people's brains #arknights fic

12 notes · View notes

dreamonhunters · 4 years

Text

we’ll have tomorrow

tw // blood, alcohol, canon-typical violence, gang violence, medical procedures

some hurt/comfort myan i wrote for the @rtwritingcommunity secret springfairy 2020 ! this was a gift for my wonderful qpp @thisiswhatmylifehasbecome ♡

read it here on ao3!

“You’re gettin’ blood on my carpet,” Ryan complains, but Michael doesn’t respond.

It’s almost standard procedure, by this point. Michael gets himself fucked up, crawls to Ryan’s apartment, and the aforementioned teen fixes him up. Rinse and repeat. It’s a fucked up little system they have, but it works. Besides, it’s not like Gavin possesses the medical skills to prevent Michael bleeding out.

“‘m not,” Michael mutters, and Ryan ignores him. The blood soaking into Ryan’s carpet is proving him wrong, but it’s easier not to address that. Instigating an argument isn’t going to get either of them far.

“C’mon,” Ryan sighs, looping one arm around the ginger’s waist. He tenses, but he doesn’t resist. He doesn’t need help. There’s a dark red liquid slowly seeping through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but he can stand. He can almost walk. He doesn’t need help.

Ryan knows to avoid that word. It ignites a rage inside Michael, one he doesn’t like to deal with unless strictly necessary. The concept of weakness. The assumption that he can’t handle himself. His plea of assistance to Ryan is unspoken, and he can respect that. He knows full well Michael could stitch himself up if he wanted to, but he also knows he can do it better. That’s why Michael showed up on his doorstep to begin with. So instead of speaking, he guides Michael to the bathroom and sits him down on the toilet. At least cleaning blood off tiles is easier.

“What happened this time, hm?” Ryan asks, already digging through one of the cabinets for his medical kit. It’s pretty extensive by this point — it’s a well known fact that Ryan’s window is always unlocked for one particular reason. It’s a silent promise. For several years now, he’s offered his apartment as something of a safe haven for street kids to get fixed up, eat a solid meal, and have a soft place to crash for the night. It’s the least he can do, that’s what he always says. Ryan isn’t much older than half the kids he takes in, but that’s beside the point. He’s prepared for just about anything.

Michael is something of a regular. He first stumbled across the kid up in an alleyway, beaten and barely breathing. He’d resisted Ryan every last step of the short walk back to his apartment. Nowadays it’s a slow week if the fiery ginger doesn’t tumble through his window at least once a week — occasionally, he’s not even injured, and he's just paying Ryan a visit. They’re friends, in a slightly twisted sense of that word.

There’s no response for a while, until Ryan rocks back onto his haunches and fixes Michael with a look that just screams ‘this isn’t going any further until you tell me’. The ginger lets out an indignant huff.

“Some fuckin’ gang kids. Started threatenin’ me an’ shit, then got all surprised when I pulled a knife.” he grumbles. Ryan lets out a sigh — he’s disappointed, but this really shouldn’t be any kind of shock. Most of Michael’s visits were the result of petty street conflicts.

Now he’s kneeling before the boy, the bright, artificial bathroom lights truly reveal the full extent of Michael’s injuries. Aside from the still-bleeding wound in his side, there’s a lurid bruise purpling high on his right cheekbone, and his bottom lip is broken and swollen. His knuckles are bloody, small patches of skin peeling off.

“You didn’t have to fight them, Michael,” Ryan reminds him, but there’s no real heat in his voice. He doesn’t have the energy to fight this battle right now. Michael mutters something inaudible, but he doesn’t care to find out what. “Take your shirt off. I can’t do anything with that in the way.”

A hiss of pain escapes Michael as he practically rips the shirt off, face contorted with pain. There’s a whole collection of scars and bruises littered across the boy’s body, but those pale in comparison to his latest wound. Most of his torso is coated in sticky blood, although his platelets have begun to do their job. Around the edges, the wound is starting to scab up, and the bleeding is lesser. It’ll still need stitches, though.

With a heavy sigh, Ryan pulled on a thin pair of latex gloves. “I’ll clean it up, alright? And when I’m done I can make dinner.”

Michael doesn’t reply, because as much as he knows Ryan won’t let him leave, he hates accepting people’s charity. He knows Ryan doesn’t think he’s weak, or helpless, or can’t look after himself. But he can’t shake that idea out of his head.

He doesn’t wait for a response, fortunately, and sets about applying pressure to the wound. Michael hisses again as a cold, damp force pushes against his side. “Coulda fuckin’ warned me,” he spits, glaring daggers at Ryan. Fortunately, the older boy learnt to ignore that look long ago.

“Would you prefer to bleed out?” Ryan asks pointedly, releasing the pressure just enough to sift through his medical kit one-handed. It’ll need cleaning first — the day Ryan stops cleaning wounds properly is the day he dies, even if Michael whines and bitches through every last second of that process — and then he can get to work on stitching. It’s deep, but it’s not the worst he’s had to work with.

There’s no response from Michael, and he’ll keep it that way for as long as possible. The pressure on his side disappears entirely, and he can breathe again, until a heartbeat later it’s replaced by a sharp, stinging sensation.

“Fuck sake, Ryan,” Michael grounds out, flinching at the coldness.

“I’m not doin’ stitches without cleaning you up properly,” is his defence, and Michael goes back to muttering insults under his breath. Ryan cleans in silence, interrupted by the occasional wince or strangled insult from the boy.

As soon as he’s done cleaning, a cold gel is slathered across the edges of his wound. By now, the bleeding has almost entirely stopped. There’s a whine of discomfort ripped from Michael’s throat, but he doesn’t complain further. Most people wouldn’t bother with lidocaine. Ryan always tells him to be grateful.

At least there’s some relief from the pain that lances through his body with every tiny movement. Michael doesn’t let it show on his face, but Ryan can read his body language like a book. He’s in agony, but agony is weakness and Michael doesn’t do weakness. Ryan lets the gel settle for a few moments, taking full effect. It’s not much, not nearly enough to stop him feeling, but it’ll dull the pain at least a little. There’s a needle and thread in his hand by the time Michael looks back at him.

“You ready?” he asks softly, and the minute nod that Michael gives him is enough. Silently, Ryan hands Michael a whiskey-soaked rag. He likes something to bite down on, and the alcoholic burn serves as something of a distraction from his pain.

Ryan works quickly and methodically. They pull the flesh together properly, forming a singular row of neat, tidy stitches. His stitches are clean, evidently practised from the amount of people he has to fix up. He learnt how to stitch up a wound properly back when he’d been in Michael’s position. He learnt how to stitch up a wound effectively when he started doing it for others. Messy work didn’t quite cut it when he had to look at it on somebody else’s body.

“You done?” Michael groans, spitting the rag into his left hand and scrubbing the right over his mouth. “That fuckin’ killed.”

“I know, I know. It’s over,” Ryan reassures, already moving to grab some bandages. Michael didn’t need to tell him how much it hurt. The small whimpers and hisses that escaped him were evidence enough, even if the rag muffled the worst of it. “Jus’ lemme bandage it up, alright?”

Michael doesn’t answer, and so Ryan sets to work covering his torso in thick white bandages. It’s more of a precaution than a necessity — a visible reminder to Michael. The boy has a habit of pulling his stitches out. Sometimes bandaging it up made him think twice about doing more reckless shit.

Sometimes.

When he’s done, Ryan rocks back onto his haunches and gazes up at Michael. The boy’s face is still twisted into a grimace. “You need some painkillers?” Ryan offers. He nods.

The room is silent, aside from the sounds of Ryan sorting through his medical kit to find the aforementioned painkillers. He pulls out a small cardboard box and offers it to Michael. The ginger pulls out a foil-covered tray and pops three out, swallowing them down dry. The box is tossed back in the general direction of Ryan’s kit.

“You staying for dinner, then?” Ryan asks, and they both know the answer. “Get changed. There’s clothes in the bedroom. You know I have stuff that’ll fit.” he concludes, packing up the last of his medical kit and shoving it back into the cabinet. Slowly, Michael gets to his feet. There’s an unintelligible grunt for a response.

It’s a dysfunctional relationship, but Ryan can’t help but feel some kind of protectiveness over Michael. He’s been in one too many shitty scenarios not to see himself in those brown eyes, the same eyes that glow the colour of whiskey when the light hits them. Even if he doesn’t speak of it, the years of pain and trauma are hidden into those depths. Ryan likes to think you can’t see it in his own eyes.

x x x

It's been a week or so since Michael last came to Ryan with the immediate threat of bleeding out, and for once he’s not injured when he comes tumbling through the older teen’s window. It’s unlocked, as always, and Michael already feels like he’s at home.

“Ryan?” he calls out, decidedly more cheerful than his last time here.

There’s no response.

That’s unusual. Ryan doesn’t tend to leave all that often, and when he does the window is always locked. As much as he loves these kids, like hell is he gonna trust them in his empty apartment. This is Los Santos.

“Hey, Ry, it’s me,” he tries again, already feeling for the switchblade in his pocket. He can taste the tension in the air, and he doesn’t like it one bit. Ryan isn’t the type to play games with him. “Quit fuckin’ around.”

There’s a muffled sound, which could quite easily have been a groan, and Michael’s blood runs cold. He’s definitely not alone. If he had to guess, he’d say it came from the kitchen. The weight of the switchblade in his palm is little reassurance, but he reminds himself that it’s better than nothing.

His movements are slow as he approaches the kitchen, in an attempt to create as little sound as possible. The closer he gets, the more he can make out. Two men speak in hushed voices, and there’s a third man moaning in pain. The third voice is muffled, and Michael suspects he’s gagged. He also suspects it’s Ryan. By this point, his heart is in his mouth.

If only he had a gun.

The heavy wooden door banged as it hit the wall behind it, and suddenly he’s faced with two young men and Ryan. He’s laid on the floor, but Michael doesn’t stop for long enough to survey his injuries. “Who the fuck are you?” he spits, venom practically dripping from his voice.

The two men before him couldn’t be older than twenty-five. One had jet-black hair and icy blue eyes, too sharp to be kindred; the other sported sandy blond locks, the same blue eyes and muscular arms covered from shoulder to wrist in intricate tattoos. Siblings, most likely. The first man, dark haired, fiddles with an expensive-looking lighter. A lit cigarette hangs between his lips, smoke curling lazily around his face. His companion twirls a knife around his fingers, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on here.

“And who might you be?” the first one drawls, eyes flicking from Ryan to Michael.

Michael sneers at him. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but I think it does,” he responds, and the other’s eyes seem to light up beside him. “Can’t you see we’re busy, kid?”

“Fuck off.”

When the man speaks again, the challenge in his voice is evident. “Make me.”

Michael lunges for him, but the blond by his side is quicker. He barrels into the ginger’s side, and it takes every ounce of his strength to remain upright. Miraculously, he doesn’t drop the knife, and before he’s even realised it the blade is plunged deep into his attacker’s side.

The man howls in pain, and suddenly his friend doesn’t seem so confident. That cocky smirk is wiped from his face, and if it weren’t for the shitty lighting in Ryan’s kitchen, he could’ve sworn his face paled. Michael’s gained the upper hand.

“Get the fuck out,” Michael warns, glaring down the man with an almost animalistic ferocity. “Or I’ll gut him and make you fuckin’ watch.”

Clearly, he’s no fighter. It isn’t hard to work out that the blond is purely muscle, and he’s the brains behind the operation. It’s evident from his lighter, his stance, the slim stature and expensive clothing. He’s the boss, and his partner is a disposable some hitman trying to make a living. If it wasn’t Ryan laid on the floor, fading in and out of consciousness, Michael might have found it within himself to feel sorry.

When no reply comes, Michael tries again. “I said, get the fuck out, and I’ll think about not killin’ you here and now.”

That seems to jerk him into motion, and suddenly his gripping the blond’s shirt and yanking him in the direction of the window. Michael watches them go, a thunderous expression marring his features.

Normally, he would’ve killed them on sight. But he’s not stupid, and Michael knows just enough about Ryan to make him hesitate. The teen is secretive, but he’s known him long enough to have heard the stories of his own time in various gangs across the city. He can do without another furious gang on his ass.

When he’s certain they’re gone, he returns to the window and locks it. Ryan is still sprawled across the kitchen floor, breathing shallowly. There’s blood splattered across the linoleum, seeping into the cracks where the material meets furniture. His breath caught in his throat at the sight.

“Ryan?” he asks, surprised by how quiet his voice is. The word comes out cracked and broken, and suddenly it’s painfully obvious just how much of a scared teenager Michael still is.

The teen manages a pained groan, struggling to sit up. “Stop, jus’ fuckin’, I dunno, try and stay still.” Michael insists, and then he practically sprints to the bathroom. All he knows is there’s a medical kit in one of these cabinets, and he needs to find it before Ryan passes out. There’s a large plastic box, and before Michael has time to second guess himself he’s yanked it out and run back to Ryan’s side.

He practically crashes to his knees beside the boy, glancing over the injuries. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem too extensive. There’s a stab wound in his side, not dissimilar to Michael’s own, and there’s small burns scattered across his collarbone. Desperately, he racks his brain and tries to remember anything and everything Ryan has ever done for him.

“Michael?” Ryan groans, managing to lift his head just enough to catch sight of the boy.

“Hey, yeah, it’s me. What the fuck happened?” he asks, trying not to let anxiety colour his tone. It’s not possible to keep that fear out those whiskey-brown eyes, though. Ryan can immediately tell he’s scared.

“My old gang...they’ve still got bad blood with me,” Ryan manages. “I killed one of their members. They hadn’t forgotten about it.”

So he was right not to kill that fucker there and then, Michael thinks to himself. Sometimes he truly is grateful he’s not as trigger happy as some may believe.

“Aight. I can handle this,” Michael mutters, more for his own sake than Ryan’s. There’s antiseptic solution in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. All he needs to do is recreate what the teen did for him all those times before.

“It’s fine, Michael, really,” Ryan tries.

Michael scoffs. “You’re gettin’ blood on the floor. Now shut up an’ let me fix you up.”

Ryan doesn’t argue back, and Michael soaks a couple of thick gauze pads in antiseptic. Applying pressure seems pointless, considering the man is laid down and that slows the blood flow significantly as it is. Ryan grits his teeth as the boy begins to work, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek.

“You want somethin’ to bite on?” Michael asks, tipping the whiskey onto that same rag Ryan always offers. There’s a pained noise of acknowledgement, and Michael hands it over.

He doesn’t waste time numbing the wound. He doesn’t even know what to use. Michael’s mind is running a mile a minute; he doesn’t have time to think carefully over every single move. Ryan sounds like he’s about to protest, but Michael is already threading the needle before he can vocalise words.

Ryan cries out in pain when Michael first pushes the needle into his bloodied flesh, hot tears stinging at his eyes. He won’t cry, not in front of Michael, even if the ginger is paying no attention to his face right now. His face is twisted with concentration, hyperfocused on his work. They both know he can stitch up a wound, but it’s not exactly his strong point.

Compared to Ryan’s neat stitching, Michael’s is messy. Panic makes his hands shake and there’s tears blurring his vision. It wasn’t until he saw Ryan in such a vulnerable state that he realised just how important the boy was to him. If he’s really honest, Michael couldn’t be sure how long he’d have survived on the streets without Ryan’s assistance.

But his work will hold the skin together, and the bleeding has stopped. He can relax a little. “Think you can sit up?” Michael asks. Ryan manages a small nod, pushing up onto his elbows. Michael grabs his shoulder and helps him up, trying to ignore the hiss of pain that slips past Ryan’s lips.

“You need any painkillers?” is his next question, already popping two small white tablets into his palm. Ryan nods, and grabs the bottle. The two pills are washed down with a swig of whiskey.

“Thank you, Michael,” he mumbles weakly. Never had he expected to be in this position, having one the kids he was supposed to be looking after stitching him up. Bleeding out on his kitchen floor wasn’t exactly on his list of things to do, mind. “‘m sorry.”

“Shut up. Don’t apologise.” Michael mutters, face set into a dark scowl. “I woulda killed ‘em, y’know. I jus’ didn’t wanna cause more problems.”

“Good. Because they would’ve come after you too,” Ryan sighs, pausing to take another swig of whiskey. “You didn’t do a bad job.”

“I know you’re gonna pull ‘em out and redo ‘em tomorrow,” he replies, although there’s no real heat behind his voice. If anything, he’s just relieved that Ryan’s okay, he’s alive and he’s breathing and there’s still life in those crystal blue eyes that Michael never realised he loved so much.

It’s a strange feeling.

“C’mon, you needta go to bed,” Michael says. It’s a good distraction from his own complicated emotions, and Ryan doesn’t fight him on it.

Slowly, the older teen struggles to his feet. He clings to Michael and the kitchen counter, but soon he’s on his feet. They’re able to hobble to the bedroom, and Ryan all but falls onto the bed. “You stayin’?” the boy asks softly, and Michael nods.

“Yeah. I’ll sleep in the spare room. An’ then I can check on you in the morning,” Michael explains.

He leaves Ryan for a while, offering the boy a little privacy to change. While Ryan sleeps, he can clean up the kitchen. For the time being, he grabs a glass from one of the wooden cupboards and fills it. There’s a few more painkillers in his free hand, and he leaves both on Ryan’s nightstand. The boy in question is fast asleep, evidently having passed out the moment he hit the bed. There’s a small smile on Michael’s lips as he turns off the light and shuts the door behind him. The sense of responsibility that swells in his chest isn’t something he’s used to. But it’s a surprisingly pleasant feeling. A foreign warmth that starts in his chest and spreads through every last inch of his being.

There’s so much he could say — wants to say — to Ryan. Maybe he’ll sift through those feelings one day. But for now, he busies himself with cleaning up the kitchen.

They’ll have tomorrow.

#rayray writes #my writing #achievement hunter #ah #roosterteeth #rt #rtah #rt writing #achievement hunter fic #roosterteeth fic #ryan haywood #michael jones #myan #fahc #fake ah crew #fake achievement hunter crew #gta iv #writing

25 notes · View notes

jeawrites · 4 years

Text

3 AM

Note: Today’s warmup!! I’m on a roll today!! Ship: Smii7y/H2o Delirous Words: 1414 Warnings: Mentions of fighting and some injury descriptions (nothing graphic).

Jaren grumbled as he heard his phone going off, the annoying ringtone he had set for Jon playing. “Why’d I pick,” he tossed around to untangle himself from his blanket, “the fucking bassboosted fucking circus theme-” His voice rose as he nearly fell out of bed and he huffed.

He reached over for his phone and quickly swiped on the call, before putting it on speaker so he didn’t have to hold it. “It’s three in the morning,” he stated firstly, not letting Jon speak, “And, I was sleeping so you better have a really good reason to be waking me up Jon.” The anger was evident in his voice, but that spiraled down when he heard a sniffle from the other end. “S-sorry, I know it’s- I know it’s late but I just,” he heard a stifled sob and Jaren’s eyes widened as he sat up. “Jon? Hey, what’s wrong bud?” he asked, concern flushing out any previous irritation. “I-I…” Jon fell silent, and Jaren could hear shuffling on the other end, a muffled voice and a door shutting. “I got- I got kicked out,” he admitted.

Jon had been living with a roommate- Jaren didn’t know their name due to Jon not wanting the guys to know too much about him. Clearly he wasn’t a great guy if he kicked Jon out in tears. “Why’d he kick you out?” Jaren asked. “I don’t know. He-he just- he just woke me up and started yelling at me and then he pushed me out- out the door!” Jon explained. “Do you have anywhere to go?” Jaren was more concerned on that portion. Luke and Ryan and moved a few towns away, but the rest of the guys would jump at being able to support any of the others who were in need of support, including Jon. “N-no,” he admitted, “The other’s wouldn’t-wouldn’t pick up.” He paused and then continued; “Evan did… but he- he’s at work… and I’m not- not supposed to break in through his window after- after last time.”

“Oh man,” Jaren mumbled, shuffling to stand, “You can come over here if you need to, Jon.” Jon didn’t reply for a minute. “Really?” he asked, a hope in his voice. “Yeah, man. You got any money on you anyways? I doubt you left with some,” he glanced around his room as he spoke, looking for a pair of pants. “I- I don’t have much, you’re right,” he mumbled, “only enough to pay a driver.”

“See? So just come over to my place,” Jaren offered. “O-okay. Gimme a sec,” he mumbled. Then, the muffled voices were back. “I’ll be there in a few,” he spoke quietly. “Great,” Jaren smiled, “See you then?”

Jon didn’t reply right away again, worrying Jaren. “Y-yeah. See you then.”

When the call ended, Jaren threw on a pair of pajama bottoms and then headed out of his room. Man, this sorta sucked. He ran a hand through his hair and headed into the kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a drink. Maybe this is why Jon didn’t tell them much about the guy- he didn’t want a ton of guys going after him with murder in the brain.

But, that was odd in itself. Jon doesn’t really take shit from anyone- in fact, if anyone was more likely to kill in their group it’d be him. He pondered on that for a minute. Jaren just couldn’t imagine Jon getting kicked out willingly, and he’s hard to fight. If, watching him get into little brawls throughout high school was proof of that.

A knock sounded at his door and he shook his head clean of thoughts as he walked over. When he opened the door, he was immediately pulled into a hug and asked; “Bandaids?” Bandaids? The question didn’t register until he told Jon they were in the cabinet above the oven.

But, the minute Jon had gotten past him, he seemed to realize. “Wait- hold up,” he called, turning on his heels and shutting the door before he followed after him. “What do ya need bandaids for?” he grabbed Jon’s shoulder, and felt him tense under his grip.

When he got Jon to turn around he felt his blood freeze before growing heated as he found his anger fueling him. “What… happened?”

Jon had clearly gotten into a fight. It was obvious from his swelling eye to the busted lip and cut on his cheek. Dried blood trailed from his nose and such. The crying was clear too, thanks to the red in his eyes, the tear marks on his face, and the fact he was still sniffling. He was a mess. “Man,” he breathed and led Jon towards the counter. “Sit.”

He hopped onto the counter and Jaren grabbed a hand towel from one of his drawers. “Did he fuck you up too?” he asked, annoyance itching in his tone. He was so telling Tyler. “Yeah,” Jon answered, his voice mumbled, “I- I just- I mean, he started yelling. I couldn’t- I couldn’t just not,y’know.” He gestured, and he really didn’t make much sense but Jaren understood. He wet the towel with some warm water. “You know, that’s a key detail you coulda told me when we were talking,” he stated. “Sorry,” Jon replied. “You don’t have to apologize,” Jaren told him as he ringed the towel and then moved in front of him. “Lean down,” he stated. Jon listened and leaned down, letting Jaren wipe his face clean.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this beaten up since senior year,” Jaren commented, taking his time and carefully getting the blood off his face, trying to avoid hurting him. Jon didn’t mind the little stings, he was used to it. Though, the gentle touching was a nice contrast from the earlier events of the night. “I-I haven’t fought much since- since senior year,” he shrugged. “I-I think I got into- into a… a drunk fight with Tyler- uhm,” he furrowed his brows, “A year after graduation.” Jaren nodded a bit, and smiled. “I remember that,” he chuckled, “It was more just you two slapping each other, nothing bad.”

Jon kept his eyes on Jaren, sort of eyeing over the mess of fluffy white hair to the careful mismatched eyes that focused on what he was doing. “Your face is pretty,” Jon complimented, though he didn’t seem to realize he said it out loud. Jaren choked on his breath, and he felt his face heat up a bit. “W-what?” he asked, looking at Jon in surprise. Jon blinked and then turned a little red. “No-nothin!” he exclaimed, “S-sorry- you just- you looked so focused and- and- you look pretty,” he admitted, and he looked away. “I- I just, I was speakin my mind.”

Jaren swallowed and nodded, quickly moving back, and placing the hand towel down before opening the cabinet above the stove, pulling the bandaids out. “Sorry if I- sorry if I made this awkward,” he mumbled and Jaren shook his head. “It’s fine, just…” he smiled, “You’re pretty too.” Jon squeaked, Jaren laughed and took a few bandaids out. He began to patch up Jon’s face and then helped him off the counter. “You’re all fixed up,” he stated, proudly, “Thanks to my handiwork of course!”

Jon laughed softly at that. “Uh huh, thanks,” he patted his shoulder and walked passed him, towards the living room. Jon had all of their houses mapped out. He yawned and sat on the couch, patting the space by him. Jaren followed and sat down, letting Jon lay against him. “I’m kicking your roommates ass,” he promised, wrapping an arm around him. “Got it covered,” Jon spoke back, “I already got Evan on his ass.”

Jaren winced. “Right, you talked to him. But… did you tell Evan…?” Jon snickered. “Oh yeah,” he answered, “Evan knows- Evan knows every little bit.” Oh that guy was going to die. “I gave him the address and all, pretty sure he was gonna pick up Tyler and Brian on his way over,” he laughed, a little more lively. “Man, he’s not just gonna die, he’s going straight to his own personal hell,” Jaren mumbled. “No- I woulda got- got Luke for that. This guy is one person off from that,” he replied. “You saying Evan didn’t tell Luke?” he inquired.

Jon fell quiet and a smile pulled at his lips. “Oh he is so fucked.” They both laughed.

#these two probably own my heart at this point #krii7y who?#no but i love both #SMii7Y #smi77y #smiity #h2o delirious #h20 delirious #bbs #bbs au #banana bus crew #banana bus squad #h2omilk

30 notes · View notes

mirainawen · 4 years

Note

“But I don’t need a jacket.”

Dean tossed the paper beside Sam. “Spirit of Halloween Strikes Local Pumpkin Patch.”

Sam frowned, returning his attention to the open germanic text before him. “Jude Lawson,” he guessed, and turned a page.

“Not the byline, Sam.”

He paused, looking up at his brother. Dean’s brows rose, eyes gesturing to the paper. Sam sighed, sitting back to drag the newsprint closer. “Halloween irritates me as much as it does you, Dean.” He began, but trailed off as he skimmed the first part of the article.

“Of the two of us, who’s willingly gone to a Halloween party?”

“Pretty sure you went to a few in high school,” Sam mumbled as he unfolded the paper to find the rest of the article.

“Lot of hot girls at those parties.”

“Right.” He only half-acknowledged his brother, focusing on the article. He read, then re-skimmed it. Flipped the paper back to the front page, where the original headline was tucked into the bottom corner.

Wasn’t considered important enough to beat out the front and center announcement Baldwin City Oktoberfest Sees Record Numbers At New Location.

Who wanted to frighten the local yayhoos with stupid concerns like “disturbing messages painted in goat’s blood on various pumpkins throughout hay bale maze.”

“You think this is something more than some local kids, uh,” Sam cleared his throat, “getting in the spirit?”

Dean shot him a look like don’t try to be funny, and shrugged, letting his hands fall from the back of the chair as he straightened up. “Doesn’t hurt to check it out.”

He shrugged, unable to argue that point. “Okay, so, you want us to go with you?” he asked.

Dean huffed, shaking his head. “No, I think I can investigate a pumpkin maze by myself, Sam.”

He shrugged again. “I’ll stay here with Adam then.”

“Right.” Dean nodded. “Uh, Sam…?”

He looked up, brows raised in question.

“Don’t tell him where I’m at.” Dean lowered his voice.

Sam paused, glancing unnecessarily towards the hall leading to their rooms.

“Kid’s been begging to go since last week.”

His brow furrowed. “How did he know about it?”

“Some kid at daycare.” Dean pulled a face.

The word still felt like a coldwater shock to just throw it out there so casually. Five months in and not a single part of the new-normal felt...well, normal.

“Wants to go trick-or-treating too.”

He reacted strongly. “What did you tell him?” Trick-or-treating…he’d do a lot of things for Adam he’d never saw himself doing in a million years, but… He hated Halloween so much.

Dean grinned. “Told him you’d love to dress up and take him.”

“Dean.”

“Good luck, Sammy!”

Sam paused and glanced up. It’d been a couple hours now and he’d yet to see Adam. The bunker was unusually quiet. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Dean had taken Adam with him.

He didn’t think there was anything to find out there at the maze, dumb teenagers being stupid, but he also recognized when Dean was getting stir-crazy.

Neither of them was addressing it yet, but they hadn’t heard from adult-Adam in long enough that things were looking…permanent.

Checking his watch, he called, “Adam? Hey, buddy, what do you want for lunch?”

There’s no answer, and Sam sighed. He shouldn’t have left the kid alone as long as he did. So much he was still getting used to.

“Adam?” he called again, making his way down the hall towards their rooms. Their doors were closed, but Adam’s was cracked. He pushed it open to look inside.

The room was dark. The bed was messily made but made. No sign of Adam.

He sighed. “Alright, shortstack—this isn’t funny! Where are you?” He hoped the nickname at least would raise a protest.

Another thing that had been slowly disappearing.

Still nothing. He checked the bathroom, the kitchen, library, couch, and when that produced no sign of his little brother, something frantic beat against irritation in his chest.

Adam had a tendency to disappear and appear in places he wasn’t supposed to be.

He grabbed a flashlight and headed for the closest storage room when he heard his phone ringing from the library. He ignored it, calling for his brother.

It stopped, and started ringing again. Rang twice, stopped. Rang again, once, twice, three, pick up Sammy. Stopped.

In the ten second delay he knew would come, he rushed back to grab his phone. He answered on the first ring, already knowing who it was.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t tell me it took you this long to realize.” Dean said, exasperated.

“Realize-”

“Adam’s with me.”

Sam froze. He can hear and read Dean’s mood through the phone—it’s not amused, and it’s not entirely directed at him. This wasn’t a game.

He walked back to the library, gesturing in agitation. “What the hell, Dean? How did-”

“Kid snuck into the back seat before I left.” He directed some of that disapproval towards their resident troublemaker.

“Because I just knew you weren’t gonna take me!” Adam griped in the background. “And I wanted to-”

“Hey, what did I tell you? Shut up.” Dean told him. “You coulda given Sam a heart attack if Sam noticed.”

“I noticed,” he shot back, ruffled at the way that last was actually directed at him. “I’ve been looking for him!”

“Obviously not very good.” Dean said, though even he couldn’t be sure what he meant by that.

Sam stewed in the irritation rather than rise to it.

“I’m not done here.” Dean’s voice was briefly lost in a burst of wind.

“I don’t wanna go home!” Adam protested.

“Adam.” When Dean used his name and not some form of kid, usually meant Adam was in serious hot water.

And to be fair, Sam couldn’t imagine anything less. He could’ve given Adam a decent lecture all his own, except that he knew Dean would have him beat.

“I’ll come get him.” He said.

“Bring his jacket, and…” Dean hesitated. The Impala door slammed shut. There was still background noise, so he must’ve closed Adam in the car. “Make it quick, Sam.”

He hung up.

The hundreds, if not thousands of people, that were gathered in Baldwin flooded the fairgrounds. Sam called Dean at the entrance, because he had the feeling he could drive dozens of rows and still not find them.

Adam answered. “Sam, do we have to go home?”

No greeting from their rather precocious five-year-old. The thorn in their sides. The whirlwind of energy turning their lives lopsided. The reason Sam was thinking about hanging it up and making sure the world was much safer this time around for his little brother.

“Buddy,” he sighed. He knew that tone. “You snuck out.”

“Yeah, because Dean lied to me!”

“No, don’t make this about Dean-”

“He said we weren’t gonna go! Then he went!”

“Adam. He’s here to investigate. Not to have fun.”

He thought he heard Adam kick the seat. Dean would be pissed.

The door cranked open. “Hey,” Dean’s voice in the background. Sure enough, not happy. “Don’t think I didn’t see that. Cut it out- who are you talking to?”

“Sam.”

He must have gestured or otherwise forcibly taken the phone. “Sam?”

“Where are you guys?”

“Fifth row, by the front.”

He scanned the crowd. “I see you.”

Dean snapped the phone shut.

He tossed his as he pulled up behind the Impala.

“Bring his jacket?” Dean asked as soon as he stepped out. It was windy out, the cool autumn air alternately bursting and going quiet.

Sam grabbed it.

Adam pushed his door open, sitting on the edge of the seat. He looked absolutely mournful, pleading—and he had the look turned on Sam.

Sam ignored him. “Find out anything?”

“Maybe.” Dean hedged. “They’ve already cleared the area.”

He winced, nodding. Made sense. “Gonna stick around tonight?”

“I’m thinkin’ about it.”

He nodded again, moving over towards Adam. “Come on, shortstack.”

“I don’t. Wanna. Go. Sam.” Adam said quietly.

“Here.” He handed him his jacket. “And we’re going.”

Adam refused it, not moving. He looked away.

“Adam.” Sam warned.

“But I don’t NEED a jacket!”

“Kid.” Dean spoke. “Out of the car. Put on the jacket. Go with Sam. Not. Another. Word.” The last minced out when Adam opened his mouth.

He hopped out of the car. “But Dean-”

“Adam.”

He took it mulishly. “I’m not cold, though!”

“Hey, buddy- even I have a jacket on.” Sam huffed, just wanting to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible.

Adam looked up at him. “Please Sam.”

Not about the jacket.

“Turn off the puppy eyes, kid. You’re going home with Sam.”

“Come on, bud- just get in the car.”

Not all the fight had left him. It was obvious in the way he stormed over to the SUV, hauling the door open with his entire body weight cause he could barely reach the handle.

Sam glanced back at Dean. “Uh,” he shrugged, “let me know if you find something?”

Dean nodded. “Oh, and Sam?”

He paused.

“Look up from your romance novels now and again.”

“Haha, very funny.”

Adam’s very much ignoring him, staring resolutely out the window. Today, he hates the booster seat, he hates being a kid, he hates being bossed around, and he hates it when Sam tells him no.

Sam sighed. “Hey, how about an ice cream cone?” He glanced in the rearview mirror. Adam didn’t move. “Or...we could go get pie at Zoe’s. Not tell Dean. Our secret. You want that?”

“I want to take this jacket off! I’m hot!”

“Hey.” He caught Adam’s eye. “Don’t yell at me.”

God, he sounded like an overworked mom. How had that happened?

He was a crappy one, to say the least.

“Saaaaaaaaaaam,” Adam groaned, thunking his head against the back of his seat. He kicked his legs. “I’m just really hot!”

“Okay, calm down.” He recognized the beginnings of a meltdown when he saw one. “Take off the jacket. Just take it off.”

Adam practically threw it. Huffed. Sat back and folded his arms.

“Better?” Sam asked, checking the crossroad before turning.

“No. I want to go back.”

“We’re not going back.”

“But I want to go with Dean!”

“You are not going with Dean.” Now he was irritated.

“But I want to be with Dean!”

“He’s busy.”

“SAM!”

He startled, glancing back. Adam’s eyes had welled up and his chin was trembling, breath hitching.

“What? What’s the matter?”

Adam threw his head back.

“Hey! Talk to me—what’s wrong?”

“I said I don’t need a jacket and you made me wear a jacket!”

“Buddy.” Sam clung to the other side of exasperation for all it was worth. “We took it off. You took it off. Why are you upset?”

“I don’t wanna go hooooooooooome.” Adam sobbed.

“We don’t have to—I said we could go get an ice cream, or pie.”

“I don’t want pie!”

“Okay, no pie.”

“I don’t want pie! I don’t want a jacket! I don’t want ice cream!”

“Then what do you want? We could go to the park?” he offered, scanning the road.

“Noooooo!”

“I don’t know what you want then.”

“I want! Dean!”

“Adam-”

“I don’t feel well!”

Shit. Sam glanced back. Adam’s face was red, covered in tears and snot.

“You feel sick?”

“UhHUH!”

“Okay, okay, calm down.” Sam soothed. “I’m pulling over.” Shit shit shit

He might’ve pulled off a little too fast for comfort. He was too distracted to flip off the Ford tailing his ass when the asshole slammed on the horn.

They were too close to the highway to let Adam get out by himself, so Sam pulled the door open and scooped him up. He barely made it around the car to set him down before Adam puked.

He hadn’t just been being difficult when he insisted he didn’t need a jacket. He was burning up.

#no editing we embarrass ourselves like men #supernatural #tlr #the long road #de-aged!adam #adam milligan #sam winchester #dean winchester #prompt fill #this would be its own chapter in 'Bringing Up Adam' i think actually #so #bringing up adam #ioannemos

3 notes · View notes

thepurplebutterflythings · 4 years

Text

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird (Part 9) - Jason Todd

Gif: Unknown on Tenor

Word Count: 3.7K

Paring: Jason Todd (Titans) x (f)Reader

Summary: While looking for Y/N, Harley feels responsible for The Joker kidnapping her beloved niece. As Joker and Y/N are face to face, The Joker wonders why he didn’t know about Y/N beforehand, especially considering he and Bruce are ‘connected’.

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse.

A/N: This is a little series I am doing about Jason Todd in Titans. I don’t know Comic!Jason very well so I’m taking all of this from the show, and at the moment he hasn’t been in very often, so please forgive any mischaracterizations.

Tagging: @bella-0104-123 @ninergirl1d @httpfandxms @rosybrock @attackonnat @reclusive-chicken-nugget @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @young-psychos @thesleepykaijuu @thescottpack @nightlygiggles @rougestorms @sinon36 @loxbbg

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird Part 8 | Masterlist |

________________________________________________________________

“Well, well, well.”

Y/N stirred with discomfort at the voice, low and gravely and gave the same effect of nails being dragged down a chalkboard with teeth on edge and bones wanting to escape the flesh prison as the noise drilled through them. It sounded as though they always had something in their throat they were trying to cough up, but could never rid themselves of. When she opened her eyes, Y/N looked around her and realised that she was tied up and being hung from the ceiling above her by chains. She was still dazed and so wasn’t fully aware, but when she looked below, she snapped out of it, for she was being hung carelessly above a vat of green, bubbling chemicals that glowed in the darkened room. The voice from before laughed manically, and Y/N looked around to see where the sound came from. As she looked, she gathered more about her surroundings, realising she was in Ace Chemicals. Footsteps echoed as the owner walked on the gantry above the chemicals, and Y/N saw her capture. The Joker.

Despite her Aunt Harley once being in a relationship (if you could even call it that) with the mad man, Y/N had never met him. He wasn’t even supposed to know she existed as Harley was frightened the man would harm her.

“You!” Y/N seethed.

“Ah! So you’ve heard of me,” Joker crouched down. There was still a distance between them, perhaps three or four metres. “That’s… interesting, for you see it wasn’t until earlier that I heard of you, Miss Wayne! You’re daddy and I… we’re connected so you would have thought I should know about you, but alas I did not.”

“You’re supposed to be in Arkham,” Y/N said, “how’d you get out? Why isn’t any news you’re out?”

“Smart little Bat Pup, aren’t you, Y/N,” Joker wagged his finger as he pulled a pocket watch out of his purple coat pocket and looked at it, “They should be finding out right about… now!” Just as the Joker said ‘Now,’ the siren from Arkham that signified a break out rang loudly through the air. “But that doesn’t mean they’ll catch me.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she shifted in the chains, trying to loosen herself.

“Because,” Joker just shrugged, “To get at Bruce, I need to get to the one thing he loves and cares about more than anything – family.”

________________________________________________________________

The group, upon realizing that Joker had kidnapped Y/N, all suited up and went to search Gotham to find where he was holding her, reluctantly revealing to Harley and Ivy who it was beneath the mask of Batman. Neither were totally surprised, to be honest, and there were bigger things to worry about than Bruce Wayne being Batman. After Harley and Ivy got their protective gear on, they stopped at Wayne Manor were Jason and Bruce suited up, and then they went to Selina’s who pulled her Catwoman suit on. Alfred monitored their search for Y/N from the Batcave while Ivy and Selina went one way, Harley and Bruce went another and Jason went separately.

As Harley and Bruce finished searching yet another warehouse in Joker’s name, Harley fell against the wall and slowly ended up on the ground, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. Bruce turned around and saw the woman curled in upon herself and frowned, walking up to her.

“Harleen?” Bruce said gently, “What’s wrong?”

“I kinda feel like all ‘a this is my fault,” she muttered as she ran her fingers over her knee.

“What makes you think that?” Bruce asked, sitting next to her to comfort her. Harley sniffed a little and turned her head to look at Bruce. She was holding back tears and her bottom lip, painted a brilliant shade of red that reflected the lights back from its gloss, quivered like a leaf.

“I had a chance to kill him,” Harley explained, “I coulda killed Joker, but I didn’t, and now he’s kidnapped a girl that I love and care for like me own.”

“What?”

“I left Joker when Y/N was ten,” She began, “Not many people know this, only Y/N, Selina and Ivy, but Joker… he used ta hurt me, hurt me bad, physically and mentally,” Harley confessed, “I know, I know, that’s what I get for dating a villain like Joker,” she sighed.

“God no,” Bruce said, “no, no, no, you never deserve anything that he did to you, ever, regardless of him being a villain, regardless of what you’ve done. You should never have been abused by him.”

“Thank you, Bruce,” Harley smiled tightly, “The night I decided I was gonna leave, he hurt me worse than he ever had before and I ran to Selina’s. She patched me up, and Y/N came out her bedroom, all in her jammies and everything – they were Batman one – and she saw me bleeding on the sofa and asked what happened. Well, at this point, Y/N/N just found out her mama was a thief, and her aunties were a criminal lunatic and an eco-terrorist, so there wasn’t much we could hide from her. She pretty much put two and two together , and that’s when she started wanting to be a vigilante, to take people like Joker and Penguin down. I decided then I had ta leave” Harley sighed and pushed her hair back. “Selina and I went back to Jokers, Selina as Catwoman, obviously, and we got my things, and Joker tried and stopped me, said he could be without me, he threw Selina off the stairs and tried ta grab me, so I grabbed my mallet and I started hitting him again and again and again. Selina stopped me cause Joker had called his henchmen and we didn’t have a chance to finish the job cause we didn’t have a gun, so we had to go. I shoulda stayed, I shoulda finished the fucking job, but then Selina said how upset Y/N would be if I did go through with it, saying 'Babes will be heartbroken'. She said it like that so Joker wouldn't know. And she was right, just thinking about Y/N finding out about what I was bout to do – it killed me. Y/N/N… she knows we were villains, that we’ve done bad things, that we have killed before, but this was different, cause me killing him would mean Joker’s men would kill me. That would break her heart, so I didn’t, and we left, went back to Selina’s. But I shoulda done it, I shoulda killed the bastard, gone down in fucking flames with him, cause if I did then he wouldn’t have taken Y/N.”

“Hey,” Bruce said, putting a hand on Harley’s shoulders, “you aren’t to blame here. The only one responsible for Joker’s actions is Joker. And Y/N had a much better and happier life with Selina, Ivy and you raising her.”

“Really?” Harley looked at Bruce and wiped her eyes.

“She’s incredible, and that’s partly because of you.”

“Thank you, Brucie,” Harley said kissing Bruce’s cheek, “you’re a doll, now, let’s go kick my ex’s ass!”

________________________________________________________________

Y/N watched from her spot above the chemical tank as Joker paced up and down the gantry. He seemed befuddled, gnawing on his thumb and occasionally huffing and pointing at Y/N before carrying on pacing.

“Explain to me, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker finally said, “why your father kept you from me, me, me of all people,” he gestured to himself and threw his arms in the air, seething and spitting as he worked himself up.

“I’m not the person to talk to about this, Joker,” Y/N huffed and turned her head away.

“Well, who else is there to ask?”

“My parents come to mind.”

“Do you know what it feels like?” Joker asked, “the chemicals?”

“No, and don’t really want to – let’s go back to bitching about my dad, can we?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Joker tutted, “let’s go and talk about the chemicals, cause if dear old daddy can’t rescue you, then you’ll be plopped into a nice green bath of acid, how’s that sound?”

“Like dinner with The Mad Hatter sounds a lot more pleasant.”

“Oh, he’s a nightmare to spend ten minutes with really, Ms Y/N Wayne.”

“Please stop calling me that,” she sighed.

“It is your name though, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker said, “Anyway, back to the chemicals. It crawls under your skin and makes it feel as though every vein is on fire, that your skin is pulling itself from your bone and even when cleaned, you feel as though you are still coated in the substance, it’s… horrendous, never-ending torture. How does that sound, Ms Y/N Wayne?”

“Like high school, really.”

“And what kinda high school did your mama send you to?”

________________________________________________________________

Jason adjusted his Robin mask as he landed on the car roof. This was the last place on his list, Ace Chemicals. Bruce wasn’t sure if Joker would ever return there after the previous two times he was there and how bad those turned out, but Joker was a creature of habit, so it made sense to check. If Y/N wasn’t there, he had no idea where else she could be. Slowly, Jason crept up the ladder outside the building to the top, peering through the window. There she was, Y/N, tied up in chains and dangling over the vat of chemicals like a fish on a hook while Joker paced up and down and ranted as he did. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Jason called Bruce.

“Jason? You found her?”

“Yeah, Ace Chemicals, come quick,” Jason said.

“On my way, I’ll contact Selina. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not planning on doing anything that would put Y/N in danger, Bruce,” Jason said before hanging up. He climbed back down and walked around the perimeter of the building, finding a door and opening it quietly. There was no one down there. It appears that Joker got so caught up in his plan to kidnap Y/N that he didn’t contact any of his men to watch the surroundings. Jason quickly walked away from the door and back to the car, opening it and checking, seeing the keys were still in there. He took the bag he had on his shoulder off and put it in the car, on the passenger side, then he walked into the building and slowly walked up the stairs, listening as he did.

“And here is the thing that bothers me the most, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker ranted on and on, “that I didn’t sense you,” he said, “after all your father and I have gone through, I should have sensed you – the daughter of Bruce Wayne, of Batman – but I didn’t, why?”

“Cause you’re not a fucking psychic,” Y/N groaned, “cause you’re a delusional lunatic.”

Jason bit back a chuckle. Only Y/N would be tied up over chemicals, her life in danger, kidnapped by The Joker, and still remain level headed and calm if a little irritated and bored. Jason tried to step forward, but something creaked beneath him.

“Wait,” Joker lifted a finger, “we aren’t alone here. Come out then, our unknown audience.” Jason gulped and walked out from his hiding place. His eyes moved from Joker to Y/N. Y/N was biting back her smile of relief of seeing Jason as Robin. Thank god someone was there to rescue her. “And Bruce didn’t even come himself to rescue his beloved offspring?” Joker tutted as he wagged his finger in disappointment. “But his pet bird instead? What does that say about the man?”

“We’ve all been out searching for her,” Jason said, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

“We?” Joker frowned, “Not just The Bat?”

“No,” Jason shook his head, “me, her father, her mother, and her aunts.”

“Mother? Aunts?”

“Oh, please tell me you aren’t that stupid,” Y/N said, moving her eyes to Joker. “You know it takes two people to make a child?”

“Of course I do,” Joker snapped, “her mother?”

“Oh my god,” Jason said, “you idiot. You don’t know who her mother is, do you?”

“Who is her mother?” The Joker asked, “and aunts? She has aunts?”

“Wow,” Y/N started laughing from her trapped place, “this is brilliant, oh my god, you have no idea what’s going to happen next. Fucking hell. Talk about karma being a bitch.”

“Someone explain to me what is going on!”

“Not only is Batman her father,” Jason said, almost laughing, while Y/N was howling with glee as she realised Joker had just trapped himself in his own trap. How brilliant. “Her mother is Catwoman, and her aunts are Catwoman’s friends – The Gotham City Sirens.”

Y/N and Jason didn’t let their faces reveal that behind the Joker the window had opened, and Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had both snuck and were quietly behind the Joker, waiting for the right moment.

“What?” The smile on Joker’s face dropped for a second, “The Sirens?”

“Which means, dumbass, that your ex-girlfriend, and her new beau, both helped in raise Y/N,” Jason said, “meaning not only Batman is on the way, but Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn are also coming here.”

“Seriously, mate,” Y/N laughed, “if there was an Olympics for bad luck, you’ve got Gold, not only that, but you fucking smashed the world record.”

“Uh oh,” Joker said.

“Uh oh is right there, puddin’,” Harley said from behind Joker, baseball bat in hand. She swung it hard and hit Joker in the side of the head. Joker yelped loudly and stumbled back. Bruce and Selina, still in costume, appeared from where Jason walked out of. Ivy then punched Joker in the gut while Bruce went for his face. Selina kicked the Joker in the chest. All the adults started beating the Joker as Brue turned to Jason and yelled.

“Robin, get Y/N and get out of here.”

“On it,” Jason yelled back with a nod as he climbed onto the railing and carefully, quickly, moved past the fight and to the other side where the chain holding Y/N was linked up. Jason grabbed it and looked at Y/N, “Ready?”

“Fuck yes,” she nodded as Jason unhooked the chain and started pulling, lifting Y/N higher and higher. As she started moving, she shifted to loosen herself, and once her hands were free from the chain, she grabbed it and shifted her, so her body was then free, still keeping a firm grip. When Jason pulled Y/N high enough, she started swinging, throwing herself forward and flying into Jason’s arms. They crashed onto the floor. Y/N pulled back and looked into Jason’s eyes.

“Didn’t know felines could fly, Kitty Cat,” Jason chuckled.

“Learnt from the best, Tweety Bird.”

They got to their feet, and Jason grabbed her hand, throwing a look at the group before running. He dragged her down the stairs and out of the building. They both ran so fast that they were nearly tripping over their feet, looking over their shoulders constantly as they did. When they had finally reached the car, they stopped, but Y/N pulled away from Jason for a moment, gasping for air and looking behind her as she did.

“What is it?” Jason asked as he opened the door.

“We can’t just leave,” Y/N said, “we can’t leave them, we have to go back, we have to help. Did you bring my suit?”

“Bruce told me to get you out of here,” Jason said, “I’m doing what he told me to.”

“Jason, I know you,” Y/N folded her arms, “where’s my Lynx suit?”

“No, we’re going back to Wayne Manor, and they’ll meet us back there.”

“Jason, where is my suit?”

“No.”

Y/N sighed and walked forward, arms still folded. She leant against the car, next to Jason, and lifted her eyebrows.

“Where is my suit, Jason?”

Jason sighed and groaned, rolling his head back before ducking into the car and grabbing the bag he put on the passenger seat, pulling it out and handing it into Y/N.

“You’re explaining this to your father.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes as she climbed into the backseat and started changing, “now, no looking.”

“Now all I wanna do is look,” Jason huffed.

“Tell you what,” Y/N teased, “you can watch me get undressed after all, this is over.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

________________________________________________________________

It was as though the adults were all taking turns in beating the Joker, but he was fighting back, not going down easy. If Batman wasn’t there, then the Sirens would have easily killed him by then, but Bruce was adamant to return the lunatic to Arkham.

“My daughter is not a pawn for your fucking games,” Selina hissed as she scratched his cheek, nearly reaching his eye but just missing, “come after her again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

“I shoulda killed ya way back when, ya cunt,” Harley kicked him in the back, causing him to fall to the floor.

“You’re lucky I let you breath clean air,” Ivy yelled as she slapped him.

“My child,” Bruce picked Joker up by the collar of his jacket and leaned into his face, “has nothing to do with me and you. Leave her be.”

“Or what? MMM? Throw me into the acid? We both know you won’t. We’re connected, you and I, you know it too.”

“You delusional fuck,” Selina pulled Joker from Bruce and kneed him in the stomach.

“What did I ever see in ya?” Harley threw her arms up, “seriously? How’d I ever think you were a good match for me?”

Joker took this moment and grabbed Selina and dangled her over the edge near the acid where the broken railing was.

“Come any closer, and the cat gets it.”

“Like hell she does,” said a voice. Y/N ran in as Lynx with Robin close behind her. She launched herself at Joker, who pulled Selina from the edge and fell backwards. Y/N punched him in the face. Joker got to his feet and started trying to fight Y/N. Y/N was quick, dodging his slower movements. Jason quickly came to Y/N’s side, and they started to fight against the Joker in sync, when Y/N kicked him towards Jason, Jason would punch him in the face back towards Y/N, falling to the ground, and Y/N would lift her knee, clocking him in the chin, pushing him towards Jason, who would shove him to knock him off balance. The adults all watched them in awe as Jason and Y/N moved in sync with each other, beating the Joker relentlessly. They didn’t even need to intervene, Jason and Y/N had it all under control. Eventually, Y/N grabbed the chains previously used to hold her over the acid and wrap them around Joker’s wrists, letting him balance on the edge over the acid, holding him carelessly by the chain.

“Y/N!” Bruce said out of instinct.

“No one goes after my family,” Y/N growled, “no one.”

“Well, talk about a punch line,” Joker whistled with a laugh, throwing his head back. He recognised the Lynx costume. They still got newspapers in Arkham. “That Bat’s Pup is a Cat after all!”

Y/N looked The Joker dead in the eye. She looked at him coldly as he laughed on a loop. Jason stood behind Y/N, ready to support Y/N in whatever she did, and the adults just watched.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drop you into the acid and let it finish the job.”

“It didn’t work the first time,” Joker said, “what makes you think it’ll work the second?”

“Cause half the job is already done.”

“Ooo, low blow, Pup-Cat.”

“Y/N, don’t,” Bruce said, “You’re better than this.”

“Am I really, though?” She asked, “And don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it yourself, of letting the bastard die. The world will be a far better place without him.” The Joker pulled a hurt facial expression before laughing again.

“I mean,” Jason coughed, “she’s not wrong. The world would be better without him.”

“Think of how many people he’s killed. This is his retribution.”

“He ain’t got any humanity in him,” Harley said quietly, “it’s something I shoulda done a long time ago, but,” Harley sighed, “Y/N, I don’t want ya to become a killer. Ya Daddy’s right, you’re better than this, than me.”

“And me,” said Selina.

“And I,” Ivy nodded.

“Don’t become a killer like us,” Harley said, “cause it’s a line you can never go back from.”

“Trust me, if I could,” Selina sighed, “I would never have pushed that guy from the window,” she whispered, “even though I had a good reason and was protecting someone else,” her eyes flickered to Bruce, who lowered his eyes as the image of Young Selina shoving Alfred’s army buddy out the window came into his mind.

“Y/N,” Jason put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “let’s take him to Arkham.”

Y/N looked Joker in the eye. Everything he did to Harley, nearly killing Selina, dangling herself over the chemicals, the torture he inflicted on her father over the years (it wasn’t a secret, everyone knew about The Joker Versus Batman), and he was going to live. It wasn’t fair, but they were all right, Y/N didn’t want to be a killer, didn’t want to cross that line.

“Fine,” she sighed, but instead of being gentle, Y/N yanked the chain quickly, pulling Joker forward and kneed him in the head with such force it knocked him unconscious.

As The Joker laid unconscious on the floor, Y/N took her mask off and looked at her family.

“You did the right thing,” her mother told her softly.

“I hope so,” Y/N sighed.

“Hey,” Bruce said, brushing the hair from Y/N’s eyes, “I’m proud of you,” he told her with a soft smile.

“Thank you, Dad.”

68 notes · View notes