#lookit me pretending to be all deep and shit
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"Queer is a slur" bitch queer is a badge of honor that we fashioned from the bullets that killed our brothers and sisters and you will pry that badge out of my cold dead fingers.
#queer#queer pride#josh rambles#lookit me pretending to be all deep and shit#probably makes no sense lol#but i liked how it sounded
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Demonic Intervention (Indruck)
Prompt for the 7th: “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” - The Tempest (William Shakespeare). This fill is NSFW
It can't get much worse.
Indrid is barely scraping by. He can count his friends in town on one hand. He’s gay in a tiny, rural community and one of the few men like him is a goddamn priest. His house is a mess. And his every waking moment is filled with the demons of his past or the devils lurking in his future. There are so many of them in his present too, roaming the streets of Kepler.
What’s one more in the mix?
He lights the stubby black candle by the bed, scratches the symbols on the floor, and retreats into his cocoon of blankets to wait.
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Duck hates when it’s his turn on the summoning shifts. All this ancient knowledge and power and he’s stuck waiting to see if some yahoo in a graveyard or a wannabe cult leader will call him up into the world.
He has brambles that need pruning, damn it.
His name isn’t well known among humans, so he only gets summoned if someone is just rooting around for a demonic entity without caring who they get. He’s only been summoned twice in the last hundred years. The tingle in his horns tells him it’s about to be three.
The room he arrives in is gloomier than any graveyard; the lights are off, the curtains are shut, and the place looks like it got hit by a tornado with a grudge. By the light of the candle, a pale-haired head emerges from the blankets of the small bed. A hand reaches for the floor, comes back with a pair of red glasses.
“Greetings, infernal one. Thank you for answering my summons.” The man’s voice is flat.
“Even demons got manners. So, uh, what’s the job?”
“There are so many dishes in the sink that the thought of doing them is an insurmountable task. Please do them for me.”
“...You realize I’m takin somethin’ from you for this, right? Like a piece of soul or a month of your life?”
“Mmmm” The man rolls over and says nothing else.
“A day of your life for this.” Duck feels like he should haggle more, but then he’d had to pretend he actually thought a higher price was fair.
“I accept your terms.” A crackle of green and black electricity flickers in the air in the form of Duck’s signature and the other man’s name: Indrid Cold.
“Pleasure doin’ business with you.”
Indrid says nothing. Duck is sure to wash and dry before he goes.
The next day he’s summoned to the exact same room, in the exact same state of depressing mess.
“Greetings, infernal one. Please clean this room.”
“Same terms?”
“Mmhmm” Indrid is just staring at the ceiling.
“You gotta say you accept.”
“I accept.”
Duck snaps, turning on the light, and gets to work. Technically he could do all this with a wave of his hand. But then he’d lose his chance to learn a little more about the guy who’s settled on demonic deals instead of a maid service. It’s the opposite of the usual problem he has in these kinds of situations, where the humans reveal their deepest secrets, desires, and fears within five minutes of meeting him.
The records he stacks near their player, the clothes all go in the hamper to be magicked clean, then are hung in the closet; they’re loose and soft, not a scratchy fabric to be found. Tarot cards and candles abound, as do art supplies, and under a pile of drawings he finds magazines featuring muscular, hairy men in various sexual positions. Some of them even look like his preferred human form, the one he’s wearing now.
He glances at the bed; Indrid is on his side, facing him, must have been watching him at some point but has dropped into a restless sleep. The blankets are slipping, showing a The Sonics tank top hanging off skinny shoulders. Right, that was one of the bands in the record stack.
Duck doesn’t tend to pry into souls or auras or shit like that; there are whole heaps of trouble that lay that direction. But as he flicks the dust from the bookshelf covered in paperbacks, he feels the edges of Indrids and nearly falls on his ass from the wave of exhaustion and loneliness.
When it’s time to go, he pauses to pull the blankets back up around him, sets his glasses on the bedside table, and turns the calendar on the wall from “September 1974” to “October 1974.”
When he’s summoned right back to Indrid’s room the next evening, he spots the same tank top on him as he sits up in bed.
“Greetings infernal one.”
“You can just call me ‘Duck’. It’s a nickname.”
“Oh” Indrid blinks, perplexed, “very well. I, ah, there are some bills that need to be paid to keep the lights on.”
“You need the money for them?”
“No, just for someone to fill out the forms and checks and put them in the mail.”
“Okay. But my fee’s a little different this time: you gotta tell me when you last ate.”
“I accept. I ate this morning.”
Duck snaps his fingers
“Two days ago!” Indrid yelps, then slaps his hands over his mouth. He glares, “why does it matter?”
“Because while I’m payin those bills, you’re eatin’ dinner.”
“Everything in the fridge is disgusting and I can’t go to the store.”
Duck takes the short trip out to the kitchen, opens the fridge to the new sound of Indrid’s footfalls behind him.
“You got lots of decent stuff in here; could make you some eggs?”
“No, thank you.” Indrid shakes his head, looking a bit ill.
“Well, what do you want? I can summon it up.”
“I’m out of Lucky Charms.” The humans says sheepishly, staring at his bare feet.
A fresh box of cereal appears on the table, Duck pulling out the half empty bottle of milk. He thinks back to the drawings he saw yesterday and conjures a bowl covered in a pattern of brightly colored moths.
He gathers the stack of bills of while hearts, stars, and horseshoes rattle into the bowl. After a few moments of crunching he hears, “May I ask a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Why is your nickname Duck? Does that word mean something else in demonic speech?”
Duck stuffs paper into envelopes, “Nah. It’s, uh, kinda silly but, uh, most demons learn how to take on an animal form. When it was my turn, they asked me which I wanted and, uh, I said I wanted to try bein’ a duck. Liked it so much I stayed that way for three months.”
There’s an odd, strangled sound that makes him look up; Indrid has one hand over his mouth and is shaking with little squeaks. He’s laughing.
“I’m, I’m s-sorry but, but I, I cannot get over the image of you as a little, feathery waterbird.”
Duck smirks, “Only part that ever gave me trouble was the quackin’; always came out too deep.”
He just manages to pull the envelopes back as milk comes out the human’s nose and he giggles uncontrollably.
“Ow, ow, heeh, oh g-goodness, I’m s-sorry I, I just haven’t laughed in so long, ugh, there’s milk on my shirt-”
“Guess you’re gonna need to shower now too.”
“Nono, I can just change-”
Duck waves the bills back and forth, “Uh uh, if you want me to actually put these in the mailbox, you gotta agree to shower.”
“But that’s changing the terms!”
“Demon.” Duck grins.
“Very well. Let me finish my dinner first.” Indrid scarfs the rest of the cereal, pads back towards the bedroom while Duck cleans the table. He waits to hear water running before going to the mailbox. When he gets back he sticks his head into the steamy bathroom.
“I’m gonna go now.”
“Oh, alright. Thank you again.” Indrid pokes his head out from the shower curtain and Duck resists the temptation to make the whole barrier disappear just for a peak. What can he say? He’s always liked his humans a bit unique looking.
He draws a special sigil in the steamed-up mirror and heads for home.
---------------------------------------------------
Indrid sets the candle on the table, lights it, adds the symbol he found in the mirror, and then starts unpacking his groceries.
“Lookit you doin’ chores.” The whiff of burnt pine needles accompanies Duck’s voice and draws the tension from Indrid’s shoulders.
“I’ll have you know I swept today as well.” Indrid turns and crunches the bag of potato chips in his fists; Duck hasn’t put his horns or claws away, and his shirt is half unbuttoned.
“Caught me while I was gardenin, which is why I ain’t as put together as normal. What can I do for you?”
“This may sound strange but, ah, what is the fee for just talking with you?”
Duck’s eyebrows shoot up and then he chuckles, “You’re full of surprises, little moth.”
Indrid touches the luna moth on his shoulder; how much had Duck studied him when he was here? Did he like what he saw? Does he give everyone he makes deals with nicknames that come out in a drawl like summer honey?
“Hows a little nibble of the old soul sound?”
“I accept. Ah, would you like some cookies? A friend of mine brought them over to me.”
“Sure. The fella on the fridge bring ‘em?” The demon indicates the picture of himself and Barclay, the one he can’t bring himself to throw away.
“No. My friend Dani, she’s in charge of the gardens for the little co-op in town and when the bakery has seconds she often drops them off for me.”
He really needs to stop staring at Duck’s chest, even demons probably find ogling rude. Duck’s eyes--one blue, one brown-- catch his own and suddenly claw tips are undoing the remaining buttons. Indrid goes pink but manages to get the cookies and two glasses of water on the table without incident.
“You know, you never told me why you stayed a duck for so long.”
“It’s the least demonic thing you’ve ever heard but, uh, I just thought it was nice. Bein’ out in the woods, paddlin’ on the lake and watchin the world go by. Sleepin under the stars. Just makes you feel like you’re part of somethin’ bigger than yourself. Now, I got a question for you; why go to all the trouble of summonin’ me just to do your chores?”
Indrid bites his lip, “I knew I was in the kind of mental place where I could not manage it myself. And it felt safer to ask you than to ask my friends. Not that they wouldn’t help me. It’s just, when my mind is like that it turns so inward I can’t conceive of a world that might contain things for me.”
The demon says nothing for a moment, sips his water with a thoughtful look. Then he sets down the empty glass, “Glad you’re feelin a little better.” He tilts his head to indicate the sketch on the counter, “that new?”
“Yes” excitement bubbles up in his chest, “I was reading about--ah, well, it’s, it’s sort of a long story, I don’t want to bore you.”
Duck kicks his feet up on the spare chair and gestures for him to continue. So he does, tells the demon about reading every book he could find on the mythology and folklore of the Mexico and the American southwest, about his new inspiration for a series of drawings, his worries that no one will like them or purchase them and he’ll be stuck running his little psychic side business until he dies
Duck, in turn, tells him about life as a forest demon, about his hellcat, and about the fact he routinely comes up to the human world for french onion soup because the stuff made in his realm never tastes right. When Indrid next looks at the clock, it’s well after midnight.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”
“No complaints here. But I oughta get home and feed Winnie before she shreds my cabinets again.” The demon stands, rounding the table, “gotta get my fee first.”
“Right. How should I…” Indrid stiffens as Duck bends forward, wondering if the sharp teeth that smiled at him all night are about to pierce his skin.
Warm lips meet his forehead and he sighs at the tenderness in the gesture. Duck, however, moans as he pulls back, then quickly covers his mouth.
“Uh, that, that’s a totally, uh, totally not, uh, un-normal reaction, uh, fuck, see you around.”
He’s gone with a campfire crackle, leaving Indrid to wonder how a demon can be such a terrible liar.
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“Sweet fuckin hell.” Duck gasps as his living room forms around him. His lips still tingle from kissing the human’s forehead, from the sheer force of the want and yes that came when he took that sip of soul. It’s never like that, never comes so willingly and eagerly, like the soul is searching for someone to look after it.
Technically, there’s nothing stopping him from zipping right back up there and pinning Indrid to his bed while he takes what the human seems so happy to give.
Duck takes five deep breaths, then ten, and then goes to retrieve Winnie from the cabinet she clawed her way into.
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When Barclay suggested Indrid find someone to confide in, Indrid’s going to guess he didn’t mean, “routinely invite a demon into your house to play cards or listen to music.”
Most times, Indrid isn’t even summoning him; they have two standing dates a week, plus a game night with Dani and her new girlfriend, Aubrey (who Duck seems to know but refuses to say more about how). Duck will sometimes drop by unannounced, and he hardly ever collects a fee these days. When he does, it’s always a taste of Indrid’s soul, taken via a kiss on the cheek.
Indrid would let him take it any way he wanted. He’s well past denying the fact Duck is type in all his forms, that he’s gentler than most humans, and that he’s so charming Indrid would eat out of his hand.
Duck even goes out with him, like the boyfriend he wishes he had. When he puts on his human form to accompany Indrid around town, he radiates enough residual, demonic energy that the people who normally make Indrid’s life a living hell stay far, far away. In fact, tonight is the first night in months he’s had something close to a disaster, and it was mostly an accident. He’s peeling his beer-soaked shirt over his head when he feels mis-matched eyes on his back.
“Have a little too much fun bartendin’ tonight?” Duck holds out his hand, rendering the shirt fresh and clean when it touches his palm.
“Some caveman hit on one of our regulars and would not back off when asked. She threw a full pint of beer on him and I happened to be standing right behind him when she did.” He wiggles out of his jeans, let’s Duck give them the same treatment he gave the shirt, “ugh, I need a bath, I smell like Rheingold.”
“Allow me.” Duck waves his hand and steam wafts from the bedroom, goes into it and grabs the bubble bath from under the sink as Indrid follows him in his underwear. Duck’s constant glancing at his crotch and legs makes him bold.
“What’s the fee for such excellent service?”
“No fee, little moth. I’m just doin’ a favor for my friend.”
“And what if your friend wants to repay you anyway?”
When the demon looks up from the tub, his eyes are glowing, “Only if he’s doin’ it because he wants to and not because he owes me.”
“I want to, so very badly.”
In a flash Duck is in the tub, beckoning Indrid to join him. Indrid tests the water with his finger just to be safe.
“Mmm, nice and warm.”
“Hellfire, sugar. Now get your cute ass into the tub or--oh fuck yeah.” Duck growls as Indrid strips and climbs in with him, drags him into his lap and traces his claws up his sides while Indrid yanks him into a kiss.Curious, Indrid reaches one hand up to rub the base of his horn, the dark brown curls like smooth bark beneath his fingers.
“Fuuuck” Duck groans, “feels like gettin a back-rub.”
“Then I better keep at it. Oh, oh my” Indrid sits back to admire the vines of green appearing in Duck’s skin, “you’re absolutely beautiful.”
“Kinky little thing, you like that I’m a demon.” Duck scrapes his teeth along Indrid’s shoulder, “that really why you summoned me? You were hopin I’d have my, uh, demonic way with you?”
“N-no, I, I, it’s no secret I’m attracted to you but I, you make me feel so happy, I’m so safe when I’m with you, and, and if all your care and affection towards me has been part of some malevolent plan please, please just tell me because I, I think I’m falling in love with you.” He kisses Duck with far more force than before, forestalling the inevitable confession that this was all just a game for his soul and his own, pathetic admission that he’s not sure that changes anything.
“Oh, sugar” Duck keeps brushing their lips together as he speaks, “First time I tasted your soul I knew I was fucked. Knew I wanted to keep seein’ you, even if you never gave me another goddamn thing.”
Indrid buries his face in Duck’s shoulder, letting out shuddery sighs as Duck pets his back. He’s never leaving this spot, Duck is just going to have to carry him about while he does his infernal business and his housekeeping.
“Tell me what you want, little moth.” Duck kisses the shell of his ear. It still tingles, even when his soul stays put.
“Please fuck me? Oh! Oh that’s very efficient and extremely strange.” He squirms in Duck’s lap as his ass turns slick and stretched, like someone has pulled four fingers from it.
“Do it the traditional way some other time” The curved head of a cock bumps his ass, “you wanna feel just to be sure you can take it?”
He flails in the water a moment, finds a warm, responsive shaft with four, bumpy ridges leading to the head. It’s no bigger than the one toy he splurged on during his last trip to the city.
“Yes, certainly, oh, oh, AHHhnnnn yes.” The cock is hotter than his body as it slides in and he wonders if it will just melt him from the inside out, if Duck’s cum will be just as warm, how it will feel on his tongue and down his throat when he drags the demon into his bed.
“That’s it sugar, take it all the way. Fuck, been jerkin off to the thought of you on my dick for months.”
“Nnngh” Is his eloquent reply, the ridges of Duck’s cock making his toes curl and his fingers dig into Duck’s skin.
“You like that idea, little moth? Knowin I could be out temptin anyone I wanted to and instead I was in bed thinkin’ about you?”
“Mhhmmm” He whines, the desire pouring off the demon wrapping around him and soothing his insecurities.
Duck slows the thrusts of his hips and his voice is gentle when he whispers, “Course I did; no one can compare to you, ‘Drid.”
“Ohgod, Duck, please, please, please, want to be yours, always yours-”
“Careful,sugar, that sounds like you’re anglin’ for an infernal marriage.”
“A, a what? OHhhhnnyes” He moans as claws knead his ass.
“It’s a special kind of deal where a human agrees to marry a demon. Soon as they’re dead, they go straight to their spouse, no other options provided.” Duck cups his face, holding it steady so he can look into his eyes, “but there ain’t no need for that right now; way I see it, we can do this like we were just two normal fellas for now.”
“But it sounds fun.” Indrid offers a teasing pout and gets an adoring kiss in return.
“Yeah? What if I tell you a lot of demons mark their spouses by piercing these” He pinches Indrid’s nipples, the pain making him bounce more determinedly on his dick. His demon growls, drops one hand down to thumb at the head of his aching cock, “pierce here too. Won’t even do it in public like you’re supposed to; do it at home so no one else will see just what a sweet, needy thing you are for me--whoah, fuck, did not expect you to cum just from playin with this nice dick a little.”
“V-very sensitive” Indrid gasps against the green swirls in Duck’s shoulder, his orgasm such a surprise he’s still registering it, hips twitching and tongue threatening to loll out of his mouth.
“Keep that in mind for next time. Might even bring a cage so you don’t cum too early and spoil my plans. Now, hold tight, little moth.”
Indrid clings to the warm bulk of Duck’s body as his cock pounds up into him, the demon easily holding his hips up and his ass open so all he can do is whimper and writhe on it. When he cums it’s hot enough that Indrid squirms
“Don’t hurt does it?” Duck pets his sides, concerned.
“Nono, it, it’s nice, just very strange.” Indrid winces as Duck pulls out, watches him wave his fingers to clear away the mess. When the demon makes no move to let go, Indrid looks up, “you really meant what you said? About wanting me as a boyfriend?”
“Damn right I do. Now c’mere, lemme get the beer outta your hair.”
Indrid hums as Duck scrubs his scalp and runs warm water over his skin, talking all the while about how they should go camping as a first date so no one will bother them, says he’ll even turn into a duck to make Indrid smile.
Indrid says he knows just the spot, let’s his boyfriend dry them off and bundle them to bed and then, for the first time, falls asleep with a devil in his arms.
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Poly!RoadRat x ShyMuteFemale! Reader: Ra Ataahua
You were finally going to meet them, the two men whom you set up a casual shopping date with, were finally going to meet you. All the texting and holo vid sessions you had with them, and it still felt so unreal that you were finally going to meet them face to face.
You walked in the bookstore, the store’s doorbell chimed merrily making aware of your presence and you as nervous as can be, dressed in a cute over sized pink sweater and a pink beanie to match. Along with a pair of skinny jeans and pink skater shoes. You also had an array of adorable pink glasses, rimmed perfectly around your pink eye shadowed eyes, with black eyeliner drawn perfectly. Your stomach felt ill of nervousness and excitement as your little digits hovered over the keypad of your phone. Your fingers tip-tapping away on the screen as you typed out your message.
Y/N: Ok I’m here you two. Where you at?
You casually strode by the collection of assorted books placed carefully by their sorted variety. From horror to romance, fiction to non fiction, cookbooks and “how to” guides, then came the manga. Your anxiety faded somewhat as you grinned up at the Japanese cartoons and their colorful covers. You heard your phone ring for a second time indicating that you had received a text message. Your anxiety sputtering back into your chest as you unlocked your phone and opened the text. It read as followed:
Junky&Roadie: Won’t be long, love. Just hang tight and we’ll be there in a jiffy. ;) <3
You smiled softly and texted back:
Y/N: Ok, just be careful, and don’t get into trouble! ;P
You placed your phone back into your pink Pachimari purse, and you walked along to your favorite section of the store; the art supplies.
At least, your anxiety can somewhat feel at ease being in an all too familiar surrounding. You gazed along the art books, and journals and then…the sketch books. Jackpot. You smiled as you grabbed the first one that you set your sights on. It had a smooth pastel rainbow color as the cover and you gingerly glided your fingers along the pleasant surface.
A few minutes had passed and finally another text tone rang and you picked up your phone, your heart almost stopping as you read the text. It read as followed.
Junky&Roadie: Arright lovey, we’re here. Where are you?
You took a deep breath and glided your fingers across the keys. You typed out;
Y/N: I’m in the art supplies…come find me. ;)
A few seconds later and your phone rang again, this time the text read;
Junky&Roadie: Gladly. We love a challenge. >;)))))
Your heart sputtered, doing flips in your chest at the playful threat of your second suitor. You put your phone back into your purse and continued along the art section, heart beating of anticipation. You looked through the empty pages of the sketch book still in your grasp to help place your mind at ease, thinking about what you could possibly draw in it.
More minutes passed and you still strode up and down the art section, awaiting your two dates to find you. You had your back turned and faced the supplies again when you could’ve sworn you heard the feint whispering of a stranger saying “There she is…swear that’s her, mate…swear it…” You did not turn from your position, too nervous and fearful of your anxiety bursting out of you. Your face had gone completely red as you heard the hissing whispers and heavy footsteps draw closer to you. You look down, pretending to be distracted by your pretty sketchbook yet again, and flipped the pages some more. You then noticed two giant shadows casting over your little one as you felt the presence of two tall strangers standing behind you.
“Found ya…”
You turned up to them, eyes widening and a nervous smile crossing your beat red face. Jamison and Mako, Junkrat and Roadhog, were standing right in front of you. Junkrat grinning wildly and giggling in manic fits as he glanced down at you. And Roadhog, his expression blank, thanks to his all too familiar hog-mask, but still tilting his head slightly as his expressionless eyes stared at you.
You waved your hand “hello”, lightly and tried to give direct eye contact to them, but found your nervousness and anxiety overwhelming you and turned your face away from them, giggling sweetly, face still beat red.
“Hiya darl, oh gosh you’re looking awfully ‘dorable in that pink little numbuh a yours…so excited to finally see you!..” As Junkrat reached out to embrace you, you gasped softly and took a step back, not ready or prepared for any physical affection just yet. Roadhog, picking up on your little distress, placed a hand in front of Rat and said softly. “Easy, Rat. Baby steps…”
Jamie looked up at his much taller companion, slightly put off, but understanding of your slight discomfort. He quickly placed one hand behind his head and his mechanical one in his pocket.
“Ah roight..roight, sorry bout that love. It’s just that, well I-! I mean, we’re so happy to finally see you. All done up and what not! Just look at cha!” Jamie said, eyes glancing up and down at your figure. “Yer a real knockout love...Any bloke would be real happy to have ya, I mean, look how happy ya made me!” Junkrat’s voice was still somewhat audible but uncharacteristically soft.
You let your defenses down slightly and took a few steps forward to the two junkers. Smiling bashfully, you still looked away, but not ignoring the confession of the lanky suitor. Jamie grinned widely as he saw his efforts didn’t go unnoticed. “Not ta mention, that awfully adorable smile ya got there, and that sweet lil giggle ya make when ya nervous and…aww yer cheeks are gettin awfully red there darl’…” He chuckled as he saw you quickly placed your face behind the need-to-purchase sketchbook, hiding the heavy blush that imprinted on your cheeks. You made a soft embarrassed squeal behind the book, making the two junkers chuckle all the more with you.
“Aww look Roadie, she’s gettin redder than a tomata, isn’t she the cutest, mate? What’d I tell ya? A real sweet sort she is, ain’t she?” His much taller companion nodded and gave the alabastor junker a thumbs up, a silent indication of approval.
You finally looked up at your two junker dates, your face still beat red, but getting more acquainted and used to their presence. Junkrat noticing the book in your hands soon took notice of the cover.
“Oi lookit that, Roadie!” he exclaimed. “Lookit the lil sketchy book she’s got! Suits her don’tit? All cute and rainbowy like her! Hey, sweets, you want us to buy that for ya? We’ll getcha that for ya, misso! Hell, we’ll getcha all the cutesy lil trinkets and shit in this whole bookstore if ya like! We got the money, sweets. All ya gotta do is say the word, got it?” You shook your head quickly, taking some money out of your Pachimari purse, indicating that you had got it covered.
Junkrat raised his mechanical palm swiftly and said. “Now don’tcha worry ya pretty lil head about spendin ya hard earned loot, love. Leave the spendin to us, got it? We’re spoilin ya today, understand? We wanna take real good care of ya.”
He took the book from out of your palms and made a dash to the check-out register. Leaving you and Roadhog standing briefly alone together. Your hands shakily reaching your phone and typing away a message. Seconds later, Roadhog heard his phone go off and read the message. And it read;
Y/N:“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ll pay you both back! And I’m so sorry for not speaking. I’m really happy to see the both of you, I’m just really nervous and shy. I’m sorry.”
Roadhog glanced down at you, unspeaking and quiet as usual. You look down at the floor, your thoughts clouding your brain with guilt and shame. Feeling that all to familiar sting of baby tears forming the side of your eyes. Suddenly, you felt an enormous palm graze your cheek softly, a large finger tucking under your chin and tilting your head up to his expressionless mask.
“No need for apologizing, toku aroha,” he said his voice a deep gentle grumble. “Let us take care of you, te rangatira.”
Your face flushed and you felt your cheeks burn more as the goliath junker’s words was placed on repeat in your mind. Not getting over just how completely calm and smooth he was being towards you. He then placed a few gentle pats on top of your head, a simple act of affection that perhaps wasn’t too overwhelming for you. You smiled self consciously and had seen that he was beginning to walk where his younger employer had ran off to. You quickly followed him, your face slowly but surely, regaining your soft complexion. When the both of you finally made it to the register, Junkrat was already starting to make a scene.
“Oi! Is there anyone workin ‘ere? Swear ya’lls useless as an ashtray on a motorbike!” Junkrat angrily slammed his hand down on the counter. Finally one of the store’s clerks finally got behind the counter presenting themselves in a dignified and professional manner. “Hi there, I can help you whenever you’re ready.” The clerk said almost too calmly. Junkrat frowned and replied “Been ready, ya drongo! Ya deaf or somethin!? I’m here to get this sketchy book for my girl over there! Real sweet and artsy sort she is. And ya keepin us from our little behind we got goin on. So ring us up and we’ll meander on out, yeah?”
Before the clerk could retaliate with a smart remark, they soon took notice of the menacingly taller shadow above Junkrat. Roadhog was standing behind his younger cohort, looking down at the clerk, giving them a pretty decent spook.
“R-Right of course, I’ll take care of that right away, sir!” The clerk typed away at their register ringing up your newly purchased sketch book. You peeked from behind Roadhog’s tall and wide form and watched as the clerk placed your book in a plastic bag. “Here you are, sir,” they said and Junkrat yanked the carefully wrapped book out from the clerk’s hand. “Bout bloody time!” he yelled. He soon noticed you were right there behind him, feeling a little frazzled at what you witnessed.
“Oi, sorry bout that, love.” His voice changed from loud to soft within seconds the minute you were there. “Just a bunch of dills workin here me thinks.” He gave you a nervous grin, unknowing if you were actually still afraid of him. He gave you the plastic bag with your little prize inside. “There ya go, sweets. A labor of love it was…” You took the bag and giggled softly and the boys grinned at you full of enamor and relief. Hearing you giggle so sweetly just made the two of them melt simultaneously. Hopefully, this meant that you were warming up to them sooner than they thought.
“Well, now that that’s takin care of, how about we treat ya to a counter meal? Whatdayasay love? Ya feelin a bit hungry?” Junkrat asked smiling at you with that all too familiar grin he always had. You nodded your head and smiled up at him, your lip gloss shimmering as your lips curled. You hadn’t noticed, but Junkrat twitched and giggled his signature laughed. “Well then, let’s ditch this bodgy bookstore and treat ya somethin real nice!” The boys made their way up to the entrance until they’ve noticed that you weren’t following them. They turned to you expression changing slightly, until you took a step forward and reached both of your little hands out to them. Giving them the indication that it was okay to hold your hand. Junkrat gasped and smiled widely as he strode over to you taking your hand.
“Aww I knew you’d come around, darl’! Never fear, we’ll make sure you have big mobs of fun! Bloody oath!” You smiled as you saw your other suitor, Roadhog, take your other hand into his much bigger palms. You walked out of the store, with both boys holding your hands, and you absolutely feel as if you were on cloud nine. Because you practically were, being with the two men whom you’ve messaged and chatted with for months, were now here with you, catering to you and treating you to quite the charming little shopping date, treasuring you as if you were a princess.
But first things first, you three were going to get a meal. Jamie and Mako took you to an adorable pastel looking coffee shop, with a vintage floral theme to it. You inhale the sweet aroma of coffee beans and sweet pastries, and your tummy growled lowly, your hunger for something sweet.
The boys let you pick whatever you wanted, and you had decided to go with a small sandwich with a tall chocolate latte. The boys practically bought out the entire menu. For starters, they wanted to make sure you weren’t holding back on yourself and that you were eating, secondly, the food didn’t look like it could fill anyone’s appetite and lastly, Roadhog. You were getting stares from almost everyone in the shop, you looked down at your meal and felt self conscious about yourself.
Mako looked down at your hardly eaten platter and then cast a glance over at his young employer, who was scarfing down one pastry after another. Mako really wanted to roll his eyes since sugar was the last thing Jamison needed, but his thoughts lingered more to you, concerned at how you barely touched your food. He extended his enormous hand and reached for your smaller one, taking it carefully caressing a large thumb over your knuckles.
“E aroha…” he started. “You’re not eating….” His voice wheezed softly and sounding somewhat perturbed.
You eyes were shifting to and fro at different corners of the café. Your expression softened again, your free hand holding your tummy as it made a more growling noise. Mako picked up on your hints and signs and noticed how you made small glances at the patrons watching the three of you. Roadhog elbowed Junkrat receiving a whine but grunted and eyed you as you nibbled on your sandwich, still on edge at the patrons watching you. Junkrat now picking up on the sudden uncomfort, omitted a low growl, and slammed his hands on the table.
“You dills and drongos better be about yer buisness! Our girl here, is gorgeous, loving! A real sweet and tender one, she is! So if you got somethin to say about us, especially her, come at me and Roadie with it, but it aint a smart idear to go up against us junkers!”
Everyone in the café went from staring at the three to bustle about their own respected meals, in fear of course. You were amazed at how Junkrat’s booming voice struck intimidation on anyone who dared crossed him, you couldn’t imagine how Roadhog would be. But you stared up at the wild lanky junker and grinned lightly. As he sat back down in his seat, he started to share his pastry sweets with you and sweet giggles escaped your lips as you bit into a red velvet cupcake. Mako leaned back in his seat, relieved that you were starting to eat again, whole heartedly. Jamison started babbling on about where they could visit next and you nod your head and continued eating and drinking down your chocolate latte.
The rest of the date went by smoothly with little to no interruption. The three of them, with you wedged in the middle, had your hands full of shopping bags, full of miscellaneous items that had caught your eye and that the boys wasted little to no time purchasing for you. The sun began to set and draw a close on this eventful day, you and the boys made your way to the parking lot, a sudden wave of sadness hit you strongly as you realized that it was almost time for the three of you to part ways. You walked a little more slowly, wanting to etch these moments into your head for as long as you could. You three finally made it to where your friend would be picking you up and your stomach dropped as you saw the familiar car pulling into the parking lot. Junkrat was the first to break the depressing silence.
“Oi cheer up lovey, we can chat later on tonight when you get settled back home. Promise ya. H-hey don’t look so sad, we had a real fun day didn’t we?” He smiled softly. The both of you heard the sound of clicking and straps being unwound, you looked up and saw that Roadhog took off his mask, revealing his scarred face and pierced septum. He smiled down at you, and caressed your face with his giant hand and leaned into it, like an affectionate pet touch starved.
“Aroha nui matou ki a koe…” He recited in his native tongue. You finally had your walls come down, gesturing the two boys to come closer to you, they happily obliged and you did something completely unexpected for them; you embraced each junker with a big tender hug and placed a kiss on their lips individually. After that, and when your friend finally pulled up to the curb, you softly spoke;
“ ‘ank you…I lo’e you…”
You had gotten your things in your friends car and sat in the passenger side casting one more glance at the two who stood completely dumbfounded and absolutely enamored by you. Junkrat waving his fingers gently toward you and Roadhog smiling at you mouthing the words ‘I love you.’ with his fist on his heart. You and your friend finally drove away but even as they drove off you still couldn’t keep your eyes off your two boyfriends. You watched as the car pulled away and were no longer able to see them. You missed them already, you missed their touch and presence with you and you longed to stay with them. But you knew they had their duties to tend to and you had yours. Baby tears stung the side of your eyes as your love and missing grew stronger. But there would always be time for communication via holo vid or text messaging. But now, you and your boyfriends would have much more to discuss more places to explore and more adventures to trek on. The whole world would need to brace itself for the newly coupled trio; You and your two Junkers.
#poly!roadrat#overwatch junkrat#overwatch roadhog#roadrat#poly!roadratxreader#junkers#Junkrat#roadhog#overwatch fanfic#reader fanfiction#junkrat and roadhog
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For 800 Followers! The Wrong Robin
Babe recc’ed me a fic, Liminal Space by Calamityjim and a few profound things hit me in this fic. The author talks about how basically when shit gets broken, it’s broke. The Bats fucked Tim over and it’s not just a forgive-and-forget situation. It’s literally a darker world he’s living in and my fucking heart goes out to him. I write some angsty things about Tim not coming back to the Bats, but I do a few that really aren’t that, so this is inspired by the Tim that can’t go back.
So, for everyone that’s only wanted to do good things but still gets beaten down over and over again. I love you. I love you so so much.
**
Getting pissed really isn’t an option.
Because vigilantes arguing in the middle of a rooftop after an epic takedown is never good PR for the capes and cowls–
(but it isn’t like he’s really one of them anymore, right?)
“Can’t motherfuckin’ believe I’m hearin’ this shit, Pretender.” The Red Hood is standing tall against the night with forearms and fists clenched by his sides, fucking arguing with him like any of it means a damn thing.
“Am I in the Twilight Zone right now or some shit?” Red Robin comes back, sneering and baring his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “Who the fuck even are you?”
“Lookit here, asshole–”
But Red just moves, gets right up in Hood’s grill, whiteouts narrowed in the night, standing right the hell up to the Robin that once-upon-a-time was his (and welp, hadn’t that ship sailed?)
“Why are you even here?” He demands, low and dark, “wasn’t it enough to shove a Batarang in my chest? To almost slit my throat? Wasn’t that the fuck enough for you? And then this shit? You here telling me some pile of crap about how I should come back? Come back to what?”
Hood takes a step back, the tension in his shoulders and forearms loosening, “whoa, waitaminute, just wait–”
“You called me fucking Pretender, didn’t you?” Is even lower, the younger vigilante still as stone, “because that’s what I am, right? No matter what my intentions were, no matter how much of a beating I took all those years. None of that shit means a fucking thing, does it?”
“Look, kid, I don’t know what the hell yer goin’ on ‘bout. B just asked–”
“What? He asked you to tell me to get the fuck out of Gotham? Like I really need anyone to tell me that? Like I don’t already fucking know?”
Now it’s the Red Hood that stills, not even a huff or guffaw through the synths, just the tiniest movement of the helmet moving to track when Red Robin takes a step back.
“Go back and tell B to stop wasting your fucking time, Hood. He’s already got all his Robins.”
And Red knows he’s taking a real risk here, turning away from the vigilante that’s tried taking him out of the game more than once, one that hadn’t had a fucking moment of hesitation. He knows giving his back to Jason Todd could be the last mistake he ever makes.
Still, he’s not the same person he was back when the Battle for the Cowl was going down. He’s not the same person Jason Todd asked to be his Robin. He’s not the same person that died a little the day the tunic was taken right out of his hands.
He’s more pragmatic, less idealistic. He’s a vigilante that’s hit the grey areas and been able to come back–
(and fuck you, Bruce. Fuck you for coming after him when that little thing with Boomerang went down. When he didn’t let that murdering bastard die. When Red realized who he was, and that was not a murderer, when he wasn’t going to be like Boomerang or his future gun-toting Batman self. Fuck YOU, B. Jason got a second chance. Damian got a second chance. But him? Well, he’s the fucking Robin that was never chosen, so jumping all over him was pretty much fine.)
He’s pretty sure the fight between him and the Red Hood would go down very differently if he’d been that broken the last time they had it out. Hood never would have asked for Red to be another Batman’s Robin. He would have gotten the fuck you memo first thing.
But really, what does any of that matter now?
They’ve reached the end of his little Robin ride, so it’s time to cut his losses and move on – just like all of them pretty much wanted.
So he’s going to do just that. He’s going to stand with his team, take every lesson he’s ever learned from the Bats, and keep fucking moving. It’s what he’s been doing for a little more than a year, makes it easy to turn away from Hood, makes him narrow his eyes when a gloved hand catches his elbow unexpectedly just as he’s ready to shoot the grapple and take off into the night. Red Robin finds himself gone far enough from who and what he used to be that he’s already got a plan to put Jason Todd the fuck down this time.
(You’re not getting another chance to fuck me over, Todd. Not again.)
“Hey,” is low through the synths, the hand around his elbow not tight enough to be a hold, not really. “Lemme start again, yeah?”
“There’s no point in starting anything,” Red Robin doesn’t even turn to look over his shoulder, to acknowledge Hood, “everything has been over for a long damn time. Go back and tell them that.”
The grapple fires in the night, a bang, cuts off a “–wait a motherfucking minute!” when he’s pulled into space, pulled out in the dark Gotham night. A flicker of gold from the harness and utility belt, a dance of shadows in the shape of a flapping cape, and the younger vigilante is gone in a literal blink.
Hood shakes his head a little, thrown from the way his replacement brushed him completely off, sprouted old rhetoric from the days when the second Robin was one angry motherfucker.
And as much as he shouldn’t give two shits about the ig’nant fuck, the sight of that kid’s face when he was in the red, gold, and green, that face when he was clutching at his throat, bleedin’ like a stuck pig, looking so fucking devastated, is there in the Red Hood’s mind’s eye when he fires his own grapple and takes off in the opposite direction.
**
Dickie don’t make it any better. Not at all.
“He didn’t want to hear it, B,” the oldest Robin shakes his head sadly, “and maybe we should just let him go. He’s got his own team and a new ident. Maybe he’s just happier where he is.”
Stephanie Brown straightens up, mouth set in a grim line. But at the end of the day, she has nothing to argue, really. Her choices back then had been...questionable, even with the best of intentions. Scarab and faking her own death, piling more on a newly orphaned Robin hadn’t been the answer, hadn’t been the way to test his limits to see what would finally make him break.
It’s a few years too late for these realizations, and even when she wants to shove her face right up in Dick Grayson’s grill and argue–
She can’t.
And fuck, she hates it.
Behind them, Jason Todd is sitting at his workstation, back to the conversation after giving them a clipped, condensed version of events. At first, the two of them were talking low at the Batcomputer after a somewhat easy patrol.
She, Dick, and Dami had come in and started breaking out of the capes for the night before catching some of the conversation –
“Lil’ asshole didn’t stay long ‘nough ta listen, you feel me, B?”
“He wouldn’t even hear you out?”
Between getting out of the body armor and taking a shower, unwinding wrists and ankles, ruffling their Robin as much as possible just to have him “tt” at her and still grin when he turns away from her teasing, she’d come to stand on the outskirts with Dick, waiting to give her nightly report before crashing hardcore.
“Said ya already had all yer Robins. Also said ta tell ya ta stop wasting yer time n’ shit.”
The Dark Knight is silent, cowl back to air out his sweaty hair, arms crossed over his chest. The draw of his brows and deep frown are telling as to what he thinks of this little convo.
She’d been ready to ask who are you talking about? since all the previous Robins were, in fact, more at the Manor these days than even Alfred can remember. It’s rough and tumble sometimes, all of them grating on each other, but it really was what Batman Incorporated probably should have always been.
At least for the Batfamily.
But when she pauses, when the words get stuck in her throat, his masked face from way back when gives her pause, is still associated with old pains and regrets, and Steph has to take a long, deep breath.
That’s when Dick, who’d apparently also put the topic of conversation together, had stepped in to break the news to them.
“Maybe he’s just...moved on.”
She grinds her back teeth together, and can’t say a fucking thing.
**
“Tt,” is about as unconvincing as you can get. Certainly Drake will realize it.
“I asked what you wanted,” Red Robin reminds him, not bothering to look up from the microscope he’s studying.
“As I said,” Robin repeats, “Father has requested you return to Gotham. As I understand there is some yearly tradition he wishes to reinstate.”
“And as I said,” is unruffled, absent; the older vigilante obviously distracted as he jots down notes on a steno pad beside the microscope, “enjoy that. Don’t come back unless you need something important.”
Irritation wells up, but the teenager closes his eyes behind the whiteouts and takes a soft breath, trying to quell the emotion, reminding himself that Drake may be annoying and arrogant, but he was also once a Robin. He has had a few redeeming instances in his crime fighting career.
“This is important to Father, Drake,” Robin replies in an even tone, “he wants all the Bats to participate. Thus this applies to you.”
His predecessor’s muscles go tight in just the under suit, straightens away from the delicate equipment at one of the labs in Titan’s Tower, but still, he doesn’t bother to turn and face the current Robin head-on.
After a few seconds of silence, Red Robin goes back to the microscope. “C’mon, stop fucking around. Go back and tell him I said I was busy for, like, the next ten years or something.”
“That would be inaccurate.”
“Well, tell him I just said no.” Shrug of the shoulders, back to divided attention, and it is quickly starting to get more than just irritating.
“If I am to tell him that, Drake, then he will ask why.”
“Tell him I’m not his responsibility anymore. I mean, wouldn’t it be awkward if I did show up? Nobody needs that, and I have plenty to do here.”
Robin’s crossed arms loosen just a little, his back less rigid, the discussion in the Cave a few days ago still sitting in the back of his mind, making him wonder.
“Very well,” he makes it falsely light on purpose, “and when I return to Gotham with your answer, he will be the one to show up next. Unless you want to deal with that, you will need to provide better reasonings.” And a huff because he has no idea why he’s even still here, “Drake. They are a pain in the ass. This is not news to you. However,” and the pause, how he trails off is the things that finally gets the older vigilante to glance over his shoulder, “they are family. They are your family and mine. It is...troublesome at times, but they are what they are.”
Whatever he said is enough to make the older vigilante stop what he’s doing and lightly brace just his fingertips on the countertop as he stands.
Drake turns and approaches slowly, whiteouts up and face utterly impassive. A few feet between them and his predecessor breaks it out, calm and low when Robin feels like this visage is only another type of mask.
“Family? You think I’m family? That I ever was in the first place?”
Robin’s arms tighten.
“I didn’t want to be Robin forever,” Drake keeps going and Robin can imagine his eyes are cold and calm behind the domino, “I gave it ten years or so. That should have been plenty of time for B to get over Jason’s death. At least enough that he would get control over himself back. But the longer I was in the tunic, the more people that died around me, the more I had to change so I didn’t end up doing the same thing he did. There wasn’t another kid to hang around and keep me from destroying myself, so I had to keep my shit together.”
Robin’s mouth is slightly open, wondering why all this is coming out now? He and Drake have always been little more than rivals. This heartfelt account makes Robin uncomfortable for several reasons–
Primarily because he’s never been interested in his predecessor’s time in the tunic. It had simply never mattered, not when he took over the Robin mantle and strove to make it his rather than Drake’s.
“But when he disappeared, and everything that happened afterwards. All of that made me realize that no matter what I did, or what I tried to do, it was never supposed to have been me in that tunic.” A gloved finger flicks to the R on Robin’s left shoulder. “I wasn’t family, Damian. Not from the moment I put it on for the first time, and not at the end when Dick pulled it out from under me. Family? Family wouldn’t do that.”
And even if it’s difficult, Robin tries to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry.
“The last time I even talked to your dad? Was when the Boomerang thing happened, you know that, right?” And Red Robin goes still enough that Robin wonders if he’s even breathing. “No one died, and even though I didn’t let that happen, I’m the one that didn’t get a second chance. Not like you or Jason. All those years, all the times I pulled him out of the fire, all those years I thought he was my friend, my partner, my family. All of it meant nothing in the end.”
And Drake takes one step closer, just one, arms still crossed over his chest, head tilted down, but Robin feels like his chest is so tight, like he can’t even get a breath.
“So,” and Drake’s voice is softer now, gentle almost, “he won’t be showing up. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s probably time for you to go back to Gotham. Batman...needs a Robin.”
And if his vision blurs behind the whiteouts suspiciously as Drake walks away from him, through the open doors of the lab, no one would be the wiser.
#angst#hurt/no comfort#dc comics#tim drake#jason todd#bruce wayne#stephanie brown#dick grayson#damian wayne#my fic#my drabbles#800 followers
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I VOTE FOR UNDERFELL GRILLBY X READER BECAUSE I CANNNN I don’t know about prompts though. Maybe his silly S/O is playing pretend with some monster kids to make them feel happier and someone tries to fight them because they don’t like how individualistic the kids are becoming?? I know it’s random but just an idea I’ve had floating around in my head for the past couple days 😂 i know it’s not necessarily a “prompt” but hey-hi 🙈💀
SO! I actually ended up choosing another prompt for the selftober prompt thingie that I asked about. (because it was proposal and I’m a sucker for proposal prompts because love man, I love it) BUT! To be honest, I’m really feeling this prompt request thingie, so hell, I’mma do both! Though, this one won’t be considered like a selftober thing.
I adjusted the request a bit but I hope that it still fits what you were thinking!
“ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”
“Very eloquent, Sans,” you teased, leaningyour head against your fist and grinning at the golden toothed skeleton. “What’sgot you groaning in such despair?”
“toriel wants me ta watch frisk, mk, n’theweed tomorrow,” Sans grumbled, rubbing his skull irritated as he acceptedanother bottle of mustard from Grillby. “don’t get me wrong, love frisk tadeath, salt of the earth n’all that crap, but babysittin’? that shit ain’t mystyle.”
“You don’t have style,” Grillby retorted,practically draping himself against the back of the purple velvet booth, hisarm shifting only to pull you against his side. You blushed a touch at the PDAbut focused on Sans’ smart ass comments and Grillby’s sharp teasing responsesinstead.
“What, you can’t look after two brats forone day?” Grillby asked finally, smirking his blinding smirk, “Or are you toomuch of a-“
“I can look after them,” you interrupted Grillby,“I don’t mind babysitting and I have tomorrow off.”
Sans’ brow bones rose, “heh…ya wanna lookafter the brats?”
“I mean, you’ll totally owe me, but yeahsure,” you shrugged a shoulder, “Frisk and Flowey are sweethearts.”
“ya do realizeif ya fuck up what-“
Grillby’s flames snapped in warning, “Mymate won’t fuck up, and on the off chance, she does? Nothing’s gonna happen toher. Or they’ll be answering to me.”
“Uh…” you frowned slightly, peering over atGrillby, “I agree with Grillby? Not in those words or anything though,” youshook your head, “Look I’ve babysat before, and I’ve even looked after Friskbefore. The kid likes me. It’ll be fine.”
“if ya say so,” Sans said with a shrug,fishing his phone out of his pocket, “i’ll see if tori’s cool wi’it.”
–
Flowey was curled around your arm as Friskand MK ran around the park chattering about everything and anything theirlittle minds could think of. A few times, MK spat out an insult to Frisk, who justgave them a look of intenseneutrality and MK grumbled and apologized before they were back to racingaround.
You knew by now Sans would probably benapping, and refusing to be anywhere near Flowey.
Frisk darted over to you, encouragingFlowey to transfer over to them before tugging at your arm. “Can you play withus?”
You smiled and nodded. Frisk told you thatthe two kids would be playing the ‘heroes’ and you being the ‘villain’, whichyou had to clarify with them what you were supposed to do. Frisk explained itvery simply. You were supposed to pretend to be trying to do some dastardlydeed and Frisk and MK needed to stop you without violence!
Which led to the current state of yourunning around the small field in the park trying to get away from Frisk whowas attempting to hug the badness out of you and MK who was trying to egg yourbadness on, completely contrary to the rules. Frisk caught you, laughing andyou swung them up pretending that you got them.
“Ahaha! My dastardly deed is almostcomplete! I’ve caught a hero!” you said dramatically, causing Frisk to snortout a laugh.
“I caught you!” they retorted, “Besides! MKwill save me!”
You turned to face MK and froze.
The little monster was standing rightbehind you, and if they had hackles they’d be raised in anger. A group of threemonsters were watching from a distance, and…none of them looked happy. You slowlyshifted Frisk to your hip and placed a hand on MK who jumped slightly.
“What’s wrong?” you asked quietly, keepinghalf an eye on the adult monsters.
Frisk curled closer to you, “not allmonsters are happy that Asgore has stated that monsters need to live pacifist-ly.”
MK bristled but shifted closer to you.
One of the monsters stalked closer,grinning wickedly. “Well…well…well, lookit what we got a-here. The big bad bratwho thinks they can waltz into the Underground and change everything. Trynamakes us monster what we ain’t.”
The group moved closer, and you felt yourheartbeat start to race.
“N’that little armless piece of shit whothinks they’re tough, when they couldn’t even harm a fuckin’ fly,” another teased cruelly, their wide mouth stretching evenfurther as MK snarled.
“Fuck off, you low levelled asshole!” MKbarked, their tiny tail curled around your ankle and you could feel themvibrating.
“Let’s go,” you said taking a step back andtugging MK closer to your side.
“They can’t do shit to us!” MK puffed up, “We’rein stripes, and your Grillby’s mate! They do anything to us and they’re DUST!”
The three paused, eyes flickering up toyou. Oh no. You tightened your grip on Frisk, and Flowey started to cry softlyinto Frisk’s hair. For a moment you prayed that it was enough but then thefirst one started laughing hollowly.
“That flaming asshole? A mate? Bullshit!”he laughed, “Besides, I don’t see no pretty collar marking her as his.”
You paled slightly. Could you get out yourphone before one of them attacked? Or would drawing it out make them react? Youglanced around quickly, hoping to see anyone that would intervene but there wasnobody. You took another step back.
“Look, w-we-we’ll just l-leave, n-no oneh-h-has to come to h-harm…” you stammered out, glancing to where your car was.
“L-Leave?” the second one parroted, mimicking your nervous stutter, “noharm? Where’s the fun in that? We can’t do shit ta the kids, but we’re pissedoff and there ain’t no one protectin’ you! Monsters ain’t ‘heroes’ and we don’t solve our problems with shitty littlehugs.”
Frisk wriggled down from you and stepped infront of MK. You pulled out your phone once their attention was on Frisk and quicklycalled Grillby’s number. Frisk attempted to talk the monsters down but then amagical pellet whizzed towards you knocking the phone from your hand. You letout a yelp in surprise.
“F-Frisk, g-get MK to the car,” you stammeredout, MK was spitting insults and Frisk was still trying to convince themonsters to back down. Flowey was crying louder and begging Frisk to just getout of there. One of the monsters went to shove Frisk away but you dartedforwards and pulled them behind your back. “Don’t touch them!” you said,protectiveness overriding your fear.
The monster merely laughed in your facebefore shoving you hard, sending you crashing into Frisk and taking the two ofyou to the ground. Frisk scrambled out from underneath you to standin front of you but one of the monsters grabbed them and tossed them at MK asif they were nothing but a sack of potatoes. You scrambled to your feet. There was asharp sting in the center of your chest. The colour in the world bled out andyour SOUL leapt from your chest.
“Let’s fight, ya bitch!” the monstercrowed, “It’s been too fucking long since I killed someone.”
Killed?
You tried to run but you couldn’t move, andthere was a strange interface floating in front of you. Panic rooted deep inyour SOUL as you tried to look for MK or Frisk, to get them to run to your car but they were both gone. Youcould only see the black and white versions of the three monsters in front ofyou.
What were you supposed to do? This wasNOTHING like when Grillby had taken out your SOUL!
There were four options in front of you. Fight. (Which youweren’t going to touch). Act. Item. Mercy.
Your hand was shaking as it touched mercy,and you attempted to spare but a small word text popped up that said:
*You? Spare them?
Your chest seized in panic as the three monsterssent white attacks at your SOUL at the same time. Pain blossomed through yourbody and you watched as even though the attacks didn’t hit your skin, yourflesh reflected the damage your SOUL took. A few scrapes and bruises blossomedon your skin, and you let out a cry. The small health bar dropped down nearly to half from one joint attack.
What were you supposed to do?
Warmth surrounded you and then two formsappeared at your side, both black and white. You craned your head and if youcould move your legs you were sure you would’ve collapsed in relief.
Sans stood on one side, and Grillby on theother.
The three monsters balked instantly.
“What are you two doing here?” one of the monsters barked in surprise.
Grillby grinned wickedly, “I must bemistaken, because I don’t think anyone is STUPID enough to hurt MY MATE.”
“Y-You d-d-d-didn’t. She’s not! S-Shedo-doesn’t ha-have a collar!” one squeaked out.
“tch, shitty excuses,” Sans drawled, “’sides,even if she wasn’t grillbz’s? ya idiots really shoulda realized that anyonetakin’ care of the queen and king’s brat would have their protection.”
“P-P-Pleas-Please!” one of the monstersbegged, looking at you, “For-Forgive u-u-us, we did-…we di-didn’t know,sp-spare us.”
“You want mercy?” Grillby taunted, “You must really be idiots.”
You blinked back your relieved tears as you noticed that you could choose the spare option andretried what you failed to do in the first round. You spared one, who took off immediately. Grillby, on the other hand, sent a firey attack at the two remaining monsters who shouted in pain. Sans spared another monster, and the remaining one took off. Your SOUL disappeared backinto your chest and coloured returned to the world.
You immediately turnedtowards where the children were. “Frisk! Flowey!” you said hurrying over to them, “Areyou okay? Were you hurt?”
They shook their head, “just…a bit sore,”they said quietly, “Are you? I’m sorry…we should’ve left. I’m sorry.”
“I wanna go home!” Flowey sobbed against Frisk’s chest where they were cradling him protectively.
“It’s not your fault,” you assured them,pulling them into a hug. They clung to you. MK glared over your shoulder at the others.
“Ya let them go!” MK accused angrily, “Theywere gunna kill her! What kinda cowards are ya????”
“Sometimes giving people a sense ofsafety makes revenge that much sweeter,” Grillby snarled in response, “Sans,get the brats to their homes.”
“yup,” Sans stepped forward, gesturing forFrisk to step away from you. Frisk wiped at their tearstained face, apologizingagain even though it wasn’t their fault. You watched as Sans grabbed both oftheir shirts and disappeared from view.
Grillby picked up your phone, ending thecall, and handed it back to you. As you reached for it, you were reminded of your quivering hands. He stepped towards you and slid an arm around your shoulder while pocketing your phone. Neither of you said anything as he guided you to your car.
The silence stretched on even as he bundled you into the car and then drove it back to his penthouse. Once you were out of the car, his arm never left around your shoulders until the two of you were safely inside.
The first thing he did was rustle around in his kitchen before handing you a piece of candy, and then he disappeared into the depths of the penthouse.
The quiet was getting to you, but you ate the candy and then slowly shuffled over to his couches. Every muscle in your body was tense but at the same time, you felt light and jumpy, ready to dart away at the first sign of trouble.
Would they have really killed you...just because you were there?
You were reminded of the world that Grillby had lived in. Kill or be killed.
It chilled you right to the core.
You didn’t even notice Grillby re-enter the room and stride over to you. He thumped a long jewellery box onto the table in front of you before sitting down beside you heavily. His mouth opened but you turned and threw your arms around his neck. Clinging to him with all the strength that you could muster. Tears erupted and you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.
A heartbeat passed where Grillby didn’t move, and then he was tugging you onto his lap and enveloping you in his arms. His head pressed against the side of your head, depositing tiny kisses against your skin.
“You’re safe,” he growled into your ear, “I’ve got you.”
You just cried, and cried, and cried, terrified of what could’ve happened to you if you hadn’t called Grillby.
After you had no more tears to shed and were just shaking in his arms, he tilted your head up and kissed you until you were breathless and panting. Then he reached over and plucked the jewellery box up and handed it to you. “Been waiting to give this to you at the right time, but those assholes have forced me to expedite this fucking process.”
You sniffled lightly before opening the box. Inside was a black lace choker necklace with an amethyst pendant in the shape of a small flame. Any other day you would’ve been stunned by how beautiful it was...but right now you felt kind of empty. Your fingers gently stroked the pendant and then the words of the monsters returned. You weren’t collared.
“Grillby?” you mumbled, “What does ‘collaring’ mean to monsters?”
His fingers gently brushed some hair away from your throat, “Depends on the style, but this one means that you’re my mate, my girlfriend, whatever you wanna call you, and that if anyone fucking lays a finger on you again? They won’t get any fucking mercy when I find them.”
You stare at it, and then up at him, “I...If I had been wearing this...before...?”
“Who knows, they might’ve fucked off and left you alone or they could’ve thought they were lucky to find my mate alone,” Grillby grumbled darkly, “but those assholes seemed as scared of me as they should be.”
He reached over and picked the necklace up. You hesitated before turning slightly and lifting your hair up. He slipped the choker around your throat and fastened it at the back of your neck. The amethyst rested in the hollow of your throat and felt warm and soothing in a way.
When you turned around, he pulled you in for another kiss, this one longer and more desperate than before.
“I need to fuck or drink,” he grumbled pulling away from you slightly, “and I don’t think you’re up for a fuck.”
You shook your head, and he tilted your head up to look him in the eye. “I love you, and I don’t say that lightly. I’m going to find those monsters and I will make them pay for laying a finger on you.”
You nodded before curling into his side.
Sure, he wanted to drink to take the violent edge off his SOUL...but he wasn’t about to abandon his mate when she was so vulnerable. He pulled you closer, adjusting his position on the couch, and vowed to very PUBLICLY make sure everyone knows that if they touch you? They’re dead.
#abbyzhanson#asks#grillby/reader#uf!Grillby/Reader#fanfiction#fanfic#myfanfics#my fanfics#undertale fanfiction#requests
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Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander
Thoughts on Ep. 309
*puts Lonely Island on repeat* Shipnanigans are here!
I was originally kind of not looking forward to the second half of the season because this part of Voyager is absolutely batshit bananas. But then I was wicked underwhelmed by the part of the season I thought I would love.
So fuck it. Bring on the ridiculousness.
I like this episode. But only if I try to watch it pretending like the first part of the season didn’t happen... Because if I watch it with the other episodes in mind, I just get mildly ragey that we skip over the important emotional work Jamie and Claire still have to do in favor of fluff followed by another separation. And yeah, I love fluff. I love secksi times. I love Fraser snuggles. But the jump from the end of ep. 308 to the start of ep. 309 leaves me salty that we’re yet again asked to headcanon the reconciliation between Jamie and Claire. *side eyes the similar jump between ep. 207 and ep. 208* Whatever.
Get your towels ready it's about to go down. Everybody in the place hit the fuckin’ deck. But stay on your motherfuckin’ toes. We runnin’ this, let's go.
New credits! And the title card... Take a good hard look at the motherfuckin’ boat.
Ok this opening bit. Like Jamie was an asshole for the last two episodes. Claire never actually got to tell her side of things. She basically was like nope, I don’t think I even want to be here. But now it’s like all good, she’ll go on this 18th century sea voyage to find Jamie’s nephew. For real? They couldn’t have made a handful of tweaks last week and the beginning of this week so she could say she was going because she wanted to be with Jamie and keep working on their relationship? And Jamie’s apparently never going to apologize for being a massive piece of shit toward her? They do a good job over the course of the episode of showing them together but still with the insecurities and stuff, but jumping from where they were on the cliff to where they are in this episode makes me side eye the show like whoa.
And yes, I know that she’s really going on the ship because she wants to try to make it work with Jamie, but geez, let her say that. Let her tell him that he’s been a dick to her but she knows he has it in him to be not-shitty and she’s going because she thinks he can be better than he is in the last couple episodes. I don’t know why it bothers me so much when they make us fill in the blanks ourselves on stuff that seems definitely important enough to actually show. And then make it seem like we’re dumb or bad fans or something for wanting to actually see things instead of just headcanoning them in, because that’s how this production team rolls.
Replacement Rupert and Angus just aren’t the same as the originals. Like no one can replace Rupert and Angus, but like, I can’t bring myself to give a crap about these randos?
For real though, Claire’s inner monologue is probs like yeah, never thought I'd be on a boat. It's a big blue watery road...
And I get her 20th century scoffing at superstition, but like, girl. You’ve been in trouble for being a “witch” enough times now that c’mon. Don’t act like you don’t understand what’s going on with the sailors.
Marsali is my everything. I love her. I love her so much.
As much as I want Jamie to stand up for Claire, I do like that Fergus does it. Because Jamie, my dude, you deserve everything Marsali’s throwing at you.
Claire’s “No. You don’t.” as she drags Jamie away is also my everything.
Oh hey, a trunk of clothes! Got some swim trunks, and some flippie-floppies. But not a nautical themed pashmina afghan in sight. Welp. Can’t have everything.
I know it’s supposed to be sweet that Jamie wouldn’t let anyone get rid of Claire’s clothes. And a nice inverse to Frank burning her clothes. But I’m still just kind of chuckling because it’s not like he ever saw them? What with him living in a cave and then prison and then Helwater and then with Laoghaire. But whatever.
“Would you care to dine with me this evening? We drinking Santana champ, cause it's so crisp.” This captain is seriously the human equivalent of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Like dude. You’re the captain of the ship and you’re just like welp. Can’t do anything about the men. They’ll do what they’re gonna do. It’s not like I’m the one in the position of authority or anything.
High fives to Fergus for calling Jamie on his bullshit revisionist history.
Although it’s kinda icky that Jamie knows all of the girls who Fergus has banged? And also fuck him for being super chill about Fergus banging tons of girls but so fucking uptight about Marsali and Bree. I know, I know, it’s a different time. That doesn’t make him not a hypocrite though.
Slash Jamie’s the last person who should be lecturing *anyone* about the importance of honesty right now. But whatever. No real consequences for lying soooo... *pretends the last few eps haven’t happened*
Yi Tien Cho convincing Jamie to do acupuncture is also my everything. Seriously, I know I had a *rull* low bar for how that character was going to be changed, but I’m really, really loving him.
I for real can’t wait for more of Claire and Marsali. Like yeah, Jamie’s marital status *was* Claire’s business, and Jamie hadn’t been living with Laoghaire and the girls for ages so Claire also wasn’t really breaking up a family or anything, but I really like that Claire just lets Marsali’s comment slide. Like call Jamie out on all of his bullshit, please, but Marsali’s a teenager whose life was thrown through a loop and I feel like trying to talk to her when she’s in this kind of mood isn’t going to get anywhere. So by just being like “well the whore should get the bigger bed, shouldn’t she” it’s like telling Marsali that she’s not going to be cowed by the snark and also that she doesn’t need to justify her place in Jamie’s life to a rando. Like she’s not going to concede power by trying to explain herself to Marsali.
But for real, I love Marsali.
I honestly don’t get Jamie’s aversion to Fergus and Marsali though. Like they’re not making the age difference a thing in the show. And Jenny’s fucking kids have apparently been married and spitting out babies since they hit puberty. Like I get it makes for some tension with Laoghaire, but who gives a fuck? She hates them all already?
Claire and Yi Tien Cho are my favorite pair that I was not expecting to like so much. But like her being genuinely interested in his story and him being open with her, which is probably the first time he’s gotten to talk like that with anyone since he got to Scotland, is so great.
Oh. Another VO. Cool. It’s basically like I'm on a boat motherfucker take a look at me. Straight flowin’ on a boat on the deep blue sea. Bustin’ five knots, wind whippin’ out my coat. You can't stop me motherfucker cause I'm on a boat.
Ok this insecurity in Jamie about hurting Claire’s feelings about the tea and acupuncture is adorable. Asshole Jamie’s insecurity of the past few episodes wasn’t. He was just an asshole.
And also, broseph, this is the kind of secret it’s ok to keep. Small, insignificant, adorable. The other one, not so much.
“My return has been confusing and frustrating. But it’s never been a question of whether I love you.” Confusing and frustrating is putting it a bit mildly, Claire, but apparently we’re done having real talk and Jamie doesn’t have to own up to being a fuckwad. Bqhatevwr. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m 1000% here for the fluff in this episode. I just have to pretend they actually did more of the hard convos in order to get to where they can have the fluff again.) And I’m pretty sure it *literally was* a question of whether you loved this Jamie, Claire. We all know you loved the old Jamie. But like, the whole thing on the cliff was literally about whether you loved the new Jamie. Y’know. The thing they never bothered addressing beyond the question being asked. Because lol nothing matters, fans can headcanon it and if they don’t they’re whiny and #badfans.
Whatever. *actively doesn’t think about past episodes* Here for pincushion heart eyes. Lookit how cute they are.
Cause of death: Claire telling Jamie about reading Bree Goodnight Moon.
And I love them talking about the moon like with the science of men flying there and the folk tales of the man in the moon representing each of them. They’re gonna fly this boat to the moon somehow. Like Kevin Garnett, anything is possible.
“You miss her.” “Terribly.” Glad they’re highlighting Claire still feeling the loss of what she gave up to come back to Jamie. Still salty at his non-reaction to learning about his kid. And even here, like one line from him about Bree to let Claire know he loves her too? Or thinks about her too? To let Claire know she’s not alone in missing Bree? Please? No? Ok.
Here for the cuddles. I want the fluff. Believe me, I am trash for the fluff. I just wish again that the fluff felt more earned because they’d actually come to an understanding about where they stand with each other rather than just glossing over the hard part of coming back together. They showed the angsty set up then skipped the resolution and went straight to the fluff.
Whatever. Back to pretending the last few eps didn’t happen. Give me all the fluff. It’s fucking wonderful. I love fluff. I am a broken record.
I feel like the gif of Claire saying “that’s insanity” is going to come in quite handy...
Jamie going to save his dude like fuck land, I'm on a boat, motherfucker.
Fuck trees, I climb buoys, motherfucker. I'm on the deck with my boys, motherfucker. And no one is gonna mess with his Ardsmuir boys.
Really reaching to fit some of these lyrics in and I’m not at all sorry.
The way they chant Jonah is def the angry mob way to chant it, but in my head I def kept being like Jo! Nah! Jo! Nah!. Like pumping someone up at a sports thing or something. You’re doing it wrong, brain.
I have a lot of feelings about Yi Tien Cho giving up his story and letting it go before he wanted to in order to save Jamie and his men. Yi Tien Cho really is the best of them.
And honestly Jamie telling the captain to let YTC speak is maybe the most decent thing he’s ever done for the man.
And then the papers fly off in the wind and I realize that I give not a single fuck about the actual plot of this episode.
But Claire saying thank you to Yi Tien Cho is so much more than just thank you for quelling the fight. Like this guy just told the story of his life, of where he’s from, and now he needs to give it up. And she recognizes and respects and appreciates what it’ll cost him to give it up since she too is from a place the fuckers on the ship couldn’t possibly understand. And he did it for this group who, as he so passionately said, thinks the worst of him. I have so many feelings about Claire and Yi Tien Cho, guys.
They kept in the ship quickie! I def thought they were going to cut it! Bless them for keeping it. Blesss. Same feelings about the rest of the fluff still apply, but this show is probs always going to pull stuff like this so I clearly just need to get over it and accept the fluff I’m given like a #goodfan.
Jamie’s like believe me when I say, I fucked a mermaid.
(I swear, I *hated* the line last week when Jamie said Jenny would sooner believe Claire was a mermaid than from the future, but at least it means the most ridic lyric in the fucking song fits perfectly.)
And Jamie being cute about Claire’s hair. Awww.
I hate the king of men line. Hate it. Hate that the production is so fixated on that. And that they think it’s cute to keep including their weird in-jokes in the show itself.
But whatever. Snuggle time! Yay for snuggles! Embrace the fluff! Forget your issues with the show! Stop being a sourpuss!
Oh snap, the British are coming! Never thought they’d see the day, when a big boat comin’ their way.
RIP Lt. Babyface. Long live Capt. Babyface!
Yay for Claire telling Jamie about her oath. And yay for Jamie actually getting it and respecting what she needs to do. It’s like ep. 306 Jamie again with the whole respecting Claire’s calling thing. So like, we should just ignore ep. 307 Jamie? Because he was an asshole about it.
Oh man, next week is gonna be rough, isn’t it. *All* the puking. This ain't Seaworld, this is real as it gets.
For real though if the puking noises next week are like the brothel noises in ep. 306, I’m going to just watch on mute or something with the closed captions because it’s over the top, show.
Ok if Thomas Leonard is Capt. Babyface, I guess that makes Elias Pound Midshipman Fetus.
Oh man the cook being all like I'm flippin’ burgers, you at Kinko's straight flippin’ copies. Don’t fuck with Claire when she’s in Dr. Claire mode, my dude. You will not win that fight.
Yeah. If I pretend like this episode is the first one of the season, I like this episode. I’m kind of pissed that the show managed to make me salty about fluff. I love fluff, why you make me salty about fluff, show? And now I just want a goddamn fluffernutter.
And since I’m ignoring everything that could have been up until now, it doesn’t bug me that Jamie and Claire are separated...again. Because lol nothing matters.
Fucking give me all the badass Dr. Claire you have, show.
She’s on a boat motherfucker, don't you ever forget.
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